Old Boyfriends…

I dated him when I was 21. He’s the one who liked to watch me masturbate – have I ever mentioned him? A completely different person than I was accustomed to spending time with. I was in university in an honours program. I rarely drank and never gave my family any cause to worry about me. I was surrounded by friends on their way to becoming doctors, lawyers, psychologists and a menu of other white-collar professionals.

His world? Well, the collars in his world were mostly blue. His friends got together in someone’s basement every weekend and drank. No one went to University. When we got together with my friends, his friends called it a “tea and crumpets party.” A comment like that was so surprisingly clever and witty for them that I couldn’t even get offended.

But we got along well. He was proud and encouraging of my education. He actually didn’t drink much and often we left the beer parties early- by his choice.

He didn’t always want sex either. We could sometimes end up going a month between sessions due to scheduling and not being alone and one other curiosity. Occasionally he would simply tell me that he didn’t want sex that night.

Generally this announcement came out of left field, and rarely when I was attempting to initiate any kind of physical activity. It was so odd that the thought never occurred to me to feel hurt or insecure by it. Although in retrospect, that seems like it would be the natural response for a girl that age.

I think it’s because he never gave me reason to doubt that I was sexy. The night we met was at a bar. He told me that we were dancing without even asking. He simply took my hand and stated it like a fact. The thought never occurred to me to say no.

As we swayed together he asked me if I knew the most sensitive part of a woman’s body. I arched my eyebrow and wondered how risquĂ© he was going to be. I ventured a guess at the nape of the neck, but he insisted that it was the earlobe.

I disagreed with him and was shocked to find myself longing for him to demonstrate that he was correct. I was much shyer back then, and stopped myself from asking him to prove it.

New Year’s Eve that year I was staying at his place. It had been a while since we’d had sex and I went all out (or so I felt at the time) with the stockings and little chemise. He was quite entranced and spent a long time stroking my legs through the lace and nylon. It was almost too much for him and the sex was over quickly and he confessed that he nearly came when I emerged in the outfit.

He more than made up for it later though. The second time always lasts much longer and he fucked me hard and raw. So hard and raw that when he tried to initiate more the next day I protested that I was too sore. I was confident that such a statement would be a balm to any bruising that he ego might take at being turned down.

However, he simply smiled and slowly started removing my jeans and underwear. Wanting to be a good sport I complied and mentally decided to make the best of it.

It was unnecessary. He lay me down and proceeded to lick and suck on my clit. At that time of my life I was rather uncomfortable when anyone went down on me, but that day it was precisely what I needed. In very short order he had me moaning and clawing at his belt buckle, demanding that he fuck me.

Such was the pattern of our almost year together. We would have persiouds of no sex at all, and then when we finally did, it was as if al that time made us irresistable to each other. I’ve occasionally wondered if he saved it all up like that on purpose so it would be more phenomenal (and numerous) each time we actually did get together.

Even after we broke up and he married, he still told me how I did it for him more than any other girl. He even asked me for a striptetase once. Perhaps I should have complied….

The Tease

I like it rough.

I want to feel man’s hard cock pressed up against me, straining for entry. I like to be pinned down, hair pulled back, and slammed into hard and fast. I want to feel like I’ve aroused him so much that he has no choice but to do it hard and deep, like he has no control over himself.

But tonight?

For some reason, tonight I’m craving something different. I want to be touched. I want to explore and caress. I want us to lie together, our hot naked bodies next to one another and I want to know every inch.

I want his hands to rub my back and legs. I want his fingers to caress my spine and tickle my inner thoughts. I want him to lick my earlobes and nipples.

I want him to balance over me and tease my cunt lightly with his erect cock. Slowly rubbing it back and forth across the slit until I’m moaning and writhing, but not actually entering me.

I want his palms to caress my ribs, running down to my hips. I want him to lift them up, squeezing my ass while he trails his tongue along my stomach and between my breasts. I want him to flip me over, and run his tongue along my spine while rubbing his cock against my ass.

I him to tickle his fingers lightly behind my knee- a move that always gets me wet and aroused.

I want to hear his gasp as I dance my tongue over his nipples and down his stomach. I want to run my nails lightly down his sides so he can’t decide whether to giggle or sigh…

I want to nibble on his earlobes and softly suck on the nape of his neck. I want to straddle him, put my hands under his ass and massage it while slipping my wet pussy over his erection until we’re both moaning and he’s struggling to angle for entry.

I want to run my fingers through his hair, and suck on his tongue while entwining my fingers with his over our heads.

And then I want him to fuck me. Hard.

Unfulfilled Fantasies

It’s the fantasies that make you unique. What happens in your secret thoughts – the things that you’re scared to share with your significant other for fear that they’ll give you “the look.” The disgusted judgmental look. Or even worse. The look that shows you that they’re trying to understand. The want to do this for you, but they just can’t manage it.

Disgust and judgment can be turned much more easily than the other. Such an extreme reaction implies fear and isolation. Perhaps you could introduce it to them in stages and they’ll convert. But the other? A lost cause.

So what are my fantasies? What do I reserve and share as the Duchess, but shelter from the Princess?

Perhaps the thought that one day I would like to participate in an orgy 0f sorts. I would like to just walk naked into a dark room, lay down on a soft cushioned floor and be open to whomever wished to partake of me.

To have that kind of freedom. Where I don’t have to impress or serve anyone. I don’t have to worry about ever seeing them again or doing anything other than just taking and giving whatever I chose.

Sometimes I don’t want to be an active participant. Sometimes I just want to lay back, be tied up and and feel a hot hard cock just slam into me. I don’t want to have to gauge his reactions and adjust accordingly. I don’t want to have to contort myself or monitor my teeth to ensure that they don’t do more than nip. I want to be utterly selfish and just experience the sensations.

I suspect that’s why these will never move beyond the “fantasy” category. Aside from a distinct lack of plush-floored orgy invitations coming my way, I also can’t justify being so selfish. Regardless of how primal and animalistic sex can be, I can’t imagine ever being so completely consumed by my own wants, that I stop caring about all else.

If He Only Knew…

He was older than me, and his smile was both experienced and knowing. I sat next to him at the meeting and found excuses to touch him. I slipped back his cuff to look at his watch. I leaned in close and told him how intoxicating his scent was.

He wore no ring, but that really doesn’t mean as much anymore. All I knew was that I wanted him either way.

I considered putting my hand on his thigh, but didn’t have the nerve. It wasn’t the right time or place.

He was a runner and had the lean hard body to show for it. I longed to feel it pressed up against mine. I wanted to feel his his caressing my naked breasts and to feel his erection straining to escape the confines of his proper suit. I ached to feel his bulging cock slipping back and forth, teasing my moistening pussy.

I could feel the throbbing in my cunt as I glanced sedately at his profile. Each look he threw my way was simultaneously shocking and arousing. As if he had placed his fingers and tongue inside of me while sitting appropriately a few feet away.

I struggled to pay attention to the meeting, but it was a losing battle. One that I wasn’t convinced I really wanted to win anyway. Because each time he glanced at me, it sent a new jolt between my legs, and resulted in increasing wetness and distraction. Even now, I can feel my temperature rising, and my clit throbbing at the thought of him.

I was certain that everyone must have been able to see what was going on just barely beneath my distracted smile. Yet the meeting carried on. And on. I approached him after the meeting. Any excuse to keep him in my sight for just a few more minutes. He seemed to enjoy the conversation, but it was a fairly platonic chat.

It seemed he would only take the flirting so far in person, but via text I could say whatever I liked. Surely a married man wouldn’t engage in text conversations with a young girl for tow hours, would he? I hadn’t pushed my luck too far yet though. Only to offer to buy him a drink “sometime” and to tell him that he was both adorable, and that his presence at these meetings was absolutely imperative to my well-being.

I’d only managed to manipulate him to one social, yet committee-related outing to date. I had fussed over the length of my skirt, so he quite blatantly checked out my ass, assured me it was fine, then insisted on buying me a drink.

I teasingly asked if he minded if I had a crush on him, and he responded that it sounded hot. Oh if he only knew what was going through my head….

Like how I wanted to feel his hands all over me. For some reason he brought out the most exhibitionist fantasies in me. I wanted to pull him into a dark corner of a crowded room, undo his pants, kneel down and suck on him. I wanted him to put his hand up my skirt, pull down my panties and finger my clit. I wanted him to bring me to orgasm right there where anyone close enough could see exactly what was happening.

But for the time being, I merely wished him a good night, went home and brought out my vibrator…

Silk Scarves are so Sharon Stone…

Of course he could tie me up. How polite that he would ask. Why else did I have silk scarves in my bag? (Duchess trivia: ever since I heard what is most likely an urban legend (or was it a Stephen King novel?) about the woman who was handcuffed in a cabin and her partner died of a heart attack, handcuffs make me a bit squeamish. And not in a good way)

I lay there pleasantly sated and let him run the scarves teasingly all over me. Tickling. Tantalizing.

He seemed to be considering his options….
Eventually he stood me up on the ground, and tied my wrists above my head to one of the bed posts. Then he knelt down. Odd to see a man in this position.

He licked up my thighs and caressed behind my knees accidentally finding one of my hidden hot spots. I let out a gasp and he seemed quite pleased with himself, seeing the sudden wetness. He pulled my hips towards him and buried his tongue between my legs. But only for a few moments. Just enough to make my eyes glaze a bit and my breathing speed up.

Then he picked me up, hands still suspended above me and impaled me on his cock. My legs wrapped around his waist, back arched against the bed post. He yanked my hair back with glorious force and started sucking on my tongue. Then biting my earlobes, neck and nipples. I would have thought that this position would be limiting, but he managed to slam into me with surprising strength and stamina.

He eventually untied my hands, and lay on the bed. With my hands free I was able to play with his nipples, and scratch him while riding him. I do appreciate a man who can handle a bit of roughness without being a baby about it.

He then sat up, reached down and started rubbing my clit while I rode him. He held my wrists behind me and I again arched my back and just went with the sensations, almost losing the ability to concentrate on keeping up the rhythm with him.

I could have gone on like this forever, but suddenly I felt him thrusting a bit harder and faster, and then there was nothing but exquisite release…