Flash Fiction Friday - Winter's Kiss

Lyuba was her name. "It means 'Love,'" she told me as she laid the fur on the cold rock and shimmied out of her tight American jeans. The chill of winter's kiss made me shiver in my coat, but she was warm as toast in nothing but a hat. "Anal is a thousand extra." I loved her just then, looking down, knowing she was nothing but a whore. I remember Lyuba's name, but everything else has faded into a random fuck, and after, cold, silent eyes.

---

Brigit lounged on the rocks, winter's kiss glowing on her cheeks and rump as she waited expectantly. Soon the green man would come, flame driving away winter and giving birth to spring. He would rut her like the beast he was, leave her panting for more, never quite satisfying her, though the spring be fertile and warm, the summer fruitful. Winter would come again, and so again she would seek out this spot and wait with bare body for the green man to ravish her anew.

---

Two very different takes this week. I wrote them in the order they appear, and I don't think they have anything to do with one another. The extreme brevity this week made things tough; I chopped the first one up a lot to get it to fit, and the second I rewrote completely two or three times before it sat properly within the restrictions.

Lyuba is actually a diminutive of Lyubov, which is one of my least favorite Russian names for women. But I love Lyuba. And it does mean love, or it comes from the Russian word for love. I decided that she would be named Lyuba, and the rest sort of wrote itself, although it wrote itself entirely too long and had to be severely pruned. It's how I feel about prostitution, sort of. Just a brief moment of time. And lest you think that she's an expensive prostitute, a thousand rubles is roughly $32 American.

The second was more fun, but it was a bear to write. It's a conflation of all kinds of mythology and superstition and so forth. I figured that if I was writing one where winter was obviously ascendant, I should write one where spring is coming on, since the picture could imply either, and we're at the close of the year and so forth. I like the idea of a midwinter tryst to give new life to the world, but obviously she never gets enough, otherwise it would always be summer.

My process for writing these really short ones is always to grab one essential thing and tell only that. There's not enough room to be descriptive or give exposition or anything. You just have to find the essential thing to write about and write it. Sounds like stupid advice, but believe me, I've got to keep it in mind otherwise I can't write 86 words. With slightly more, I can worry more about paring down verbiage, keeping things tight, but if you tighten something this short too much, it loses form completely. I don't worry as much about phrasing with the short things, because the phrasing should be there if you've written it properly in the first place. I definitely don't write something longer and then reduce it; I have to write with the brevity in mind or it won't work.

Not that my way is the only way. Just giving you a glimpse into my way. You could do the same by jumping in and writing something yourself, and I warmly encourage you to do so. Even if PB isn't around for the next few weeks, we still could use more people participating, and I'm happy to add you to my list of participants if you tell me. We're all very nice people, and we're never perfect, so while sometimes the competition might seem fierce, next week might be your week to be brilliant. Flash Fiction Friday. Because you can't suck if you don't try.

Here are the people (so far, anyway; let me know if I can add you) who've tried:

• Advizor: http://advizortoall.blogspot.com/
• David: http://dsinvegas.blogspot.com/
• Kenny: http://secretlifeofagentleman.blogspot.com/
• Lola: http://sexbabble.blogspot.com/
• Rozewolf: http://wordwytch.wordpress.com/
• Scintellectual: http://scintillectual.com/
• William: http://thetrainingofmylovelyslut.blogspot.com/
• and of course, PB, who goes last because he totally wins this week, and I'm sorry to everyone else but we're all second to him: http://insatiabear.blogspot.com/

It's Still Technically Christmas According to Some People

Hell, by the Russian Orthodox calendar, we're still waiting on Christmas. So deal with this being not real-time, okay, and let's move on to the recount.

I was awakened Christmas morning by a phone call from Sheri, far too early for me since I was hoping to sleep a few more hours. I'm not sure this fostered sororal amity very much; I was groggy and a bit short, and she was chipper and chose to ignore most of what I said. I love her, but like I mentioned, we're having a period of less-than-get-along-ness.

Then I staggered downstairs and waited around while various preparations for opening presents took place. My father hadn't even wrapped his gifts yet, the slacker. Then, finally, after what seemed like forever and made me really, really wish I'd been able to sleep in until the preparations had concluded, gifts were opened. I didn't get anything worth reporting, frankly; money mostly. That's okay, since that's really all I want; I like shopping on Amazon for bargains.

As the post-gift glow started to seep over me, I snuggled into Dad's lap and felt his hardening cock between my legs, and even though it wasn't particularly special or festive or planned, I reached down and slipped him up into me, then pulled a blanket around us, and we watched Christmas TV for a while while slowly shifting to keep him hard and inside me, but not a whole lot else. Eventually though, we repaired to the shower because I needed one and Dad wanted to join me, and the warm water felt wonderful after the chill of being awakened too early, and while I wouldn't say I was dynamite, I let Dad take me any which way he pleased. I didn't fall asleep or anything; I just sort of blissed out a bit.

He might have given Mom a present before I got up, because he was not in any hurry to get off, even after we moved to the shower. He actually washed me off with his cock still hard and poking into my at points, and then even after he got back inside me again, he didn't go off after I came twice. Finally we were pruning up, and he suggested we exit the water and find a comfy bed for sore bones, because we're both not in tip-top shape for acrobatic sex on hard tiles.

When we got to my parents' bedroom, Mom was under the covers, and we just slipped under too and all three kind of cuddled in the warmth for a while before Dad pressed into me for a third time, this time in earnest, and I got to hold Mom's hand under the covers while Dad worked me into a third orgasm and then let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

Just as I was getting used to the idea of maybe cuddling some more with them, just being together and warm, the phone rang again and someone had to go get it, so Mom went. Lo and behold, it was Sveta, saying that she'd had midday Christmas dinner (some people do that and I guess her family are some of those people) and could she come over?

We were all quite surprised; I hadn't expected her to be free at all on Christmas. Of course we said yes, and she said she'd slip away as soon as she could from the festivities (which weren't all that festive for her, but why ruin the story with ugliness). So then there was food prep to be done and other prep too. Dad was steamed that he hadn't saved himself for Sveta (which gave me a twinge of jealousy, except that I get him all the time and she doesn't).

She didn't get there until later and didn't want much dinner, having already eaten, but she opened her presents and sat with us while we ate. Then Dad said, "If Lexi hadn't ambushed me and stolen your gift, I would have had something for you, honey."

"What?" she asked, all coy and innocent, and he grinned and gave her a big kiss.

So I'm afraid Mom got left with the dishes while the three of us went back upstairs to try to wake the giant. Mom didn't mind, but I still felt momentarily guilty.

We started out with me on blowjob detail while Sveta squatted on Dad's face and let him bring her to two orgasms in remarkably quick succession. She's obviously been under-stimulated recently, for which I'm profoundly sorry and will make up to her as often as possible. I managed to coax some life out of Dad in the crotch department, and then he shifted the two of us around until she sank down on his shaft and I was sitting on his face, kissing Sveta, working her nipples and clit, until she came a third time, hard, so hard she almost fell off.

Which was when Dad kicked me off of his face and rolled the two of them over until he was on top of her, still inside her, and took over, while I kissed both of them, then sneaked around behind to watch as his cock pressed in and out of her until she was dripping juice, then I started milking Dad's balls a little to help get him off before she lost all the moisture in her body. He was trying really hard; I don't know that he got a whole lot of pleasure out of the last few minutes of it, and he didn't cum impressively when it finally happened, but she was more than satisfied.

I ran and got her a glass of water which she drained, then I finally coaxed Dad off her (he stayed lying on top of her for a minute afterward, just hugging and kissing and stroking) and cleaned her up a little. It was hard to tell what was his and what was hers, since there was much more of hers than his.

She really desperately wanted to stay and cuddle, and I wanted her to just as desperately, but she had to go back. She was walking slightly funny, so I offered to drive her, which led to an abbreviated make-out session in my car in front of her house before she hopped out and went inside. I sat there for a few moments plotting doom and destruction on her family, then I went home and pretty much collapsed. Didn't go to sleep immediately, but I was spent.

I'm hopeful that Sveta will be back again soonest, only this time to spend the night, and maybe to participate in that family foursome we've all talked about doing. Or maybe Mike will make an appearance and make it a five-some. I can hope.

Anyway, I hope everyone enjoyed yesterday as much as I did in the bosom of loved ones, and gave gifts of love to the people who matter. And thanks for all the kind words about my backside from yesterday. Don't expect it to become routine, but I do like showing off every so often because I'm vain like that.

Yule Like This

It's nothing you haven't seen before, but as a special present and thank you for being patient the last few months (and not as the start of a trend), I've got a bit of Yuletide cheer to bring you. I had a devil of a time blacking out the background, but I think it looks decent. And before you ask, I had to black out the background because it crowded the composition something fierce, and the black simplifies and makes me look better.

Or, if you don't like it, exchange it. I'm sure there are plenty of sites which would be happy to provide you with a shapelier, less-blacked-out backside. Here's the receipt:

1 x Lexi butt w/ Santa cap - $FREE

Have a safe, happy, joyous, sexy, whatever else can be had with it day, whatever you believe, whatever you celebrate or don't, and now I really have to go because I'm expecting company any minute now and I should be cooking.

The pun was free too, by the way, but you can't return that; you're stuck with it.

Flash Fiction Friday - Christmas

Dear Santa,

Please send my sister some underwear for Christmas. I came downstairs early last Christmas to see if I could see you coming down the chimney, and she was there, and I thought she was unwrapping a present but it turned out she was unwrapping herself. She took off all her clothes and lay back under the tree and started rubbing between her legs and on her boobies and saying all kinds of things about how she wanted you to deck her halls, and I figure it's because she wanted Santa to bring her some underwear to cover up those places with. Maybe that's how she gets the best gifts every year.

If you bring me the pony I asked for, I promise I'll go down this Christmas and rub myself like she was doing without any clothes on. I don't know what some of the words meant, but I'll say them all too. Please don't put me on the naughty list for sneaking a peek at my sister.

Love,

Virginia

---

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, except for my spouse.

She was decked all in red from her head to her toes

But beneath her red robes was as pink as a rose.

A stocking was hung from my out-thrusting shaft

Which she saw as it wiggled as at it she laughed.

"Mama in her 'robe' and Papa in his 'cap'

Aren't tucked in our beds for a long winter's nap.

Do you think Mr. Claus will surprise us," she said,

"If he comes down the chimney while I'm giving you head?"

"Don't you worry," I said as I thrust down her throat.

"He'll most likely enjoy it, the randy old goat."

The moon on the breast of my wife on her back

Gave a luster of midday (when we were also in the sack),

When what to my wondering eyes should appear

But her grin as I eased in, from ear to ear,

And she said, as my cock slipped slowly out of sight

"Merry Christmas to all, and no sleeping tonight!"

---

I've struggled with writing a sexy parody of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas before. Maybe the picture inspired me. It's not my best work; I wish I'd put a bit more effort into incorporating more of the stock phrases at least. Or added it to the plot of the original, where Santa actually shows up. But I'm glad I did it for Flash Fiction Friday because that way I was excused from having to do a line-by-line parody because of the length restrictions. And yes, I know, I didn't use the phrase in it. If you want, you can view it as an addendum and not the entry.

Which brings us to the first entry. I actually thought of this first as a letter to Penthouse (because it's a Playboy cover and all) but then the idea came to me a bit differently. Very little editing occurred. Maybe it's just a bit of fluff, or maybe I'm horribly corrupting the holiday, but it's Christmas Eve; you can't do anything to me.

May your days be merry and bright, and may all your Christmases be white. And you know what that means, don't you?

Here's the list I have so far for Flash Fiction Friday this week. I may be updating it as I find out more people; if you're a participant, let me know and I'll change the list. Hell, I'll change the list on Saturday or Sunday too if you let me know; I'm not proud or particularly punctual myself. David (on the list below) is compiling, so let him know too. In fact, I got this list from him, so thank him for it; I'm just repeating it.

• David: http://dsinvegas.blogspot.com/
• Lexi (that's me, so you don't really need a link, do you?)
• Scintillectually Yours: http://scintillectual.com/
• Advizor finally got his up: http://advizortoall.blogspot.com/
• William: http://thetrainingofmylovelyslut.blogspot.com/
• And of course, PB did one too: http://insatiabear.blogspot.com/

Now I know more people are doing this. I just know it. But I can't read minds. Neither can David. We're nice people; let us know if you're Flash Fictionalizing this week.

Catching Up With the Joneses

I remember promising, way back when, that I would have some updates on the cast of characters in my crazy little life. That was probably back in November when I was making promises I couldn't possibly keep. Or keeping promises I should never have made in the first place. Or going crazy. One or more of those.

Anyway, even though it's coming up on Christmas and I'll have a bunch of things to say on that score as well, here's the updates on various persons of interest.

Sveta is finally done with finals and home. Since it's an official leave of absence, she can't spend it all at my place, which is too bad. Still, we have high hopes for Christmas frivolity and joyousness. She's about as tuckered out as I am, poor dear; both our brains were tapioca when I brought her home from college, so very little happened worth reporting, which is why I haven't really reported it.

My parents are my parents. Dad's been working pretty hard too, as has Mom, so we've been seeing less of each other this past month or two. But we've got some time off all together, and looking forward to that. I have a sneaking suspicion that they might celebrate a bit more physically with Sveta and I this year; I have hopes of a three-way pileup on Dad, which isn't unprecedented but is certainly rare.

Mari is doing okay, but we never see her. That makes me a bit sad when I think about it. Still, she said she'd call and talk to us on Christmas for an extended period, since we've all got free long distance now. It makes me wish we had a speaker phone so we could all talk at once. I'm hoping she calls when Sveta is here so they can meet, even if only over the phone.

Sheri is still holding down her high-paying job that makes me hate her just a little bit for always wanting to quit. We had a tiff recently, nothing major but some unpleasant things were said and phones were hung up in a huff and so forth. These things happen. I don't mind admitting I'm jealous of her sometimes, but not because I want her to do poorly, more like I wish I were doing better. Ah well.

She's still fucking her boss, and probably has other bits of fun on the side. I sometimes worry a little bit about how profligate she is with her body, but she hasn't had any problems yet, and I'm hardly one to talk. Maybe I'm a bit jealous of all the action she gets, doing all the things I wish I had the balls to do.

Mike has a job. It's not a good job, but it's a job. He's of course not within easy travel of us, because God or karma has apparently dictated that my family will never be able to be together for the holidays again. Still, I harbor a secret hope that he might make the trip down, if only to take advantage of Sveta being here to get some hot teen lovin' while the getting's good.

I can't believe he doesn't have a steady girlfriend in his new digs, but according to him he doesn't have one. He claims not to have such high standards as I have, but I don't think that's true; I think he has lower standards for sex, but higher for relationships. But then he's never been one to get into long-term relationships at all; he's quite similar to Sheri in that way, except she doesn't even go looking for them, whereas his never work out. He claims he can't find a girl who wants anal. I told him he's not looking hard enough.

I've been invited to Kate's New Year's Eve bash again, with instructions to bring Sveta or Mike or anyone else I know who's fun. I was initially rather skeptical because I didn't really want to deal with the jerks who are Kate's friends again, but Kate said she would make it worth my while if I showed up. Not sure what that means, but it's tempting. We'll have to see on that.

Pam is showing. The last time I saw her, she had this adorable Buddha belly that I just wanted to kiss until my lips wore out. Sadly, it was not in a situation where that would have been okay, so I had to contain myself and whisper my desires in her ear, which made her giggle and blush. Still no word on plans for the future with Kirk, but they're not breaking up anyway, and he hasn't fled for the hills from responsibility. Maybe I'll invite them to Kate's party...

Oh, yeah, Gwen keeps making noises about me going to visit her. I haven't had time to think about it, but Sveta is on the way to Gwen, so I could go visit Sveta (and take advantage of her offer of a threesome with her boy toy) and then keep going to Gwen's. Could be fun, if I can ever get the cash and the time.

Uncle Sam is doing fine too, although we don't expect to see him for a while. Indications were made that perhaps we might see him on his way to somewhere else in February. Dunno. Aunt Jenny is not doing well at all; we're worried about her. We were going to visit, but things went south. Maybe when Uncle Sam shows up, we'll all caravan to see Aunt Jenny. I think she'd like to see us, even if she's doing so poorly that she can't really enjoy it.

And that, said the cat, is that. Unless I've forgotten someone, in which case, let me know and I'll include them. These people, by the way, can all be found in the cast list over there on the right if you have no idea what I'm talking about, or you can click on the labels for most of them to catch up if you're so inclined.

Now, all I have left over from my extended period of business is filling everyone in on the brief moments of fun I had at work. But that'll probably have to wait until after Christmas... and then I probably will just keep on waiting until I forget about it completely.

It's an Honor Just To Be Nominated...

I'm not really one for the whole blog awards thing, but since I found out by reading Lola's blog that I had been listed as a Sexiest Blog of 2010 on Inferno's blog. I figured I'd do the honorable thing and link back to them so you can read their stuff.

I have no plans to do an awards list of my own; I'm not a big blog-follower and at a certain point I realized that I couldn't possibly hope to keep up with all the great stuff out there, nor could I hope to link to even a tiny fraction of it, so I gave up. Plus the lifespan of a sexual blog seems to be remarkably short in most cases. I'm constantly amazed that I haven't yet gotten bored and stopped blogging, or been shut down by the Powers That Be.

So yeah, I'm feeling a bit like an ungrateful step-child right now, being honored and not returning the favor. Sorry guys; I think you're all great and everyone whose blog I've ever visited, even once by accident, may come by and pick up their award, the coveted Supreme Visitation Cup:

This is coming out as being really bitchy when I'm just trying to have a bit of fun. I appreciate the recognition from Inferno and from anyone else who reads or links or whatever. For your pains, please accept the coveted Supreme Bitchiness Cup:

That's me: I find a meme and subvert its ass all the way back to the Stone Age. It wouldn't be my blog if I weren't me, would it?

By the way, in case you don't speak Latin or have no historical background (and can't use Google for some reason) In Hoc Signo Vinces means "In this sign you will conquer," which is supposedly what Emperor Constantine saw along with a cross in the sky and decided to convert to Christianity. Of course, he didn't see it in Latin (rather in Greek), but the Latin is the one everyone knows, and Latin inscriptions on loving cup awards are just the way to go. And thus the reference, In Hoc Signo Whatever, means about what you'd expect it to mean. I thought about Sic Semper Whatever, but that means "Thus Always Whatever" which makes a lot of sense now that I think about it, and I probably should have gone with that. But then sic semper whatever, am I right? I win the coveted Supreme Sic Semper Whatever Cup, and I'm sharing it with everyone:

Flash Fiction Friday - Mirrors

"What do I look like when I cum?" he asked me as his breathing slowed and his tentative touch ran through the cooling puddle on his chest.

"I don't know," I confessed.  "We always seem to cum together; your cock shooting in my ass and making me cum on your stomach drives any hope of photographic recall away."  He laughed and pulled me down for a kiss, his shaft soft, his seed spilling from me in a rush.

The mood struck me; I rushed back into the house and brought out a mirror.  "Here, I'll hold this while I ride you, and then you can see for yourself."  Sinking onto his shaft was made more difficult, and after a few abortive jolts he pushed the mirror away, schemes forgotten.  

Some mysteries aren't worth revealing.  He knows what he looks like when he cums. He looks like my man.

---

"I got this at an estate auction.  Look at the sculpture; almost lifelike."

"Yeah, but you can't see their junk.  The mirror's in the way. Such a tease."

"I thought so too, until I realized that mirrors can be broken."

"No tentative touch for you, eh?  What about the bad luck?"

"Totally worth it.  Hand me that hammer and stand back; glass is going to be flying everywhere."

"What if the sculptor didn't sculpt what was hidden behind the mirror?"

"Only one way to find out.  Just think what the neighbors will say if I'm right."

---

Two, one for the reflection, one for the object.  Or is it the other way around?

Maybe the sculptor of the second was peeking in on the story of the first and was inspired?  Maybe the mirror from the second was somehow removed without breaking it (I would have found a way) and given to the couple in the first?  Maybe they're just two disconnected stories.

I may have mentioned that I enjoy watching gay sex, so writing the first was fun, but also quite tender because I am a huge believer in gay rights and thus love, or perhaps gay love and thus rights.  Both.  Anyway, sorry if you're not as into reading about gay sex as I am, but then I didn't pick the picture.  Not a woman in sight.  I could have written her in, but I decided to leave it alone.

However, the second one, fluff though it may be, is definitely two gals, possibly after a few drinks.  I can hear their voices.  Not that it makes any difference.

Since PB isn't able to post a list of participants next week, I expect fewer people will visit, but I'll still be here, and if you drop me a line saying that you've participated too, I'll make mention of it in next week's wrap-up so there's some hope of people knowing.  We wouldn't want Flash Fiction Friday to keel over and die (not that I have any expectations of that, since we've had weeks without before and always managed to pull through).  So I'll offer to shoulder some of PB's burden while he's away.  Or not.  I'm open to either possibility.

Oh, one last note: kids, don't try to fuck while holding full-length mirrors; you'll put your eyes out.

Lack of Moral Hygiene

The title is one of my favorite ways of describing deviancy.  But it's mostly a play on words.

See, as November taught me, some things must be sacrificed on the altar of the Time God (I call Him Timeolus, and He is a cruel and capricious god who delights in making moments fly by when they should drag and drag when they should fly).  One of those things, I'm sad to say, was hygiene of a more physical nature.  Not that I got stinky; I showered frequently.  But I'm afraid that I let the bush grow a bit because I just couldn't be arsed to shave.  I was going to shave for Sveta's arrival, but she told me to leave it, so I did.  I told her it would probably be the last time she'd ever see my bush, so she should make the most of it.  She was intrigued, since she's never (as far as I know, anyway) been with a woman who didn't shave.

I'm not against pubic hair in its place.  Mine just happens to be more trouble than it's worth most times, plus I confess a distinct preference for shaved in my women, so I follow suit.  But I thought, what the Hell, let Sveta have a new experience.  I confess that, in a free moment prior to her arrival, I pruned the hedge a bit while I was shaving my legs in the bath.  But it was so much easier not to have to shave all the time; my showers were much quicker without, so it actually led to me being cleaner than I otherwise might have been.

Still, as soon as I get a chance, I'm going back to being bald because while I like the fiery quality, I don't like the quantity and the maintenance.  Better to just bush-hog the whole thing and be done with it.  I really wish there were an easier solution than shaving, but it's the easiest I've found.  Maybe I'm missing out on miracle new treatments.

However, the reason I wrote all this rigmarole is because I got a picture of the neatly-trimmed lawn, and I wanted to prove to everyone that I'm a natural redhead.  This is definitely not au naturel though; if I leave it without maintenance, it's like an explosion of hair, plus it's not grown in completely (and I imagine that shaving it off all the time probably has thinned it out somewhat).  Heavily pruned and landing-stripped because I didn't want Sveta getting hairs caught in her teeth.  Still, although I don't participate in HNT, I suppose I'll make this post on a Thursday so I can be Half-Nekkid in good company.

Behold!

Yeah, they're cute, I know. I remember being young enough to think that having pubes was cool as Hell.  Now, they're just a nuisance.  Pulling out my Venus and making short work of them as soon as I have the time to take a long enough bath.  By the time this gets posted, chances are good they'll already be but a memory, waiting to spring upon me again the next time I get too lazy to shave.

Crept Up On Me

I was so sure that this week was going to be better than this.  Wishful thinking, I'm afraid.  Thus, I haven't been as post-ful since Sunday because Busy managed to sink its hellish teeth into my ass and now I'm up to my ears again.  Hopefully this will change in the next few days, and I have some things in the pipe just in case.  And if not, it will all be over by next week (I really hope) and Sveta will arrive and all will be pleasant again (I hope, really really).

While I'm away, please enjoy the following video.  It's POV (which I'm not always that fond of) and the guy's voice annoys the shit out of me, but it's still a decent way to pass the time while I'm busy.

http://www.xvideos.com/video123140/ally_creampie

Toe Cramps

Just a short little thing.  Reading David's FFF yesterday with his "toe-cramping orgasm" led me to thinking about that, and I thought I'd muse briefly on the topic, since I've had them but never reflected on them.

A long time ago, probably during a TMI or something, the concept of toe-curling orgasms came up, and I said that my toes didn't tend to curl but rather to extend during a particularly enthusiastic O.  This is true.  My toes have great extension.  They get claustrophobic in tight shoes.

But I hadn't thought about the times when the toe-extension actually led to less pleasant things.  David was kind enough to point out that, while it's a great image, toe cramps during sex are less pleasant in reality, and the more I think about it, the more I agree.  Maybe there are toe-fetishist pain-sluts out there who dig toe cramp orgasms the most, but not me.  It pulls me out of the moment rather harshly.  Thankfully it's a rare occurrence.

Yeah, suddenly wincing and cursing while in the midst of an orgasm is bad enough, but when it drops you out of the bliss-cloud like a ton of just-about-to-multiple bricks, that's really bad.  And it's not fun for the partner either.  I remember once (a story which I would never have remembered were it not for this topic of discussion) I was deep into it with a guy, he was thrusting away, quite close to orgasm himself, and I was blissed the fuck out when another, big wave hit me and I came, hard.  I yelled I was cumming so hard, my fists clenched on the bedsheets, my legs spread in as close to a split as you're likely to get me, just wanting him to fuck me into a frenzy, and then, all of a sudden, without me noticing, my foot did whatever it does to extend those toes a bit too far and wham, pain shoots up my leg and I went from wailing "Yes!" to wailing "OW!"

It shocked him out of his state of almost-orgasm too, and he pulled out, which just made my situation worse, and sat on his haunches looking concerned while I rolled around trying to escape the shooting twinges from my toes.  Eventually I recovered, but he was terrified that he'd hurt me, and even after I explained that it wasn't him at all, that I'd been having a great time, he was flaccid and forlorn.

But here's the saving grace of toe-cramping orgasms; I give credit where credit is due.  If you can get me to cum so hard that my feet lock up, even though it might suck right then, I think you're doing such a great job that I will show my appreciation.  It's like proving how good you are by making me miserable for a second, and while that's pretty fucked up and I'm happier if someone proves how good they are by making me multiple over and over again until I can't take any more, it's not all that different.  Getting me to cum until I just can't stand cumming any more is hard too, and that's not exactly fun at the end.  I'm begging for the pleasure to stop.  It doesn't happen often at all, but when it does, even if I kind of feel like too much of a good thing at the end, I will reward you.

So once I established that he was great, that it wasn't his fault, that I was really sorry for going off like that, and that I wasn't leaving until he felt as good as I had, things began coming back to life and after that fairly major hiccup, we got back to the deed.  I didn't cramp my toes again (mostly because he was behind me at that point and I tend not to extend my toes when I'm being fucked from behind) and I let him cum inside me, three times as it turned out.  I let him fuck my ass and switch to my pussy, I let him take me any position he wanted, bareback, and I stayed in bed with him after and slept there so I could get some morning loving.  Not a bad night, certainly better than it would have been had I not gotten a cramp.

I guess what it boils down to is that it's a sign of quality, even if at the moment it happens it's a pain in the foot (or feet; usually it's just one foot, but once or twice I've had both feet going, which tends to bring things to a standstill for longer).

So thanks David for bringing this up in my mind.  I wish there was a way to experience it without experiencing it so hard, but until someone comes up with a way or I turn into a pain slut, I'll take what I can get.  I haven't had one in a long time, which isn't to say that I've not been with people who couldn't give one to me, just that I haven't had one.  I don't really mind, but it was nice to waltz down memory lane.

Flash Fiction Friday - Into the Ice

And the brave one's blood grew cold and his breath froze in the icy places below the world. Now he stood alone and unbent before the throne of the Jotunn jarl and thumped sword upon shield, singing out a challenge. No bearded behemoth greeted him, but a pair of rime-maidens, blue and sharp as hoarfrost. His gaze ran down their shining bodies, from hair like winter's wrath over breasts peaked like twin bergs to hips full of snow-dappled promises. Numbly his fingers surrendered their grip on blade and buckler as gelid fingers caressed him. He did not struggle, shivering with desire, as they stole the heat from his soul's hearth even as they fueled his loins' false fire. Thus he passed from mortal ken into the ice.

---

I knew I wanted this to be about cold.  I don't know if PB chose the phrase purposefully, since I don't know anything about the picture other than what he gave us, but the combination of shivering and the blue tint and the weather was enough.  Boy I'm sure going to feel silly come Friday when everyone writes about cold.

At first, when I saw the title of the picture (King Sol) I was a bit confused and wondered if I'd completely missed the point.  Not that I was going to change my mind, just that I was reading something into it that wasn't there.  But while that may be true, King Sol works for me because I'd like to believe that this is a fragment of a myth concerning winter and the shortening of days, and perhaps King Sol, our intrepid (but rather overly-influenced by the lusts of his flesh) hero, is the sun and the rime-maidens are the approaching solstice.  Or something.  That's just a bit of fluff; I didn't think of that while I was writing the piece, but I'm post-facto rationalizing it.

After my Beowulf pastiche of a while back (go on, read it again, I'm quite proud of it) one might think that I've got a thing for Norse-Germanic myth, which would be semi-accurate.  I didn't do verse because this isn't Old English and I dislike repeating the same trick.  I'm also trying hard to be positive about Norse-Germanic myth because it gets co-opted far too often by asshole neo-Nazi shitheads.  And let's face it, there was a certain amount of sex going on in old Norse myth; maybe not as much as in Greek myth, but I couldn't see putting ice-maids into Greek myth because icebergs are pretty thin on the ground in the Peloponnese.

A confession: while I was looking for something else, I came across the word "gelid" which I knew but didn't remember and would probably never have used, and it clicked back into memory so I had to use it or lose it, but it feels a bit like I cheated and wrote by thesaurus.  However, the rest of the big words are all mine.  I love hoarfrost, and, like Coleridge before me (The Rime of the Ancient Mariner), I'm using "rime" with a bit of a pun, but in saying that I make myself look incredibly snobbish.  Informal poll: Anyone catch the pun?  Anyone get the pun in Coleridge?  Anyone know what the hell Lexi is talking about?

This was rather rambling because I'm rather scatterbrained presently, and I apologize if I've seemed boastful about using big words or puns or Beowulf or really anything that I've said.  In attempting to explain, I've just made things worse.  Just like always.

Anyway, to return to the topic at hand, I struggled with this, not because I didn't have an idea, but because I couldn't write the idea down.  Then I wrote it down but it was all wrong, so I cannibalized phrases from the original to feed the fires of innovation.  Then it wound up being too long, so I cut things.  I would have cut the required phrase ("shivering with desire" if you're playing at home) but even though it's basically three words the story didn't need, I left it in and cut some other three words because it's important to play by the rules (127 words, if you're playing at home).  I wound up changing most of what I cannibalized, so there's very little of the original still there.  And I wanted it to involve more sex, but instead you got some arcane words.  Quick, instead of an orgasm, I'm going to say, "brumal!"  That's that kind of thing that keeps them coming back for more.

But don't let all that make you think I'm unhappy with this.  Nor am I ever unhappy that I've thrown my literary bonnet in the ring for Flash Fiction Friday.  I doubt sincerely that you'd be unhappy if you tossed whatever hat you wear when writing into next week's ring.  We take all kinds: literary tamoshanters, literary porkpies, literary straw boaters, even the occasional literary giant foam cheese hat.

21 Questions - Would You Rather...

I stole these from Lola, who in turn no doubt stole them from someone else, and so on back into infinity.  I'm actually pretty impressed; they're fairly good questions.  And since readers don't chime in that often (not that I've given much encouragement in the past month or so) I went for it because who can resist a meme?

1. Would you rather have a threesome with 2 guys and a girl, or 2 girls and a guy?

I've never sat down and attempted to tot up the figures as far as which one I've had more, but my gut tells me that I've probably had a few more FFMs than MMFs.  It's a tough call even then though, because they're both so enjoyable in different ways.  On average, I'd say that if you can get an MMF, it's probably going to be better because people are inclined to be more into it, but by the same token it's harder to get it started because guys are terrified of doing it for some reason.  So I guess I'll say MMF, just because if they were both on offer and at the same level of quality, I'd probably leap at the chance for DP which I haven't had in ages.

2. Would you rather have complete sober sex or completely buzzed sex?

Sober.  Always sober.  Drunk sex is rarely as good, and there's always a good chance you won't remember it in the morning.  Not that I'm totally opposed to some drunk fucking, but it's never going to be better.

3. Would you rather have your toes sucked or your ears?

That's a tough one.  I don't mind toe-kissing, but leaving spit behind is yucky.  And I don't want a wet willy.  Probably my earlobes would be fine.  I'd rather have certain other things sucked though.

4. Would you rather screw George w Bush or Martha Stewart?

If we're talking "screw" as in "take advantage of and leave bleeding in a ditch..."  But we're not talking that.  In total contradiction to my beliefs on pretty much everything else, I'd have to say that I'd probably rather fuck Bush, simply because it'd be over quicker and I could just lie back and think of England.  And sadly I'm just not that into older women.  I have no real beef with Martha Stewart, but I'm not attracted to her at all.

5. Would you rather have morning sex or night sex?

Morning in the actual morning?  No.  Wake-up sex is fine, but I'd rather not wake up at the crack of dawn for sex.  I like falling asleep sex too, but I do like wake-up sex.  Still, night sex is probably going to win out here just because I like the nightlife, I like to boogie..

6. Would you rather do it in the hot tub or big shower?

Hot tub by a narrow margin.  Since I have something of a combination in-house, it's a hard call, but I narrowly don't like standing-up sex as much as sitting-down sex.

7. Would you rather have no sex for a week or crappy sex for 2 weeks?

This will illuminate my psyche I'm sure, but unless we're talking really crappy, I'll take the crappy.  No sex for a week would be tough.  If there was some marginal chance I might get something out of the crappy sex, even if it weren't anything more than that pleasant feeling of being penetrated, I might go for that.  Now, if "no sex" means masturbation continues on the menu, and the crappy sex was so crappy that not only wasn't it good, it was actively unpleasant, then no sex and the tender tickled tamale for me, thank you kindly.

8. Would you rather be with an experienced person or non-experienced?

Another good one.  I fluctuate; there's a part of me that really enjoys innocence and inexperience (I've talked about this part; she's not the best part of my by a long stretch), but honestly I prefer to experience that vicariously a lot of times.  Watching two newbies at it is better sometimes than corrupting the innocent yourself.  Not that it's not fun to be the experienced one.  I'd say, further illuminating my bad spots, that I'd rather have an experienced guy, but for women, it's a much harder call.  Possibly still experienced, but I like a little cherry on top every so often.

9. Would you rather be naked in public or get caught by your parents?

Too easy.  Not really even a fair question for me to answer.

10. Would you rather be with one person for the rest of your life or experience many?

Many.  Not sure I could do just one.

11. Would you rather be the dominant one or submissive one?

Keeping in mind my total lack of hard-core-ness on the subject, I'm probably happier slightly more submissive with men and slightly more dominant with women.  But that's a vague inclination, nothing more.

12. Would you rather have sex in a church or a funeral home?

Oh God, totally a church.  Funeral home?  No thank you.  I am dying to actually have sex in a Catholic church (my schooling has warped me, I'm afraid) but since I no longer attend Catholic school, my chance has probably come and gone.  I used to dream of corrupting a priest in church, but that was just idle fantasy.  Still, I'm going with church every time.  Funerals make me really sad.

13. Would you rather have texting sex or phone sex?

Neither.  Please don't make me choose; that's like a rock and a hard place.

14. Would you rather die a virgin or a hoe?

It'd be hard for me to die a virgin.  And given the way they've spelled "whore" it'd be hard for me to die that way too, since I'm not a tool used for hoeing.  I'd rather not die either a virgin or a whore, but given the choice, I think I'm going with whore.

15. Would you rather post a picture of tits or ass?

Ass.  My tits aren't my best feature.  This doesn't mean you get to see any more of either of them.

16. Would you rather do it on the kitchen counter or in front of fire place with a roaring fire?

The fireplace sounds cozy and nice for a certain type of fuck, but the kitchen counter sounds like the ideal for another type.  I'd have to say the fire, because in my decrepitude I'm built for comfort rather than speed.

17. Would you rather have 30 minutes of foreplay which included a backrub or a 30 minute orgasm?

Back rubs are nice and all, but I don't require them out of foreplay at all.  I've had more than thirty minutes of foreplay (or what I'd qualify as foreplay) often enough, but never a thirty minute orgasm.  That sounds like something I'd like to try.

18. Would you rather be covered in chocolate or whip cream?

Having tried both, for strictly practical reasons, whipped cream is easier to clean up.  If I'm the one being covered, I'll go for the cream.  But if I'm eating it off of someone else, chocolate all the way baby.

19. Would you do it risky business style or Pretty woman style?

I have no idea, since I don't know what either of them are.

20. Would you rather have sex with the cowardly lion or the wicked witch of the west?

I figure this is probably some kind of allegorical question about what you prefer in a lover, but in terms of strict literalness, I'll take the Lion.  Fierce, noble, kind, and gentle, with a lion-sized cock... who would take warty, cackly, and evil over that?  Okay, so the witch probably has her good points too.

21. Would you rather have an orgasm once every 20 seconds or once every 5 years?

This is another illuminating one, but I'll take the 20 second option because I couldn't stand to go 5 years without an O. Quantity wins over quality, even though I'm sure the 5-year orgasm would be better. Although the question doesn't say that, so why assume it? Maybe the 20-second Os are just as good, and you have more of them. You might eventually build up a tolerance to them, I guess, and having an orgasm every 20 seconds might get embarrassing, but still, it'd brighten up my day.

There you have it.  Feel free to send my questions, or point me in the direction of question lists, or something.

College Adventures

I may sometimes make it seem like college was a total blast for me, that I spent all my time partying and fucking and just having a grand old time.  Hell, I probably make my entire life seem like that sometimes.

Don't you believe it.

I am not a social butterfly.  I happen to be pretty good at sex and not hung up about it, so I get more of it than people who are similar to my general temperament but are also prudes.  That's natural.  But while I did occasionally cut loose in college, I didn't go to a party school and I spent a lot of time working my ass off both academically and to make some extra money, and I spent a certain amount of time hiding in my room from the world because I just didn't feel up to dealing with people's crazy shit.  Gwen would drag me to parties, and sometimes I would go voluntarily, but I'm not who I may at times appear to be.  Or is that "whom?"  I can never remember whether "appear" counts as a linking verb and thus takes the nominative.  See, geek.

But all of that preface aside, I did have some banging times in college, which made up in small part for the fact that college basically sucked in most other respects.  So I can't pretend to be the voice of wisdom when it comes to telling people to stick to their studies (I was a horrible procrastinatrix among other things) or not take risks.

Thus, I am not worried when Sveta spreads her wings a bit.  In fact, I approve of most of it.  There is a part of me, the wimpy part which wants to protect her from everything, that... well, that wants to protect her from everything by locking her in her room and throwing away the key.  But we ignore that part, because life is for the living, and she's not being stupid, just having some fun.  It's fairly harmless.

This is all an intro to talking about some of Sveta's wing-spreading, which I only learned about over Thanksgiving because, while she hinted she had things to tell me, she wanted to do it in person.  It was better in person; email would have been awful, and the telephone loses so much in translation.  Plus, if it wound her up, that meant I could do something about that while listening.

We all know that Sveta is saddled with a roomie who, while nice and a good roomie, isn't exactly open to sexual possibilities.  Thus, not only is Sveta not getting roomie-nookie (and let me tell you, that's great) but she's not really able to bring people back to her room or entertain herself in her own bed.  Part of that is Sveta; she's embarrassed, and that's natural for her because she's been tied down for so long that it's hard for her to see that she doesn't have to be embarrassed to say, "Hey, roomie, can I have the room for the evening?  I've got a social agenda."  I still maintain that her roomie is probably in the same boat, and that communication is the key, but I'm one to talk.  Plus I have many advantages of growing up that Sveta lacks.

I do remember, before Gwen and I started fooling around, having to dance around the issue of wanting to bring guys back to the room.  I didn't really have a problem asking, "Um, Gwen, is it okay if you get lost for a few hours?" with a suggestive look in my eye, but it was still a bit awkward.  Still, after the first few times, and after she had asked me a time or two, it was okay.

So Sveta has to get off, when she can, either when she knows her roomie is out for an extended period (and even then, the cleanup is a pain) or in the bathroom on the toilet, hardly the most conducive area to self-pleasure.  And her romance must be conducted elsewhere as well, unless again she's assured of a solo room occupancy for a long enough time.

I told her she should find someone with a single and fuck him (or her), and while we were both joking around about it, I'll be damned if she didn't take my advice.  It seems she's bagged herself a senior.  I'm so proud.  I'm sure he's saying he bagged himself a sophomore (although not a freshman, so there's less cachet there) but make no mistake, while he's definitely the lucky one, she bagged him.

Since I wasn't there (and oh how I wish I had been) I can't give tremendously gritty details, but suffice to say that they met at a party, he invited her to his room for a private cocktail, and pretty soon she was on her back and he was eating her out like he'd done it before.  Once he got her to cum (good for him; it takes a skilled tongue or some serious patience) the gush had him so turned on that he ripped off his undies and got down to business without any oral preparation on her part.  She says his cock is as good as his tongue, although nothing compared to Mike or Dad (and she's probably not flattering them too much, since they're both really good) and he made out with her while slowly steadily pushing in and out until she was gushing all over again.

She thought it would be a one-time thing (literally, actually) until they started talking post-coitally, wrapped in each other's arms, and found out they're both interested in some similar things, and so they talked a bit of politics while he fucked her again.  Now that, I really wish I could have seen, because nothing is sexier than talking shop while fucking.

She still thought it would be a one-night thing until she woke up in his bed the next morning and they went to breakfast and kept talking, and then went back to his room and fucked again.  Actually, according to her, he was fingering her through her pants in the dining hall, and it was only by strength of will that they made it back to his room before ripping their clothes off again.

She's taken great pains to assure me that they're just friends.  While I am a bit jealous of him, I think she at least is telling the truth; she doesn't seem to have any feelings for him beyond wanting to jump his bones frequently and take advantage of his single room.  They haven't dated, they just meet up in his room for sex, but she's getting plenty, the minx, so I will feel much less guilty about sharing Dad with her a bit less one-sidedly this Christmas.

How do I know she's not romantically interested?  Well, I don't, but I do know that she's also had another guy, and this one, while the story turned me on immensely, made my protective mode kick into overdrive.  She went to a party to unwind after writing a big paper and got a bit drunker than is recommended, and made out on the couch with some guy she doesn't really even know.  Then they went to the bathroom and she sucked his cock in one of the stalls, then let him fuck her from behind until he came inside her.  Like I said, protective mode went off big-time, but I'm hardly one to talk, having barebacked far too often in my day.

But back to her regular lay.  He needs a name, I suppose, in case I have to talk about him again.  Let's call him Ernst because it's actually fairly close to the truth and I'm sick of Tom, Dick, and Harry.  Ernst is a gentleman, but he's indicated his desire to videotape their congress, and that made Sveta a bit nervous, and rightly so.  Because of various reasons, it makes me more than a bit nervous too.  I've counseled against it.  But should you find an amateur video with Sveta in it, obviously she ignored my council.  Like I said, she has to make her own decisions, and I can't protect her from everything, nor should I, because I'm not her fucking mother and when I get protective I sometimes feel like it, which makes me feel really old.  The hell with it: if they do videotape it, I hope she'll make a copy for me so I can drool over her.

Actually, she's raised the possibility, should I ever get the time and money to visit, that I could come and team up with her on Ernst, a possibility which sends my nethers to twinkling brightly.  We'll have to see how that goes.  He'll graduate at the end of the upcoming semester, so there's a fairly narrow window of opportunity there, but still, I could go up with her and we could paint the town red.  It makes me so proud to think that; a year ago, I wouldn't have thought she could ever paint even a small village red.

She's also eagerly welcomed Ernst into the elite fraternity of ass-fuckers; he'd never had a girl offer before, but after their first few times, she wanted some anal so she popped the question rather sheepishly.  She blushed when she told me about it, so I can only imagine how she must have been during the actual event.  Of course, he was game, and so she's enjoyed several back-door forays since.  They don't do it every time; she likes feeling his cock in her pussy too much, plus they like fucking face to face and anal doesn't lend itself to that as easily, particularly for the semi-uninitiated.

I asked her if she's let Ernst cum inside her, and she said no, but she was thinking about it; I gather that he wears a condom every time, which raises my estimation of him even as it makes me worry that he's taking it more seriously than she is (or indeed that she's taking it more seriously than she's letting on).  Again, I counseled incredibly hypocritical caution, but in fairness to myself after I counseled it, I told her several stories of my own college escapades which put the foot firmly in the mouth of that particular counsel.  She's pretty sure she'll let him at some point, but not unless the need gets really strong for a creampie.  I know the feeling.  Still, she can always slake that thirst at home.

Anyway, that's what's going on with Sveta at college, along a rambling path through my own thoughts on the subject.  I think I will have to make a plan to visit and spend some time helping her wear Ernst out a little, since he seems like he has youthful vitality to spare.  I don't make it a habit of telling other people's stories, but occasionally one likes to give an update.  Speaking of which, I hope I'll hear from Mike soon and have something to update there too.

Yeah, we can all live vicariously through my coed nymphet of a girlfriend, at least until she dumps me for someone her own age, instead of an old fogy who acts like her mother sometimes.  Yeah, anxiety and college sex; I remember the combo well.  Now all I need is the stench of cheap beer, vomit, and coconut rum, and a term paper due tomorrow.

Flashing Back to Sveta

I've had a fair number of inquiries about how Sveta's visit went, so I thought I'd cover that first because it's not going to be too in-depth. Not because it was bad at all, just because it wasn't remarkable, in terms of storytelling. Nothing in particular noteworthy happened, beyond the usual stuff that happens when Sveta visits.

So it was good. Very nice to see her, although I'll be seeing her again shortly. The first time we saw each other, it had been so long that I just about freaked out and tried to crawl down her throat and huddle in her stomach because I just wanted to be close to her, as close as I could get. I told her she didn't have to wait for me, that she could be with Dad before I got home; Mom picked her up since she didn't have any other way of getting home than that, because I had to work, so she was home for hours before I got there. But she waited anyway. Dad said he perfectly understood.

We retreated to my bedroom and slow, passionate love was made. I didn't get around to actually doing anything with her naughty bits until what seemed like hours of just holding and kissing and cuddling. I wasn't looking for sex, really, although I was perfectly happy to get some after the day I'd had, plus I'm almost always happy to have sex. I actually came on her thigh because we were grinding together for so long, her leg up between mine and her thigh rubbing on my cunt until I just let go and came. It was wonderful, holding her and feeling her against me, and I honestly didn't want to break away even to taste her. Eventually I got to stroking her cute little pussy after she started in on mine; I think she may have been hornier than I was, which is saying something.

After we started, it wasn't hard to move from stroking to licking, and I gave her two fierce orgasms in fairly quick succession before she couldn't take any more and started in on me, and then we actually fell asleep together, which I always love, although it never lasts.

Beyond that, the week was taken up with work much more than I wanted it to be, so Sveta and Dad got to have plenty of wholesome family fun in my absence. The only day I got to spend at home the entire time was Thanksgiving itself, which was fairly low key except for some general drama because certain members of my family take food preparation a little too seriously. During that time, Sveta and I went upstairs and let things simmer down. I would have tried to help cook, but I was just beat, and all I really wanted to do was curl up in my nice warm bed with my nice warm sweetie and stay there forever.

We made love surprisingly infrequently, even when I was available for it; she seemed to be getting plenty of the good stuff from Dad while I wasn't, and when I was, she was really clingy, which suited me fine because I was really clingy too. Or maybe I'm projecting my own feelings onto her. She was the one to initiate things other than cuddling on most occasions; I'm sorry to say that I was really too tired to be much of an initiator myself. If that had meant that we didn't have sex at all, I would have felt guilty, but as it was, I felt like it gave her the opportunity to call the shots in the bedroom, something I'm glad to see she's grown into. A year ago she wouldn't have made a peep about it.

Since Sveta's birthday falls in the fall after she goes back to school, we took the time to celebrate that at the same time as Thanksgiving, so there was some cake with the turkey and presents were given. Mom and Dad got her a gift certificate which she's saving so she and I can go shopping for underwear with it (yeah, we like shopping for undies, can you blame us) and I got her a book because I want her to read it and an egg because she needs some toys that don't require a lot of hassle to use, and sitting in her chair with an egg in under her skirt is something she's said she wants to try, since she can't really do a whole lot else with her roomie always in and out. I hope maybe next year she'll be able to get a single and have some alone time. She likes her roomie, but it's not a relationship where masturbation is acceptable even hinting at. I guess it's okay if you find someone you don't mind living with in close quarters and their only problem is being a prude. I still think it's possible that both of them are just too nervous to admit that they'd really be fine with it, but that's my dirty mind.

Dad also promised her an extra-special birthday lay (he gives coupons, the goof; I get one too on my birthday every year) and I've given to understand that she's saving that up for Christmas so I can be present, since it sounds like it will involve special lingerie and other exciting extras. She's had sex, but she hasn't had that many special times, and most of them have been with me, so we decided she needs to have a night of passion with Dad attempting to pull a double (I know it sounds like Dad's impotent, but believe me, one of his sessions is enough for most women). That remains to be seen.

Nothing particularly sexy happened on Thanksgiving; we didn't fuck at the dinner table or anything like that. We did eat dinner in various states of undress, but that's normal. And then after dinner, I did take Sveta upstairs and fuck her ass fairly roughly with our new double dil, which it turned out was something of a mistake because she had to excuse herself halfway through to use the facilities, but she came right back squeaky clean and finished up until we were both enjoying ourselves a lot.

Then I had to go back to work, and basically I only saw her at night, but that was okay. I was so wiped out that I got to sleep with her a lot; I didn't toss and turn or wake up at odd hours, and I had to be up early anyway so that was not big deal. I didn't really have time in the mornings for sexy showers, but I got sexy kisses on my way to the shower, and I went to work with my panties quite moist on a few occasions.

And then she had to leave while I was at work. Which would have torn me up more, except I was too busy to be torn up about it, and I know I'll be seeing her again soon. Still, I was a bit more mopey than usual that day, which actually was commented upon, and I told the truth, which made sense to my coworkers, even though I think a few of them may have batted an eye at my dating a college teen. Still, as I'll tell later, it didn't seem to hurt my social agenda. I don't really care any more; I don't introduce her as my girlfriend mostly for her sake, but I don't care if people know I'm dating a co-ed. A few of my male coworkers think I'm the coolest person ever, and that's more to do with my bagging a hot girl like Sveta than because I'm a lesbian. Like I said, I'm basically one of the guys when I work.

So yeah, it was good, but too short and too busy. If I'd been able to take the week off and just spend it with Sveta, it would obviously have been better, but I'll hopefully be able to do that at Christmas.

Sorry that wasn't particularly play-by-play, but while it was wonderful, I don't remember individual moments so much as the general warmth of having her there and snuggling with her. I'll be getting to the hot sex stories as soon as I can, but until then I hope the romance novel will be acceptable.

Flash Fiction Friday - Time

His hands, young and smooth, slid over the peaks of her breasts, slowly pulling the neckline of her impractical shirt lower, exposing her. His lips were at the nape of her neck, suckling insistently on her skin. She felt his power behind her surging.

Then as his hands slipped lower, over her belly, they became scratchy and roughened by a lifetime of work, and she remembered where she was, and who she was, and the power behind her was no longer there as he struggled with her waistline awkwardly, mumbling something. "I'm sorry, I can't," she said. "I can't." And she pulled away, her fantasy dissolving into harsh reality, the husk blowing away in the wind like the stray strands of straw beneath her feet.

---

Who hasn't had the experience of letting a fantasy overtake them, or having a bubble be popped?  I'm not sure where this came from, since I've never had something quite like this happen to me.  I think if I'd written something longer, I might have been able to do something better with the idea, but I just don't have the time or the energy for it at the moment (I am a broken record).

I guess it comes from the slightly retro feel of the picture, or possibly the required phrase "scratchy and roughened."  I could have written a straight-out sex scene, and he could have been the farmhand with naturally scratchy and roughened hands or something like that, and all would have been well, if a bit clichéd.  But I didn't.  Chalk it up to wanting these poor characters to be miserable.

This has been, of course, Flash Fiction Friday, which you should check out.  I am swamped with work and yet I've managed to do it every week (with debatable success), so what's your excuse, huh?

Because When I'm Crazy...

Everyone knows I can't resist a series of silly questions, even if I've probably answered them before.  And because I'm crazy, the answers may be more entertaining.  Probably not.  I'm basically only answering this series of questions (which I discovered via Sex Babble who linked to Lady Grinning Soul's actual recitation of the questions which she apparently stole from The Daisy Approach, and there I stopped tracing) so I can answer the last one because I have something funny to say.

Also, in an edit to the original, I should point out that the POS at the start of this post was me being forgetful and not me calling something a piece of shit.  If I want to call something a piece of shit, I have no shyness about that.  "Piece of shit post editor," she mumbles darkly.

1. Had sex in car older than a 1985 model?

You know, I'm not sure.  I think so.  But I could give a shit about cars, so I haven't exactly been taking down license plates and VIN numbers.  I usually just take down panties.

2. Played strip poker and lost?

Of course.  I'm not a terrible poker player, but I'm not that good either, and losing at strip poker is no big deal to me.  I don't have any particularly sexy stories arising from this fact though, to the best of my recollection, which isn't all that good at the moment.

3. Name three celebrities you would like to bang the sh!tz out of.

What's "sh!tz?"  I'll be fair and give three men, three women, and they'll all be pat answers because I'm not much of a star-fucker, so I don't think about it a lot.  I'd fuck Karl Urban, Clive Owen, and Kevin Spacey (yes) on the men's side, and Emily Browning, Alyson Hannigan, and Keira Knightley (although only if she calmed down and ate a sandwich first) on the women's.  All at once, if possible.  Understand that these are purely off the top of my head, and mostly just about looks.  Or a particular character.  For instance, Keira Knightley in the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie is eminently fuckable, but as a person, I'm not so sure.

4. Ever gone commando?

This question has been redacted to read "Are you now or have you ever been Lexi?"  Why yes, Senator, yes I have. 

5. Open relationship?

Similarly, a fairly easy question to answer.  They don't always work, but if you can make them work, I think they're great, and not just because I'm a ho-bag.  Openness, sexually, is healthy.  And I believe that love can be given to more than one person too, although that's tougher to make work.

6. You have been naughty what is your punishment?

I'd rather not be punished.  I should be rewarded for being naughty; it brings so many people pleasure.

7. Ticklish?

I've become less so in my dotage, but I'm still relatively ticklish, yes.

8. Spit or swallow?

This is an extremely popular question, and as I've already discussed a while back, I don't get why.  Is spitting really that popular?  I know that some people do it, and some people have perfectly legitimate reasons for doing it, but come on, it's already on your tongue; what's the harm in swallowing?  You'll swallow some of it anyway; it can't be helped.  If you mind the taste, don't get it in your mouth in the first place.  I have perfect respect for people who don't take oral cumshots, but if you take one, just swallow it and get it over with if you want to be rid of it.  Of course, some of us roll it around on our tongues because we're sick little monkeys.

9. Is rear entry an option?

Yeah, the parking is always better around the back.  Plus only the cool people get let in the back way.

10. What would you do for a Klondike bar?

Poor Lady Grinning Soul didn't know what a Klondike bar was.  That's either an indication of her non-United-States-ian upbringing or her sheltered life.  Me, I wouldn't do much of anything I wouldn't do already for a Klondike bar because I don't like them.  And I hate myself a little for being able to sing the jingle that goes with the question.

11. Truth or Dare? (Truth have you ever been with more than 1 person in one day? or show a tasteful picture of cleavage/boobs or guys a boxer shot)

I'd rather play Parcheesi.

12. BDSM?

Occasionally, not as a lifestyle choice but as a way to spice things up.  But I'm not into pain, so none of the SM part, and I'm not really into anything beyond light bondage except in fantasy.  I can be a bit submissive between the sheets (well, not between the sheets, but that's the polite term) but I wouldn't pretend to actually participate in anything which most people would qualify.  So not really, I guess.

13. Does this picture make you horny or hungry?

Can't honestly say that it makes me either.  I was a bit titillated by it, but then the chicken wings kind of weirded me out a bit.  And I wouldn't want to eat it.  I'm already hungry and horny, and this hasn't affected that state much.

14. You order a pizza...would you ever flash the delivery guy at the door?

Have I?  Not to my recollection.  Would I?  In the right situation, I'd have no problem with it.

15. Are you horny?

This question has been redacted to "Are you now, or have you ever been..."  Wait, I've done that joke before.

16. Leather or lace?

Lace.  Leather is uncomfortable.

17. Silk ties or hand cuffs?

Like I said, I'm not much for bondage, so it'd have to be silk ties because I'm not using handcuffs. Besides, if you're going to be hardcore, I know a lot of knots and I have a ready supply of cable ties.

18. Thongs? Boy shorts? Grannie panties? Lace?

Bikini cut mostly.  I have a few of the first two, and some lace stuff as well (although that's really a material, not a cut).  I've never gone in for Granny panties mostly because I buy cheap-ass bikini bottoms in bulk for normal everyday wear.  They're basically my Granny panties.

19. Eyes open or closed?

That question covers more ground than a beached whale and is about as fragrant.  Depends, I guess.

20. Romance or kink?

Romance.  I don't know that I'm really all that "kinky" in the traditional sense of the word.  I like sex, and it doesn't have to be romantic, but it also doesn't have to involve trained squirrels and the New York Philharmonic.

And lastly 21. Would you rather take a bath in chocolate pudding or drive around the town naked in your car?

To quote the great Phil Hartman impersonating Frank Sinatra, "Next issue: Rita Hayworth or Ava Gardner, who would you rather nail?  I disqualify myself, because I've done them both."

Yeah.

I've never actually "bathed" in chocolate pudding per se, but I did once enter a wading pool full of the stuff for charity and the amusement of a crowd.  This was in college, needless to say.  I shudder to think of it now.  Filling a bathtub with pudding and getting in, I'd probably do; it was an interesting experience.  I wasn't naked; I was in a bathing costume of (for me) fairly conservative line, and no sexy hijinks were had.  My ass was thoroughly handed to me by someone smaller than I am, and I retired from the field of pudding wrestling humiliated and sticky.  It was a bitch to get out of my hair.  Not as bad as Jello, but annoying, and I smelled like a rancid pudding pop for days.

And I've driven naked.  It was dark, but I had no clothes, having lost them somewhere.  It's a bigger deal for girls than guys, I'm sorry; a guy, unless you look hard, is just shirtless, and where I live, that's not a big deal.  I was terrified that the police would pull me over.  I'm not ashamed of nudity, but the consequences of it are often embarrassing.  I'll strip down for anyone, as long as it won't get me in trouble or make me feel awkward and so forth.  And lord knows I've been naked in cars, moving cars, often enough, just not usually while driving.

So... I guess I'd rather take a bath in pudding than drive around town naked.  The pudding would be easy enough.  The driving, I'd be nervous.

Blessing in Disguise

It has been too long since I posted something which wasn't an excuse about not posting something which wasn't an excuse about not posting something which wasn't an excuse about not posting something which wasn't I'll come in again.

Going a bit crazy here.  Yep.  The ol' banana.  The ol' mixed nut bowl.  The ol' fantasy-land bingo.  The ol' crazy potato covered in crazy cheez and being eaten through a crazy straw.  I have no idea what I'm saying.

Oh, that's right, that's what I wanted to say.  I'm really, really sorry that life has forced my blog-ly activities into a slump.  This has been a pretty good year for the blog, all told; I've written more posts than in any year previously, and if you assume that I'm writing about as many good posts per capita as before, that means that I've increased my output of the good stuff, not just the bad stuff.  Maybe not.  But whatever.  November, as I warned at the start, has sucked donkey scrotum for very small sums of money, so it's a whore but a cheap one, and it probably takes less money because it likes sucking donkey scrotum.  And then it goes home and beats its fourteen crack-addicted babies, all of whom are named after famous TV chefs.  November is a cheap, lying, trashy, selfish whore, and I hate it.  Now, where was I?

Oh yeah.  So I've been ball-bustingly busy, as November has apparently grafted balls to my body while I wasn't looking just so it can bust them.  And thus, my blogging is not the only thing which has suffered.  My social agenda has been somewhat muted as well.  And I've been snippy to people, and tired, and grouchy, and just basically November sucks.

Sveta has returned to college, and here's where the title of this post comes in.  Because if I weren't so fucking busy and tired, I would probably be miserable missing her.  As it is, I barely have the energy to miss her a little, let alone enough to be torn up about it.  And I don't have the energy to feel guilty about not having the energy to miss her too much.  Some "blessing," right?

Also, she'll be back in just a few short weeks.  I know, whoever decided that Thanksgiving and Christmas were the only times to visit your family is a fucking moron and I hate them.  There should be a holiday halfway through each semester.  But there it is; I get to see her soon, after a long drought.  I don't like "gh" words.  We should spell drought "drout" and draught "draft" and through "thru" and rough "ruff" and... wait, who am I?  I don't think that.  Not really.  I don't like mangling words.  GH is a linguistic heritage that texting and idiots are going to eliminate, and then we'll never understand our roots.

Ah, off-topic again.  So yeah, I am in no position to tell some of the stories I want to tell.  If I tried, I would wander off in the middle and get run over by a truck.  They wouldn't hold up to my strict standards of quality (yeah, right).  Thus, you'll just have to wait a bit longer.

But I'll give you a preview.  I have some Sveta and me stuff from Thanksgiving, and I have some stuff from work, and a bit of follow-up on some of our repeating characters (I like to call them that because it makes me feel like I'm living in a sitcom rather than a documentary on slave-labor), plus some stuff with just Sveta spreading her wings a bit.

I'm still here.  Where here is, and who I am when I'm here, that's anyone's guess.

Thanks

I'm really sorry that posts have been quite thin this month; believe me, I'd much rather be writing about fun stuff than doing crappy stuff.  And I have some things to write about once I get a chance.  Thanks for your continuing patience.

So I'm just stopping in briefly to wish everyone, everywhere, a happy day.  I don't care if you don't do Thanksgiving, or you (like me) hate turkey, or you're all alone with no one to love.  Please have a good day.  Fuck commercialism, fuck holiday expectations, fuck all of that.  Just have a good day, and then get back on the horse tomorrow.  I know that's what I'm going to do.

And live in anticipation, because boy oh boy am I bubbling over with things I could blog about but haven't the time.

Sveta's Here

Yeah, you're getting a one-sentence post; read that heading and tell me why.

Flash Fiction Friday - The Doorguard and The Demon

The Doorguard

She stood there, wantonly naked, having come from his room, hair disheveled post-coitally, eyes somewhat vacant in that well-fucked sort of way. She wasn't looking in my direction, and I drank her in with my dilated pupils, the drugs making things swim slightly. I must have lost my balance; I put out a hand to steady myself and heard the stairs creak distantly. For a moment she seemed not to notice, and I sighed with relief, hoping not to spoil things, which of course shifted my weight and made them creak again.

"Hey, want to clean me up?" She asked without looking at me, so I wasn't even sure she was addressing the question to me or to another unseen watcher.

On my knees before her, tongue inside her, and she was lighting a cigarette, breathing smoke that joined the haze in the air. She tasted of him, and I wished I'd never given myself away, because all I really wanted was for her to leave and let me creep silently into his room where I could taste firsthand.

The Demon

Second-hand smoke and cunt-smells and the sweet stink of burned flesh. She answered my summons in the hallway with another shadow tonguing her. "Yeah? We haven’t got all day."

"I have another wish."

"Course you fuckin' do. They always do." She conjured another of her numberless black cigarillos from somewhere, put great concentration into lighting it as if dismissing my problem. "Let's hear it," she said finally, reaching down to press the head of her servant deeper into the space between her legs. "Fuck sake, do it like you mean it, bitch."

"Marietta. I want to bed her."

The queen laughed. "Course you fuckin' do." She sucked in a breath, either from pleasure or just to take in the smoke, I couldn't be sure. "Come here. Give us a kiss and we'll tell you how it'll be.”

The stairs creaked, her arms wrapped around me, pulling me, or perhaps just a part of me, close, and her tongue wormed into my ear and I forgot myself for an instant as the infernal knowledge entered me like a knife.

---

I had two ideas, and I decided to go with both.  I don't intend them to be connected in any way this week; they were both inspired by the picture.  I didn't use the phrase in the second one, but they're both under the limit words-wise., although the second one could have been much longer if I hadn't constrained it.

The first one was somewhat organic; I just wanted to write something about coming upon a naked woman in the hallway and giving her head.  Why not, right?  But after I wrote the first half, I realized that what our intrepid heroine was trying to tell me was that she really wanted something else.  The naked woman could have been coming from anywhere, but she was coming from a man's room, and thus, the end.  Sometimes characters will write their own stories.  I could have shoehorned things, but I chose to let it happen.  I know I would have preferred for it to be another way; it's not always about a guy.

The second was mostly because of the shadows and the fact that I can almost see a tail where the kneeling woman has her hand.  I've always thought that demons would probably appear with underlings doing unspeakable things to them, if they were looking to impress or intimidate sexually.  I enjoyed this one, not because I'm particularly into diablerie, but because I sort of like the character.  She has an accent like a character from a Guy Ritchie film, she smokes thin black cheroots, she refers to herself in the third person, and she has hot-and-cold running sex on demand, mostly just to show off.  I don't like evil, but it's a character who's fun to write.  And she doesn't seem to have to work hard on this guy; he's selling himself without any sales pitch on her part.  He's just an idiot.  I hope Marietta doesn't get hurt.

And the titles were basically just things which came to me, but put them together and you've got a title which should probably have already been written by R. A. Salvatore or similar.  Hence, my homage to silly fantasy titles.  Coming soon: The Minstrel and the Mage, followed in 2012 by The Warden and the Warrior, all part of the Eyeless God saga.

I'm thrilled that Flash Fiction Friday is back, the PB is back, and that the picture this week was so sexily inspirational (and thanks to Sephi for that).  You know you want to join in.  Course you fuckin' do.  They always do.  Heed the siren song.  Head over to Flash Fiction Friday.

Going With the Flow

Sometimes you have to just lie back and watch the world spin by.  I could have said, "lie back and enjoy it," but that seems both disrespectful to rape victims and also implies that one must enjoy things, which is crap.  There are many things that can be taken, but not necessarily enjoyed.  And anyway, this isn't about enjoyment, it's about letting things happen and not trying to control things that can't be.

Pam (you remember Pam?  She's a tag over on the left, if you don't) is glowing.  She's taken to pregnancy really well.  She's barely even showing, but she has this mother-to-be look that's just sexy as hell.

I suppose I should back up.  So Pam's keeping the baby.  And it sounds like she and Kirk are okay with that.  I haven't heard any wedding plans mooted, but in this day and age and so forth.  They've got a few months to get used to the idea yet.  I'm not saying it's an ideal situation, but what is, really?

Anyway, she's glowing.  Yesterday was my day off, sort of, and in the afternoon I got a message from her asking if I wanted to come over.  I ticked it over for a while in my brain, I'll admit; I wasn't feeling terribly social, but on the other hand I haven't had any fun in a while now.  So I finally said, "Hey, sure, I'll be over this evening after dinner."  Going with the flow.  Can you sense a theme?

Before dinner, Dad came home and had to leave soon thereafter for a meeting, and it came down to whether to eat a rushed dinner or have a bit of sex with his girl, and I'm pleased to report that sex was what was chosen.  It was actually the first time we'd had a chance in days, and I wish we could have had more time.  I was in my undies in preparation for going out later, having showered and performed my various ablutions, and when he said, "Girly, got fifteen minutes for your old man?" I just pulled my panties back off and got on all fours.  He just pulled his pants down and got behind me, and when his hands gripped my waist I felt a little tingle which shortly blossomed into orgasm as he thrust into my cunt without needing to aim.

I went to Pam's with cum still oozing around inside me.  I didn't think it would be a big deal.  She and Kirk were both there watching TV, Kirk in nothing but a pair of shorts, Pam in a nightgown.  I was all set to say, "Oops, sorry, I'm too late, I should go," but they invited me in, said they were expecting me.

Pretense dropped like a ton of bricks, because I'm on something of a low-tact diet at the moment.  "You two want to fuck?" I said, almost not questioning it.

"Pam told me how she kissed you," said Kirk.  "I'd like to see that again."  And he pulled off his shorts and was standing there in the living room with his cock sticking out and bobbing around.  I guess I must have given off the right vibes or something.  "You wet yet?"

Like I said, he's country-fried.  It didn't seem like he was being all macho, just being down to earth about it.  He wanted it, she wanted it, I wanted it, so why were we still wearing underwear?  Pam looked a little embarrassed, but she pulled her slip over her head and was standing there in panties, which were much better looking than the first ones I saw her in, little lace numbers with a high-cut leg that would have looked like shit on me but for her they worked, possibly because of the slight swell of hips and stomach.

So who was I to hold back?  I mean, I'd just had sex not an hour before, but I was definitely ready for more.  And there I was standing there in a coat in front of two naked people.  It felt awkward to be clothed.  I took my coat off, then pulled my blouse over my head, then pulled off shoes and pants, and finally pulled off my bra and panties for good measure.  "Okay, Pam, wanna show Kirk your stuff?" I asked her, coming close and putting a hand on her shoulder.

She really wanted to try for him, but kissing was all she would do.  Still, it was nice to kiss her, to stroke her a little down her flanks, which were soft and inviting but didn't offer any additional help in terms of desire.  Eventually, I suggested that we suck Kirk's cock together, which she was much more into.  We knelt in front of him, side by side, and he passed his cock from mouth to mouth for a while before he said, "Pammy, open wide," with a grimace and then started to stroke his cock until several jets of cum sprayed into her mouth.  She didn't seem to mind when I cleaned him up and sucked the dregs out of his softening shaft.

"How long have you been planning this?" I asked as we walked toward the bedroom.

"Kirk's been talking about it ever since the first time," said Pam with a little grin.  "I wasn't sure, after... you know, the baby, but I think it'll be good.  You don't mind?"

"Mind?"  I ran a hand down the small of her back to her ass and patted it.  It wasn't really sexual, just sort of friendly.  "Of course not."  With a bit of encouragement, she put her hand on my ass too, just resting it there.  Kirk liked seeing that.

"You want to eat her out again?" he asked me.

Of course I did, but this time I wasn't going to take advantage.  "Pam, you okay with that?"

"I guess."  She smiled a bit thinly, but she lay back on the bed and spread her legs.  Her pussy isn't this little thing like one sees in porno; she has a woman's pussy, full, dark pink, with folds of fleshy lips that spread slightly when she opens her thighs, revealing a ruddy interior just dying to be tasted.  "Do I have to do it to you?"  She was looking at Kirk.  I answered before he had a chance.

"No hun, you don't have to do anything.  You're beautiful; I could just look at you."  Kirk had his hand on his cock stroking, so he probably agreed.

But he said, "Come on Pam, you said you'd try it."  I get the feeling I was in the middle of a debate on what Pam would and wouldn't try.

"I'll stop when you want me to," I said.  She nodded, looking at Kirk, not me.  He was quite close to us, watching, as I began slowly kissing just above her clit, which was already in evidence.  I imagined I could feel her baby inside her too.  I slipped my fingers into my mouth and then ran them over her lips, pressing in slightly but not penetrating, until she was relaxed, then I started slowly moving my middle finger into her passage.  I don't know enough about pregnant women, but she was still quite tight; I imagine that things only loosen up later, or maybe not until after the birth.  Tight for a preggo, anyway.

I noticed that she and Kirk were kissing, his hand on her breast, which had perhaps grown a little since I saw her last, or maybe it was just my wishful mind.  They seemed fuller, if not larger.  Then I was running my tongue slowly over the top of the arch, while my finger curled up a little and stroked her, and she spread her legs wider, inviting me for the first time, so I sucked the nub of her clit, a little smaller than my pinkie, with my lips around the hood, gently, while easing another finger into her.

When she came, it was small and I only knew it for sure because she moaned, "I'm cumming," like she was in a porno.  It was all for Kirk's benefit.  Her hand was stroking his cock, and I was basically nothing more than a sex toy, but it didn't matter.  She got wetter and warmer and I felt her opening a little, and that was all, a slight tension released.

At that point, I was hoping, praying that Kirk might let me keep getting his baby-momma off and get back there and fuck me, but they rolled together, his cock jutting into my ear until I took the hint and moved so he could reach down and insert himself into her, then begin slowly thrusting into her thighs, his balls rocking between his legs, his asshole tensing and relaxing slightly with each thrust.  I got up to the side of them and made myself available, and I got a few kisses, deep tongue-laden snogs, from him as he fucked her.  His hand roved to my breasts too as I lay there next to them.

I was forced to play with myself a little, enjoying the warm bodies next to me but unable to get any real satisfaction from them.  My fingers teased my joy buzzer until I had a small, back-arching O.  Then I went down to see what was going on on the business side, which was when Kirk pulled her onto him and she started riding.  I don't think she minded that I kissed her ass cheeks a little, or stroked his balls with wet fingers until he grunted and I felt the seed race up the passages and into her.  She pulled up immediately upon the first spurt, and the rest spilled out all over, which amused me because it wasn't like she could get knocked up twice.  I guess old habits die hard, and in this case the habit was a really bad one because I'm sure she got enough of it to knock her up had that been possible.

She let me clean him off, but hopped up to clean herself off, and I confess that by the time she got back, my cleaning had led to trying desperately to get him up again for one of my own.  She sat there and watched and stroked her pussy, but made no move to join in.  "Do you two do any anal?" I asked.  "I mean, you'll probably want to add that to the repertoire, after the baby comes."  I don't really know why I said that.

Pam looked a little taken aback, not shocked, just startled, like she hadn't expected me to say it, which I can't blame her for.  "Do you?" she asked.

"Get a condom and watch me go," I said by way of response.  They didn't have any, silly kids, so I ran and got one, by which time I was sure Pam would have upstaged me and started fucking him again.  But when I got back, there she was, there he was, same positions as before, only with an eager look on their faces.  It was really sexy, seeing both of them looking at me like I would be the main attraction.

I didn't have any lube, but the condom was lubed and after I rolled it on him I dipped myself down on him a few times to get some pussy juices working too.  Then I squatted over him, in a position I don't often find myself in anal, and eased my butt down until his head popped into my anus, at which point he said to her, "Wow."  Maybe it was to me, but he was looking at her.  She came closer, and when I prompted, she held his cock up so I could ease down on it, although she seemed a little tense about being so close to my ass.  It's okay; I understand.

Once he was buried in my colon, I sat for a moment, feeling the wonderful fullness, then his hands moved to my hips and started bouncing me a little.  Pam was behind us watching his cock jut up into my asshole, and I felt her stroking his balls beneath me.  We moved for a while, not really moving his cock in and out, just grinding and bouncing, until the pressure of his bone on my clit got me off, and he said, "Wow," again as the orgasm worked through my ass.

After that, I got off and on all fours, and after warning him to be gentle with me, let him work his cock back into my ass from behind.  Pam was right there looking at it; I felt her hand on the small of my back, just above my tailbone.  It wouldn't surprise me at all if they started in on anal soonest; she was fascinated by it.

In the end, he pulled off his condom and shot his load on my back, and Pam hopped up to get me a towel to clean it off.  It wasn't exactly what I would have hoped for; I would have liked my own creampie, or for her at least to clean me up herself.  But it was okay.  And I lay back and let them go off for a few minutes, then come back and fuck again, right next to me, which his hand sometimes delving down to my pussy and stroking me until I came a last, minor time.  He came on her belly, and I couldn't help but lick that up, feeling the warmth inside her, or maybe that was just my imagination.  Soon, when she really starts showing, then I'll be unable to resist kissing her belly as often as I can.

They were curled up, not fucking, just cuddling, but they broke away from each other when I sat up, and Pam even gave me a tentative goodnight kiss, before returning to their cocoon.  They probably fell asleep before I left.  I went home and wished I could have curled up with my own sweetie, but when I called her, she wasn't there.  Ah well.

Anyway, not a bad story, and more fun than I've had in a while.  It didn't really make me feel better afterward, but it took my mind off things.  And since I can't deny that I need to blog about things, I went with it and blogged, even if I had more important things to do.  Can't stop that crazy old world spinning 'round.