I saw this via Girls With Slingshots (and why aren't you reading that, by the way?) and loved it, so I had to share. Completely true.
I know a lot of people seem to feel that porn is horribly degrading, and there's plenty of that, but really, most of it is sexy in spite of that, and it's no more degrading to me as a woman than it should be to men. If there were an International Porn Day, I'd celebrate it, but I guess that's every day around here.
"Keep your eyes closed." I'd let her get me in this precarious position, poised on the cold surface of the sink, unable to catch myself if I fell because of the ropes. I was never into bondage, I told her, but if it made her happy. And it did, so we did it. Over and over again.
This time, she promised, it would be different. So I dutifully kept my eyes closed as instructed. My hip bones were complaining, and the marble stayed cold, keeping me on the edge of my seat, so to speak.
And then she was there between my legs, entering me, hard and fast, and the strap-on was so familiar I could have drawn a picture of it from nothing more than the sensation of it spearing me. "Oh man, not Henry again," I said, my lip curling in a scowl of disappointment. "Every time it's Henry. You could have gone for Louis at least." She had the bad habit of naming our toys after kings.
"Just keep your eyes closed and concentrate," she said, pressing Henry into me again. I gritted my teeth and tried to concentrate on the sensations, even though I could really only think about how much my ass hurt.
And then, when I least expected it, I felt the texture inside me change like magic. "Meet Henry II," she said with a grin. I just gasped and came, hard.
The royal appetites are well-noted, and King Philip was no different. He ate well, he drank well, he slept in the finest beds, and he was constantly indulging in some new and exciting activity, from hunting rhinos to parachuting. His appetites were so vast, in fact, that he was seldom in his castle, where Queen Beatrice was forced to hold court and deal with affairs of state in his absence.
"I sometimes wonder," she said to Mary, her aide, "if my husband will rest until he kills himself."
"I wouldn't care to speculate, your majesty," said Mary dryly, adjusting the equipment.
"Never mind," said Beatrice with a smile. "I'm far happier with him gone." She was tied hand and foot in the royal bathroom, and Mary was preparing to aid her mistress in a particularly pressing affair of state. "Hard and fast as usual, Mary. You know I have a luncheon meeting with the Prime Minister in an hour, and I want time to prepare." She gasped with pleasure as Mary slid the royal scepter home with practiced force.
The royal appetites, being what they were, led the two, ruler and subject, to dally far too long in the boudoir, leaving the Prime Minister cooling his heels in the solarium. The muffled sounds of their coupling were heard only by the footman at the door, who did his best to remain stalwartly impassive, and of course to hide his erection.
Once upon a time a girl, beautiful but poor, went to the castle to see if there were any jobs she might do to support her ailing father. She was put to work as the lowest maid. In this castle dwelt a prince said to be under enchantment, of marrying age but without a wife, for it was said that he never removed his clothes, never bathed, never spoke.
The king ordered all the young women of the kingdom to break the terrible curse. Each one performed some deed to prove their worth, but each was turned away. Finally, after all the other women had failed, the poor daughter, lacking anything better, kissed the prince, hard and fast.
He smiled and nodded, and the wedding was held, although the poor girl thought she was doomed to a odious marriage. But on the wedding night, the prince spoke for the first time, bidding her close her eyes while he bound her. She wept but did as she was bidden, for the prince's voice was gentle. Then she felt lips on hers, and the voice said, "Now open your eyes, my princess."
And there was the prince between the girl's legs, and there was the means to consummate the marriage, and the girl understood, as she left her maidenhood behind, just why the prince had stayed clothed all these years. He was no prince at all, but neither was he a frog.
It's good to be the king, even a minor king of a minor nation. Power has its perks.
His first act after succeeding his father had been to refurbish the toilets. That wasn't an exaggeration; his father's corpse was on the slab and Prince, now King, Michael was instructing the decorators. Not that he hadn't loved his father, but the castle's plumbing was ancient. King Michael the Elder had enjoyed the old style, but King Michael the Younger didn't like his morning routine hard and fast.
Renovations completed, his Highness went a number of weeks before it dawned on him. "Women!" he said to himself as he took his royal evacuation of the morning.
"Sir?" asked his valet from beyond the door.
"Fetch me a blonde... and maybe a brunette too, just for color!"
"Sir?"
"Hop to it, Gilbert, I want to see two ladies in here by the time I'm finished."
As it happened there were two young scullery maids, one blonde, one brunette. They were duly fetched. "Send them... wait, tell them to take off their kit first, then send them in."
The maids nervously entered shortly thereafter, to find the king still on his throne. "All right ladies, I think blondie will receive today," said his Highness, making no move to rise. "Gear is in the cupboard. Hop to it; I want to watch a bit while I finish up here."
It's good to be the king.
I would like to state, up front, that I didn't even think of the royal wedding when I came up with the title or theme. But it is shockingly apropos, so maybe my subconscious had something up its sleeve. I could give two shits about the royal wedding, but hey, I'll ride the wave.
I wrote the first one Monday night, right after seeing the picture. I think this may be the earliest I've ever written one. And then I decided to try and write one a day, each day I have the challenge. Because sometimes you've got to pace yourself.
The first was entirely inspired by the expression on the receiver's face. It's not a cut-and-dried expression; it could be a lot of things. But it said, "Oh man, not this again," to me the second I looked at it. So I had to write that in.
And then I was going to write something which captured, "not again," but I didn't want to be disappointing. I wanted joy, sex, love, excitement. The picture is very sexy, despite involving bondage which really isn't my thing. So I tried to put myself in the picture. I might agree to something like this if it made my partner happy, and I might eventually get tired of the routine. And I would really enjoy a sex toy which was able to change its profile in use. There are such things, I know, and I might have to hunt one down. But anyway, it all came from the idea that her partner was going to surprise her by employing a toy which seemed to be the same, but then all of a sudden wasn't. The picture is the moment before the reveal.
Before I bore everyone to death with this, the reason I told you that story was because I wanted to tell you this one. I was trying to come up with a name for the same-old-same-old sex toy. I have a toy named Ramon (pronounced in a very Spanish and sexy way, please) but that's much too exciting a name. And I don't give names to inanimate objects often. But I do name animate objects, and I show a flair, even accidentally. In this case, I went through a bunch of names and settled on Henry because it seemed like a strange name to give a toy, but at the same time was a fairly normal name, not what you'd give to your 18 inch black studded strap-on or anything.
Then I had to come up with another name, and Louis (pronounced Looey) seemed good. I don't know why. And then, after having written another sentence or so, it struck me: both royal names. There was my rationale for them, only I hadn't had it in the first place. I could lie and say it was all planned, but that's less fun. And then, suddenly, the punch line. What better name to call the new and exciting toy which is mistaken for Henry? The rest was easy.
Speaking of easy, it would be really easy for you to go to PB's site to check out the rest of the Flash Fiction Friday Fun(Patent Pending). Okay, that was a terrible segue. What do you expect from me? I'm just a hack.
Then, having written the first, called it "Kings" and then decided definitely on Tuesday to write one a day, I felt I had to be thematic, so the second one sort of naturally followed. I think Beatrice is a woefully underused name; people think it's fuddy-duddy, but actually I find it pretty sexy. I wrote the first line and realized that it had to be repeated, so I worked that in. I talked too much about the first one, so I'll leave discussion of the second blissfully short.
Blissfully short like the amount of time it would take you to go check out the other entries on PB's site. I am the master of segues! Bow before me!
Yeah, I'm going to write an afterward to each one. Just try and stop me. The third, written on what I consider Wednesday although perhaps loosely, arose from a thought I had, but which I can't remember now, having written it. I remember vaguely, but if I said it, it would just be recapitulation of the story itself, and the thought wasn't that concrete. I had the general plotline before I thought to make it a fairy tale, and now I'm almost sorry I did, because damn it if it wasn't hard to write a fairy tale in 240 words. I had to leave out a lot of stuff, and it shows. Do you get it? Hopefully you do.
The traditional fairy-tale telling of this would include ten times as much text, probably with some stuff about the poor girl's family at the beginning to give her protagonist interest, and then a bunch more fluff about the curse, then fluff about the contest (which was reduced to the point where it makes less sense here, but I can't help it; length is a harsh mistress), then fluff about the wedding and how the girl thought that she was dooming herself to a life living with a smelly mute, but she was going to do it anyway because she wanted to support her father (rah rah), then, if it were a real fairy tale, less bondage and fewer dildoes. But instead, the Reader's Digest version, if Reader's Digest allowed bondage and dildoes.
If it did, it'd probably be a lot more like Flash Fiction Friday, so it's probably good that it isn't, since it couldn't hope to compete with the real thing, over at PB's site. So head over there and digest, ye readers! Bet you thought you'd make it out of this paragraph without that sentence, didn't you?
I kind of had to use the line in one, but it fell to the last one to do it. This is the one that most needs the picture to make sense, otherwise it's tougher to tell what's going on. I don't mind writing things which are independent of the picture, but in this case I felt like giving the set-up to which the picture is the punch line. I'm not sure where this came from; I wish I'd had more space so I could be more salacious, since I felt like being crass. Of course the king wants women to fuck each other for his pleasure while he takes a shit. It's like Playboy in the bathroom, only live-action.
Simple and inelegant, just the way I like it.
[Terrible segue terrible segue], Flash Fiction Friday [bad pun]. PB's site [reference to the enormity of PB's cock]. [Imprecation to you to join in]. [Conclusion that you won't join in], but [imprecation to read the others] at least. [Statement to the effect that everyone who participates in FFF is a better human being]. [Non-FDA-verified statement to the effect that everyone who participates in FFF will grow several inches/cup sizes], wink wink. [Self-deprecating statement about my lack of ability to come up with a good segue].
Sheri and I have been speaking more cordially recently, which is good. And in the spirit of TMI Tuesday without answering any silly TMI questions, I thought I'd tell a very brief story of another prank she once pulled on me. Why? I don't know. Why not?
Many years ago (just after the ice caps had melted once again and the land bridge from Asia across which my family came had submerged and cut us off from the old country, right) Sheri found this big fat ring, not a stone but a ring of solid metal that was just larger than normal, and she decided that she wanted to try it out as a toy. She claimed that she'd tried it on herself and it felt incredible, and I just had to try it too.
So she slipped it on her middle finger and started fingering my ass with it. Some of you already know where this is going, don't you? I admit, it was interesting; the ring sat about halfway down her finger, right above the knuckle, and when it popped in and out it was a bit like a bead, but with a slightly different feeling because it was narrower; I can't really describe it better than to say that it was like if you could transform a bead into a ridge. Something like that.
I was lying ass-up on my bed, face in the covers, fingering myself while she popped it in and out, when suddenly she pulled out but it didn't. "Oh shit," I heard her say. "Lex, I think..."
"What?"
"I think I lost the ring."
"What?!"
"Hang on, let me see..." And she tried to get it out, but it seemed like she was just pushing it deeper. She wouldn't let me get up, just told me to stay right where I was or it might get worse. So she's working and working on it, and the ring feels like it's going to be inside me forever, and I'm thinking panicked thoughts about what we'll say to Mom and Dad, what we'll say to the doctor, no, wait, it's too late for that, we'll have to go to the Emergency Room and what are we going to say there, and so forth.
Finally, Sheri said, "Listen, go sit on the toilet and try to get it out, okay? Maybe you can work it out that way."
I was not happy; I knew enough to know that it probably wasn't going to work (I also know that something like that probably wouldn't have necessitated a trip to the doctor, just a hearty meal of something dense, but I was panicking at the moment, urged on by Sheri's tone). But I got up gingerly, feeling the ring inside me, and went to the bathroom, and just as I was about to sit down, I felt something on my leg. I hadn't noticed it before because I was too preoccupied.
I looked down, and there was a string with a tag on it dangling between my legs, clearly coming from my ass. The tag said, "Gotcha!" And there was Sheri right behind me, laughing hysterically as she reached down and pulled the ring, still tied to the string, out easily.
I believe I may finally forgive her for this on her deathbed.
The folksy lesson is, of course, that you shouldn't put anything up your butt without a string tied to it. The tag is optional.
I've made it fairly clear in the past that I don't intend for this blog to become nothing more than a place where I post pictures, of myself or others or anything, really. I have various reasons for this, not least of which is that I don't have any reliable means of taking pictures. And those people kind enough to comment have made it clear that they, in turn, don't expect pictures, although they seem to enjoy them an awful lot.
I particularly didn't want to bring up pictures during the previous Spring Break week because Sveta has, in the past, shown a lack of basic precaution when it comes to pictures, and because Ernst has made it clear that he'd really, really like to take a whole lot of pictures or video or whatever. I figured that bringing up the subject would only make things worse, and perhaps I was right. Plus I didn't really want to mention blogs around Ernst.
I guess I'm being hypocritical in the extreme, except that when I was Sveta's age, I did crazy things, some of which wound up in places I would have preferred they hadn't, but Facebook wasn't the behemoth that it is now, and people weren't getting in trouble in later life for inappropriate pictures they took in their youth, at least not as often. When I was young, if you let out your dirty pictures, the only way other people would see them is if they were looking for dirty pictures. Now, people are posting things on Facebook etc. which can be seen by just about anyone.
Anyway, I'm beginning to sound like an old fart here, which wasn't my intention. I was just trying to explain why I was being hypocritical. But Sveta found out and called me on it, and perhaps rightly so. I, in turn, raised the issue again of my concern for her lack of online safety, perhaps rightly so as well. In fairness, she's been much better about it, and at first it was mostly just because she was finally out on her own where things like that could happen. Sowing her wild oats. And it would definitely be hypocritical of me to tell her she can't do things.
In the end, we discussed and she said that she understood my points, because after all, I had more to lose and I had bigger secrets to keep, but she wished I would be a bit more flexible. I believe I may have agreed to let her allow Ernst to indulge in some amateur pornography; if I didn't, he certainly indulged anyway, and will probably continue so to do. I'm a bit worried about that; he seems nice enough, but you never know. Still, she's not my child nor is she really a child at all any more, so I have to let her make her own choices.
Anyway, what it boils down to, as far as you're concerned, is that Sveta felt that I was being heartless to my readers denying them any pictures at all. So you can thank her for the following, which was taken almost immediately after our discussion but of which I only recently received a copy. I think the composition was slightly better before I cropped it; maybe Ernst has the makings of a pornographer after all. I hope not, really.
This should not signal a vast outpouring of pictures in the future. I just have to keep you all interested. And I have to try to give Sveta an outlet for her desires to do this kind of thing which is slightly safer. Plus, we're hot together.
From September to May the roads to Zhevsk are impassable, ice and mud that not even horses can stagger through, and the only the rails are clear. But the trains don't stop in Zhevsk, not unless special arrangements are made. They slow down ahead of the grade, and if one wanted, one could leap aboard and ride to Moscow or far-off Vladivostok.
Masha dreamed of the trains. There was no life for a young woman in a tiny mining town; all the men were drunk or working or both, and all the women were prematurely aged, as if no one in the town was under sixty. Even the children seemed beaten down by the endless drudgery of life. Masha saw wrinkles and grey in her own face every day, that had not been there the day before.
She watched the trains from her window as she did the washing. Her mother thought it was a scandal that she wasn't married yet, but Masha couldn't tie herself to the walking dead. She dreamed and washed and watched.
Most of the trains were the same, cattle cars and hoppers and tired engines. But every so often a passenger train came through, and Masha could look in to see the bright faces of people headed somewhere that wasn't Zhevsk, somewhere far away and mysterious. Or perhaps just the next factory town. She knew, in her heart, that the people on the train were no brighter than anyone else. It was just the light, the knowledge that they were going somewhere, that made them look thus.
Masha found herself, as the days grew shorter again, spending more and more time sitting at the platform of the ancient station where no trains stopped, watching for passenger trains. They came no more frequently, but she saw more of them because she was there when they did come, sometimes late at night when she should have been sleeping, sometimes in the early morning before she went to work on her latest loads of laundry. They were like friends, those bright people in the cars. They didn't know she was there, but they were like friends to her.
And then one evening, a train with only one car came through. The night was cold and Masha was dozing, and she almost missed it. When she glanced up, it was almost in front of her, like it had appeared from thin air. The windows were fogged and she could see very little of what was going on inside, but there were moving shapes silhouetted in the lamplight, shapes that seemed like bodies writhing. All at once, a face appeared in the doorway at the back of the car, in shadow, but with eyes that gleamed as they stared right at her. Then the train picked up speed and vanished into the rising fog.
Masha remembered those bright eyes looking at her as she washed, as she ate, as she bathed. She rushed to the tracks as soon as night fell, but no trains came that night, and she woke almost frozen in the dawn chill. But the next night, and the next, as if called by something, she tried, and failed, to stay awake in the hope that the strange one-car train might return.
On the third day she had almost given up hope. The night was bitter, the wind clawed at her threadbare coat, and her eyes were drooping. She had just passed into that dreamlike state between awake and asleep when she was jarred awake by the clatter of wheels on the rails, and the strange train passed again, slower this time, and seemingly brighter, so she could see through the windows. And what she saw shook her. There were men, giants it seemed, naked and glistening, swollen to tumescence, around whom women, lithe, dark, and seductive, swirled like smoke rather than like humans. The interior of the train seemed to be pure copulation in all forms, of all persuasions; everywhere she looked there was shadowy sex. And as the train passed, as flesh pressed against the windows, the same face, dark and proud, and the same keen eyes, peered at her from around the frame of the door, before the train sped off again into the gloom.
Masha stopped working. She stopped sleeping or eating. She stopped talking to passers-by. She just sat all night at the old station and waited and wasted away.
At last, the train returned in the dead of night, and this time it stopped. Trains don't stop in Zhevsk, not unless special arrangements are made. But this one stopped, and Masha, faint from hunger, from longing, heard the whistle blow for her alone. And she cast off her coat, left her bag there by the bench, and walked to the door of the train, where the same face was now smiling and a hand was beckoning her. She shut her eyes as she went into the car and felt the warmth and humidity of all the breath, and she felt gentle hands remove her clothes and then kisses all over. “Welcome sister,” they said, “Welcome.”
And as the train began to move, she opened her eyes and saw the figures, still in shadow, begin to twine again, and felt the warm breath of a man as he pressed against her body, then another as he opened her legs, then the heat of a woman's kiss, and lips on her breasts, and the cold glass of the window as she was pressed against it, and she let herself be taken. The rhythm of wheel on rail became the rhythm of flesh on flesh, and where she was going no longer mattered. She was going.
So this will doubtless go down as the longest FFF ever, but I don't care. I'm not going to say much afterward because I don't want to blather on, but I like the idea of a sex train which rescues poor unfortunates. There's a slightly sinister aspect, but I think on the whole the train is benevolent, albeit in a strange way. And I could have written something a lot smuttier; in fact I sort of wanted to, because this picture gets me really worked up. But instead, you get this. Smutty I'll save for my own adventures.
As I said, I'm happy to collect anyone else who joins in this week, so let me know if you did. I'm not going out looking for people though because this was sort of impromptu.
Our list (obviously not including me):
Papa Bear asked me this question, and I had to think about it for a while because I wanted to make sure I got it right. Not the most flattering story, but in the interests of full disclosure.
"Have you ever banged an anonymous repairman, plumber, pizza delivery boy or someone like that? Some guy who came to your home for something other than sex, and got a big surprise instead?" - Papa Bear
You see this scenario in porn all the time, don't you? A single woman, living in a huge mansion of a house, "doesn't have the money" to pay for pizza or repairs or cable, so she pays some other way. Hell, they've reduced the premise to, "Woman orders sausage pizza with real sausage," by now. The original premise always smacked a bit of prostitution to me, but it's not real. And the later permutations are just silly.
I've heard stories from friends who work in the repair/home service industries. Nothing worthy of porn, but maybe of Letters to Penthouse. Supposedly, cable guys actually do get a fair amount of attention from lonely housewives. Me, I've never seen that happen.
My only story of this sort comes from living with my sister Sheri for a week or so. She had an apartment in a small city and asked me to visit her, so the summer before I went to college I took her up on her offer. It was kind of a last grand vacation (there's a term for this that I can't remember).
She and I spent pretty much the entire time drinking and partying. I was drunk all day. And at that point I wasn't much of a drinker, so it was even more extreme. We went out clubbing, which I didn't like and only went because I was drunk enough to say yes. We had drunken sex all over the apartment. We brought a guy or two home every night, then kicked them out in the morning. It was probably not the wisest course of action I've ever taken. And it wasn't even all that fun, because drunk sex is usually not that great.
One evening toward the end of the week, she and I were preparing to go out later, drinking, of course, and got hungry. So we ordered pizza. I was all set to go to get some clothes on so I could answer the door, but Sheri kept stopping me, until finally the doorbell rang and we were both naked, drunk, and fighting. She shoved me toward the door and said she bet me a million dollars I wouldn't have the stones to open the door like that, to which I retorted that she didn't have a million dollars. So she said she'd give me a hundred bucks to get the pizza naked. I said fine, let's see the hundred. Meanwhile, the doorbell is still ringing.
She didn't have a hundred bucks on her, but I yelled, "Just a second!" and she wrote out, "IOU $100" on a napkin and then held it out of reach while I tried to grab it, until finally I said, "Fine, fuck it, I'll answer the door, I don't care."
So I answered the door naked. The delivery guy looked pissed until he saw me, at which point the pissed look sort of froze on his face. And then Sheri came up, also naked, and started stroking me, just to make things worse. "Sorry, we were in the middle of something," I said, trying to shove her away. "Come in, let me get your money."
"What the hell is going on here?" he asked. I don't think he could help himself. But he let himself be led into the room.
"We're getting ready to go out," I said. "Just couldn't find anything to wear." Or something similar. I was pretty sloshed, so my recollections of my exact words are probably suspect in the extreme. I was trying to be funny, I know that.
Sheri said, "What's your name, cutey?" at which point I knew, somewhere in my synapses, that she was trying to make things way, way worse.
He stammered his name, then took the money I handed him and just stood there. "You want to have a piece?" Sheri asked.
And at this point, porn gets it wrong. Because pizza delivery guys can't stop. They have other deliveries to make. "I can't; I've got other pizzas," he said after a long, long pause.
"When do you get off work?" she asked.
"Why?" As if he needed to know.
"Because my little sister here is drunk and wants to fuck somebody," Sheri said. I tried to shut her up at this point, and I blushed.
"Holy shit," he said. Understatement of the year.
"So can you get off work and come back?"
"Yeah! Yeah!" I think he would have promised to kill his own parents.
He raced out of the door and his car screeched off, and then Sheri said, "Okay, let's get dressed and get out of here."
"But what about the pizza?"
"Fuck the pizza. I don't want to be here when he gets back."
"You're a bitch." But I was drunk. Not an excuse, just an explanation. I laughed. "I wish I could see his face."
And so we ate pizza really quickly and locked the door and went out all night. I wanted to leave him a note but Sheri said no. We wound up spending the night double-teaming this guy Sheri knew in his tiny little apartment. I'm pretty sure he was better than the pizza guy would have been, but I'll never know now. Plus, I was wasted at that point, so I remember quite little of the evening.
I've felt guilty about most of that trip ever since, and I feel pretty guilty about standing the pizza guy up. If life had been more like a porno and he could have thrown his other deliveries to the winds, he would have gotten really lucky, but it's not his fault that he couldn't. I'd like to believe that he never showed up again, that he realized something was amiss or that he thought we were trying to mug him or something. I don't want to think about him showing up all excited and then being disappointed.
I was not a good person that week. I could blame Sheri or booze or whatever, but what it boils down to is that I did things I regret, or at the very least I shouldn't have done. Everyone can say the same thing, I'm sure, and I'm not beating myself up about it. I'm telling this story mostly to prove that life really isn't like porn. Or at least my life isn't.
On the positive side, for him, it must be a great story to tell, even if it ended in disappointment. Showing up to deliver a pizza and being greeted at the door by two naked girls is nothing to sneeze at.
Oh, and I never saw one cent of Sheri's money. She paid for my stay though, so I guess it works out.
In the interests of this not being a total downer, I should also mention that Mike and I used to play various sexy versions of house when I was younger, and having seen a fair amount of porn at that point we made sure to play "Repairman and the Lonely Housewife" a few times. I imagine to an observer it probably would have been pretty funny, at least until it got sexy.
Mike tried the "sausage pizza" routine once; he got a personal pizza and put a hole in it and then brought it to me and stuck his dick through it. Only all the topics slid onto his cock and they were hot, so he pulled right back out again and said that it was stupid. It's tough to hold a warm pizza vertically enough so that you can have your cock stuck through it, even if you've got an enormous cock. And they never eat the pizza in the movies anyway, whereas we wanted to eat the pizza too.
We did like to go down to the laundry room and pretend I was showing him something wrong with the washer, only I'd have to bend over to point it out and there he'd be, ready to put his tool to good use. We tried it once when the washer was running and found that the best way to do it is for me to sit on the washer and him to hold my legs. It's like getting a massage while being fucked. Very nice. I suppose you have to have a washer that shakes around a little like ours, but at that point we had an old, very shaky washer. I don't know that it would have gotten my off by itself, but it was a fun experience.
So, in closing, if you're reading this and you were a pizza delivery guy who was once propositioned by two redheaded sisters in the manner described, I'm really sorry and I hope we didn't scar you for life. I don't know about Sheri, but I thought you were kind of cute and I probably would have been happy to stick around and wait for you had I been alone.
Thanks to Papa Bear for the question, and to the rest of you, keep those questions coming because I like answering them.
A number of people have asked me now whether or not I'm going to do a Flash Fiction this Friday, since PB is indisposed. The problem is, I don't want to seem like I'm trying to fill his shoes. He does Flash Fiction Friday, I love that he does and how he does it, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
But I also want to write something this Friday. So I thought I'd take the opportunity of a week off to do something non-Flash-Fiction-y. Of course, now I've got people wanting to play along.
So I've decided to compromise.
Your challenge and mine this week will be to write something not less than 500 words long. Yeah, that's right, 500 words or more. You can use this fun picture from my collection as a jumping-off point, or as a sole focus, or you can ignore it completely and substitute your own picture, or you can just ignore me completely and write the technical specifications of a complex piece of engineering.
I'll be happy to collect participants if you let me know you're participating, or just participate for the hell of it.
And at the time of this posting, I haven't written anything yet, so I'm not just setting this challenge to something I've already fulfilled.
See you Friday!
I said I'd get around to telling the story of fun times with Ernst and Sveta at work, and since I've got no TMI stuff I feel like answering this week and no FFF to look forward to (although I may write something anyway) I have no real excuse beyond malaise and some other excuse I can't think of because I'm so full of malaise. It really seems like you ought to be able to put malaise on a sandwich. Maybe a cheap, low-fat version of mayo. Anyway...
I took Ernst and Sveta to visit the theater at which I work; Sveta had been there before, but she'd never gotten the full tour. We went late in the hope that no one would be there, and lo and behold, no one was, so I was able to show them around and tell all the terrible stories I can't tell when other people are around.
I was toying with the idea of bringing up the topic of a bit of fun, perhaps on the Green Room couch or somewhere like that, when Sveta asked, "Have you ever had sex on stage before?"
I wasn't sure what she meant. The answer would pretty much be yes whatever she meant, but I asked her if she meant had I ever had "sex" in a play before, or had I ever actually had sex on stage. She said, "In a play," and giggled.
Ernst said, "Or the other one?" with a grin. I'm not convinced they weren't both in on it together. So I told them yes, I've simulated sex on stage before, nothing particularly raunchy, and yes, I've had actual sex on stage before, both for an audience and in an empty theater.
Sveta pulled her shirt over her head and said, "Okay then, walk us through it." I was a little surprised, but pleased, obviously. She's definitely shedding her inhibitions and learning to take charge of her own pleasure.
Unfortunately, the play that's currently on stage (well, in the process of being put on stage) doesn't have much in the way of permanent set, so I pulled out some padding to the center of the stage so we could kip down, and by the time I'd done that, Sveta was already in her underwear sucking Ernst's cock with enthusiasm. He looked a little less enthusiastic, and he asked me if I thought someone might come in, to which I said no, but went and locked the doors anyway so if someone tried we'd at least have a little warning.
I know I say that I'm all about keeping work and pleasure separate, but I really couldn't refuse this, plus it's not like I've never done anything in the building before. If I'd been working with them, that would have been one thing, but this was late in a deserted building, and no one was going to show up and find out.
When I came back again from locking up, Sveta grabbed me and started pulling my clothes off until I was down to my skivvies too, then she said to Ernst, "Okay, now you go be in the audience, and Lexi and I will give you a show." I'd just like to break the flow for a moment to say that even she doesn't know what came over her; when we got home, she suddenly realized what she'd done and turned beet-red and giggled a lot. I guess it was the adrenaline talking.
So Ernst sat bare-ass in the seats (sorry to whoever sits there next) while Sveta and I took each other's underwear off, then began stroking and fondling each other right on the edge of the stage. Ernst said, "Um, Lexi, unless you want me to stain the seats out here, you'd better make this audience participation," so we invited him up on stage (with great fanfare, like it actually was audience participation) and as soon as Sveta put her lips on his cock, he exploded into her mouth.
I took the opportunity to sneak down to her pretty pink pussy and start licking, and she was already dripping wet and hot as a sauna rock, so it wasn't long before she was doing some exploding of her own. Ernst had his clothes back on and was sitting in the audience again, and Sveta rolled me over and ate me out to two very nice orgasms, then she sat up and said, "Okay, Ernst, are you just going to sit there?"
"I just don't know," he said. "This is so hot, but what if someone comes in."
"Then they can join in," she said firmly, putting her hand on my breast.
"Listen honey, if Ernst doesn't feel comfortable, that's not fair to him," I said softly to her. "I know you're really getting into this, and so am I, but maybe we should be nice to him and go home."
"And I didn't bring any condoms," he put in.
"Lexi always has some," said Sveta, somewhat petulantly. It's true, I did have some.
"Ernst, if you want to go home, just say so, okay," I said.
"Okay, I'm sorry, but I just don't feel comfortable doing this," he said. I didn't press the issue, and Sveta, after a few moments of pouting, acquiesced. At that point, I think she started thinking about what was going on herself.
I think the whole thing was born out of being at my house, where pretty much anything goes, and feeling free and young and able to do crazy stuff for the first time in her life. She's in college, and college kids do crazy stuff all the time, and maybe she's feeling a bit of that. Like I said, once we got home, she was all apologies and blushing and couldn't believe we'd done that. And Ernst in turn was apologizing for being a stick in the mud. And it led to some very nice "make-up" sex.
Not as sexy as it could have been, but then what is? Life isn't a porno. And Sveta and Ernst can both say that they've had sex on stage now. I confess that I wish I could have gone down into the house and watched the two of them for a while, or maybe had Sveta watch me and Ernst, but it's okay. Part of me says I never should have let it get even that far. I know I won't be able to look at that seat in the house without giggling for a while.
I'd like to say, right up front, that the week (well, the past week) has been good. Very good. Better than I've had in quite a while. So when I mention things which would have made it better, that's only because it wasn't perfect, and I really don't expect perfection.
The rest of the week you haven't heard about was not non-stop sex, but I got enough to tide me over until the next time. A lot of people have been saying that Ernst is a lucky guy. He is. Very lucky. And he got lucky repeatedly. The nice this was, I think at a certain point he and Sveta must have had a confab about how they got to be together all the time and I was being left out or something, because at a certain point during the week I began to get a lot more attention. It wasn't anywhere close to a 50-50 split between Sveta and I; I got Ernst pretty much every time he was ready, with Sveta encouraging (so I'm pretty sure it wasn't just that he'd gotten tired of fucking her and was moving on to greener pastures). And Sveta and I got some very nice alone time too, just the two of us, although some of that was interrupted by Ernst watching us (which we didn't mind at all) and then us noticing that he was jerking off and not wanting to waste that on his hands.
Also, our sleep schedules meshed up pretty well, which meant that, while I still didn't sleep well, I was awake when they were awake for the most part, except for one day when I crashed very early. But a lot of time spent together and awake.
We also got to do some fun things; we went out to eat a few times, went shopping for underwear (Ernst was a bit shy about that, which was kind of cute and reminded me that he's still really just a kid a bit out of his depth maybe, not some Lothario) and hit a book sale, drove around a bit, and then we visited the theater I do most of my work at and took the grand tour because no one was there... and then, well, I should probably tell the "and then" in more detail in a later post, so watch for that soon. This is just a general recap. I'm really not trying to be a tease. Okay, maybe a little bit.
So a fun time was had by all. We watched some movies, including Revolver, which none of us had ever seen and which was not the movie we'd expected. I wouldn't hold that against it though, but at the same time I don't know that I could recommend the movie that it actually was. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't great either.
Then Saturday was the only day I had to work for longer than a few hours (talk about great timing for this week) and even then I was going to get off slightly early, so I headed off to the salt mines, leaving Sveta and Ernst to hang out until I returned. I didn't expect my parents back until late, so that seemed reasonable. Only I got back late that afternoon to find that my parents had arrived in the interim, which was awkward because Ernst and Sveta had been employing the couch for some shenanigans when they were surprised by entering adults. I would have given anything to see it when it happened, actually.
Sveta, to her credit, either was actually embarrassed or played the part well (I suspect a bit of both), so Ernst was subjected to an awkward situation, but not clued in to the true state of play. I hate that she has to lie to him more than I hate having to lie to him myself, but it is what it is. My mother was first through the door; she took one look at them, said, "Sorry, you weren't expecting us," and turned around to let them streak upstairs. Sveta came down after clothes had been put on to apologize, which my parents said was not necessary, of course. Dad was sorry he hadn't been the first to walk in.
So things were more awkward than I wanted, but in the end, Sveta coaxed Ernst downstairs too, and introductions were made, somewhat awkwardly until my mother said, "Listen, it's Sveta's house too, and we don't care what you kids do as long as you're doing it safely, so there's no need for any shyness. If Sveta likes you, we like you, okay?" And after that, things got a little more pleasant, which was about when I walked in.
The remainder of their time with us, we played more discretely, for Ernst's sake; we confined our clothes-less activities to my room for the most part. And my parents were the pictures of discretion as well, but they've got practice at that. Clothes were worn for all public activities, despite the fact that everyone except Ernst would have been perfectly happy to dispense with them. Ah well.
My parents had a great time on their vacation, and Mom said that Dad came again, more predictably this time, although only after some work, so that's good news too. I know that Sveta sneaked into my parents' room when Ernst was busy doing something else and gave Dad a big kiss and told him that she was looking forward to when he could give her a nice big creampie, which was a very nice thing to say, even if true, and which made my Dad redouble his intentions to get back on the horse so to speak. He was really worried that Sveta would be disappointed, but she wasn't. She just pulled off her clothes, lay back on the bed, and said he could do whatever he wanted, so he dove right in with fingers and tongue until she came, and then they cuddled a little bit before she had to get back so Ernst wouldn't come looking for her. She's a good kid, and she really loves Dad just like I do. He's a better father to her than anyone else.
Now for the bad news: Mike's car broke down, so he wasn't able to make it here for Easter. This is particularly annoying because he would have been flying solo, which would have made things easier and probably resulted in plenty of Mike for me. I was pissed off for a while, but in the end, it wasn't his fault and I just have to let it go. And I was secretly just a little relieved because it meant that a whole section of the drama wasn't going to happen, and while yes, it could have been super-sexy, it could also have led to catastrophic failure. And the week was good enough without the risk.
So, since Mike wasn't going to show up, and knowing that Sveta wanted to do this, I found a cinema in the area which was still showing Rango, and she and Ernst and I went and watched it. Cute movie. We liked it. I think I could have happily seen it in DVD, but it was fine watching it on the big screen. And then we went out to eat at a new restaurant. And then they had to leave. Kisses and hugs and fondlings all around, perhaps with a bit too much enthusiasm for a parking lot but I didn't give a shit, and they were off and I was alone again.
I'm a bit bummed, I don't mind admitting, and getting back to the grind will be annoying, but things are as they are. And it was a very good week. There may be a few more things in store arising from the week too, so that's something. Now I've got to get back to working with Dad, trying to talk him into working on his prostate a little, just generally doing physical therapy (albeit of the enjoyable kind) until he's well again, which I have faith will happen sooner rather than later or never.
Sveta, by the way, says that Ernst is still in some kind of blissed-out cloud-nine-land about his recent experiences, as well he should be. I'm not sure where their relationship is going, but I hope it goes well, however it goes.
France does a nice thing on her blog (possibly every Saturday, but if not, certainly with regularity) which she calls "a dash of happy." And since I'm always for doing two things at once, I'm going to pimp her blog (you ought to read it) and at the same time be inspired by her example.
Delaware has approved its civil unions bill.
I don't talk politics here. But for me this isn't a political issue. It's a moral issue (which, let's face it, I don't talk about much either). And while I don't like that it's just civil unions and not full-on marriage, I do like that it's a step in the right direction. And I don't live in Delaware; I'm just happy for all the people who do.
Weddings make me cry. But happy crying. I like doing that.
Maybe in my lifetime, my kids (or more likely my grandchildren) will look at me with confusion when I say that at one time people who loved each other couldn't get married. They'll wonder what the hell I'm talking about; surely the world never worked like that, not around here. And that would be a beautiful thing, as beautiful as the expressions of confusion I hope to get when I talk about how at one time the color of someone's skin mattered for some reason. Still got a hill to climb on both, but all you have to do is keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Things don't always go backwards. Sometimes people do the right thing. Not because of politics. Because it's the right thing.
There is an angel there in the gathering dark, hovering over my bed, watching over me. That's what Momma always told me. Momma believed, believed hard, wanted to see but couldn't and still believed.
Me, I've seen her perched there, all white and cold like death. Funny how you expect something different from what you get. Momma expected to see her and didn't see, and I expected an angel. Maybe she watches over me for protection, or maybe she's just there waiting. If you look closely, she's smiling, but it's not what I'd rightly call beatific, no ma'am. I've seen that smile before. Turkey buzzards grin too, when they're waiting for a body to die.
She never says anything, so I leave her be, but I'm thinking she's not an angel. What sort of angel watches over a bed anyway? I've done some things in that bed Momma wouldn't approve of, but the angel sure seemed to like it.
I don't really want to talk about thought process this week. I'd like to talk about voice. There's a fine line between writing in a voice and writing the way people talk. Sure, in dialogue you want to write how people talk (unless you're writing something stylized) and you can get away with a lot there. No one expects all dialogue to be perfect grammar; in fact, if it is people may be thrown off.
But personal narrative is slightly different. You're not "speaking" per se, but you are writing something in a definite voice. Sometimes, authors write in the style of a tale told or written; in other words, as if the character doing the narration was either telling or writing the story. Huckleberry Finn is a classic example of this, but Twain used the same technique in numerous works. But where do you draw the line? Unless you're writing stream-of-consciousness, there is a difference between the character talking and the character's voice of narration.
I strive, in my blog, to have a voice, but not to write like I talk, because I don't talk in perfect grammar at all times. I leave words out. I mumble. I correct myself or repeat myself. All these things might work in dialogue, if I were writing this blog as an extended play or something, but I don't feel they work for prose. I may ramble, but I do look over things I write and touch them up. I try not to kill any immediacy, but let's face it, unless I live-blog, I'm writing after the fact and I've internalized and am now regurgitating. Nothing wrong with that. It's part of the process. Personally, I don't care for things which are written exactly the way the author speaks.
This all comes up because I had a bit of trouble deciding where to draw the line in this particular piece. In the end, I made it fairly grammatical with a touch of folksy charm, rather than writing it as I would if I expected someone to read it as a monologue. I left in some things which in a scholarly paper I'd take out, and I added some things which I might leave out in dialogue. It's an interesting exercise. Writing in a voice, but not writing dialogue, is good for character development too. The way a character narrates can tell you a lot about them, even if they don't reveal any internal monologue at all.
Okay, enough of the writers' workshop. As always, head over to Flash Fiction Friday to see all the other excellent submissions. The quality of work and the different ideas are really mind-blowing. And I'm sure someone will have written something more pornographically inclined as well, since mine of late have lacked a certain element of the more-than-risqué.
I don't often do this; I'm not much for bringing things into the blog which aren't sexual, or at least related to sex in some way. But if you're not listening to Mumford and Sons, you should be. Seriously. I've had Sigh No More on an almost constant loop since I got it on Tuesday. Singing along. I haven't heard an album this good in a long time. It's beautiful, a word I don't use lightly. It reminds me of Neutral Milk Hotel's In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, another album worth listening to.
I remember, vaguely, when people used to purchase entire albums, rather than simply buying individual songs and rolling their own. I'm not saying that the mix tape is evil, but occasionally there are albums which hold together, from which you don't want to just extract songs. They don't make too many of them any more; the way the wind is blowing I guess.
Anyway, I'm not a music critic or a hipster, and I know sweet fuck all about the group, but Mumford and Sons is addictive, and I'm the pusher. God damn the pusher man.
I suppose you could listen to the album while having sex. It wouldn't be my first choice, but that vague rationalization is all I have.
I'd post videos here with the songs, but like I said, album. Album. The individual songs are good, but as a whole, it's better. You can hunt down these things yourselves. I have faith in your abilities to use Google.
We now return you to our regularly-scheduled broadcast.
We thought it might be fun to have Sveta answer a few questions, and since I didn't think ahead and solicit any in advance (and I'm not sure I would have gotten any had I solicited them), I'm going to steal a few from past questions I've answered. This was partially her idea, so I'm not just using it as an excuse to find out deep dark secrets about her.
What do you look for in a significant other physically and character trait wise?
In boys, I like a strong chin and not a lot of flab, and I like a boy who can laugh well. In girls, Lexi has taught me to appreciate the stomach, but I also like her cute little nipples. I don't spend a lot of time looking for a significant other though, so I don't really know.
What was the last thing you were annoyed about?
My science teacher gave us all this homework, and I don't even like science.
Would you rather go to the movies or go bowling?
What weird questions. Okay, I guess the movies. I want to see Rango.
Do you prefer pie or cake?
Pie. Cake is dry.
What is your favorite position to sleep in?
Curled up with someone.
How do you differentiate between love and lust?
Lust makes me wet. Love is in my heart.
If you caught a neighbor peeping in at you while you were naked or having sex, would you close the blinds? (assuming you live in a city and can see into other buildings).
Yeah. I'm shy. Lexi would probably make me leave them open though, to toughen me up. No she wouldn't. She told me to say that.
What's your favorite food?
I like fresh strawberries and cream. And chocolate. Chocolate cream. Lexi makes this stuff which is basically chocolate cream which is killer on strawberries. Last time she made it wrong and it got too thick and we had to eat it with spoons like ice cream.
Rufus appears out of nowhere with a time-traveling phone booth. You can go anytime in the PAST. What time are you traveling to and what are you going to do when you get there?
I want to go back and meet Susan B. Anthony. Or maybe Harriet Tubman.
You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what's even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What's it gonna be?
Man these questions are strange. You really answered all these? I guess I'll be Superman. Flying and strength are good.
Favorite color?
Pink or red, I guess.
What is your underwear "style" of choce?
I used to wear nothing but granny panties, but Lexi changed all that. I probably inherited my taste from her. I like boyshorts more than she does though.
Would you strip for money?
No, probably not. Unless certain people were offering, and then I'd strip for free. But I'll take the money.
What is the easiest way for you to reach orgasm?
Someone playing with my clitoris. I know people say that there's a G-spot, but it pretty much all feels like clitoris to me.
What is your favorite sexual position?
I can't choose. I like all the one's I've tried.
Have you ever fantasized about someone else other than your partner while you were engaged in sex, oral sex, or mutual masturbation?
Yes.
Pick an animal that best displays your personality.
Come on, you're making these up now just to be stupid. I'm a pygmy marmoset; soft, small, and I don't know what I look like because I'm not sure I'm real. Is a pygmy marmoset a real thing?
What percentage of women do you think are capable of handling being in a "friends with benefits" relationship? How about men?
I think women are better at it than men. Men always want things to either be serious or they don't want to be friends at all, just fuckbuddies. Men want you to be faithful to them, but they won't be faithful to you. Not all men, but some.
What is your best feature?
Do I have to? I guess my arms are pretty nice. They're not flabby or anything. I don't think most people would notice that though.
Do you enjoy watching others (a partner or a stranger) masturbate?
Not as much as I like watching others have sex. Or having sex with others.
Do you like "talking" when you have sex?
Yes. Sometimes it's hard to talk, but I like it when we do.
Do you ever fake orgasms?
No. I can't fake them.
Would you rather have your sig-O be a terrible kisser who could always make you orgasm or an amazing kisser who could never make you orgasm?
I guess I'd rather have orgasms. But I like kissing a lot and it'd be hard to only get bad kisses.
How often do you use the word "fuck" (or its derivatives) in casual conversation - frequently, occasionally, rarely, never?
I used to never swear. Now I do it more. I don't know if that's a good thing or not.
Would you rather watch a erotic/porn movie, read a story, or listen to an audio? Why?
Watch porn. I'm simple.
With warm weather on the horizon, what outdoor activity are you most looking forward to?
I just want to be in the sun more. Lexi hates the sun, but I like it. Sometimes I wonder if she's really a vampire.
What's one place you'd like to visit?
Anywhere in Europe.
Commando: Sexy or disgusting?
A bit disgusting. I like going without panties for some people but day to day I want underwear.
Do you believe in ghosts or other supernatural activity? Why or why not?
I don't know. I've never met one. There probably are ghosts though. Or supernatural things.
Favorite pizza topping?
I like white pizza.
Favorite ice cream flavor?
Chocolate or strawberry.
Would you go sky diving?
Maybe.
Can you use chop sticks?
Not really. Sort of. I use a fork.
Could you ever forgive a cheater?
Probably not.
BDSM?
Is that the pain stuff? I guess we could try a little kinky tying up some time. It might be fun.
Would you rather take a bath in chocolate pudding or drive around the town naked in your car?
The pudding.
Would you rather have a threesome with 2 guys and a girl, or 2 girls and a guy?
2 guys, 1 girl. I haven't had many of those.
Would you rather have your toes sucked or your ears?
Ears.
What would you do at an orgy?
Have sex with different people. Maybe try DP again.
First thing you wash in the shower?
I wash my hair first.
What's your favorite Popsicle flavor?
Grape.
If you could bang a Disney character who would it be?
One of the princes, probably.
Will you have sex on your period?
Ew. No.
What age to you think is a good age for someone to lose their virginity?
A few years ago, I probably would have said 18. Now I'm not so sure.
Would you like to have sex on the beach?
Yes, I think it'd be fun. Not with people around though. Maybe that would be fun too, but I don't think I could.
What spice/seasoning is your favorite?
Garlic, maybe.
What comes to mind when I say cabbage?
I'm done with these strange questions.
There now, that was fun. Illuminating too, I hope. And despite Sveta giving me shit about my selection of questions, she helped pick them.
I've been understandably a bit occupied, so I'm sorry there haven't been hourly posts about the craziness to keep everyone happy. In actuality, there hasn't been so much craziness that hourly updates would work anyway; it's not like we're having sex 24/7. Even I am not that crazy.
Some things to get out of the way:
Ernst is not Ernest. It's the German name. I'm not mistyping it. I'm starting to be sorry I didn't call him Yevgeni or something similarly unmistakable. I picked the name, though, because it suits him and is close enough to reality for me to remember. His name isn't really Ernest though; I'm better at coming up with aliases than that.
For everyone who's desperate to see pictures, don't hold your breath. I'm trying to keep picture-taking to a minimum because of certain issues which I won't go into. It's not really about me. Also, as I've tried to make clear, I'm not a picture-taking-type person. I have pictures, and I do occasionally take some, but I don't commemorate every special occasion by whipping out a camera, and this one is no different. We'll see what happens, but as of right now, I don't have any pictures to share. Other bloggers are much better about sharing pictures, and if that's your bag, I'd suggest you visit them because there are some very attractive picture-sharers out there in blogland.
And lastly, I know everyone is waiting for me to spill the beans to Ernst, to tell him all about my family, and then we can have a wild family orgy. This is not going to happen. I know it might sometimes seem like it, but I have told only a handful of people outside of my immediate family about my life in any great depth. That I told Sveta is rather remarkable. I've been closer to people, lived with them, been serious in the relationship to the point of monogamy (yeah, once or twice) and never told them anything. So I have no plans to tell Ernst anything. Neither does Sveta. It might not be right to keep secrets, but that's life.
So, that's out of the way.
Yesterday morning, I was up and Ernst got up while Sveta was still asleep, so we got to have a talk, get to know each other a bit better. I didn't want it to become serious, but it did devolve for a few minutes into me telling him that Sveta is very important to me, and while I don't begrudge his attentions and think that he's a good guy, if he does anything to hurt her, I will hunt him down and feed him his own testicles. He received this in the spirit which it was intended. I wouldn't have said anything, but it just came out. I do worry sometimes; she's had so little experience with men in a lot of ways, and James screwed her over pretty badly to the point where (I can say this now, but there were doubts then) I wondered if she'd ever be able to be involved with a guy again. I think becoming part of the family helped with that, made her feel like someone might actually love her. And now she's doing well. But if Ernst fucked her over, I shudder to think what might happen.
We talked about their relationship, about how they both might enjoy a bit of openness in it but were worried about that. Ernst has no problems with Sveta seeing other women, but he's a bit jealous of the idea of her being with other men. I told him that it was her call, but that I had never been a believer in monogamy and perhaps that colored my perceptions a little.
Basically, we chatted. It was nice, sitting there with someone who wasn't uncomfortable talking while naked, just lazy morning chats.
The reason we didn't do anything else was because Ernst was recovering from the previous day, when Sveta and I, as we'd planned, put his endurance to the limits. It turns out that, between the two of us, we can get four pleasant times out of him. The fifth was strained and after that he bowed out and let us have some alone time while he did some homework (yeah, homework over Spring break, but she's got some too).
I don't think his balls exploded or anything from the strain, but I think he was just humoring us, and there wasn't a whole lot of cum to speak of. After cumming once, he gets a little stamina, but the next three were all about the same length, and fairly consistent in performance too. Some guys are like that. Nothing wrong with it.
Sveta, when Ernst was out of the room, was begging me to let her ask him to cum inside her; she's jonesing for a creampie like I am. I told her that I wasn't her mother, but I thought they were being very responsible, which made her glare at me in a way which said, "I know you're right, damn it, and I wish you weren't." I am definitely the pot calling the kettle black here though; I barebacked all through college in a hugely irresponsible way, and I don't make guys wear condoms anywhere near as often as I should. And actually, I sort of feel like it would be okay for Ernst and Sveta to dispense with the condoms, especially if they get tested. Maybe he's worried he'll get something from her, or me. He seems to be the driving force behind wearing them. Good for him, I say; I wish more guys were responsible in that way. Maybe he cums to quickly without one. That hasn't seemed to be the case when we give him blowjobs, but who knows.
Anyway, Sveta reaped the whirlwind in the Ernst-orgasm-fest; she got two all to herself, and one shared one. The shared one was the exciting one; it was the second, after Ernst fucked her in the morning. We went into the shower and Sveta and I started washing each other and making out, and pretty soon Ernst was hard again. Sveta wanted to try the same thing as before, only this time with swapping between our asses, so we both got on all fours and Ernst started probing our assholes with his fingers, then pressed into mine with his cock while fingering Sveta's, then switched over to her and put his fingers in my ass. We got to the point where Sveta's fingers were in my snatch and mine in hers, while he fingered and fucked away at our assholes for a few minutes until he pulled out and splashed the small our our backs with cum, several spurts each, and then grinned maniacally as he rubbed the cum into our skin while we kept diddling each other until we couldn't stand it and went into a clutch to finish up.
I did get one session to myself; Sveta had just orgasmed hard, and she wasn't in condition to join in, so while she recovered, I lay back and let Ernst have his way with me. It was nice to get some missionary; I'd spent a fair amount of time on my knees for him, but I really wanted a nice slow fuck, which I got. It was number four, so I think even if the spirit was still willing the flesh was starting to weaken. Even young guys who are ready for anything get worn out. But though it was fairly sedate, he got me off twice before he came, and when he did it was an orgasm I wouldn't have suspected was his fourth of the day had I not been there for the other three.
Five was, as I said, a strain; we got him hard and Sveta tried riding him, but in the end she hopped off and finished him in her mouth while I started kissing my way all over both of them. He took a long time, even trying, and his cock drooled a bit of cum and that was that. He wanted to please us, bless his heart, but there are limits.
Lest it seem like we've been doing nothing but fucking, it should be said that we've done other things as well. We were going to go out yesterday but it pissed down rain so we stayed in, but aside from one extra-long session with Sveta in the evening, Ernst was content to let all the action be between the two gals, and action there was and it was tremendous, but it wasn't all day. I had to go to work anyway, so it wasn't like I could spend all day fucking. Today we might walk around town if the rain lets up, or we might stay in and let them catch up on work. And then tomorrow we have some plans. So it's not just sex.
But sex is good.
Yeah, so sleeping on and off for a few hours at at time is fun. Hence, I'm up and no one else is, which is why I can take the time to do crazy things like posting to my blog, answering emails, etc.
First off, and this is the only mention it's going to get, I'd like to thank all 100 of my followers. There, I said it, I'm done.
Now on to the more interesting stuff. Sveta and Ernst showed up yesterday evening, later than I expected but they took a detour to go to a cave apparently. I was a little jealous they hadn't invited me, but it was a spur of the moment type thing; they drove by a sign which said, "Hey, see the cave" or some such, and they decided what the hell, they'd stop and see the damn cave. I'm told it was caverific. I've been in caves before and aside from claustrophobia striking every so often, the bigger ones are beautiful and impressive.
So they were too late for dinner; I made something which didn't turn out well anyway. I think the chicken was bad. It tasted unpleasant. Anyway, who gives a shit about dinner? They showed up and despite the fact that we were all tired and I had to get up the next morning, we quickly adjourned to the playroom for a bit of fun, because we were all horny as hell and didn't care who knew it. I think Ernst was slightly shy at first, being in a new house and all, but once Sveta and I stripped down and started making out, he got over it.
Sveta charitably let me have a crack at Ernst, since she's had him all to herself and she knows I've been pretty low on cock recently. We giggled together while he was taking his pants off, which would unnerve any man I think; two girls giggling together as you take out your cock is not nice. It wasn't intentional; we were just giggly. He didn't need any warming up; I bet he'd been on a hair trigger all day. We're still doing the condom thing; he asked me if I had any because Sveta indicated I would, and I directed him to the stash the family has laid in for emergencies and so forth, since we rarely use them among ourselves. Then I lay back, spread my legs, and Sveta hopped onto my face with a giggle, and I didn't see much of what was going on in my lower extremities, but it felt terrific as Ernst slid into my well-juiced pussy.
After a thrust or two though, it became awkward, and I scolded Sveta away momentarily (and reluctantly, because she was already dripping and tasting so nice I could have just stayed with my face in her snatch all evening) and grabbed a pillow to put under my ass, to move myself up a little so poor Ernst would have an easier time. Then I grabbed a blanket from the couch too and spread it out underneath us, so carpet burns would be kept to a minimum.
Then back at it, and now things moved along like a well-oiled machine. I came just as he was hitting his stride, and a few moments later he pulled out and I felt the jets of semen splashing onto my belly. I just kept eating, working Sveta up, until finally she was on all fours, her hips grinding down onto my face, and she soaked my cheeks and neck as she gasped out a nice long O.
I suppose if we'd been thinking properly she would have been facing back so she could have worked on me, or him, or at least kissed him, but for whatever reason she had to crawl around to lick up the cooling cum from my tummy and ribs, then she lay her head on my hips and sighed and smiled up at me.
I had hoped for more, but at that point we were wiped; it was a suitable introduction, but the first chapter would have to wait. I put them to bed, leaving our clothes on the floor, in the other bed in my room (Sheri's old bed, and boy has that bed seen things it must remember). They snuggled up together and fell almost immediately asleep, the poor tired dears. I wished I could have snuggled in with them, but that would have been a bad idea; I would have kept us all awake tossing and turning. In the end, I retreated to my own lonely bed and tried not to wish Ernst ill. Not too much ill, anyway.
Then Sunday I had work, and I had to get up ass-early, which was okay because I was already up, groggily staggering about. As I was getting ready to leave, Sveta came downstairs totally naked, hair akimbo, rubbing her eyes, and she was so adorable I just about called work and told them to take their job and shove it, because I was going to stay home and make love with this sweet thing until my head exploded. But I nobly restrained myself.
I got back this evening, later than I wanted to, and found them at in in the kitchen of all places. Ernst turned red when I walked in on them; he had her up on the counter, breasts pressed against the wood, feet not touching the floor but wrapped back around him, and he was pumping in and out of her like she was some kind of sexual appliance. I laughed, and when it seemed like he was about to pull out and try to apologize, I said, "Don't you dare; you get in there and give her what she needs or no dinner for you." She giggled, he looked chagrined. I went away and stripped down, then came back just as she was on her knees getting a mouthful of sweet icing, which she kindly shared with me.
They hadn't been fucking all day (I know I probably would have been, but I guess Ernst just isn't quite the sexual powerhouse that I am, not that I'm bitter). They'd fooled around a bit in the morning, but no orgasms, and then spent most of the day hanging out, going for a walk, seeing the sights. I told them mi casa was their casa and they could help themselves to food and beverages whenever they wanted; I brought home supplies for the week but I imagine we'll need to go out at some point and stock up. We may need to buy condoms for the first time in this house in quite a while; the emergency stash might run out (it will if I have my way).
Since I was late and they'd been fucking in the kitchen, we ate a dinner of various odds and ends thrown together, all naked. It was nice; Ernst doesn't seem to have too many hangups about doing things naked. He seems like a decent guy, frankly. Not good enough for Sveta, obviously, but then neither am I, nor is Jesus. Yeah, I said it. If Jesus wants to have sex with Sveta, it's her choice, but I'll think she's slumming a bit.
Sveta mentioned during dinner that she thought a fun thing to try might be a bit of back and forth, so once the prandial (meal-related; I've got to sneak in some vocab words for your SATs somehow) matters were concluded we adjourned once again to the playroom, where Sveta and I assumed the position. In this case, we got on hands and knees side by side, asses in the air, and let him look us over, cock in hand. I like him; he got into the game, made a big show of not being sure who to chose, made us wiggle our asses and try to outdo each other in the temptation department, then he put his hand on my ass and made like he was going to penetrate me, only to shift over at the last second and pop into Sveta instead. We were all being a bit silly, and giggling and teasing was the order of the day.
And boy did he tease. He would fuck one of us just long enough to be appreciated, then shift to the other. And he was the one who suggested, after a while, that maybe it might be even more fun if we were face to face, and he could switch back and forth even quicker. So I lay back and let Sveta lie on top of me, breasts pressed together, arms wrapped around her, and Ernst came up between us and started going back and forth with every thrust, one into her, one into me. We were all teetering on the edge of orgasm, and in the end I was the first one to go, followed by Ernst hopping up, pulling off the condom, and stroking his load, which was substantial, into my mouth, then letting Sveta lick him clean. She was so close too, so I rolled over onto her and started rubbing her with my hands and pressing into her with my pelvis, until she finally gasped and came, her legs wrapped around my back, our lips locked.
After that, Ernst was out of commission for a while, so I just slid down and started working on Sveta's cunt, hearing her moan with the tension, tasting the previous orgasm and another rising in her, until she exploded again, weakly for her, but I kept her riding it as long as I could, which wasn't as long as I wish I could. Still, it was wonderful seeing her writhing in bliss, feeling the liquid on my tongue, smelling her scent. I still can't get enough of her.
She was pretty out of it at that point too, so Ernst and I let her lie back and recover, while I started sucking his cock, just friendly-like, not trying too hard. He lay back and enjoyed it, slowly growing hard again, until finally he seemed ready, and I asked him, "You want to fuck my ass? The lube's right over there."
He didn't need to be told twice. The head of his cock is just as big as I remembered, and it makes a difference in anal; it doesn't feel like a shaft sinking in. There's a moment of tension release when the anal ring slips over the head and onto the shaft. Quite enjoyable. He slid into me easily, then I gave him some pointers on how to please me, and he just ground against me while his fingers reached down and stroked my pussy until I came, softly but in waves, and he started thrusting into my ass as it clamped and relaxed on his cock, which was good for both of us. He unloaded in the condom without pulling out; I don't know that he had enough warming, or maybe he just wanted to stay inside my ass as long as possible.
"She's really good at anal," he said to Sveta, who was watching us and idly playing with herself.
"Yeah, she taught me everything I know," Sveta said with a giggle. It's true too, but how true I don't know that Ernst knows. He didn't ask, so maybe he does know.
We headed upstairs and watched a movie and had snacks, but the two of them were falling asleep during the movie, so in the end they cuddled against me and I watched and cuddled back. Then I put them to bed again and was all ready to go to sleep myself, but couldn't. So here I am. Tomorrow, we have bigger plans since I'll be home; a bigger dinner experience, maybe going out somewhere, definitely some further fun. Sveta and I have already planned to see how many times we can get him to cum; he doesn't know this of course, but we're going to milk him dry. Maybe a group shower. It'll be warm; maybe some outside time. Definitely some drinks and entertainment.
So that's the story so far. I'm not sure I'll provide a play-by-play of every single thing that happens, but who knows, maybe I will. I still don't know if Mike will be bringing a guest; he said he might or might not and he probably won't know until he shows up with her. I'm going to try to talk to him about Ernst and Sveta, and maybe, who knows, Mike's friend will be inclined, and the two couples can have some fun as a foursome. I know Sveta and Mike would like that. I don't know how Ernst would feel. We'll see. If nothing else, Sveta seems perfectly happy to share Ernst with me, and he can't stop me sharing her with him, so I should be getting regular nookie for the week.
Picture this: the owners of the house are away, so the house-sitter invites her girlfriend, little knowing that the woman she thought was a lesbian actually has a boyfriend, whom she is bringing along. Then the house-sitter's boyfriend shows up, only it turns out that not only has he brought a girlfriend with him, but he's actually the house-sitter's long-lost brother. And then the owners of the house return.
Put in enough doors, and you've got yourself a farce of epic proportions.
Change a few minor details, and you've got my life this coming week. I'm not complaining, mind.
My parents are going out of town for the week, and I thought I'd have the house all to myself and be all lonesome and alone. But then I got the call from Sveta that she was going to come home for Spring break, which, guess what, happens to be next week, the week my parents are out. And she had warmed to the idea of bringing Ernst along, and he said yes, and before you know it, they were both planning to show up today at some point in his car to spend the week here. I was perfectly happy to let them, even though I confess a slight feeling of jealousy that I won't get her all to myself. Still, he's a decent guy and it's been a while since I've had some penile service. I figure we'll wear him out and then we can have some alone time. No, only kidding. But we're set to have some fun.
I think Dad's a bit sorry he won't be there, but at the same time glad because it means he won't have to worry about being unable to give Sveta what she needs, sex-wise. I told him she wouldn't mind, but I think there's still lingering anxiety on the issue, and I can understand that. Anyway, they'll be back before Sveta leaves, so they'll at least get to say hello. And since she's bringing Ernst, it's not like she could get sexy with Dad anyway, unless she's willing to open a can of worms I don't even want to think about opening.
But on that subject, and in keeping with our theme, Mike has announced that he'll be trying to make it home for Easter, which will probably mean a certain degree of overlap between him and Sveta. This introduces complications in that I'm not going to lie and say he's not my brother, and thus it would be awkward if he wanted to fuck Sveta (which he does) and impossible to explain him taking it out on me instead. I wish things were simpler and we could just have a foursome. Except that I'm given to understand that Mike might bring a friend too, nothing serious, but someone with whom he is intimate. That's less certain. If he does, that means he definitely won't get to fuck anyone but his friend. I wish I had a boy to invite over.
Anyway, I don't expect too much complication; I'm going to pretty much stick with Sveta and Ernst, and if Mike doesn't bring a friend, I'll probably sneak in some time with him too. He might stay after Sveta leaves, which will make things easier. I haven't told her he's coming yet, not because of any ulterior motive, just because I haven't. She'll probably be disappointed she can't have any fun with him.
We'll talk. Maybe we should lie and say Mike is my boyfriend, and see whether Ernst is interested in doing a bit of foursome action. Maybe Mike will bring his friend and he and she and Ernst and Sveta can have a foursome, and maybe as long as I steer clear of sex with Mike, I can jump in too. That wouldn't be that weird, would it? Yeah, okay, it would, but I don't want to be left out.
In any case, the upcoming week looks like it might be plenty exciting for me, which will be a welcome change of pace. Hopefully I'll get some good posts out of it too, so you all can enjoy vicariously.
Long ago all was darkness, and Sky Mother dreamed herself a husband and so it was, and she called him Mountain and lay on him in the way of women and men, and found herself with child. After an age, through birthpangs of thunder, she brought forth twins, a boy and a girl. The boy was Ice, cold and calm, while his sister was Fire, molten ire, raging, and the two could not share, for Fire wished to consume all, and Ice wished to cover all. Sky Mother let the two roam about the world in darkness, never seeing one another, until one day the two met, and fought until they could fight no more.
Exhausted, the twins sat together on the barren ground, and Water noted Fire's nubile form, lithe and alluring, and Fire saw Ice's powerful body, unable to be resisted, and from fighting they fell to loving, and in that way Fire melted some of Ice's chill and made the water rage, and Ice eased some of Fire's burning and made her tame. And Sky Mother looked down on her children's love and wept tears of joy, which rained down on the world and made life, and she beamed with gladness, which brought light into the world. And so it was and ever will be.
Oh Demon Lust, consume my mortal frame.
Devour me utterly in my desire.
In me you burn a harsher, driving flame
That doth consume my loins upon your pyre.
I long to break you down, to make you tame,
To ride you like a steed that does not tire,
But though I strain, my soul you always claim.
Forsake this spite, entombed in molten ire
And enter me, a soft and supple dame.
Your acts are wanton in what they require
Yet rising up like phoenix in your name
I burn and in your embers I expire.
And though strange lusts in me you may inspire
I long for you to set my heart afire.
The first one, I blame entirely on being in the middle of a book of Native American myths, of which creation myths are a part. This is not one of them, nor is it a clever retelling of one of them so I could include some twincest. It's basically a pastiche, and not a terribly good one. Ah well. I'm my own worst critic.
I decided that, given the first one, I should probably write something else. So I wrote a sonnet. Yeah, I can dash them off. It's not my best work, nor is it as smutty as sonnets I've written in the past,where I can get the whole metaphor thing going and really make hay with barely-concealed sex. This one... I don't know. Hope you like it.
There's a whole crowd over at PB's blog flashing their fiction around, and what with the new system he's got, you can join in the fun right now. Or at least head over there and read the others.
"You're sure you've done this sort of thing before?" he asked me. I was naked on his bed; he was shirtless and sweating from working outside. "I don't want to hurt you."
"Yes, a million times." An exaggeration. Not a million. Probably not even a hundred. And never like this.
"Little lady, I don't think it's a million. I haven't done it a million times, and I've got a good few years on you." Still, he wasn't kicking me out. "You know I'm only interested in one thing," he said after a moment sizing me up, as if he were trying to convince me that it was a bad idea.
"Yes. I'm only interested in that too." I waggled my ass invitingly. "Come on, you know you want to."
He took a bit of further convincing which I'll gloss over, and then he took a few more minutes to get ready, but after what seemed like an eternity, during which I stroked my wet slit hungrily, he was naked in the bed with me. We didn't kiss, and he rebuffed my attempts to touch him. "Only one thing, little lady," he said again, like a warning, although it wasn't stern. Just a reminder.
His cock was as huge as always, and I suffered a moment of self-doubt; was this really a good idea? Sure, I had done this before, but that was all kids stuff compared to this. Would it work? Would he try and I'd just be too tight? I couldn't bear the thought of failure. "Do you think... you could maybe loosen me up a little... before..." I said hesitantly, dreading his response.
He laughed, not a cruel laugh but a kind one. "Little lady, if I don't loosen you up a bit, this ain't gonna happen," he said, still smiling. And he gave me a kiss on the cheek, not sexual, just reassuring. "You think you're the first tight thing I've fucked? Give me some credit. I know I'm ancient now, but back in the day I was very attractive."
He was kidding me now, and I laughed too, a little nervously but mostly relieved. "You're very attractive now," I said, and as I said the last word, I felt his thumb press against my asshole, running around the outside and then popping in. I grunted in spite of myself.
"Now you're just humoring me," he said, patting my butt with his other hand as his thumb probed deeper, his fingers resting on my pubis, not stroking, just sitting there. "I remember my first time like it was yesterday though. Not as pretty as you. I wasn't terribly discriminating when I was young. But tight like you wouldn't believe. I didn't prepare, and it wasn't pleasant, but we got through it." His thumb was completely inside my ass now, the palm of his hand resting on the space between asshole and pussy, fingers tapping lightly just above my clit.
"If it wasn't pleasant, why did you do it?" I was a bit breathless.
His thumb withdrew, and with it the feeling of depth, and I almost sighed with the loss until I felt two fingers probing my butt now; no, it was two thumbs, both left and right, his other hand resting above my ass now. "I wanted to prove something," he said as he widened my anus with his thumbs. It was different than being fingered, like I was being spread in a dimension I hadn't known existed before. There were twinges of pain, but if I flinched he relaxed the pressure for a moment. "Not a good reason. Much better to do it for love, or even pleasure. But I was looking to prove something, to myself, to the world, I don't know." He sighed, and the pressure of his thumbs relaxed slightly. "Hell, I should have never brought it up. We ain't here to psychoanalyze. Let's just say that I've learned from experience that you can't just go fucking away at a tight hole with no howdyedo." And then he spun his hands so they were resting on each cheek, the pressure suddenly coming from a completely different angle now. I gasped. "Like that? You've done this before, but I'm pretty good at it." He laughed again.
I could feel the muscles accommodating the pressure, and once I felt comfortable enough, I said, "I think I'm ready. Do I feel ready to you?"
"Just hungry to get to the good part," he said with a smile. Then he spit, the glob of saliva landing on my tailbone and drooling down into my ass. "Sorry, old habits," he said, withdrawing his thumbs. "We're plenty lubed up already. Don't worry about that, it's just my way." I liked knowing that I was getting the full treatment, liked knowing it was just his way, and I was still thinking about that when I felt the head of his cock press into my ass. It was large, larger than I expected, and I must have shuddered or clenched, because his hand was on my back, holding me in position, and he said, "Relax. Just relax." Maybe that was his way too.
A big cock won't save a bad lover, but there is something about a big cock, particularly being pressed up your butt, that can't be duplicated by a small one. In the hands of experience, the hands of skill, it's like it's inescapable. You know it's coming, you feel the strain as it slowly spreads you apart, but you don't want it to stop, even if it gets uncomfortable. As the shaft grows inside you, slowly but surely, you can't think, you just react. Your body is against you, and you have to strain to relax, which seems like an oxymoron; a tense relaxation. Some people don't like it, and that's fine, but some people do, and I'm one of them. It's perhaps an acquired taste, which is why I wouldn't recommend going with a monster your first time, but eventually, it just feels right as it feels wrong.
He stopped talking once he penetrated me, retreating back into the taciturn nature to which I was accustomed. The first thrust, in slow motion, he didn't try to bottom out; he got as far as seemed wise and held there, feeling my ass spasm on him. And he hadn't lied; he was only interested in one thing. His hands held me in place, but did nothing more, so after a while I reached back and began to stroke my dripping pussy, pace in the bed, panting as he pulled slowly out again, all the way out, then spit directly into my ass this time and pressed back in, a bit harder and a bit farther. He was never in a rush, he was never rough, but he didn't hesitate, even at the moments when it seemed like I was going to split in two.
He didn't seem to notice when I came the first time; it was a weak orgasm because my muscles were straining to contain him. Once I came, though, the pressure released and he was able to work up to the hilt, his balls bobbing against my fingers as they worked on my cunt almost as if on autopilot. He was no longer pulling all the way out, and he was moving more quickly now, small thrusts, withdrawing slightly and then burying himself again in my ass. And I was feeling better about him now, no longer straining, just the slight sensation from taut muscles that perhaps they'd prefer if I weren't taking a giant cock up my ass. I wondered for a moment if he'd switch over to my cunt, where the feelings would be more intense, more pronounced, more enjoyable. But I didn't say anything other than gasps and moans, my face in the blankets.
In the end, I came again, and he noticed this time and seemed to pick up steam. Perhaps that was also his way. It hadn't been long, comparatively speaking; I know he can go for much longer if he wants. But he picked up the tempo as he felt my spasms, and soon he was running almost the full length of his shaft in and out, just the head remaining inside. He popped out once and just pressed back in, an accident but a pleasant one. And then he grunted, "I'm going to fill that ass up," and pressed in, and I could feel the tension in the way he gripped my hips and the hardness of his cock in me, and then he groaned, a loud animal noise, and I knew he was doing as he'd promised. I didn't feel it; I was too overstimulated to feel it as he came into me. But I knew he was.
His cock softened as soon as he'd shot the force of his orgasm, and slipped out of me, and I felt the jizz run down my leg, watery and insubstantial. He'd tried for me. He'd had to work at it. I felt ashamed, in that moment, that I'd asked him, almost forced him, when clearly he would rather not have. I rolled over to look at him. He was smiling. "Little lady, I haven't had an ass that tight in a long while," he said. "Thanks. I might just get my strength back and do it again. There's something to be said for variety." Then he saw my face and frowned. "Did I hurt you? You want to..."
"No, I just thought you didn't like it, that you were forcing yourself."
"Not at all, little lady, not at all," he said, patting my thigh with his big hand. "I said I only wanted one thing, and I got that in spades. You just lie back and feel good. That ass of yours is a treasure."
