On Blowjobs- (warning somewhat of a bitchy post ahead)

(This post perhaps won’t endear me to my darling male readers)

In my fantasies I frequently envision myself kneeling down in front of a man and incapacitating him with my skill, tongue and sucking. As I work on his cock he becomes in capable of forming a coherent word or thought.

For me, this is ideal. When I am performing this act on a man I consider it a gift. And I want to own it and control where I go with it.

Some women love giving blow jobs. The crave it. They feel incomplete after an encounter if they haven’t had the chance to take him in their mouth.

Me? not so much. I’m not one of those women who hate it and refuse to swallow or anything like that. But I am decidedly neutral on the subject. I have to be in the mood.

It actually causes me more than a little bit of pain – I’ve had jaw issues for years. I haven’t chewed gum since high school. The more blow jobs I give – the quicker the pain comes. So the first time in a while I can handle OK. But doing it again too soon? Well, you better cum fast honey, cause I can’t linger.

So as far as I’m concerned? Blow jobs have to be somewhat of a special treat. And I want to be in control. I absolutely abhor men who push down on my head while doing it. A not-so-subtle hint that he would like me to go deeper.

I wonder how their egos would take it if I started demanding that they thrust deeper? Oh, that’s as far as you can go? Oops!

Ahem. Anyhow. I had a boyfriend once who had the audacity to compare me to another girl in the oral sex department. I was much younger and therefore more insecure back then, so he should consider himself fortunate that I simply took his comments as a personal challenge to give him the best blow job of his 19 years.

The next person I dated called them “hummers.” Perhaps because of the pleasurable sensation a man feels when the woman hums in the midst of it? I’ve never heard anyone use the expression before or since. But I do find it difficult to mention the vehicle of the same name with a straight face now.

So back to the incoherence – I prefer my men to end up in this state for a variety of reasons:

a) He’s happy so he won’t get all pushy on my head
b) It will most likely end quickly so I’m not in as much pain
c) Who doesn’t like their partner to be mindless with bliss?

Anyone else have some less traditional thoughts on blowjobs?

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Fantasy Fuck: Sex With a Stranger

The cabin was huge and luxurious. I knew no one there save the host couple. A gloriously relaxing weekend lay ahead of me…there were about a dozen of us there in total, and each couple or single guest had their own room. Bliss.

That first night after dinner everyone decided to go to the bar in town – relishing the idea of the having the cabin to myself I opted to stay behind. I decided to take a shower, then snuggle into my bed with a book – I was tired from the long drive out to the lake.

The water pressure was surprisingly strong for a cabin and I enjoyed feeling the spray pounding my body. It soothed away all tensions, and as I lathered and caressed myself I slipped into a state of warm, moist relaxation. Feeling pleasantly wet and aroused I stepped into my room wearing nothing but a towel and a smile.

Suddenly I felt a hot body press up against me from behind- squeezing my breasts and reaching below my towel. Before I had a chance to feel alarm I felt his fingers slip between my legs and begin rubbing my clit. Then all I felt was heat and pleasure- my back involuntarily arching – thrusting out my breasts into his groping palm.

He yanked off my towel, turned me around and I found that I vaguely recognized him from dinner. It seems I wasn’t the only one who stayed behind. He was naked and his exquisitely cut body was already wet and hard.

Still rubbing my clit, he leaned down to suck my nipples – biting them with unapologetic and delicious pain. I moaned and found myself pressing tighter against his chest. He pushed me back towards the bed, so I lay with my knees over the edge, feet touching the floor. He leaned over and pinned my hands over my head with one hand, thrusting his tongue in my mouth and squeezing my nipple with his other hand. His hard cock rubbed against my cunt – back and forth teasing it – making me wetter and panting more with each passing second.

Then suddenly his cock was gone and my nipple released. But I had no time to register a sense of loss or disappointment before I felt a quick darting tongue between my legs. My hands still over my head, I clenched the blankets above me as he tongue fucked me and sucked up my juices.

Wave after wave of heat and pleasure rolled over me. I had no capacity for word or thought. I could feel myself shuddering and he sucked on my clit and made me orgasm for what felt like an eternity.

He was still hot and hard and I didn’t want him to leave before he’d fucked me. He was sstanding over me glistening and erect – so I sat up and began stroking his penis. The stroking changed to sucking and soon I moved back onto the bed and had him kneeling over me on all fours. Licking his shaft, massaging his balls, teasing the head with my tongue to taste his wetness.

I wanted to be fucked. I wanted feel that cock slamming into me. I wanted to be violated and used. So I stopped sucking and told him to fuck me hard. Now.

Whoever he was, he was obedient. He slid down and thrust into me without hesitation. And he fucked me like his life depended on it. He slammed and thrust and pumped and grinded without cease – hard and fast. And when he was done? He kissed me goodbye and went back to his room.

I never did catch his name.

More Fantasy Fucks:

Hubman of Hubman’s Hangout
Veronica of Another Suburban Mom
Aurore of Dangerous Liasons
Topaz of Gemology
Enchanted Mistress of Your Sweetest Taboo
Petal of Secret Life of a Yummy Mommy
Autumn of the First Day of Autumn
Dick Fitzwell of The Taste of Another Man’s Wife
Pink Vixxxen of the Kink Chronicles
Bdenied of Cuckhold Husband
Perv of Perv in TO
Nyxmist of Nyxie’s Corner
Library Vixen

The woman who brings us all together: Kimberly of the Errant Wife

Why Waste It On Talking?

If hands are my favourite part of the body, then I would have to say that my next favourite is the tongue. I may even extend that to the entire mouth, but the tongue is the cherry on the sundae.

Like hands, sexually it can do so much more to arouse than the penis can. With a properly used tongue, I could be convinced to get naked without ever being physically touched. Of course, I certainly wouldn’t want to waste a good tongue on words alone…

A quick lick on an earlobe, and down the nape of my neck can create endless shivers all over my body and result in slow sighs or involuntary gasps. A tongue trailing down my clavicle – perhaps leaving a trail of kisses in its wake is pure bliss.

And nipples? My cunt throbs just thinking about an ocean of possibilities. Licking the aureolae, blowing on them, sucking on them, and finally biting them. Enough time spent on that area along can result in my pouncing on you with impatience and tearing your clothes off.

Someone told me once that he considered french kissing to be second base. Well if that’s true, then I have absolutely no interest in first base. As far as I’m concerned, unless we’re related, you have absolutely no excuse for kissing me without getting at least a little tongue involved. I could extend the kiss goodnight portion of the evening for hours. And if a man called me up and said that he just wanted to make out on our first date (no dinner, no wooing..) I would probably consider him a great catch.

And no, I’m not forgetting the obvious. To feel a hot wet tongue trail down my stomach or up my inner thigh – to experience the exquisite, back arching tense of anticipation as it inches closer between my legs…

That initial flick of pressure and wetness…both hot and cold at the same time. Then nothing but heat…His lips kissing my cunt…his tongue creating such a wave of sensations that each moment of pleasure is indecipherable from the next. One moment he’s sucking my clit, the next he’s tongue fucking me.

It’s all I can do to stay relatively still, and not accidentally bruise him with a bucking pelvis. I simply arch my back more and clutch the blankets tighter and tighter. I involuntarily lock my legs around his back- locking my ankles and preventing his escape.

His tongue is mine. Orgasm after orgasm crashes over me. he is sucking up my juices and I’m moaning and screaming – simultaneously telling him to stop because it’s too much and locking my ankles even tighter as he grins up at me with no intention of releasing me…

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 risqué 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….