Back in the Saddle

Sorry, I got out of the habit of posting over May, which was crazy busy, and then I didn't have a lot of post about, and then I did, but I was out of the habit, and anyway, here we are again.

At my work, we occasionally have what we refer to as "Indian Dance Bat-Mitzvas" for lack of a better term (I believe one of the terms is Arangetram, but that doesn't seem to be universal). They're dance concerts which are sort of coming-of-age ceremonies for the dancer (always a young woman) in question. And... well, they're not our favorite things in the world because they're a lot of effort and tend to involve live musicians and so forth.

But we host them because my boss hasn't yet convinced the higher-ups that they're not worth the effort. So a while back (yes, I know) we hosted one for a very nice young lady who didn't have live musicians and who was fairly laid back about the whole thing, so I was already kindly disposed toward her.

Typically relatives of the dancer handle all the prep and interfacing with technical elements and so forth. Most of the time it's brothers, although I think we did once have a cousin. They can be just as harried as we are because sometimes their sister is being a total Indian-Dance-Bat-Mitzva-zilla, or because the musicians are terrible to work with (they usually are). I have a certain degree of sympathy for them because often they're thrust into the situation with little or no decisions made on their part.

Well, this time the tech was being handled by a charming older sister of the dancer in question. And because there was no live music, I was running things by myself. Perhaps you already see where this is going, but I'm not going to tease.

The sister, let's call her Daya, was over this shit from the get go. She favorably impressed me by swearing a blue streak, then blushing and trying to make sure I wouldn't tell her father she knew those words. Apparently Daya has no time for dancing. She's in college, she's interested in STEM, she doesn't care about art, but as the eldest it fell to her to do this job. I liked her immediately.

I liked her even more when I got to know her over the course of the evening's rehearsal. I want to make it plain that I was not coming on to her at all. She's young enough to be my daughter, for one thing, and for another she didn't seem to be interested in me at all that way. But she was cute as hell. Slim, small bust, still nice curves, long black hair, fairly dark complexion. And did I mention short? Short enough that if we had stood face to face she would have gotten a facefull of boob.

At a certain point we were on break and she sheepishly asked me if there was someplace where she could smoke without being seen by her relatives. Oh, sweet summer child. Of course mama knows where the best spots are. I don't smoke anymore, but I know all the spots.

And it seemed perfectly natural for me to join her, since I had to show her the way. So we sat, she smoked, and we chatted about this and that.

And then I noticed that, far from being uninterested in me, she was ogling me. Like, she didn't have any experience hiding it at all. She was in fourteen-year-old-boy-seeing-his-first-boob territory. She couldn't stop staring at my chest.

And frankly, I was prepared to let her look and say nothing, because I've been the recipient of patience on the part of my ogle-ee often enough and I like to pay it forward.

But then she said, "Are you doing anything after? The family is having dinner in the lobby and I'm sure you could come and have some too, if you like Indian."

Now here's where I differ from my boss: I love Indian, and frequently these events are catered and they offer me food and that makes up for a lot of the hassle. Hell, I like the attention I get as a gringo liking Indian food. They start by offering me the least bizarre things but when I graduate to the hard stuff, they're impressed and feed me more. I got the same thing as a child in sushi places: the chef would frequently slip me bits and bobs of stuff because I was willing to eat it. So hell yeah, I was totally on board with having free Indian food.

My boss, on the other hand, doesn't particularly like Indian, plus food is a mess to clean up, so that gets added to the negative side of the balance sheet. Ah well. More for me, at least until they decide to stop allowing these events.

She stubbed out her cigarette prettily (I love how some women make smoking sexy, and Daya was one of them) and seemed enthusiastic when I was enthusiastic about Indian food. We went back and finished the rehearsal and chatted.

Then dinner with the family. I was all set to take mine to go, but Daya insisted on introducing me around and sitting me down and tempting me with all sorts of goodies until it felt rude to refuse. So I had delicious Indian food. Vegetarian, which I know would put off some people, but not me. Spicy as shit, but I sweated and loved it. This is not a food blog, so I'll draw the curtain over my meal.

Family was breaking up, Daya and I were sitting and talking, and then it seemed rude not to help clean up, so I did that, and then goodbyes until the morrow and Daya was asking me, sotto voce, whether she could have another cigarette before she left.

The building is confusing, but not that confusing, and I feel like she could have found her way back to the quiet spot, but I let her make me show her the way again. I was feeling positive toward the world. Good food does that to me.

And when she sat down next to me, probably too close for comfort, I let it happen. And when she leaned in and kissed me, I was okay with that too. Sometimes things just happen.

"Sorry," she said, blushing, when she came up for air. "I just wanted to do that."

"Don't be sorry," I said with a happy sigh. "I'm totally okay with it."

I had, at some point, I think, given the impression that I was okay with this sort of thing, somehow. I don't really remember it coming up, but hey.

"You want to come back to my place?" she asked, shyly.

"Your place?" I had been under the impression that she lived with her family.

"No, I've got an apartment." Better still.

We drove to her apartment. Or rather, she drove and I tried very hard to convince myself that this was a bad idea, failed, and then started nuzzling her neck a little. She laughed, musically I might add, and pushed me away.

"Do you do this often?" she asked me.

"Make out with cute girls? Yeah, not often enough."

"I mean, with clients." Well, that threw a little cold water on the whole thing.

"I try not to shit where I eat, but sometimes..."

"Oh, sorry, I shouldn't have asked. Not if I want to get your pants off." That brought mutual good feeling back to the car.

"Do you do this often?" I asked her.

"No. Once in high school at a party, and I've made out with some girls in college, but if my parents found out..."

"Don't worry, my lips are sealed."

"I hope not." See, I knew I liked her. She was witty, had a nice laugh, and yeah, she was young enough to be my daughter but I'm not made of stone.

We made it to her apartment in one piece and without losing any clothing, but only just. She hurried me up the steps and inside, and then into the back room, her bedroom. It was cool and dark and welcoming. Smelled like incense. Nag Champa, the kind I remember using to keep campus security from smelling pot. I guess some things never change.

She started kissing me again, gently, longingly, and I helped her hands to my chest where she seemed at a loss for what to do. "You've never gone all the way with a girl," I said finally, noticing her reticence.

"No. Sorry."

"No need to be sorry. We can just kiss and talk if you want."

"No. I'm so fucking horny I'm ready to explode."

Well then.

"Then why don't you just lie back and let me do the work?" Because I believe in welcoming budding lesbians into the fold with charity. It's the best way to encourage them to come back for more. Remember that kids: it may be their first time, but it won't be their last unless you really fuck it up, so be kind to the next person in line, because who knows, it might be you.

She let me pull her t-shirt over her head, pull down her jeans, and there she was in extremely conservative underwear for someone so forward. I'm not complaining. She was cute as a button. Not exactly granny panties or anything, but plain cotton and not revealing all that much.

Her belly though. Slim and taut and with an extremely kissable bellybutton. So I kissed it, because I was eye-level with it and it seemed like a good idea. She jumped out of her skin. I stroked her abdomen and kissed her stomach again, and she relaxed a little.

Eventually I worked my way back up, then guided her onto the bed, pulled off my shirt and jeans, and let her gawk a little because let's just say I was wearing more exciting undergarments than she was. I had taken my previous experiences of the year to heart and started wearing slightly better undies to work because one never knows, and in this case it paid off.

"You're so pretty," she said in awe, which I'm only reporting as fact, I'm not endorsing as opinion.

"No, you're gorgeous," I said, then before she could contradict me I kissed her and undid her bra.

Nice tits. That's all I can say about them. I know some people like them large, particularly in the Indian subcontinent, but hers were small, pert, and perky, with oversized dark nipples. I massaged and kissed for a few moments, then I kissed my way down her delectable collarbone and started suckling on her left nipple, and she was writhing already. I guess "horny enough to explode" wasn't far wrong.

It seemed like she didn't need much warming up, so I curtailed my usual foreplay and worked more quickly. Got her panties down and her legs spread shortly thereafter. She had a thick black bush, which, I'm not going to lie, isn't my first choice, but it looked nice on her. And she smelled like cinnamon. Her pussy was redolent with cinnamon, that's all I can say. Maybe it was some kind of product, or maybe I was just being racist and assuming that an Indian girl's cunt should smell of spice.

She came almost immediately after I flicked my tongue over her swollen clit. She didn't announce it or anything, but she spasmed to beat the band. If only all girls were that easy. But she didn't stop me from continuing my ministrations, so I ministered. Her pussy was dark lips and swollen clit, her asshole was a dark rosebud which she didn't seem to mind when I ran my tongue over it. What can I say? I'm trying to be better about eating ass if the situation calls for it.

"Oh Lexi, wow," she said, but with no indication that she wanted me to stop. I slipped a finger into her tight wet snatch and stroked while practically felating her clit, and she stopped talking and just moaned, high-pitched and needy.

After another finger joined the first, and I was stroking hard into the roof of her cunt, she gasped and then spasmed again, hard this time, her knees squeezing my head like a vise, her breathing ragged. No squirting but she got really, really wet. "Oh fuck," she gasped, then her hips bucked twice, and she relaxed and shakily pushed my face away from her clit.

"I hope my neighbors didn't hear that," she whispered. "That's all I need is for snoopy Ms. X to call my parents on me."

"I wondered if you were holding it in a little," I said softly, moving up to lie next to Daya and kiss her. She seemed slightly reluctant at first, but then I guess she got over her fear of her own pussy juices and we made out for a while. I got better acquainted with her breasts, her hips, and even her ass, which was nicely cuppable if maybe just a little flat.

"Do you want some too?" she murmured to me.

"Only if you want to."

"I feel weird being the only one who came."

"Don't. It's my gift to the first-timer. I can get mine any time."

"No, that's not fair." And she pushed me down to the bed. "Plus... I kinda want to see what's under your bra."

Tit-fixation much? That's fine by me. She strangely had no trouble getting my bra off, which I know can be tough for first-timers. Maybe that one time at a party had gone farther than I thought? Whatever, she was fascinated by my breasts. Worshiped them with her mouth and tongue. I was getting plenty ready myself, if I hadn't been already.

Then she moved down and pulled off my panties. "Oh wow," she said. I don't particularly think I have an awe-inspiring vulva, but Daya didn't have much to compare it with, and it was wet and waiting for her, so maybe a little awe was appropriate.

She wasn't bad, for a first-timer. Particularly since a lot of first-timers don't bother to eat me out after they get theirs. I get handjobs more often than not. But Daya dove in and seemed to like the taste. She wasn't adventurous and I had a satisfactory but not exceptional orgasm, but it was nice. It's always nicer when they're showing their appreciation.

I didn't make her try for two with me, not that I couldn't have gotten two off. I pulled her back up and we made out and pressed naked, sweaty bodies against one another for a while, then I started fingering her while kissing her, then my other hand was on her breast while two fingers stroked up in the old reliable motion, and I got a squeal out of her when she came. She bit her lip while she was cumming, so I just heard the moans in her throat.

And then, bless her, she fell asleep and I was left without a way to get home. So I waited a little bit, texted Sveta to let her know what was up, and then after what seemed like forever but was probably only an hour, woke Daya up and asked her, sheepishly, if she could drive me back to my car. I hated doing that, but I really had to go home and sleep myself.

We parted with a kiss. That was nice too, and she clearly was up for more, and it killed me to leave it at that, but fucking in the parking lot wasn't in the cards.

The next day, she blushed every time she looked at me, and I was pretty sure someone would notice, but fortunately she and I were all alone in the booth during the performance. I did get to ask her, "Why choose me for your first time?"

"I don't know. I wanted to."

Which, I guess, is all that matters.

After the show, she was called away to be a sister, and then they all hustled off to eat somewhere, and though I was invited, I had to get home and feed my own family so I politely declined. Daya looked a little sad, but in an ill-advised moment I did give her my contact info, so it's not like she can never see me again if she wants to. She hasn't contacted me though, so maybe it just gave her the confidence to get with someone her own age. I hope so.

Unicorn

I am happy to be a unicorn for a couple. I've made my position on threesomes clear enough on this blog: I cheerfully participate whenever possible. That said, I don't go looking for couples to make happy, and much of the time that's what winds up happening.

Ages ago, back before COVID and my extended hiatus, you may recall that the Mrs. America pageant came to my place of employment. If not, go read about it now.

I think I made my feelings about beauty pageants pretty clear in that post, but the short version is that I think they're degrading, but I get why some people do them. I also made my feelings on the subject of Mrs. America pretty clear, but the short version is that I think it's a way for fading beauty queens to try to hold on to their youth and a way for husbands to make their wives participate in a meat market. I'm happy to say that that's not always the case, but I don't care for it.

All that preamble out of the way, the Mrs. America pageant once more graced our shores and I wasn't really looking forward to it. It had been a bunch of years since the last one and I don't miss it at all when it's gone, plus my friends of the last time were probably no longer involved. I was proven right in this supposition.

The pageant was just as horrible as last time. I didn't really even have a clear favorite. Whoever she would have been, she wouldn't have won because the women who won were the plastic ones. Stupid. Very stupid.

The organizer of this pageant is a woman who is definitely a fading beauty queen. Let's call her Fantasy, not because that's her name but because her name is similarly stripper. I remembered her from last time. Only this time she was much more friendly for whatever reason.

It started when I was getting tables out for them. She was so thankful. And so impressed with my strength because I could lift a table. I get it lady, you think I'm not womanly. You don't need to rub it in. But she was oohing and aahing over me like I was the world's strongest woman. 

Then she was all compliments for the rest of the rehearsal process too. Not about my strength, either. She wanted to know why I wasn't doing the pageant, and I resisted telling her the real reason. "But you're gorgeous," she said.

"If I don't work the pageant, it won't get done," I pointed out. "Plus I'm not really a Mrs."

"But you're wearing a ring."

Indeed I was, and do. I screwed my courage to the sticking place and prepared to be denounced as a harlot, then explained the situation, as far as it needed to be explained.

When she found out I was married to a woman, I thought she would get judgmental, or maybe not care. She looked... I don't know. It wasn't what I expected. Maybe a combination of eager and disappointed. I figured it was indigestion.

But she didn't stop talking to me or get judgmental. In fact, she was very nice about it. Said, "Oh, you count as a Mrs. You should enter next year."

And then she started hitting on me. Like, I don't know how else to describe it.

So I figured, the old girl is horny and hubby isn't satisfying her needs. She started not-so-delicately asking whether I was totally unwilling to go outside the bounds of marriage. Stuff like, "A cute thing like you, your wife must have to keep a close eye on you."

Now understand, this woman is old enough to be my mother. Maybe not as old as my actual mother, but definitely not my type. Plastic fantastic, to go with her name. But despite all that she's got a tight little body. Not gonna lie, it was definitely a butterface type situation, at least with her clothes on, and she didn't seem to be wearing any shapewear or anything. Big tits, possibly fake but possibly not.

And I was feeling... charitable. So I was entertaining thoughts. It helped pass the time. Helped put me in a mood to enjoy ogling the contestants a little bit. Yes, there weren't any of them who really caught my eye, but they weren't hard to look at.

After the show, she was all over me again, compliments, questions, just basically all over me. And her direction turned subtly from figuring out that I wasn't in a closed marriage. I made no real secret of it. She didn't seem surprised. I don't know, a lot of people think that all queer people are DTF at the drop of a hat.

But her direction turned to asking me whether I was interested in joining her and her husband for drinks afterward. And it clicked. She thinks I'm her unicorn. This isn't about her being hot for me. This is about her recruiting me for her husband.

Which soured the equation for me a lot. It made me feel kind of tawdry. And I almost turned off of her and the idea completely.

Except she insisted that I meet her husband. And her husband, let's call him Stone, was not the type to be telling his wife to do anything. Meek. Very meek. Agreed to everything his wife said.

They say curiosity killed the cat but I really wanted to know what was up. So I took them up on their offer of drinks. At their place. I was expecting there to be an after-party, but no, everyone went home after the pageant. I closed up shop and drove to meet my destiny.

They had a mansion in the burbs. Very nouveau riche, very gray. Stone tossed back a large amount of scotch. I stuck to nursing my girly drink despite Fantasy attempting to ply me with more. She had white wine.

Finally, I guess Stone got his courage up and asked, "So Fantasy, does she?" 

"Well I haven't really asked her yet," said Fantasy, and I enjoyed seeing her squirm a little. Honestly, what was getting me through was feeling sorry for Stone. He wasn't terrible to look at, for an older guy. And he was clearly henpecked, but at the same time he had been eye-banging me all evening.

I didn't enjoy the tension, so I decided to end it. "If you're wondering whether I'd like to have a threesome with you, the answer is yes."

Fantasy laughed. I think it was the first genuine thing I'd seen her do. "Oh sweetie, you cut right to it," she said. "You've got a cute body and a dirty mind. I like that." She downed the rest of her drink. "Ground rules. No kissing. I won't go down on you, but I'll finger you if you like. You can do whatever you feel like to me. Stone watches. Once I get off, he's free to do whatever you two want as long as you two feel up for it."

You might think that I'd have a problem with this. The thing is, it was so matter-of-fact. It wasn't fake like her demeanor had been. And I respect people who know what they want. "I can live with that," I said. Because of the butterface situation, I wasn't going to miss kissing Fantasy. She looked like it would be like kissing a blow-up doll.

We adjourned to the bedroom, where we all undressed rather perfunctorily. I hadn't been expecting any sort of fun, though I guess in future I should plan ahead, so I was wearing basic black at usual at work. Fantasy was wearing rather sensible undergarments, flesh colored. Stone was wearing boxer briefs, gray. I was pleased to see that Fantasy hadn't been hiding anything. In fact, her body looked even tighter in underwear. Her skin was kind of sun-weathered but she wasn't saggy or anything.

She took off her bra first, and tits which were too perky for her age spilled out. She's had work done, I'd bet the farm on it. Then she pulled down her panties and lay back on the bed.

I know some people would be freaked out in this situation. I have seen my mother naked more often than not, and I've seen my parents fucking, sometimes each other, so I felt slightly... nostalgic maybe? I've never eaten my mother out though, but fortunately Fantasy looked nothing like my mother, so that didn't bother me either.

I took my undies off because why not, then settled in between her legs to do what I had promised. She smelled like baby powder, which is actually a smell I like in a woman. Better than most perfumes. And when I got close enough to examine it, her vulva was actually quite appealing. Little tan-colored lips, a cute little clit just hiding under her hood, and a pink opening beneath.

I should stop here for a moment to say that I don't judge books by their covers or anything. I've had great sex with women who have had large pussies and small, of many colors, with lips and clits of every size, and none of those things have to do with age. I don't know, I was just expecting Fantasy to have a different pussy. That's all. I should learn not to expect the carpet to match the drapes nor the floor to match the windows, I guess.

Fantasy was very vocal about what she wanted. Which I should have expected, but which also made me both happy that I didn't have to guess but then annoyed that she seemed to be treating me like a sex toy with voice control. At least she didn't have much taste. Just mild pussy.

I started kissing her inner thighs, but after a few moments she claimed to be ready, so I moved to kissing her labia, then when she instructed, I began licking them. She liked long slow licks over her whole pussy for a while, though she continually adjusted the timing and strength until she was happy with it. "Okay, now put a finger in me," she said, so I slipped my middle finger into her cunt. She shivered, and I felt her muscles tense a little. "Not so fast," she said like she was instructing a child.

I felt rather than saw Stone put his hand on my ass. It spooked me and I exhaled sharply. I hadn't been expecting it. I thought he was supposed to watch. But my twitch and breath was a happy accident because Fantasy loved it. "Oh god, do it again," she moaned, sounding like she was losing herself in the moment for the first time.

Who was I to argue? I curled my finger sharply into the front of her vaginal passage and flicked her clit with the tip of my tongue. Correct choice. She gasped and arched her back.

Stone,unseen behind me, was caressing my left ass cheek. It felt nice, not imposing, now that I was expecting it. I curled and flicked again, and his wife moaned loudly, and he clutched the cheek.

"Oh god, come up here and suck my boob! I'm gonna go off!" Okay okay, jeez lady. I licked my way up her body, the skin smooth against my tongue, and fastened my lips around her left nipple. Oddly, Stone's hand stayed on my ass, in fact slipping fingers into the cleft between the cheeks, grazing my asshole.

Then I curled my finger, hard, as fast as I could while sucking her nipple so hard I probably broke capillaries, and she practically screamed and came, hard. I felt the spasm in her breast and on my finger.

Well, job well done Lexi, I guess. I've had worse experiences. She was fairly easy to get off and didn't expect more. After she came down, she gently stopped me. So no repeat was necessary either.

Now to Stone. I looked up from his wife and he was standing next to the bed naked. Not in great shape but not bad for his age. Graying hair, graying pubes which he must groom. His cock was hard and wasn't disappointing.

Then I got the shock of my life when he said, "Ok bitch, suck it hard," and practically pulled my head into his cock.

Huh. For such a meek man with his wife, I hadn't been expecting that. It threw me off a little. His cock was down my throat before I had time to think, and I gagged on it a little. Tasted a bit of bile when he let me come up for air.

"Yes baby, treat her like the dirty whore she is," moaned Fantasy from behind me.

I found my head pulled down on his cock again, but this time I managed to keep from gagging. Instinct took over and I let him pull me down until his pubes were tickling my nose. "Oh fuck yeah," he said, holding me there until I almost grayed out for a second.

A few more of those, with commentary from both, and I guess he was ready. "Now take it, bitch," He growled forcefully, pulling me to my hands and knees on the floor. There was a pause as he got behind me and pulled on a condom. In other circumstances, I might have told him to forget about it, but I was still reeling.

But goddamn if it wasn't making me wet. When he mounted me forcefully, I almost came right away. His cock filled me in a way I've been missing lately, not having regular injections of Vitamin D.

And then he was fucking me, hard and fast, his hands on my throat, in my face, pulling my hair. And I was cumming, over and over again. He grunted at a certain point and I felt him press deep and hold it for a few seconds, but my pussy was so battered that I didn't feel him cum. He stayed hard though. Little blie pill maybe. I don't know enough about it to know whether he had anticipated this.

He was degrading me with his words, he and his wife both were, and doing it very well because I was letting it happen and feeling pretty good about it. At some point we wound up on the bed, him beneath me, pulling my hips back and forth on him, his wife lying beside him holding my hand. He pulled me to the bed beside him, almost throwing me off the bed, and then moved to position, ripped off the condom and then spurted several weak jets of cum onto my chest.

I had barely registered that by the time he had on another condom and had my on my face on the bed, fucking me from behind again, just as hard as before. He slapped my ass and it barely made it through the haze of orgasm. He was driving me into the mattress with each thrust.

After a while I guess the pace tired him out finally and he pulled me up again to reverse cowgirl on his lap. I was about out of orgasms. I lost count of how many. His cock was thrusting directly into the front of my cunt in the best way, and it was still hard as a rock. It took what felt like forever for him to get off the third time, and when he finally got close he said, "Now finish me off with your throat, whore."

He basically fucked my head for a minute or so, then tensed and relaxed a few times, but whatever spunk there was I didn't get a chance to taste. It went right into my stomach.

Then he basically tossed me aside like a condom, went to his wife, kissed her warmly, then grabbed a robe and left the room.

I lay there next to Fantasy until she got up and grabbed a robe too. "Here, honey, cover yourself up," she said not unkindly, and tossed another robe onto me. I managed to rouse myself enough to put it on, under her appraising eye, then followed her into the living room again. She offered me a glass of wine, which I accepted shakily. Stone was already there, sitting with a full glass of brown liquor and a cigar.

"Really Stone, do you have to stink up the place?" Fantasy asked, with a tone of voice that suggested she was back in the saddle again.

"Sorry dear." He quickly stubbed it out. "But that was..."

"You're incredible," Fantasy said to me, sounding like she meant it.

I didn't feel incredible. The afterglow had kind of worn off and now I was feeling the fatigue of an hour of hard fucking. But I accepted the compliment.

We sat in the living room drinking our drinks. They complimented me more. They talked about how they had found a few other women through the pageant. "But nothing like this," Fantasy said. "Honey, you're a trooper."

The compliments started to work on me, I won't lie. When they said I should totally do pageants, I didn't immediately say no, I just said I would think about it. Stone's robe fell open at a certain point and he was still hard, and by god I felt like sucking it a little, so I asked if that was okay. Fantasy was shocked but eager, Stone was shocked but willing. I wanted them to see that I could be more than just a sex toy.

This time I took charge a little and clearly Stone couldn't figure out how to get back in the Dom headspace because he let me. And then I knew how to put the icing on the cake. Plus I'm not going to lie, my pussy felt a little worn out.

"Do you want to fuck my ass?" I asked him winningly.

Fantasy was shocked into silence. Stone looked at me like he couldn't believe it, but strammered something affirmative. So I stood up, dropped my robe, pulled his a little more open, and then lowered my ass onto his spit-slick cock.

His hands moved instinctively to pull my hips down until he was buried in my colon, then I rocked slowly for a few moments. His legs spread and my butt squirmed down another fraction of an inch.

Then I began slowly bouncing, just an inch up and down. I wanted to keep feeling his entire length in my ass but I knew he needed a bit more stimulation. He started pressing up as I bounced down, and I felt the tickle of one last O eluding me until I reached down and stroked myself into it, short and soft.

Then it was all about him. I was really feeling the fatigue, so I suggested that he take over a bit more. I wound up on my hands and knees again, with him fucking me from behind, but gentle, like the bedroom had been a different person. I looked over and Fantasy was watching every move, her eyes hungry. But she didn't make any move other than to watch.

Finally he came. I didn't feel it and I don't know that he enjoyed it as much as he could have, but it happened. He pulled out of my asshole after a moment of tension and I rolled over and then crawled to the sofa and drank the rest of my wine.

No compliments. Just awed silence. I enjoyed that too. It helped me feel a bit of agency in the situation.

Fantasy offered me another drink, but I declined. I went into the bedroom and put my clothes back on. They made no move to stop me.

Then, after some goodbyes where both of them, despite their rules, kissed me, I was on my way to the door when Fantasy said, "Oh shoot," and ran to her purse. She pulled out a roll of bills and went over to me. "I meant to give this to you at the theater, but I got distracted." And she handed me a twenty.

"Just one?" Stone asked.

She looked chagrined and added a second to the first.

Now, I remember the last time the pageant was here. I got tipped then too. Ten bucks. So while I'm sure I had been destined to get some kind of tip, I'm pretty sure the sexual performance had added to the total.

Am I okay with that? I don't know. I guess I'd rather be tipped than paid for sex. Plus it wasn't enough. If I'd actually been charging, that would have been insulting. I've thought about it and I don't regret the experience. I do regret the fact that they'll be back next year and probably want more, but then again who knows?

It did make me feel a little bit like the help. Hell, for all I know they've fucked the help. Probably not though. Not like that. And that's where I'm sitting, in the top spot. Fuck yeah.

In the end, I made them happier than they made me, but I had plenty of orgasms. I guess the lesson is that sometimes the power dynamic is skewed.

Panties

Sexy notes wrote a follow-up question to the last post: "One thing that surprises me about your picnic encounters... what were you doing wearing panties???"

Well, I actually wear panties a lot of the time when I wear a skirt or dress. Believe it or not, I am pretty demure when it comes to being outside the house in mixed company. I don't always, and sometimes I'm feeling a bit naughty, but I'd say the majority of the time I'm wearing a skirt or dress, I'm wearing panties.

There are non-sexy reasons for that: I don't know where most things I sit on have been, so an extra layer of cloth between me and them is something I enjoy. Plus there's the fact that, while many people might enjoy being flashed glimpses of my nethers, others do not, and I'd rather be safe around the possibility of the latter.

There's also the fact that I think I look good in panties. I think most women do, at least if they're wearing panties that flatter them. Hell, there are plenty of men who look good in underwear of various kinds, and girls look sexy wearing boxer shorts, and so forth. 

And there's the fact that there's something extremely sexy to me about getting fucked with your panties pulled to one side. Panties are a kink of mine, I think.

There's also the practical matter that, if I get excited or creamed (ideally both) I like to have a layer of fabric to keep me from making a mess of my chair. That's just logistics.

And lastly, a lot of times when up-skirt action takes place, I wasn't expecting it to. I default to wearing panties when I'm not expecting a reason to want to divest myself of them, and I definitely default to wearing them when wearing skirts or dresses that are short, which my Fuck Me Dress is.

All of those factors conspired to put me in panties on the day of the picnic I was talking about. Well, most of them. I had a pretty good idea that I was going to get fucked that day but I didn't know he'd be up for shenanigans out in the open.

I don't remember his name. It was college and there are plenty of college boys whose names I don't remember. It was a yearly picnic that the college threw, to celebrate the onset of warmer weather. There'd be some music and entertainment throughout the day, and we were invited to spend it on picnic blankets. They'd even serve the cafeteria food outside. And there was booze aplenty

He was actually Gwen's boyfriend (Gwen, for those who don't remember, was my college roommate). That didn't mean a whole lot, but it did mean that I wasn't really expecting him to be totally receptive to advances. But I knew he could use his cock and I liked the look of him.

Gwen was off doing something at the time. He and I knew each other from other things as well, so it wasn't weird for me to sit with him on a blanket. And wouldn't you know it, I can't sit in the sun because I don't tan, I cancer, so the shade of a tree away from the major population centers was fine for both of us.

Now, had I been totally shameless, I would, as Sexy Notes suggests, not have worn panties. That would indeed have been an invitation to him, particularly had I guided his hand up my thigh or something. But while I was working on him, I didn't expect him to go for it until a bit more work was put in. Maybe once he loosened up and had a few drinks. No, I was not going to date rape this young man, but he wasn't exactly the loosest of people and I figured I could use a little help. Don't do as I do, kids. Respect boundaries.

But as it turned out, there was no reason to worry about respecting boundaries. I played a little coy and teased him a bit, but I'm pretty sure I was the only one who'd had a drink by the time things escalated. I was drinking tequila straight from the bottle. This was not allowed by the powers that be, but no one cared.

I don't recall exactly what gave rise to escalation (probably due to the tequila) but he asked me point blank whether I was coming on to my roommate's boyfriend, and I bashfully admitted that I thought he was cute. And I expected him to either shut me down or to say, ok, let's go someplace more comfortable. But instead he put his hand on my thigh and looked me right in the eyes and it became a case of who was seducing whom. I completely understood why Gwen was taken with him.

He basically invited me to sit between his legs while he put his arms around me from behind. My ass was up against his crotch, and I could feel his erection through his pants. I put my arms around his arms and covered for him moving his hands to my breasts and massaging them very nicely thank you. I was getting plenty aroused and he seemed to be too, but when I suggested that I sit in his lap, I wasn't sure how he'd respond. Not everyone is up for PDA, let alone basically dry-humping.

But he let me flip my skirt up so it was just his pants and my panties between us, and then he went back to kneading my tits and I just started rocking my butt against his cock. He got harder, which was nice because it showed that I was in for a treat.

And I probably could have suggested that we adjourn to my room, but for two reasons. One, neither of us really wanted Gwen to walk in on us. Him because I'm pretty sure he thought he was cheating on her, and me because I felt slightly guilty that I hadn't cleared it with her first. Also selfishness. There was every likelihood that she would have opened the door, seen us going at it, and said, "Jeez why didn't you wait for me," and joined in, and for whatever reason I didn't really want to share. I think I was getting off on the illicitness of it.

Two, it was so nice outside. The music was playing, the sun was shining, the air was a perfect temperature, and we were having a fine time right there. Going in would have meant packing shit up and going in.

So when I leaned back against him and whispered, 'Put it in me, please baby," I don't really blame him for going for it. The panties which were the start of this reminiscence were no impediment at all. His pants fly was a bit tougher, because it just wasn't in the right position, but unbuttoning and spreading them open fixed that, and then he pulled down the waistband of whatever underwear he was wearing, I forget, and his hard dick was sticking up under my skirt. I held my panties aside for a moment and we negotiated an entrance.

Looking back on it, anal probably would have been easier, but I didn't want that and he didn't ask for it. It thrust him up into the front of my pussy nicely, and it didn't take much movement on my part to make me cum. And Gwen is a doll, wonderful in the sack, but she doesn't cum like I do. He had his hands wrapped around my waist and he rocked his hips up and down a little. On close examination, we weren't fooling anyone, but no one was giving us close examination.

Plus there's the fact that one time at one of these picnics some girl gave a guy a drunken blowjob right in the middle of everything and no one cared, so us having quiet nookie on the outskirts wasn't going to raise any eyebrows. And no, that girl was not me.

I came, he enjoyed that, he nuzzled my neck, his hands massaged my hips, and we rocked gently for what seemed like hours but which was probably actually five minutes. Then he made me cum again, which made him cum. He slipped out of me, we adjusted our clothes as best as we could, and I lay back against his chest and we waited for dinner.

Then later, when things had quieted down considerably and the light had faded, he asked me if he could fuck me again, to which I replied yes please, and we found a secluded corner where no one could see and he pulled down my panties, up my skirt, and slid his rock hard rod into me. He lasted longer that time, through two orgasms on my part, before he pulled out and had me take it in the mouth. I would happily have taken another creampie but whatever.

After that, we agreed not to bother Gwen with the details. They dated for another month or so and then broke up. I admitted to fucking him after they broke up, mostly because she wanted sister solidarity and I lied a little and told her that he wasn't that good. I never fucked him again, which was fine with me because I had plenty of fish in the sea, and it wouldn't have been fair to Gwen to bring him around. He was cute though. I wonder what ever happened to him? 

And lastly, to those asking for photos, I'll see if I can track down a picture of me wearing my Fuck Me Dress, but no promises. And anyway, isn't the mental image you have better than any lousy photo could be?

Dressing and Undressing

I've always been partial to a good sundress, as I believe I've said in the past on here. I think they flatter me, and they're reasonable attire without being either too formal to wear most places or too slutty to wear most places. I mean, the sundress is a large enough category that that's not true for all things called sundresses, but you get my point.

Of late, however, I haven't been able to wear many of the sundresses I own because, not to put too fine a point on it, I don't feel comfortable in them. They don't flatter, or they're just not fitting right.

But I hesitate to get rid of them because part of me thinks, foolishly, that I'll still be able to wear them at some point. I need to find the source of this thought and kill it with fire because life is too short to hold on to foolish dreams, but it does bring me memories.

Part of why I like sundresses is because of a particular sundress, a yellow and white floral number that I call my Fuck Me Dress. It's not the only Fuck Me article of clothing I own, but this dress used to make me look hawt. And what was hotter, was that it was great to fuck in.

It's just long enough to be demure (on someone with a shorter frame it'd be positively saintly) while still being only a few inches away from seeing my panties. If I twirl in it, it rises provocatively, but still maintains an innocent air. It blouses a little in the chest which makes it look like I've got bigger boobs than I do, and it flatters my midsection.

But that's not why. It's just hard enough to get out of that it makes it more convenient to simply flip up the skirt, and the spaghetti straps are sized just right for pulling down the top. Many's the time I put it on for some other reason and Mike, or even Dad, ambushed me and pumped me full of seed before I could even use it to full effect on my intended target.

The skirt is just right for someone to rest a hand on my ass, and yeah, back in the day my ass looked hawt in that dress. It looked hot in plenty of things, to be perfectly honest. But a hand on my butt didn't disturb the way the fabric lay, and better still, because of its cunning construction, if the back of the skirt was flipped up the front still preserved it's modesty. 

I remember taking advantage of that one time at a picnic. I sat on my chosen target's lap on our blanket and slowly, achingly rubbed my ass on. His hardon until he finally couldn't take it and we managed to negotiate his cock out of his pants and my panties to one side and then he was inside me and it was a good thing we weren't close to the center of the crowd.

But even better, being fetched up against a tree, or a wall, dress pushed up, panties pulled down, and being properly fucked standing up, his hands down my top and holding my tits... Yeah, this was a great dress for that too.

And it rewarded the patient by coming off on many occasions as well. Or basically being cinched around my waist and forgotten in the heat of the moment. That dress has seen more fucking than most of my other clothes put together, I imagine.

And it no longer fits. It's a little threadbare anyway. I should probably get rid of it. Times change, and these days I wear pants to work and I don't have anywhere near as many guys clamoring to hike up my skirts a little. If I had a daughter, I would give it to her, as a good luck charm. As it is, it lives in my closet as a reminder.

Just So I'm Not A Liar

This probably should have been just the end of the last post, but I got tired.

So the next day was the final show with Kari. Which made me a little sad, as I said. We were pretty quiet during the run of the show, and I wondered if maybe she was feeling a little down about it too.

The curtain call came, I hit the last cue, and there she was standing next to me. "I figure we've got maybe five minutes while everything clears out before they expect me to start working," she said in an urgent tone. "I can cum in five. Wanna make me?" 

Which is hardly the worst pickup line in the history of pickup lines. Honestly, "I can cum in five minutes. Wanna make me?" is a good line if you're female-presenting. Masc folks, sorry, it's not the draw for you. Anyway.

I like a challenge, so I pulled down her pants and panties in a rush, then put my head between her legs and went to work. I was secretly incredibly turned on by the idea that someone would come into the booth looking for one or both of us, but at the same time terrified by that same idea.

I may have gone a bit heavy on her clit, but I got the O out of her in short order. Then she pulled me up, gave me a big kiss, pulled up her pants, and we left it at that. Didn't really say goodbye. She went and did her job, I went and did mine. She did cast me a glance which could have meant a number of things when it was time for her to leave, but we were formal.

I went home and told Sveta and Zoe I needed both of them to work me over a little, which they did in suitably adoring fashion. Not that I didn't give as good as I got. At a certain point Sveta was eating me out while Zoe sat on my face so hard I was having trouble breathing, and I'm pretty sure Zoe was fingering Sveta simultaneously.

Afterward I told them why I needed it so bad, and they were suitably sympathetic. Zoe thought Kari had been a bit rude. Sveta refused judgment.

And then Kari emailed me the next day and told me she'd slept with another cast member. I couldn't help feeling a little jealous, not that I've got anything to be jealous about. More jealous for the freedom of the road. Not that I want that. Like I said, I'm too old for touring.

And then I got over it and wrote her back congratulating her and hoping she has a good remainder of her tour. They're reasonably local so there's a pretty good chance I'll see her again. Honestly, now that the immediacy and novelty is gone, I still miss her a little, just because it was nice to be able to talk shop while snuggling.

Anyway, hope you all enjoyed the semi-regular in updates. I'm in a fairly busy time at work right now but who knows what'll happen?

Continuing to Miss Kari

Yeah, she's been gone for more than a week now and I'm just getting around to the final part of the story. Sorry. I do have other things I have to do to make ends meet.

Anyway, enough of that. The last part of the story is really not the last part, it's the penultimate part, because... You'll see. I hope.

The day after her first go with a strap-on, Kari showed up raring to go. She reeled me into an embrace the second we were alone in the booth, got her hands on my ass, worked her thigh between mine and rubbed hard. "That's for breaking me," she murmured into my ear, then kissed me, fierce and slightly possessive.

"If you don't stop I'm going to get in trouble," I finally forced myself to say. Not because I was in any danger of getting in trouble for kissing her in the booth if anyone found out, but because if she kept it up I was going to rip her clothes off right there.

"I just wanted you to know what you did to me last night," she said, pulling away and grinning. "When I say you broke me..."

"What did I do?" 

"I know I said I couldn't cum anymore, but that was a total lie. But you made it so just fingering myself didn't cut it. I tried and failed to get off several times. Just made it worse. I am so fucking horny right now."

"I don't think we have time before the show..."

"No, we don't. But after, you're coming back to my room and you're going to give me what I need or else."

I swear, I'm not tooting my own horn here. "Why didn't you get someone else to, you know..."

"I could have but I owed you," Kari said with a smile. "Besides, I'm going to see them all tour. You I only get today."

Which made us both sad because it was true. They were leaving tomorrow and thus, the tryst would end. Such is life, I guess. She seemed okay with it. I was a little more sad because she was leaving, which makes sense.

The show dragged on, and at one point I looked over at Kari in the booth and saw her with her hand absently rubbing the seam of her jeans between her legs. Not like she was jerking off on company time, just like she was scratching an itch. She's far too professional to be distracted. And I'm not one to judge. I felt a little guilty for being the source of any distraction she might be experiencing.

Finally the show finished and we had our various things to do, then she drove me over to the hotel. On the ride I was cheeky and tweaked her nipple through her clothes, and she sighed and let it happen.

We made it through the door without incident, then by mutual and silent consent both ripped our clothes off. Then we collapsed into the bed and started writhing against each other, making out like two newlyweds, breasts pressed together, lips locked, my hands cupping her ass, hers wrapped around my back. I worked my way to her ear, and she started moaning as I nibbled the lobe.

"I'm going to really break you this time," I growled into her ear.

"Yes, yes," she said.

"How do you feel about me playing with your ass a little?" Because consent is important, and also because she'd given no indication whether that was a no-go zone or not.

"I'm kind of a virgin," she giggled. "I've never really done anything like that except with fingers.  But I like it when you rub it."

So I took advantage of my longer arms and got my finger between her cheeks and teased her rosebud a little. "You want me to do anything else?" I breathed into her ear.

"Like what?"

"You want me to give you a little taste of what it's like?" 

"Uh huh," she gasped.

I pulled away from her and flipped her over, then kissed and licked my way down her back. I like lower backs sometimes too, and I enjoyed hers, giving her little nips when she didn't stop me the first time. I should probably have asked, but she enjoyed it so I continued.

I continued to her cheeks. I'm not "an ass man" but she has a great ass, nicely proportioned, pert, bubbly even. She gasped when I nibbled, and I thought maybe I had gone too far, but then she lifted her hips a little and moaned, "Oh god yes," so when in Rome, right?

My fingers were busy too, getting between her thighs and slipping into her quivering cunt, which made her orgasm almost immediately, though I could tell it was just a little one, just a preliminary. It's been ages since I've been with someone this orgasmic, which I really will miss.

Then, because I walk the walk, I helped her to her knees, my fingers still inside her. It just made her butt more attractive. And now I could see the rosebud. And yeah, I'm not super into this kind of thing, but I'll rim a virgin ass to help out the cause, so with my fingers inside her pussy I suckled get tailbone for a moment, then dove into the deep end.

Fortunately she is very hygienic, so she didn't taste musky or worse at all. Just that perfume flavor again, which I didn't mind so much at this point. The texture of her anus was taut rubber, if I can describe it at all. Lightly ribbed. Warm and smooth.

She was moaning loudly now, encouragement and nonsense mostly. I pressed my tongue into her anal ring and tasted the first musk, but nothing I can't handle. She trembled.

Then I pulled back and, after getting reassurance that this was okay, pressed my pussy-juice-slick finger slowly into her asshole. Not very deep, up to the first knuckle, but giving her a little taste, like I promised.

Fortunately I brought lube so when she was begging for more I could get it, then lube her up properly. My finger went back into her rear entrance more easily this time, and I worked it in slowly until it was deep inside her. "Oh wow, " she moaned.

"Now roll over and let me get you off with a finger in your ass, girl," I said with a grin.

Which I proceeded to do quite nicely thank you. Feeling the tension and release on my finger in her ass was great. She came for a good long while too, then lay back, spent.

"Did I break you this time?"

"Fuck. I don't know what I'm gonna do without someone to do that to me every day."

"Well, I know a place near here where you can buy lube and plugs, if that's of interest..."

"But you haven't gotten any..."

"You have anything else planned for this afternoon?"

Thus it was that Lexi and Kari went to the local toy shop and picked out a beginner plug. And some lube. And she insisted on buying me one too.

Then we went back to her hotel and she wanted to play with me using my new plug, so I lay back and let her. I think after orgasm three she got the hang of it, really. That's weird to say, but the first two Os were mostly on me, whereas three and four were definitely her using the plug and her lips and fingers.

And then I helped her insert her plug, pulled out the trusty strap-on, and fucked her cunt until I couldn't anymore. I don't think she was cumming after a while. I think she was just moaning and lying there and taking it. What can I say? She wanted to be broken, so I broke her.

She almost didn't have the energy to drive me back to my car. She thanked me profusely. Then she said, "I'm going to have to let my husband fuck my ass now."

"Oh yeah?" 

"It only seems fair for him to get to be the first. But it's so far away. I want it now." She grinned and made an attempt to seem jokingly petulant, but I strongly suspect her resolve will be tested.

We talked about first times and I gave her a few pointers, but I think she'll be okay. She likes it. That's the important thing. She said she was definitely going to practice with her plug.

Yeah, gonna miss her.

I Will Miss Kari

After we got the preliminaries out of the way and knew where we both stood, Kari and I saw no reason to stop with just one meetup. The following day I brought a strap-on and wore some slightly more interesting undergarments, preparation which was vindicated by her saying, the second we were alone, "You up for another romp, maybe a little longer this time? I've got a hotel room with a comfy bed and..."

"I was hoping you'd say that, because I brought a toy with me," I said with a laugh. "Well, not the part about the hotel. That's just gravy."

"You're sure? I don't want to impose, but yesterday was a lot of fun and I figured if we had a bit more space we could try a few things."

"Honey, I was looking forward to it. I hoped you weren't going to get bored with just me."

See, even people who are up-front about sexuality still have hangups.

"Bored? After you had me cumming like that? What toy did you bring? I've got a trusty vibrator friend..."

"Oh, this is fun for both of us," I said, then pulled out the strap.

"Damn girl, that's what I'm talking about," said Kari appreciatively. "It's going to be all on you though because I've never worn one."

"There's a first time for everything," I almost purred.

Then we had to cut it short because she had to go do her job. But she did give me a very deep kiss before going, which I don't think anyone saw.

After the show, I was raring to go, and I think she was as well. Her hotel was close by the theater, so she drove me, batting my eager hands away from her fun bits. We made it through the door without devolving into PDA in extremis, but only just.

We kissed and stripped clothes off until we were in our undies. I was wearing a lacy set, pink because why not. She was wearing more conservative but still sexy mismatched panties in light yellow and bra in flesh tones. She lay back and let me take her bra off, which I have to say, guys, I'm with you, bras should be easier to take off from the front, but I managed it.

It took everything I had not to just go for the gusto, but instead I worked her up even more by suckling on her nipples, then moving down to her belly and kissing and stroking. She was breathing really deeply by the time I got to the waistband of her panties, and there was a darker patch spreading on the crotch.

"Oh my god I'm so ready," she moaned, writhing her hips up against my chin. I couldn't keep her in anguish any longer. I could smell wet pussy and it called to me. I just pulled the crotch of her panties to one side and slipped a finger into her, using my chin to hold her bucking pelvis down.

I felt her spasm on my finger almost immediately, but kept up the pressure, got another finger into her cunt and rode her for all I was worth. She wailed something unintelligible and kept cumming, then came again quickly afterward when I stripped her panties off and got my tongue against her juicy lips, lapping like a dog.

Finally she relaxed and lay there spent and I crawled up to join her on the bed, my knees carpet-marked from kneeling so long. "That was wonderful," she sighed happily. "But now I'm too tired to do anything to you in return." She grinned. "Kidding. But give me a minute to get my breath back."

"You'd better," I said teasingly, "because I expect a nice hard fuck for your first time with a strap-on."

Giggling turned to stroking turned to kissing, our bodies sweaty and trembling with exertion. Her skin against mine felt nice. When she wrapped a leg around me and pulled me closer, I slipped my hand down between us and teased her clit, not touching it but putting a finger to either side and stroking. Pretty soon my thigh was between her legs and her dripping cunt was running against my upper leg, but she gave as good as she got and my pussy was being stimulated to breaking point by her thigh.

I didn't want to cum like that though, so I pulled away and went to my bag, forgotten by the door in the heat of the moment. I pulled out the strap and despite her joking protests got her into it and situated.

There's a common misconception that strap-on sex is all about the receiver. I find a double dil to be more pleasant when giving, but I still find the pressure of the base of the dildo in a strap-on winds me up. And her clit was much more sensitive than mine. So she was feeling it when I started playing with the dil a little.

Then, I was showing off. I started giving head to her dildo. I deep-throated it with no trouble, and she oohed and aahed appropriately. Then I told her to lie back and I'd do a bit of the work, and mounted her.

A dildo isn't a cock, and that's okay. She felt it as a slowly eased my aching pussy down until our pelvises met and I rocked. That's usually better for sensation. Thrusts are less pressure on sensitive parts.

She reached up and grabbed nipples and tweaked, and her hips pressed up a little, and I ground out a little orgasm, our clits almost touching.

"You did all the work," she said, sounding slightly disappointed. "I want the full monty." So we rearranged ourselves into a doggy style position and she fucked me from behind.

Beginners don't always get it, but Kari was a natural. She was moaning and thrusting and I was moaning and taking it, and we passed several orgasms on each of our parts before she pulled out and reeled me into an embrace. "God damn, I'm going to have to get me one of these," she said, grinning and flushed.

We talked for a bit, then she wanted to learn from the master, so I swapped into the harness and fucked her until she begged me to stop. "I can't cum anymore," she gasped. "You've broken me."

So we took showers, separately unfortunately, and then dressed and she took me back to my car. There was promise of more the next day, but I'm going to have to break here and continue a bit later.