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?

TMI Tuesday - The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

As always, from the TMI Tuesday Blog. This week's is a good one. I bet the other people who answered have some interesting stories to tell, so you should head over there soonest and read them all.

1. What made the best sex partner you’ve ever had so good?

I'm not sure who the best partner I've ever had is. I mean, the easy answer is Sveta, but she's good in certain ways, whereas Dad or Mike or Sheri or Mari are good in other ways. And I've had them enough times that there have been good times and not so good times, so it'd be an average experience rather than one spectacular time. And then there are the spectacular times I've had, but they were possibly missing elements that make my regulars so much fun.

Let me just lay out a few things which make for a good partner and leave it at that.

Attentiveness: I don't mean that it's got to be all about me (though mama likes when it is, not gonna lie). I mean that they're paying attention to what you're doing. It's easy to get lost in the moment and your own pleasure, but a good partner never lets that get carried away. It really works best when both partners are paying attention, obviously. That way everyone gets maximum pleasure.

In people who have one, knowing how to use a cock: it really isn't about size, so much as it's about technique. Yes, sometimes size matters there, and great technique isn't going to make a tiny cock seem huge, but "big cock" isn't on the list of things which make for a good lover for a reason.

Giving good head: receiving head well is also nice, but being able to give oral well makes for a good time, in my book.

Not having the attributes I'll lay out in the next question: so I don't have to repeat myself.

And then there are just intangibles. Love makes for good sex, but it doesn't guarantee it. Novelty, for me, is a big turn-on, and I will excuse some flaws in exchange for novelty. Meeting one of my kinks of the day sometimes makes for gangbusters sex, but it's no guarantee either.

2. What made the worst sex partner you’ve ever had so bad?

Again, I'd be hard-pressed to pick a "worst" just because superlatives with subjective metrics are difficult. I'll just list some things which make for a bad time.

Selfishness: we've all been guilty of this at one time or another, but if it's a pattern, that partner is going to be lousy. This is sort of the opposite of attentiveness, and I know I said I wasn't going to repeat myself, but this one is a big one.

Lying there like a dead fish: I don't require much participation, but I like to feel like you're present in the room with me.

An overinflated sense of their own skill: this is largely guys, I'm afraid, and it's largely having watched a lot of porn and maybe having partners who either liked things I don't or who were too submissive to tell the guy he was doing it all wrong. Don't get me wrong; I can get into plenty of things if I'm expecting them, or if there's communication, but bragging before sex and then being mediocre makes the mediocrity worse.

Smell: This is a big one, and it's not that I want you to be freshly bathed. I have been put off by the scent of arousal from some people, I'm afraid. Too much fragrance of whatever sort can put me off too. I like clean, but there can be some musk. It really is something that sometimes the person can't help and it's just body chemistry. I don't know. I'm sensitive to smells.

Honestly, Kate's ex Roger dinged a lot of warning bells for me, and I should have never gotten into bed with him, but I wanted to be with her. He's probably the worst fuck I've had that I still remember well enough to mention here.

3. Who was the most physically attractive person you ever had sex with?

Sveta. No contest. She's a hotty. I'm not just saying that because she reads this blog. She'll deny this. She's a stone-cold fox and she thinks she's a 7 at best. But then she claims I'm stunning and I think I'm maybe a 3 most days. Self-image is fun, ain't it?  Anyway, while I have fucked some beautiful people, and I think my father and siblings are perfectly attractive, I have no idea how I lucked into Sveta because she's so far out of my league it's not even funny.

4. How was it?

Better every time. Okay, that's a lie. Sometimes it's amazing, sometimes it's incredible, sometimes it's just good, and occasionally we've had times which didn't work for whatever reason, though that's very rare. When it doesn't work it's usually either that one or the other of us is too tired or that we're trying something and it doesn't work. The former is easily fixed by snuggling and falling asleep, and the latter by stopping whatever weird thing we thought was a good idea and just sticking to the tried and true methods.

But no, it's not amazing every time. It can't be. Sometimes we just basically want to snuggle with sex. Sometimes one or the other of us is in need and the partner fulfills that need without really getting much themselves. Sveta claims she owes me about a million orgasms from the times when I wasn't really able to do anything more than pleasure her, but I'm not counting. That's just what you do when you love someone.

5. Who was the least physically attractive person you ever had sex with?

Probably the guy I fucked for money. I told that story somewhere back in the archives, but short version is that I am not cut out to be a prostitute, I didn't enjoy myself, and he was not attractive at all. He didn't smell too bad, if I recall correctly, or it might have been a deal breaker. Not that I was really in any position to break the deal. This is why sex work is work and workers need unions.

6. Why did you do it?

Because I thought it was a good idea at the time. That's the reason why I do a lot of stupid things.

7. How was it?

As I said, lousy.

I've had sex with men who weren't attractive at all, but I'm less picky about guys. Physical looks in men (or male-presenting people, I should say, I guess) might turn me away at the very beginning, but won't ruin my evening if we get over the initial hurdle and clothes are coming off.

I mention all this because it wasn't the fault of the guy in question that I had a bad time. It was that I'm not cut out to be a prostitute. He was, in hindsight, a perfect gentleman. Had there been no money changing hands, we might have gotten along just fine. My memory of his looks may even be unfairly tainted by the unpleasantness of the situation.

And I want to say that it wasn't because I think prostitution is dirty or wrong. I think sex workers are some of the finest people out there. I just can't do what I love for money. It ruins it for me somehow. Also, I was young and foolish. Maybe if I tried it now I'd feel better about it. But it was a me thing, not a sex-work thing.

Bonus: Describe a bad sexual experience you admit was your fault.

Oh, there have been more than a few. It's usually my fault for being selfish, which means that there are probably times when it was terrible for them but they didn't say anything and so I don't know. I've had enough experience that I can usually tell when someone's not having a good time, but if I don't care about them enough to listen... You get the picture.

That's not a funny story. The funny stories are better. I broke a guy's mother's favorite vase one time, being clumsy up against a wall. It was all on me too. Anyway, it kind of ruined the moment because she was dead and it reminded him of her, and even though we did eventually get back into it, I don't think his heart was in it. I came, and he dribbled cum into my mouth after a prolonged period of struggling to stay hard enough to cum. I guess it wasn't funny then, but remembering it makes me laugh inappropriately. I'm lucky it wasn't an urn. Can you imagine being covered by my lover's dead mother's ashes? I mean, that would have definitely ruined the mood for me.

I've farted/queefed at inappropriate moments and then laughed, which has put off some partners. Sex, for me, isn't a big thing, so I do laugh during sex, but for some people it's a much bigger deal and the fart/queef is bad enough, but the laughter is where they draw the line. I mean, it's only natural for farts/queefs to happen, guys. I've farted on guys' cocks before and it hasn't fazed them at all. But being unable to stop from laughing at it is something I've mostly grown out of, which is good because it makes some people upset, apparently. I do remember one guy who laughed right along with me. He was a keeper. I have no idea what ever happened to him, but I hope he found someone nice, because at the time I wasn't interested in anything remotely resembling a relationship with anyone. We had fun and then we parted ways, and I think he would have been happy to see me again, so I hope he found someone better than me and that he and his partner laugh at their bodily noises together in the bedroom.

Last story: I was getting hot and heavy with this girl in college and we adjourned to my room for some alone time, and I was halfway up her snatch when my roomie Gwen came in without knocking, and I said, "Hey Gwen," like it was nothing, and the girl slapped me and left in a huff. I know it was my fault, but I've never been entirely sure what it was that did it. Was it that I left off pleasuring her to greet my roomie, or that my roomie came in without knocking, or that I didn't immediately spring to this girl's aid in hiding from said roomie? Or something else? I'll never know. I used to think about it a lot, and then I forgot all about it, but thinking about times when it was my fault dredged up the memory, so now you have to share it.

Flash Fiction Friday Cross-Post

I barely managed to get one in (as the priest said to the schoolgirl) this week because of the aforementioned busy state of work, but my take on a very sexy photo is up over on the sister-blog. As always, head to Max's blog for other takes. Me, I'm writing this during some downtime at work, so if you want more you'll have to write it yourself.

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

A question from an anonymous fan who knows who they are:

When's the last (or most memorable) time you had sex in a car, train, plane, boat? Or any other transportation mode I'm missing.

I've never had sex on a plane, largely because I've never flown on a plane. Plus, I hear the Mile High Club is not all it's cracked up to be. But sorry to disappoint any die-hard fetishists out there. I don't believe in Bernouli's Principle so I make it my business not to occupy vehicles where my lack of belief will shatter the illusion that allows you denialists to enjoy powered flight. If you've ever seen the Monty Python sketch where El Mystico is putting up blocks of flats by hypnosis, that's how I feel about planes.

I'm sure I've told some car sex stories in the past. Pretty sure I also mentioned some bus hanky panky as well. So I won't tell those stories again, memorable though they may have been. A memorable story about car sex I haven't already told is called for.

On the day before my wedding I went to the train station to pick up my old roomie from college, Gwen. She was traveling from far enough away that a train made more sense for her, but I didn't want her to have to get a cab from the nearest stop which is surprisingly far from where our wedding venue was, so I said sure, I'll pick you up.

I was a little stressed out. Not going to lie. Nerves and so forth, plus we were basically planning a giant party for a bunch of people, many of whom wouldn't know each other, and then after were planning several smaller after-parties. I'm not a party planner.

I picked up Gwen and she took one look at me and said, "You're shitting a brick. I can tell." Never one to sugar-coat things, is Gwen.

I admitted that yes, I was shitting a series of bricks.

"I know what will make you feel better."

I had no idea what she was going to suggest, but I was pretty sure I would have to say no, because the tables still had to be picked up and set up plus a lot of decorating, plus etc. etc. But Gwen is a bad influence on me, or maybe she's a good influence but she influences me.

"What?"

"You need to get off. I know that look. When's the last time you had any?"

I admitted that it had been probably a day or so. We'd just been too tired and stressed to find the time, which should tell you something.

"Find somewhere quiet to park and I'll get you off real quick."

And though I had things to do and people to see and places to go, I grinned and found someplace where it wouldn't be immediately obvious to anyone walking by what was going on, and then pulled down my pants and panties and let Gwen fingerbang me hard. Like, I haven't been fingered like that in a car since I was in high school hard, and the last time it wasn't done with any skill. She shushed my protests and got her lips around my left nipple and her fingers just kept slamming up into my clit from the inside, and I came, and then came again. And then she licked her fingers, and we drove off, chatting like nothing had happened.

It did help the stress a little, and it was only when I was about to get out of the car to see her to the door of her hotel room that I realized I'd been driving around bare-ass the whole time. That made us both chuckle.

So that's a recent car story. Now for water transport.

I went to a day camp when I was younger, out in the woods where kids couldn't do any harm, with a swimming pool and a local creek for canoes and kayaks. I was really good at swimming and boating when I was younger, actually. I've forgotten a lot of it now, plus I'm not young anymore so my muscles don't work like they used to, but at that point I could have been a lifeguard had I felt like doing it. I would go to this camp for a few weeks every summer, just to get me out of the house.

The counselors at the camp were, for the most part, older, but there were a few who were barely older than the oldest campers, and one year, I think it was the last year I was young enough to go, there was this guy I'd known when he was a camper. We'd flirted a little, but I think he was too insecure to have gone for anything much.

Because I was good in the water I was allowed to do all kinds of things like take the rowboat out on the creek without supervision. So I made it my mission to find someone (a guy, likely, because at this point I was still convinced I was straight and just occasionally fooled around with girls) to go with me on a rowboat trip around the bend to where no one could see us and fool around.

I tried, I really did, but it was getting late in the summer and I had had no takers. All the boys wanted to do their own thing in their own boats. Macho pride, etc. And cute counselor saw me looking glum and asked me what was up, to which I replied, without really thinking, that I was annoyed that no one wanted to take a boat trip with me."I'll go with you," he said.

Bullseye.

He wasn't a counselor in charge of boating so he knew less about the activity than I did, which was just as well. I was showing off a little, and he was being responsive, and when I looked around and there was no one in sight and said, "Do you want to kiss?" or something to that effect, shockingly, he said yes. So I shipped oars and we floated downstream slowly and made out. He wasn't moving quickly enough for my taste (which in those days was definitely directed toward action rather than foreplay) so I had to guide his hands to my tits, but once he knew that I was totally going to put out, he was ready to go.

We had to be gentle so we didn't capsize the boat, and we were both a bit nervous about being spotted, but once I had his cock out and was blowing him, he was mine, hook, line, and sinker. When I lay back without finishing him in my mouth, his face did a gorgeous one eighty from disappointed to enthralled. I pulled down my shorts and panties (skirts were definitely not done at this camp) and guided him into me. He didn't last that long, but he was hard inside me and after he pulled back and jizzed onto my belly, I cleaned myself up and then fingered myself until I came.

He was getting hard again after watching that display, but we'd reached the part of the creek where it was likely we'd hit rapids, so bare-ass (which seems to be the theme for this post) I rowed us to the shore, and we hopped out and fucked up against a tree, and this time I got what little load there was inside me and managed to cum on his cock too. Not in a boat that time but part of the story.

And then I never saw him again. I'm not joking; I think it was close to the last day of my camp experience that summer, and if it wasn't my last summer there, he didn't come back as counselor the next summer. I don't recall. Details get fuzzy.

I can't think of any other modes of transportation to cover. If you can, drop me a line or comment or whatever. If you can't but you can think of a question to ask, ditto.

Weird Sex Talk

Bob asks, "What's the weirdest thing anyone has ever said to you during sex?"

What a question, Bob.  It made me think long and hard, because while I've had some weird sex, and weird things said to me during sex, nothing immediately leaped to mind.

I remember once I was fucking Gwen (my college roomie, look her up) with a strapon and she developed orgasm Tourettes.  She just sprayed profanity like a faucet had turned on and was somehow linking her to the Elemental Plane of Swearing (and I didn't see a silver cord either: geek test!).  It wasn't like it slowly turned on either; she went from moaning to swearing in seconds flat, and she was loud about it.  It didn't turn me off at all, but it was a little odd.  I asked her about it after and she said she was just cumming that hard.  I took it as a compliment.

I was with a boy in high school who moaned his mother's name as he came.  And it wasn't like we had similar names either.  And it wasn't like it only happened once.  I gave him head and as he sprayed me with jizz he moaned, "Oh Cindy."  At that point I didn't know his mother's name was Cindy, so I wondered but as far as I knew there was no girl in school named Cindy.  And anyway, I wasn't looking for monogamy from him.

Aside: I've never really cared if people called out the wrong name during sex.  It's happened a few times.  I don't think I've ever done it, although I did moan, "Oh Daddy!" once and that just turned the guy on.  He didn't ask, I didn't tell, and we went about our business.  But if someone has called out a different name than mine in the throes of passion, it's always been with people I wouldn't have been jealous of.  Maybe if Sveta started calling out some other woman's name in bed all the time, I'd ask her about it, but it's a device of drama which I've always found a little strange in movies and TV.  I guess it happens to people who do care.  Me, I pretty much don't.

Back to the story: so I figured, okay, he's calling out some Cindy's name.  Maybe he's imagining that I'm Cindy Crawford or something.  Whatever.  I didn't say anything.

But unlike many of the high school guys I gave head to, I hooked up with him again a day or two later, and sex was definitely on the table for this one.  But it was a date, of sorts, and so I came to learn that his mother's name was Cindy during the awkward small talk during our dinner (at Applebees, I seem to recall, which just goes to show what a cheap date I am).  I didn't put two and two together until we were rounding the bases in his car, and then I was too interested in rounding the bases to really care.

I blew him again in the back seat and again he moaned, "Oh Cindy," and my mind clicked.  He's calling out his mother's name.  Which might have been a turn-off for some people, but it wasn't for me.  I was more curious than anything else.  And I mulled it over on the drive.  We were going to his house, to hopefully do more than awkward car head.  His parents were pretty well off, way richer than my family, and they had a pool and a pool house, and he said we'd be nice and comfortable and private there.  I didn't want to fuck in the car.  I've fucked in plenty of cars, but hey, there was a pool on offer and I like pools.

His parents were home but were nowhere to be seen, so we sneaked back to the pool house, pulled some cushions and blankets together, and got naked.  He wasn't a great fuck by any standards but I got dinner and a pool out of it, and he was eager if not particularly long-lasting.  And he had a nice cock which was wasted on him because he didn't really know how to use it.  Still, he fingerbanged me to orgasm before replacing his fingers with that cock while I was still coming off the O and then fucking away for a minute or so.  And then, "Oh Cindy," and he pulled out and came on my belly.

I had to know.  "Babe, you keep calling me Cindy," I said gently.

"Oh shit, sorry, I didn't mean to..." He was all sorts of apologetic.

"I don't care," I said.  "But Cindy's your mom, right?"

And by reassuring him (and rubbing against him and kissing him and basically making it very clear that he could tell me anything and I would still be ready for round two) I finally got him to admit that he wanted to fuck his mother.  Never going to happen, of course.  That family was uptight like nobody's business, and had they not been Catholic they would have been the prototypical WASPs.  But he spied on her undressing and so forth, jerked off to pictures of her, etc.  It was kind of sick: not that he wanted to fuck his mother, but that he was basically stalking her, and so repressed about it that it was like pulling teeth to get him to admit it.

I told him I wasn't judging and I didn't care, but that maybe he shouldn't call out his mom's name in moments of passion with girls who might be less forgiving.  And then we fucked again, me on top, and he managed to keep from saying his mom's name.  See, I'm a helper.

No idea what happened with him.  I wasn't really interested in dating him, and anyway I wasn't really in his social circle.  I think he only took me out on a date because he thought I'd put out, and he was right.  I think I may have blown him again in a dark corner at some school function, but I'm not even sure.  Old age is tough, kids.

That's still not answering the question though.

I've had a few crying cummers.  That's mostly a girl thing.  I was with one girl who had been raped and thought she was a lesbian now.  I, of course, didn't know that.  I just thought she was another cute girl.  But when I was between her legs and felt her start to cum, she started just shaking and sobbing, and I spent the rest of the evening comforting her and getting the story.  But she wasn't crying because she was reliving the trauma; she was crying because she realized as she came that she wasn't attracted to me and felt like she'd been leading me on.  Which, believe me, made me feel like a total heel for making her feel that way, because I didn't care.  She could have jumped up, said, "Sorry, changed my mind, I don't think I'm a lesbian after all," and I would have been fine with that.

Rape messes people up in odd and terrible ways.  Don't rape people.  That should probably go without saying.

One girl I was with had her first orgasm brought on by another person (she'd made herself cum before but could never get it to work with a partner) and she cried because she said it was so wonderful.  So of course I made it my mission to make her feel that wonderful again, and again, and maybe even a fourth time if I remember correctly.  That was a fun evening.  I don't think she did anything to me at all; I was on a mission to make that girl cum as hard as I possibly could.

And I'm remembering at least one gentleman caller to my lair who cried immediately after cumming, but I don't remember why.  It wasn't anything earth-shattering.  I think he just had an excess of emotions.  I didn't mind, and we snuggled for a while, then I asked him if he was okay and he said yes, did I want to go again?  So we went again.  I know there are people who find fucking crying people sexy.  I find it a little sad, that's all.  Not sad in a pathetic way, just in a sad way, because I don't like it when people cry and I feel like I'm the one causing it if they're crying after fucking me.

But that's still not answering the question.

Okay, I've got one: in mid coitus, a guy turned into a Brony on me.  It was a little off-putting to have him suddenly start talking My Little Pony as he was fucking me.  I'm not judging.  I've looked at some MLP porn.  I don't know the show at all though, so maybe that was part of it; it was like Greek to me.  It was like suddenly someone started talking dirty to me during sex but in a foreign language.  Had he warned me up front, I might have been totally fine with it, although I would have warned him that I couldn't really talk back.

I can't even remember what he was saying, other than that it had to do with ponies.  And Princess Celestia, I think. Maybe Applejack. I don't know the names.

The thing was, it was really good sex.  And after the transition, once I had a moment to get used to the idea, I told him to go for it.  And it was just more dirty talk after that, even if I didn't really understand the context.  He even told me to call him by some pony name which I've forgotten, which I was happy to do, and he seemed to enjoy that.  The benefit for me was that I got to call him some made-up pony name (and probably say something about him pleasing the Princess) while he ate my pussy like a champ.  I came over and over again, and then we fucked some more, and I was pretty blissed out.  If he'd wanted me to call him Queen Poops-Her-Pants, I probably would have done that to keep the joy buzzer buzzing.

So Bob, maybe not a great answer to the question, but it was a good question to muse on, so there you go.

Bob asks questions of Lexi which are specific and invite recollection.  He uses a superlative but does it in a way which is easier to answer than, "What's the best sex you've ever had?"  Be like Bob.

Or don't.  Ask whatever questions you want.  I welcome them all, even if I don't get to all of them.  But Bob gets a gold star.

Two Ladies

Shout out to Cabaret!

Okay, so having covered some thoughts on MMF threesomes, let's dive into another sort.  I don't have any experience with MMM threesomes (although I'd be happy to learn, not sure how other than watching one) and I've talked about FFF threesomes in the recent past.  So before I move on to larger groups (if I do; requests welcome) I'll tackle every guy's favorite situation.

Only it isn't.  I've talked with numerous guys for whom it wasn't a huge turn-on, either because they didn't want to share, because they weren't into it for whatever reason, or because they were worried about satisfying two girls.

Let's address those.  Firstly, if you're not okay with sharing, that's totally fine.  Whether you're sharing your partner with another man or another woman, some people can't do it.  And that's totally okay.  This is a no judgment zone.

Secondly, if you're worried about satisfying two girls at the same time.... that's probably a decent worry.  In a lot of FFM threesomes, it's on the guy to do the heavy lifting.  And I'm afraid that guys have some disadvantages there.  I can happily fuck two or more guys to completion, but a guy has only so many orgasms to give out.  So if your partners are both looking for you to cum for them, that can be difficult.

The way around that is to give the ladies what they want in other ways.  If foreplay is important when it's just a guy and his lady friend, then it's more than doubly important when there are two armies at the gates, as it were.  I've been with guys who only came once the entire threesome, but they got me and my lady partner off multiple times.  Sure, it's nice to get two, but I wasn't complaining.

But as I did with the previous post, let's just run down some of the computations.  First off, there's the fantasy: "I just want to watch you two fuck each other, then maybe, if I'm lucky, get to join in."  Lesbians or girls who express any tendency toward being down with another lady hear that all the fucking time.  Usually it's just watching.

And you know what?  It doesn't have to be creepy.  If all three of us are willing, I've got no problem with the guy wanting to enjoy the two ladies pleasuring each other.  Don't be a dick about it.  Don't ask people who are not into you to let you watch.  But if all parties are inclined, I've cheerfully let a guy watch me and a special lady friend in our amorous embraces and been totally fine with that.  It can be a turn-on.  Situations vary; I've had very few good times that way just being out with a girl and meeting a guy who wants to watch.  But if, say, that girl is your sister and you want to watch me fuck her brains out but aren't yet enlightened enough to join in, no big deal.  I get off on that, and you and she probably do too.

If you and your lady friend are looking for a partner for her to experiment with, hey, I'm down with that as well.  If you want to watch, I can totally see why.  I've been with women who were with their boyfriends (or husbands, on a few occasions) when we met, but after the negotiations were concluded, the man left and let us get to business.  On at least a few of those occasions, the lady would go back and tell the man all about it, so it was a bit of a cuckolding situation.  Sometimes it was something she was into, he wasn't really, but he was being supportive.  I get off a little on being with someone else's partner (because I'm a freak) so I was fine with that.

More frequently, if it's that kind of setup, we all three go back to whatever place we go back to, and the guy watches us.  It's like a performance, sometimes.  That can be trouble if the lady is shy.  I was with one couple where it became clear, after a while, that the guy was making the girl do this.  It wasn't that she wasn't into me, just that he was definitely calling the shots.  He started ordering her around, telling her to do various things.  Not terribly sexy if it hasn't been cleared with everyone beforehand.  Kate and her husband can get like that sometimes.  I know what to expect there, but unexpected long-distance domination of the partner I'm trying to get off is a turn-off for me.

But most of the time, it's just fine.  Sometimes the guy just watches.  Sometimes he pulls out his dick and masturbates.  I don't usually pay much attention after a point.  But sometimes, if the guy gets naked and is moving closer, I'll encourage him to join in.  And that's when we get the fun stuff.

Between committed partners, I've been basically a sex toy.  I remember one married couple, the guy much older than me, the woman probably older by a few years, where the deal was that the wife and I would get to play as much as we wanted, but he only fucked her.  I support boundaries, but lines get blurred, and I did wind up cleaning him off and getting him hard again, and he came in my mouth the second time.  But nothing in the pussy.  That was the deal.  I can work around that.

I've also been with a couple where it was the opposite: he could fuck me all the way, but she wasn't interested in anything but watching us and playing with him.  Again, lines got blurred and she did wind up sucking my tits while he fucked me, and she ate his cum off of my belly when he pulled out, but no kissing and I didn't really touch her.

I suppose I should have put in sooner that sometimes there's a "FFM" where it's the woman watching her man fuck me.  Fewer of those, but it happens sometimes.  I was with this very nice couple in college (well, I was in college and they were both on staff) where the woman was basically disinterested in sex, so she decided to let him have the sex he needed with other people, but she wanted to be there so it was like she was fucking him in spirit.  I remember they kissed a lot while he was inside me.  She stayed fully clothed and by his side the whole time.  You might think that was weird, but we had gotten to know each other beforehand.  It wasn't a random hookup.  I'd actually gotten to know her first, and we'd talked over drinks a few times about sex, and she finally asked me if I was interested in joining them, which I was, so I got to know him a little and they told me what the score was.  And I was down.

Sometimes arrangements go bad.  I'm not proud of myself sometimes.  He started seeing me without her, telling me that they'd decided that he had to get his alone.  And she seemed like that was okay at first, but then she got really jealous of me and told me she didn't want me to see him any more by myself, but he kept wanting to see me and saying she'd changed her mind again, and finally I had to tell her what was going on behind her back.  She got super pissed at me and we never really talked again.  And... well, I kept being his avenue to cheat on her, and they finally separated.  I think he was interested in something serious with me, but I wasn't interested in that, so he got pissed at me too and that was that.  Bridge thoroughly burned.

Moving on from that somewhat unpleasant experience (I mean, the sex was great though) there's times when it's me and a girlfriend (Gwen and I did this a lot) picking up a guy.  Or when a couple picks me up and they're both interested in all of it.  Either way, that's when we come to a guy really having to satisfy two girls, and that can be rough.  But often it's not.  There's something extremely sexy about being next to another woman while a guy swaps his cock from one to the other.  Or having a girl eat you out while a guy's cock is in you, pussy or ass, it's all good.  Or getting to suck a cock right out of another gal's pussy.

I guess, rather than going through a whole list of things which make an FFM work, I'll just say that if the guy is willing to try to give both gals pleasure, that counts for a lot.  Maybe one of you gets more penetration time, but it doesn't have to be a clinical calculation.  It's heat of the moment stuff.  Hell, I'm happy to tag along with a couple where all I really get to do is be the third pleasure wheel.  I've been with couples who were mostly fucking each other but where there were no lines to cross and I got plenty out of it.

I've walked in on couples more times than I can count.  At home it was pretty common, particularly when Sheri was still living at home.  That's not even counting walking in on Mike or Dad and one of the ladies of the family.  I've gotten more secondary action from Sheri's momentary conquests than anyone else, I think.  It's usually easier to pull off if the guy doesn't know we're related, but sometimes that doesn't matter either.  I mean, there are a lot of men out there who may not be into incest but are totally into fucking two sisters at the same time.

And there's my college years with Gwen, of course.  We had a special system which has never, every been copied: she'd hang something on the doorknob when she was in flagrante in our room, and I'd do the same (yeah, weren't we original).  But after we got to know each other better, that stopped happening as often, and I would walk in to Gwen fucking some guy a lot.  And if there was nothing on the knob and they were in there doing the deed, I'd come in and watch and join in if I cared to and the guy was okay with it, which most were.  Ditto for the reverse.  If you walk in and join, you're supposed to, by rule of honor, take a back seat to the gal who got the guy in the first place, but a few times that didn't happen.  I remember once, Gwen saw me come in, hopped off the guy, said, "Oh good, I'm glad you're here; I've got to take a break."  The guy started to get up, but Gwen just said, "Lexi is going to finish you up," and wrapped herself in a towel and headed for the bathroom while I stripped down and hopped on his cock like we were doing that bit from The Honeymooners.  "Mornin' Sam.  Mornin' Ralph."  Clock punched, time to go to work.  He was huge and I could understand why she needed a break.  Not really a threesome, I suppose, but it got me off.

And lastly, before I finish up this particular topic, there are times when you walk in on complete strangers and they invite you to join.  Rara avis, that one.  I was working somewhere, don't remember where, and I went into a back room to get something and there were two people I knew vaguely but had never really talked with that much going at it against a wall.  I think the guy was an actor and the girl was in props or costumes or something.  It was a party, I think, after hours, or after normal hours because theatre life has no hours.  I think I'd left the main party to do something work-related in the darker areas of the theater.  But she gasped, "Oh god, come here, he's so hot," or something like that, so I said, "Okee dokee," and came over and got drunken kisses from the cute prop girl.

He pulled out of her and I got on my knees immediately because he had a nice cock, not enormous but just pretty.  Cut, thick, veiny, with a big head and a shaft long enough that it tickled the tonsils when I deepthroated him.  They were both pretty drunk.  Not falling-down drunk, but drunk enough that they both instantly thought it was a great idea to have me join them.  Pretty soon she had my pants and panties down, my shirt up, and was sucking my tits like there was no tomorrow while I sucked his cock and he fingered her.  Then he pulled me up and pressed into me against the wall.  It had been a long day, so it was very nice to be filled like that.  They were kissing, then she basically pulled all of us down so my head was between her legs and he was fucking me from behind on all fours, and it was pretty hot and heavy from then on out.

We each got a load, separated by some very nice drunken girl-on-girl, and then we excused ourselves to go back to whatever we were doing.  But when I came back a few minutes later, they were back, or at least I thought they were back, until I realized that no, it was the cute prop girl, but the guy was a different guy, another cute actor.  What a whore she was, and I was loving it, because she called me over again and we had two FFMs in the same night.

So there's some random stuff about FFMs.  Drop me a request or a question and I'll write more.  I can be specific, if there's a story I've teased in one of these ramblings which piques your interest.

Bet You

"Bet you won't."

"Bet I will."

"Won't."

"Will."

"Chicken."

"Oh yeah?"

I stalked back into the common room. "Hey, you, the cute one," I said commandingly. Several heads turned, saw I was pointing at the actual cute one, turned back. He looked around too.

"What?"

"Come here." I was in no mood to be trifled with. He did as I said. "Now, drop your pants." A few heads swiveled back again, drawn by the unmistakable sound of those words. He hesitated. "Come on, I have a bet."

At my school, "I have a bet," was basically your get-out-of-jail-free pass. Not that it would work on the administration or security, but if you said it to a fellow student, as long as you had a track record of telling the truth, they'd pretty much have to go along with you. And I had a track record of scrupulous honesty. Plus people knew that I wouldn't back down from a bet. Plus, and this may have been the biggest point in my favor, my bets tended to be of the sexual variety.

More heads swiveled, and a few hoots and hollers erupted as he dropped his pants, not without reluctance and a little self-consciousness. I knew his name, had spoken to him a few times, but not enough to warrant a proposition. Maybe he was afraid I was just going to point and laugh. I wasn't; his cock wasn't enormous, but it wasn't hard either. I aimed to change that.

The hoots grew louder as I began licking his cock, from the base up the shaft to the tip. Nerves may have kept him soft for a moment, but not for long, and pretty soon he was smiling in spite of himself, his head bobbing in and out of my mouth. The party had resumed around us; it wasn't that strange to have a bit of head going on at one of our parties. But some people were watching, jealous or turned on or both.

When he came, I gathered as much of it in my mouth as I could and grinned, then sauntered off. "Here," I said, giving Gwen a sloppy kiss and passing the cum to her, still warm and wriggling. "Told you," I said with a smirk.

She swallowed and grinned. "Bet you won't do it again... with the blonde guy in the corner there."

A Little Less Conversation

For PB, I thought I'd detail, in triplicate, the financial statements for this quarter at my funeral parlor. But then I realized that I don't own a funeral parlor, that I wouldn't know how to detail a financial statement if you put a gun to my head, and that it would bore me silly. So instead, please accept a slightly more visceral approach to the topic. I don't have perfect recall even at the best of times, so this is historical fiction rather than straight-up remembrance, but I'm not making things up, I'm just making things more readable.

It wasn't the first time. Paul and Kirsten had hooked up over the summer and she told him about it, and he seemed ready to go. We'd lost Ben to the vagaries of financial aid and Elizabeth was busy with projects, but between Gwen and I and Steven, we figured we could give the new couple a good time.

Steven and Gwen and I had been friends the longest, since a few minutes into freshman year when we all realized that we hated the same things. It was that kind of friendship to begin with, cemented by the bonds of finding freshman orientation utter bullshit and yet mildly inescapable. We didn't eat together or do things together, but we waved to each other and told jokes. And then Gwen and I discovered that we both enjoyed each others' company enough to spend time together for reasons other than having to be in the same room because we were roommates. Steven was the first guy we told about that. He was awestruck; "Are you sure?" I believe were his exact words. Yes, we were sure that we'd gone from mildly enjoying each others' company to naked on my bed with her tongue so far up my snatch I wasn't sure it would ever come out again. Pretty sure. In hindsight, I believe that he was expressing more reservations about the intelligence of roommates becoming sexually involved than he was letting on.

So it seemed natural that Steven should join in. I don't remember if he was the first guy we shared, but he was near the top of the list. After that, things got strange for a week or so, but then we started eating together and things evened out. It wasn't an always kind of relationship for any of us; Steven was, if anything, slightly more of a slut than either of us. He'd tell us stories of his conquests though, which was entertaining. And every month or so, we'd get together because none of us had anything better to do.

At this point, that was old news; Steven was firmly in the "friend" category rather than the "fuckbuddy" category. And he'd brought Kirsten, who wasn't really our type, but who was totally uninhibited sexually. She would drop her clothes at the first request. It wasn't that she was easy; she didn't have all that much sex. But she was willing to fuck until screws came loose if she was willing to fuck at all. It wasn't as much fun to hang around with her in some contexts; she was really much too crunchy-granola for me, and always very cheerful. And she'd sometimes bring her friends, who were even less interesting because they weren't interested in us. Still, she was worth putting up with mild annoyance at times because she was fun to have at parties.

So in combination with several other people, off and on, Gwen, Steven, Kirsten, and I had put together an orgy in the previous term, before summer. Before that, there had been one drunken night where the three girls all teamed up on Steven and then another guy came in whom I didn't really know and took Kirsten to one side for some very hot sex, and a few parties with more people where pairs had formed and even a few swaps had been made. We considered ourselves old hands at the group sex game, despite that not being the case at all. And so when Kirsten said that Paul might be interested, Gwen and Steven were easy to talk into it, and I was helping Kirsten do the talking, I was so interested.

It was less organized, a potluck affair of half-empty bottles brought by all parties and no snacks at all because no one had thought to get some, or perhaps because we all thought someone else would get some. Kirsten said she'd bring Paul over at some point; I got the feeling that, interested in the idea or not, he might not have been quite ready for the practicalities. So Gwen and I cuddled until Steven showed up with his bottle, set it down, and said, "So where's the new fish?" like he was in a prison film. New fish not presenting himself, Steven pulled off his clothes and hopped onto the bed with us, and soon was fingering me while licking Gwen, then vice versa. Steven was the kind of guy who would go down on you all day if you let him, and never ask for any head in return. It wasn't lack of selfishness, but rather than he didn't need help getting hard and loved the taste and smell of pussy, which may be why he went to the trouble of having so many different ones to sample.

When Kirsten and Paul finally knocked, Steven was balls-deep in Gwen's ass while I licked her, something we all enjoyed. We didn't bother to answer the door, just yelled, "Come in." Thinking back, it could have been Security or the RA or any number of people. And we almost never locked the door when we were in flagrante either, and yet never were interrupted. Luck of the draw, I guess. Fortunately, in this case, it was Kirsten and Paul.

Kirsten demonstrated the reason we liked her by immediately putting down her bottle and shucking her clothes. She was rounder than either Gwen or I, with large, slightly drooping breasts, possibly from never wearing a bra. And she didn't shave either, so her bush was full and... well, bushy. Darker than her hair, which was dirty blonde, she had a thatch of brown which looked impenetrable but was actually quite well-behaved when you got close. She hopped up and gave Gwen a peck on the cheek, then as Steven pulled out to turn around she grabbed his cock and stroked it while she gave him an open-mouthed kiss.

I couldn't see Paul at first, but we all pulled out of our various positions; it seemed polite. There he was, short and swarthy, black hair and stubble, a brooding brow, wearing clothes which I wouldn't have worn to an orgy, complete with sweater vest. Sweater vest. I think probably all three of us had the same thought, "Yeah, right, he's up for this, uh huh." Or similar. He looked a little taken aback, but once we all invited him over, he loosened up, and once drinks had been poured he became quite loquacious. The sweater vest came off, as did his shirt, exposing a chest every bit as hairy as the rest of him. Latin, Greek, Italian, I don't know, but whatever it was, it was brawny. Not the normal type of guy I'd go for, but I warmed to him.

"So how does this work?" he asked, like we had a manual or something.

"Who would you like to have a go with first?" asked Steven. "I mean, it's not like we've all got to jump in a pile or anything. We're just having a friendly fuck."

Paul ventured that he'd actually be fine taking over where Steven had left off, so Gwen hopped back to her knees and waggled her ass at him. He pulled off his pants with only slight hesitation, and suddenly I saw what Kirsten saw in him, or at least one thing. He was hung quite well. Steven paled slightly, although he tried not to show it. "Lube that up a little," said Gwen, giggling. "I'm not sure I'm ready."

So Kirsten and I happily got busy lubing. Her throat put mine to shame, I'm afraid; she had no trouble with him at all, whereas I wasn't quite ready to take the plunge. But I did my fair share of licking and kissing and sucking, occasionally stopping to spit out an errant hair, because his crotch was just as hairy as the rest of him. Finally, he said, "Come on, she's waiting," and pushed us off, then climbed up with drink in hand, took a gulp, and began buggering my roomie with evident satisfaction.

"Come on Kirst, don't let them have all the fun," said Steven, so Kirsten hopped up beside Gwen in similar position, and Steven pressed his cock into her ass. I knew from clandestine discussion that her ass wasn't the tightest, so he was able to thrust away fairly easily, plus if Paul had been fucking her ass before, she was doubtless used to bigger.

I felt left out for a bit until Steven said, "Come on, you too," and patted the bed beside him. And that was how all three girls wound up assuming the position, side by side, while the guys went down the line. When Paul came to my ass, I had already been loosened by Steven, but it was still a bit of a shock; I hadn't had a cock that big in my ass for a while. I concentrated on relaxing until I felt Gwen's hands on my head, pulling me down between her legs as she lay back and attempted to get me to eat her out. Kirsten was riding Steven, her breasts bouncing as she did, making little squeaks every time she descended with a jolt, making the bed shake.

It was organic, it was fun, and when Paul pulled out and shot his load on my back, I didn't mind at all. Kirsten hopped off Steven and come help me clean up, and I was able to pay better attention to Gwen, who enjoyed herself more as a result.

Things died down a little, me and Gwen still on the bed finishing up, Steven, Paul, and Kirsten getting more drinks. It wasn't that we were drinking hard; we were just loosening up a little. When Kirsten pulled Paul back to the bed and started reviving him, Gwen moved over to help, and Steven, who still hadn't cum, moved in behind me. "I'm pretty close," he said. "You want it inside?" He didn't need to ask; I sighed with satisfaction as he slipped into me and after a few moments pressed deep and came, forceful splashes which made me tingle.

Kirsten was open, but she wasn't that interested in girls; she'd let us eat her out, kiss us even, but her heart really wasn't in cunnilingus. Still, she and Gwen both wanted to clean me up, and I let them, cumming as a result.

Then things became slightly less regimented, and as a result my memories are a bit more confused. Despite saying we wouldn't all be in a big pile, we sort of wound up like that, with double penetration and kissing and licking. The boys switched off frequently, different girl, different hole, or just sitting back for a moment to see what other people were doing. Paul got a little drunk, which didn't make him ugly, it just made him a little louder. We talked some, but a lot of it was grunting and gasping. After seeing that Steven came inside me, Paul wanted to do that too; Kirsten was less into creampies and more into cum-eating. It seems like a long time, but really it couldn't have lasted for more than a couple of hours before we degenerated into idle fucking, purposeless, not really trying for anything other than enjoying being together. Gwen lay back and let Paul fuck her hard, until she was moaning constantly, the moans interrupted by each thrust. It was clear he was trying to work out one more, trying hard, until finally he came, nothing much, just a trickle really, and pulled Kirsten, who was next to him, into a kiss and cuddle, while Gwen lay back panting. Steven and I were the least affected by it; we kept fucking even after Kirsten and Paul started pulling clothes on again, in preparation for the walk of shame.

"Bye," they said as they left, Gwen half-asleep, Steven still up to the hilt in me. We all waved at them, wordlessly. Steven finished off inside me, gave the sleeping Gwen a kiss which she groggily returned, and quietly decamped.

It wasn't perfect, it wasn't clean, but it was fun. And we tried to make it happen again. But shortly thereafter, Kirsten and Paul became very involved in each other, to the point that we could barely get them to come over at all. And Steven became involved in pursuit of a freshman, that age-old stereotype of upperclassmen. Then when Kirsten and Paul went through a messy breakup, neither of them wanted to see the other, so they couldn't chance seeing us much. I found that I actually preferred Paul; he was good company and even though I never saw him naked again, we stayed friends and even worked on projects together. Kirsten drifted away from the group, bringing our group down somewhat in terms of raw sexuality. I'm sorry things ended that way with her; she might not have been my ideal match, but she was relentlessly nice and I should have been nicer to her.

Orgies of the past tend not to make as good stories precisely because I remember them less concretely, but hopefully that gave some factor of amusement to those who'd rather not see financial statements take over this space. PB, I love you, you know that. I hope that, by sharing, I can spread my blessings around a little. I mean, obviously, if I could, I'd wish orgies for everyone who wants them, but until I find that genie, vicarious is the best I can do.

Opportunities I'd Like to Have Again

I don't miss college, really. I know a fair number of people who would have never left college if they didn't have to (and sometimes it seems like they only left physically, not mentally) but for myself, I couldn't wait to get the hell out. But there are some things about college I miss, and one of them is my sex life.

This isn't going to devolve into me complaining about my sex life; I know it's much better than a lot of people's, and even though I have had to get used to the idea that I might not get penetration anywhere near as regularly as my body feels it needs, I'm not really complaining. This is more me remembering with fondness the opportunities which were much more common in college. I'm not mourning the loss; I will make it my business to do certain things again.

Also, I'd just like to talk about orgies. I've had my fair share, which is more than zero, the average number (I imagine) of orgies the average person gets to have. Hell, I've had more than my fair share, probably. But I would cheerfully engage in further orgiastic activities if the opportunity presented itself.

I've probably discussed this before, but I have fairly strict definitions when it comes to various types of group sex. Not that I turn any type away, but there are various types. I can include some stuff with my family here too, but a lot of that is tougher to define and the dynamics were different. I would never say that I've really had an orgy with my family, although by a loose definition that's definitely happened. It's been free-range group sex, mostly.

Orgies have a particular feel about them too. If you gather any number of couples in a room together and they're basically fucking without any movement between groups, that's not an orgy. If you've got one gender vastly outweighing the other, I don't call that an orgy either. There's definitely a population density that needs to be reached; I don't know that I would call fewer than five people an orgy, ever, no matter how free with each other those people were. Again, this is not me knocking any of these things, just that orgies are a special beast and a rarity.

For instance, I've been to parties which could have broken out into orgies, but which I wouldn't call orgies. Hell, I went to a few in high school which the prudish would no doubt classify as bacchanals, let alone orgies, but usually it was a large group of kids doing things which weren't allowed, but still being fairly shy about it. That's probably rule one for a good orgy; you can't be shy about it. Not that I make rules. Anyway, particularly in college, I knew a number of people, large enough to make a group that could easily have been orgy-sized, who were uninhibited enough about nudity and sex that we might all wind up in a room together, naked, and we might all get lucky that evening. But usually there'd be a couple in the bathroom, a few on beds, maybe a group of three. There might be floaters, who went from location to location. And they were fun times. Right on the cusp of orgy. And if I'd never experienced the actual item, I might have said that they were orgies, and who knows, maybe they were. It's not like I actually have a set of hard and fast rules (except maybe that rule two is that orgies shouldn't be hard and fast, but that's just me being silly) or that I make a tally. It's really one of those, "I can't define it, but I know it when I see it," type situations.

If I didn't have a date, I found myself being a floater because I really wanted an orgy to break out. But that's not the way to make it happen. Everyone has to be willing to be a floater for it to work properly. But there is an enjoyment to being on the cusp; I like having sex while others around me do likewise. Usually our groups were slightly biased toward women in numbers, so there would be one or two gals who didn't have a guy (although sometimes that just meant that they had each other) who would prowl around, waiting for sloppy seconds or a kiss or grope. But the couples were usually fairly into each other, for all that the next time they might pair up completely differently.

Sometimes, while inhibitions about fucking in a room with others might not be strong, other inhibitions reared their ugly heads. One had to keep in mind that some gals didn't swing both ways, and that sometimes condoms should be worn, and so on and so forth. It wasn't so constrained as to be annoying, but there were constraints.

I have been in a location with more people, all of whom are doing the same thing, in situations like those just described than I have with any other group. It seems easier to get a larger group together for a group session than an orgy, for reasons which are probably obvious. But the size of the group matters somewhat less; it's really only restricted by the number of like-minded individuals and the space in which you have the party. I think a lot of so-called "orgies" operate in this sort of way; you have a group which sounds enormous until you consider that it's really just a collection of couples and trios and floaters.

The swingers' party is along those lines too, at least from how I've heard it described. But there's the added zest of partner-swapping, which my college group might do, but since most of the partners weren't terribly serious, it really wasn't the same. Going to a swingers' party, for me, would be all about taking a serious partner and then cutting loose and being with other people's serious partners. It's something I often wish I could do, actually, except I don't have a husband or serious partner in that way. There's something about breaking out of monogamy which appeals to me, but I'm not monogamous. Still, I could probably enjoy myself.

But that's not what I came to talk about. Occasionally, rarely, not only do you have a group who are uninhibited enough to be okay with sex in the same location, or partner-swapping, but you find a group who are open to the idea of a real orgy. It's happened to me, though rarely and not terribly recently. If you get the chance (and, of course, you're into it, which I suppose should go without saying because if you're not into it then you haven't gotten the chance because at least one person, you, in your group isn't open to it), take it. There's really nothing like it.

Ideally (and this has never happened except with all-girl orchestras) all members of the party will be open to the idea of sex with all other members. This, of course, presupposes bisexuality on the part of the men involved, which is the main reason the ideal remains an ideal and not a common practice. But even if that's not the case, and there are some things the group won't do, some pairings which won't happen, the thing about an orgy is that it's not just a group of couples (for the purposes of this discussion, "couples," means any small group engaged in coupling, rather than literally two people). He's fucking her while she eats out her while she's sucking him and he's fingering her and eating out her while she... and so on. It's hard to describe what exactly is going on because everyone is involved. It's one giant sex act which can't be decomposed into parts.

I believe the largest number of like-minded people I've ever been able to turn up has been six, and there were only two men in that group. We'd talked about in previously; these things, despite wishing, always need planning. We had a double room to ourselves, we had pulled the beds together to make one big bed and brought in cushioning for the floor, we had beverages and snacks aplenty, and no one had to be anywhere for a while. I didn't set it up, beyond volunteering our room and moving furniture; the party planner of the group should obviously be deputized to organize (I mean, come on, what are party planners good for if not for planning orgies).

None of us had ever really participated in an orgy before, not that we hadn't done plenty of other things. So there was a slight awkwardness at the beginning. Fortunately, while I may be no good at planning parties, I'm terrific at breaking the ice, and in my very small comfort zone I have absolutely no shame, plus I knew what I wanted it to be like. So I just grabbed one of the guys and Gwen and basically started helping her fuck him, until they were going, then I grabbed another girl and pulled her in, and pretty soon we were all on the bed in a pile.

Another key to orgies, perhaps just an extension of previous points, is that you have to be willing to share. If everyone is willing to let another person join in, then everyone can join in and no one will feel left out. It's a bit like an extension of a good threeway; if everyone is willing to pitch in and let others pitch in, then no one feels left out.

After the first few minutes, we relaxed and got into it and it stopped being so much about constantly having to be doing everything at once. Sometimes the group would split in two, but pretty soon someone would bridge the gap again. Sometimes someone extricated themselves from the pile (I'm making it sound like a game of Twister; it was really just a group, and not a terribly ambitious one, position-wise, at that) and get something to drink, or bring back a glass to someone who was in the middle of something. We even talked a little, mostly small talk, jokes, half-heard through gasps and grunts.

Orgies are also, at least in my minimal experience, not orgasm-fests. If you want to cum buckets, get involved in a gangbang where you're the center of attention. I swear, I don't think I've ever cum more in a sitting than I did at my birthday gangbang. Whereas, at the orgies, I might have cum three or four times, but they weren't quickies; they were intense and built up over a long period.

Our two guys performed yeoman service, but they eventually had to drop out to recover, and then the group dissolved after a while into the two of them with a girl each, and the two other girls fucking. But for a period of time, the orgy was intense and all-encompassing, and that's what I would call a real orgy.

I want to give Sveta some opportunities to have some group fun, and also to get myself back into that too. We've done threesomes, but I'd really like to arrange a gangbang for her, or figure out a way to have an orgy, even if it's just the standard garden-variety kind. I don't know how well I'll do; like I said, I'm not a party planner. I might have to enlist my sister's help in this; Sheri and Mari were the ones who organized my first outing into that sort of thing, and they did it stellarly. But at any rate, that's one thing I miss about college; group sex seemed to be in the cards much more often. In reality, that's rose-colored nostalgia; I would say it actually happened no more than ten times, including groups of four and parties where it was nothing but couples everywhere. I had my fair share of sex in college, and right now, I'm really missing that. Hopefully this trip down memory lane hasn't been nothing but me complaining about not having a golden Cadillac while everyone else goes hungry.

Catching Up With the Joneses

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

College Adventures

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

Don't you believe it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sveta's Here

She's here, has been since yesterday, so obviously right now I'm too busy to give you anything more than a quickie. I had to work this afternoon, but tomorrow we've got the whole day to ourselves.

I have an Easter-themed sex toy, actually. It's an egg, only it's as big as an Easter egg and is in pastel colors. Tried to find a picture of it online, but I guess either I'm the only one, or they don't make many of them. Anyway, it's safer than trying to put a hard-boiled egg in your snatch, which I confess I've also done. I've never tried to crack a raw egg with my pussy, mostly because it seems like it'd be painful and icky, not to mention the salmonella. But I got this, it fills you up, and then it buzzes and plays "Here Comes Peter Cottontail." Seriously. Got it for Easter one year, from my roomie Gwen actually. She had a source for bizarre sex toys or something.

Anyway, last night I was showing it to Sveta, and she said she absolutely had to see it in action. Since it's Easter weekend, it seemed like the perfect time. I don't use it that often, because I like shaft rather than egg in my sex toys, but I remember it fondly, and it is amusing, even if the song gets tedious after a while. I've always wanted to put a speaker up my cunt and then play loud music into me and see how that feels, actually. Wait, I'm rambling.

She loved watching the egg reverse-lay into me, so much so that for a while it didn't get turned on, just got put in and taken out. That worked me up, and when she finally turned it on and put her hand over my pussy to feel it, I had a big ol' O that I felt in my belly. Very nice. Then she wanted to try it, so she lay back and tried to relax, and damn if I didn't have another orgasm just watching the egg slip up into her slowly, spreading her so wide. She squirmed and whimpered a little to, which didn't help matters. It was an aftershock O, really, but still, without touching, without really thinking about it. Damn I love her.

When she came, it hurt her a little to be so stretched, so I pulled the egg out and kissed it better, which made her cum again (well, not immediately; I'm good but not that good). So we're not going to try it in her ass, but she said she wanted to use it again, maybe put it in and then trib or something. Speaking of tribbing, that's something which I was never into before; scissoring is fun for a bit but gets tedious before it gets results, in my experience. But we've been lying face to face, with her legs around me, just rubbing our hips together, and while she usually requires a finish with my tongue, and sometimes I get some fingers down between us to heighten the enjoyment, we've been liking it in a way I never did before. Sorry Mari and Sheri; it's not you, it's me. I wasn't doing it right.

It's better than a strapon (well, if I'm the one wearing the strapon, because I get very little enjoyment out of that beyond the concept of getting to penetrate someone), but not better than a double dil. Still, the double dil I have isn't flexible enough to be face to face without problems. We're going to go to a store, I think, at some point soon, and get a more floppy one to aid in this new tribbing thing that's going on. Sveta's never been in a sex toy shop before. I don't go often either, since I get them as gifts or hand-me-downs or online sometimes. It'll be an experience. I also want to send her back to school with a few more items so she can have more fun, even if she isn't going to find someone up there with whom to have fun.

Okay, enough. I've got a hot teen in my house (currently getting serviced by Dad, I think, but I don't know for sure, so I'll have to go see/join) and better things to do than be blogging. Have a good Easter if I don't get to write anything tomorrow, or have a good non-holiday Sunday if you don't do Easter (and why should you, really). I'll be up to my lips in sweetness. And also eating chocolate.

Porn of the Day

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More Trivia

Well, here's some other stuff I thought about over a period of time, assembled into a list, then posted. Nothing here worth writing a whole post about, but some tidbits, I guess.

1. I once fucked a guy who was pretty much perpetually hard, at least for the duration of the encounter. He said he was just like that. The downsides were that he wasn't exactly hung like a horse (not that it really matters, but he was pretty small) and that, even though he would cum and stay rock-hard, his cock was really sensitive for ten minutes or so after, so he had to stop fucking in between orgasms. And he wasn't that much in bed. But it was novel, if nothing else. Since then, I've wondered if he should have gotten it looked at, or maybe he had.
2. I don't think I've ever knowingly sucked a cock that has been in someone else's asshole. I've sucked a cock after it's been in my own, but I can't remember if I've ever done it with another person involved. Probably I have, but I'm blocking it out because I think it's a little icky. Too much like scat. It's like how I will rim someone, but I don't get deep, and it's not my favorite activity.
3. I once had an orgasm from a vibrating massage chair. It was not an opportune time for an orgasm at all, and I got glassy-eyed for a moment and probably wet my pants a little. I wasn't expecting it at all. And it's never happened again, not when I've tried. Sure, vibes can make me cum, but this chair made me cum without trying. And as I said, not the best time for it. Fortunately, I was able to excuse myself shortly thereafter and I don't think anyone noticed.
4. Speaking of inopportune orgasms, I had one on the phone doing a job interview once. That was easier to disguise; I just didn't moan directly into the phone, and so what if my eyes crossed. The problem was that I got called for this job interview in the middle of getting myself off and was so flustered (I get that way over the phone which is why I'm not a fan of phone sex) that I forgot I still had the egg in. It wasn't on, and I was at my computer looking at things, and somehow it must have come on, and before I knew it, wham, O. Not a big one, not a yell-down-the-house one, but I did have one and had to pause in the middle of a sentence. Couldn't go rooting around for the egg or find the remote easily, so I wound up conducting the rest of the interview while being buzzed. Final note: I got the job.
5. I've interviewed for jobs while totally naked. Over the phone, of course, but since chances are good that if you call my house, I'll be in some state of undress and we don't have a video phone, I don't bother to put on clothes just to talk to people on the phone. So a lot of people have spoken to me professionally while I sat there, naked. If they only knew, right?
6. I have, however, never spoken professionally on the phone while being fucked. That's too much. Once, Sheri tried to fool around with me while I was on the phone to work, but I told them to hold one second and then hissed at her in no uncertain terms that she was to get the hell out, then closed the door on her. I was a bit of a bitch, but so was she. I'm not really sorry.
7. Gwen and I used to call Mike while we fucked though. I'm sure it tortured him no end. We'd send him pictures too. Such teases.

I'd forgotten all about the orgasm during a job interview. I guess I blocked it from my memory because it was a bit embarrassing. Still, I'm over it and it's a funny story. I don't know what the moral is though.