You worthless whore (NSFW)

I don't know why I bother with you. Seriously, you're a tease, you're vicious, you're a total cock-tease, you pick boys up and play with them like a cat and a mouse, and you throw them away. At least kill them or let them go, but to let them hang there in a state of limbo is unreasonable, and it's mean.

Thankfully, you never played with me. It was obvious we'd be pals from day one. We met on a boat, out on a huge lake. You were playing with the hearts of males who earn more in a year that I'd ever want to make in a lifetime. They're boys, regardless of income and net asset value.

When we left together that same day, I started 10 feet away from you. We ended up in another state, booking adjoining hotel rooms because I sure as hell wasn't going to sleep in the same bed as you. You told me it would be OK, that you trusted me, and I knew it was a ploy from the start. I am not a conquest.

Our time together from that point forward let months pass while we just hung out, had fun, tormented bartenders and hotel concierge desks and travel agencies. You could afford to travel, so you'd come see me in the most mystical places around the globe. 9 months of that, and I never touched you once. I never wanted to.

A month ago, you told me that I was a throw-away. I pull my right hand back and slapped you in the face, bringing a rose color to where my fingers glanced your cheek. You cried, I laughed. You cried more, and I laughed even harder. You covered your cheek and yelled at me that a man never hits a woman. I locked eyes with you, once they were open, and said "and so far, I still have never hit a woman."

We had fresh fruit here on this island, a full month later from the first time I recall ever touching you. It wasn't the touch of a brother or a friend, a touch of a lover or one of the many boys whose hearts you play with. My touch was the touch of an enemy. I should have used a fist, but I didn't want to be seen with a battered waste of space.

So how did we end up here?

I think it's because I tell you NO where the boys just cower and kow-tow to your every whim. "Let's have seafood" you said at lunch, to which I responded NO. "That's it, no?" Correct. "And you have what right to tell me this?" I'm a man. "Oh, so men are better than women?" At making logical decisions, that's also correct.

I saw your look of anger at me. You wanted to start quoting whatever bullshit you learned in feminine studies, but you know I have a logical and scientifically accurate response to pretty much everything your parents spent $100,000 on helping you learn. So you bit your tongue.

I saw your look of sadness at me. You crave my attention, but your addiction to what you know by rote completely bores me in every sexual way.

I saw your look of questioning when I left you for 3 hours, coming back with no story to tell you.

I saw your look of intrigue when you caught me shoving fresh 100 Swiss Franc bills into my briefcase, bundled and wrapped nicely. You didn't question it.

So there we were, just finishing up our dinner. I paid the bill because I felt I owed you for disappearing this morning with no warning. We talked pleasantly at dinner, but I saw your eyes on me in a heavier way than I can remember in recent months.

When we adjourned to our hotel rooms, crossing the hotel hallway like a modern day love story, I knew there would be trouble when I unlocked my door and I didn't hear your key turn. Instead, I turned around and your hand on the key, in the lock, ready to turn.

You yelled quietly when I grabbed your long, red hair hard and pulled you across the hall. When your back hit my door, I put my hand up to your neck and held it against the door, watching your eyes open wide in shock, your lips parse slightly. I kissed you, immediately and faithfully, my hand still tightening around your neck.

I pulled away from your lips, your hands catching my body and pulling me back. I tightened my grip on your neck and stepped backwards, just barely out of your grasp. Your hand criss-crossed, your long fingernail attacking at me either to strike me for pain or grab me for passion. Instead, I released your neck and ran my strong hand down your chest to your dress, buttoned in front.

Your buttons were dangling or on the floor before you could know it.

I was surprised by your body, even though I had seen it in bikinis and the like. For some reason, a woman who is half out of her clothes, even by the will of my hands and her body, is sexier than a woman who is fully in her bikini. When I pulled my body into yours, your chest and hips touched mine.

Our lips connected for the first time, aggressively, our hunger for each other coming out of nowhere. Until this point, I didn't even know you had this passion inside of you.

My door was already unlocked, and your hand left my hip and turned the French doorknob. I pushed your body with both of my hands against your shoulders, and you fell into the room. You turned from me to wander towards the bedroom, but my lithe arm snaked out and grabbed at your long hair again, pulling you backwards towards me.

My hands grabbed at your tits, then at your shoulders as I pulled your dress down to your hips. I circled your hip and belly with one arm as the other unclasped your bra, and I used my hips and my hands to force you to the bed in front of us.

I bent you over the bed, the top half of your dress fall down to your waist, doubling up the skirt portion. I pushed your arms over your head, holding them down by your elbows as I pushed my groin against your ass. Your moan told me everything I wanted to hear.

I held your elbows down, putting my face against your neck as I bit and licked up to your earlobe, where I continued to taste your skin, your perfume, your body scent. I released one arm and slid your skirt up along with the rest of your dresstop, exposing your panties. I quick slide of my hand inside of them, along your ass, down to your pussy lips, proved to me that you needed nothing more than this.

My hand reached to my back pocket, grabbing a condom I had kept there in case I came across another woman who was deserving of my cock inside of her. You don't deserve it, but you're getting it because you want it this bad that I had to take it when I was good and ready.

I unbuttoned my pants and let them fall to my ankles. I continued to hold your arms down as best as I can with one hand while my other hand pulled your panties away from your pussy, but still covering your ass. I tore open my condom with one hand and my teeth, and carefully placed it on my cock.

With your panties pushed away from your drenched pussy, I slid my cock in, not taking the time to make sure you were ready. I slid all the way in, not teasing or giving you any opportunity to do anything but say the word you said: "Yes."

And then I fucked you. Not passionately like I would a woman I respected, but like a whore who I just bought for a $200 meal. And I did fuck you that way, for my pleasure. Your pussy is tight, it's wet, it's grasping for me to pound you, so I obliged, but only for what I want.

I fucked you with your face in the duvet cover for what seemed like eternity, but the clock showed me only a half hour passed since I had slipped inside of you. Your hands are now on my hips, wrapped behind your back, trying to prevent me from ravaging you as deeply as I am.

I considered finishing without coming, but as I pummeled into your pussy, I realized your breaths were getting shorter. I grabbed one of your wrists that stopped me from entering you fully, and pulled out almost completely before fucking you as deep as possible. As I heard you inhale, I grabbed your hair and pulled it tight, causing your neck to arch back just as I slammed into you again. That was all it took as you swore and cussed and told me you were coming.

I didn't stop my pounding, because this fucking is not for your pleasure. In fact, I am angry that you came so quickly, you whore who needs no foreplay, no passion, no teasing, no attention, just a dinner and drinks and a complete attack on your body.

After you finished, I pulled out. Your rolled over on the bed to look at me, so I pulled on your legs and tore you from the bed cover. You tried to stand as both feet hit the floor, but I pulled my knee up, slipped a foot behind your knee, and pull it towards me, causing you to buckle and fall to the floor, ass first.

The condom was off before your eyes opened. I grabbed your hair again, pulled your mouth to my cock. One hand on the back of your neck, one hand grabbing your hair, my cock choking its way into your throat past your tongue.

The same hard and deep fucking I gave your pussy I now give your mouth and face. I held back nothing, not even when you gagged, not even when the tears rolled out of the sides of your eyes. I felt spit collect on your tongue and into your gums as I rammed my cock, thick and as long as it gets, in and out of your mouth.

You looked up at me, almost pleading. Not for me to stop, but to finish. A few more thrusts, a few more tears picking up your mascara and eyeliner, and I was there. I pulled my cock out, and without asking, started the process of drenching this beautiful face of a cheap whore with my come.

Shot after shot landed on your face, on your cheeks, on your nose, on your forehead. I covered you completely, emptying days of build-up from deep within.

With my last spurt and a last gasp from my lips, I finished. You looked at me and almost gave away a smile. I told you I'd go get a towel and walked to the bathroom.

When I returned, your were sitting on the bed, your face coated with my come primer. When you saw me return, my cock still hard and a new condom on, you laid back on the bed, spread your legs again, and stared at me. I slipped into your pussy again, this time taking things a little slower. My fingers played with my come on your face, tracing lines down to your mouth, causing you to finish what my promised-but-ignored towel would have cleaned up.

And I fucked you, again. I fucked you still like a whore, but a whore bought and paid for and used up, beyond the allowed time that such a small purchase would normally cover.

It didn't take long, either. Another half hour of me fucking you, my remaining come rolling down your cheeks to the bed and your neck below, and you came again. You didn't verbalize it, but your moans and groans were of desperation, your orgasm fully aligned with a hope that I would come again.

And I did. I pulled out of your pussy, hopped onto the bed and straddled your gorgeous tits as I unleashed a second load into your open mouth (held open by my fingers), onto your chin and neck and a little on the bed.

Now I'm finished. Your orgasm continued even as I came on you a second time. As I step back from the bed, admiring the tease I turned into a whore, owning fully, I pulled my boxers and pants back up. My shirt, which was never even unbuttoned, lay hung over my belt. I looked at you again and noticed a smile. Maybe you feel you won this round?

I turned from the bed and walked to the door. "Where are you going?" you called as my own hotel room door closed behind me. Your key, still in the door, allowed me to enter your room, remove my clothes and slide into your bed.

I heard through the door that you opened the door from my room. Were you chagrined at the DO NOT DISTURB sign hanging from your door handle?

May, 2000. "Electra"

The problem with Sane and the ladies

Written earlier and posted while I'm having lunch in Greektown.

I received some great emails and chats over the past few weeks from a variety of ladies (where are the fucking MEN) aghast at my pickiness over women.

It doesn't take long for me to search through years of journals to come up with the reason for my pickiness. It isn't my lack of attraction for a woman or confidence issues or the lack of desire on my part to take a vertical girl and make her horizontal in 3 seconds. It isn't any fear of commitment or lack of wanting to share my heart. It isn't that I set ungodly high standards, even.

The number one problem I am facing, and have faced for more than 3 years, is the lack of women who are interested in chasing and being chased, but not in the most obvious fashion.

I've gone out on a number of dates: some obviously dates, others ended up being dates or just being fun times with a beautiful lady. They've always ended up with two different outcomes: (a) she wasn't attracted to me or (b) she was TOO attracted to me. Both are downers, really.

I like teasing and I love being teased. Even though I often write about how women are generally the first ones to kiss me, I prefer to be the one to kiss them first. But I don't do that unless they're showing signs of attraction, and lately most women act like little girls and are totally hands off, even if they find me hot. Hence why they end up kissing me first.

When it comes to even a purely sexual relationship with a friend-with-benefits, I still like those signs of attraction that the well trained woman offers: the touches, the smiles, pulling hair away from my face so she can watch me talk and listen, the hand on my side or my shoulder, the stares at my face while I drive. This form of teasing HAS to exist at some point before I make a move or let her make a move, because it is a solid foundation of attraction.

I had a great friend who turned into a lover not too long ago (years, but not decades). I lusted after her from day 1, but she never showed a sign. Months past and we ran around the town, having a blast at dinner, drinking, even goofy fun at her pad. Then one day, she emails me and asks me if I find her attractive. Umm, yeah, duh.

So we end up making out -- a lot. She was a terrible kisser, one of the worst ever. I taught her to slow down, to show me her desire by NOT destroying my face and tongue and lips. Eventually, she got the gist of kissing and things were solid. We'd jerk off in front of each other (often) but I never touched her below the neck. When the clothes came off, we'd spoon but not fuck.

Finally, we had sex and it wasn't that good. I only came maybe 1 out of 4 times, she just wasn't a good lover. She was so hands off physically, but she'd tell me how much she was attracted to me. To this day she continues to tell me that I'm the most attractive man she's ever met, let alone been with.

I broke it off after a few months, not really wanting to be with her sexually. It hurt her, but it didn't destroy her. She had a hot body and a cute face, so finding another guy to date or just fuck wasn't hard. Yet her scene was mostly boys with big dreams but no goals, so of course she bored and swept through a chain of boys in short order. We never touched again, I had no desire.

When I think about the boredom in bed, I can attribute it to the lack of her showing me she wanted me, being part of that great tease that can stay solid for years through a relationship. In some of my emails, you readers have told me that I need to jump the gun and kiss everyone I go out with, just to see. Here's the thing: I don't. If a lady isn't mature enough to play the game correctly, then she's going to be a boring lover, even if she's good in bed.

Looking over EVERY first date I've been on, I can honestly say that I've been attracted to practically everyone, but none have shown me the type of soft teasing that I really like. Saying to my face that I'm hot or that they want me is nice and all, but it's not as nice as the sly look in their eyes when they show me how much they want me in some way, and are willing to play it slowly at least for one night.

So I usually go out on a first date, and then never a second. Some fall into friendship roles, some pass away into the night like ships passing. Rarely do I notice the wake trails because the tease was never there.

It's rough on me, especially as I age. I tried dating some women closer to my age, but there is such animosity and anger towards men. I try to explain to them that their 20s was about dating boys with no goals, no successes, no passions, but few understand. They just want to feel 25 again and they can't. They could, with me, but the drama and baggage is too heavy for me to lift.

So I date younger. I'm shocked lately that the majority of people I meet who aren't that much younger than me consider me too old to date. I've heard it from 10 women in the past 6 months alone, and yet all I hear from most of them lately is how immature the guys are they date. 1+1=2, it's not hard to figure out.

On the asking-out front, I've been bombing a LOT lately. It's odd to me that in LA I crashed and burned 100%. In Chicago my numbers have been a little bit better, maybe getting the phone number from 1 in 5 women I talk to. It's not a horrible percentage, I'm not a 6'1" alumnus with the face of Johnny Depp, so I push forward. Yet when I go out on first dates there, it's the same ritual: either they jump on me too fast, or they don't give me a single sign of interest.

So that's where I am: a whole slew of pretty girls in my life, and either they're not into me (which is fine) or they're too into me (which is an ego stroke but bad for my sex drive). Yet I'll keep on keeping on, looking for someone to spend time with -- but not too much time; someone to make out with -- but not try to force them to be with me and only me; someone to fuck -- but not force into a love affair that neither of us can handle.

It's not a rough life, bachelorhood, but it does get boring. I never feel lonely, but incomplete without a fun person I can hitch to my wing and fly through life at a slow pace, eating the best foods, drinking the best cocktails, fucking with intensity when desired and passion when required. As the midsummer nights approach, I start wondering if I am doing the right thing turning down those who are too into me.

I think so. I can't break a heart, because it takes a little piece of mine when I do.

Whoa, summer horniness

The last few weeks I haven't been excessively horny. Well, I've had my share of fantasies and jerk-off time over one particular long distance lady, but that doesn't count because she is there and I am here. So we can scratch that off because of distance for the moment.

Today, I woke up with HORRIFIC morning wood. I'm not talking about the kind of morning wood that you just poke at until it goes away (one way or another), I'm taking about the kind of boner that you want to parade out in front of the world.

I woke up at 6am, went to make coffee, and couldn't read the coffee maker because Little Fire Hydrant decided to bang into the cabinet in front of me. Yes, folks, my kitchen cabinet got laid. Ouch, by the way.

It banged into the door jam when I turned around coming out of my bedroom. I almost took out my cat who decided to jump up on the couch at 7:30. The shower towel had a happy home to hang on.

W.T.F. I'm not a young guy, aren't these problem supposed to go away? I feel like a 14 year old with the little fucker just popping up and staying there. And it's a bit frustrating because I have (A) no local lovers, (B) no desire to go out on dates to find one and (C) no patience for masturbation lately.

So I let him salute the cabinet, the door, the cat and the bath towel for as long as he would stand at attention, then I just had to take care of business. Half hour down the drain (or in the Kleenex, however you prefer to look at it. Does anyone want to look at it?).

It's Monday. I have one trip to the east coast planned this week, and at month's end I will find myself south of Florida in one of the many gorgeous latino countries for a week. I plan on having a LOT of sex on one of these trips, but I won't mention which one.

Still, summer horniness is something I admire. Air conditioning but still sweating, the dark kiss of the sun on each other's skin, body spooge all over the place, screaming and yelling and moaning in the bedroom after an awesome night out at dinner or a show or whatever. It's something I admire, I appreciate, and god damn it I could use more of that.

But still, I find myself SO FUCKING BORED lately with the ladies. Not all ladies, and I've met a few in recent months who are 100% fuckable and dateable but either are not interested in the Sane or are too fucked up in the heart to make a run for it. It's Chicago, I know it is. My visits to practically every other city in the States and in the world has led me to realize the ocean is much bigger than previous thought, and there are FAR many more fishies in it. But still, I'm Chicago. It's not my name, it is who I am. I love my town, myself, and need to get out more to meet someone worth my time who also wants her mouth on the Sane's suntanned body.

So I urge everyone to beat me with a big stick if they hear that I am staying home. Seriously, there is no reason for me to be reading a book and watching movies on Saturday, just because I've become so misanthropic. It's a curse, because that misanthropy isn't worldwide focused, it's just on Chicago.

Maybe I should start a Chicago 30SB group. At the very least, we can bang, right?

The end is the means

Auto-posted at 2:00pm as I am on a flight from Europe back to Chicago.

Kari and I spent that night together, but we didn't fuck. Oral sex was good to both, really good if you consider how few women can make me come from a blowjob. I slept in her bed but woke up much earlier than her. It's a blessing and a curse for me: 3 hours of sleep and I'm revved to start my day.

It sucks when it's the first night over at a dame's place, though. I don't want to be "that guy" who gives a gal a good time and then shovels off before she awakens. Note that even with booty calls and friends-with-benefits, I'm still a gentleman out of the bedroom. I woke up at sunrise feeling a lot of pain in my bruised side. I turned over and looked to see Kari still sleeping, her blanket pulled up to her belly, her perfect tits and gorgeous long neck showing minor signs of my come from not many hours ago.

She's pretty, but not stunning, but she sleeps smiling, and that's a pleasure to wake up to. I get up and her hardwood floors creak, so I use my silent-walk technique to get myself to the kitchen to scrounge up some food. Her fridge isn't too packed and neither is her freezer, so I ring up my assistant who happens to be in the city and ask her to pick up some eggs, cheese, a tomato, an onion and a package of mushrooms. 45 minutes later and my assistant is meeting me out front on this cold spring day.

I find her frying pan (which needs a mean cleaning) and some oil (which I am hoping isn't rancid) and whip up an omelette (4 egg, thankyouverymuch). I sit in her living room window, grab the notepad and pencil that my assistant brought me, and take the notes that cover the journal leading to now.

Where am I going with this? Is she going to be my first one night stand, or is she looking for a lover for those lonely summer nights? Will she booty call me (I haven't done the booty call thing in 2 years) or will be be friends with benefits, or just friends who never approach the bedroom again?

It doesn't really matter, but I find myself enamored with her body. She has the shoulders and neck and back and arms that I love on a woman; her belly is almost perfect. She's confident and studious, works a regular job for regular pay, and isn't too spend-thrifty. She won't be a sugar-baby because she doesn't care for material things like I do.

At about 10am, I hear her get up. Walls shake from the floor that creaks, so I stand up and walk to the kitchen to get the frying pan going again. A little oil (ok, a lot of oil), crack the first egg and there she is: wearing new panties but also wearing my dress shirt from the night before. Women, I know it's cliché but wearing a man's shirt is hotter than hell. It's an ego stroke to end all ego strokes (other than bragging to your friends about us).

She has a smile on her face, asks me what I'm doing. I'm making you breakfast. "That makes it two for two then." Huh? "Most guys don't make me come the first time we fool around, and no one makes me breakfast." I guess you'd hungry, right? "Sure."

I slice up some more tomato and onions, drizzle oil on the mushrooms, and toss up a perfect omelette a few feet in the air as I flip it to completion. A little cheese (read: lot) and flip it onto her plate.

My shirt is unbuttoned on her body, and it's making Little Fire Hydrant perk up a little. I'm wearing my jeans, but I don't want to be uncomfortable so I start thinking about what I should do today. I'm on a break from a hellacious winter work schedule, with no major travel plans ahead. Money is good, plans with family are set, most of my friends are busy with family and work, so I have as much time as she has for me to stick around.

"So," she said, chomping down her omelette gracefully. So? "I think we should fuck." Ok, I agree with that. "No, I mean after I brush my teeth." Uh oh, LFH bounces up a bit more. "Do you have condoms?" Of course I do. "Let me finish this and you can meet me in the bedroom." I didn't say I agree to this idea. "You will." She removes my dress shirt and lets it fall to the floor. She wins.

She gets up, her tits even better than I had expected, and strolls to the bathroom to scrub that morning breath from her mouth. I already took care of brushing my teeth (my overnight medicine bag has it all). I watch her stroll out of the bathroom and remove her panties in the hallway as she disappears into her bedroom. I grab my medicine bag, double-check to make sure my favorite condom is at the ready, and head on it.

She under the covers, which is a bit of a thrill killer. But she's smiling, which balances it well. A sexy woman with a sexy smile basically tell me to get inside of her is probably the hottest thing a woman can do, short of wearing glasses. I get into bed, crawl under the covers, and she immediately rolls over to her side to clench her body against mine, her head on my chest.

"I said it last night, I don't want a boyfriend." I know, that's a good thing. "Let me say that I haven't had a lot of guys I've fucked, but they all get emotionally attached and annoy me quickly." I won't. Who's to say you won't be the one to get all weak-kneed for me? "Maybe I will."

She turns her face up and I bend my chin down and we try to kiss. It didn't work as well as it does in the movie, but I like kissing her. I like knowing this beautiful and sexy lady wants my dick in her.

We kiss for quite awhile, her hand stroking my cock readily without my prompting. The gal can kiss, that's for sure. And her moans are ambrosia to this lover's ears and body. My hands dance playfully on her body and I find her spots are her neck, her back just under her shoulder-blades, her forearms and her legs just below her hips.

"I want your dick in my mouth again," she says. I nod my head no, letting her know non-verbally that I want to save it for her pussy. I flip onto my back and pull her on top of me, my cock throbbing between my belly and hers. She pulls her hair out of my face and smiles at me, causing me to smile back. Then I laugh, which makes her laugh, too. Laughter in bed really is funny. And sexy.

We kiss some more, my hands in her hair and her hands in my hair, then she pulls back again. "I should let you know, I don't ever come from penetration." Never? "Never." Do you get close? "Sometimes." What breaks it? "I don't know." Willing to work on it, seriously work on it? "I want to, but seriously sounds scary." Give me some time and we'll find a way to do it.

With that, she crawls her face down my chest to my belly, my thighs, and envelopes my cock in her mouth. I moan, and she strokes my cock with her two hands below the head while popping the head in and out of her mouth, keeping her tongue on the parts that matter. The gal is really good at this. She'd get a mouthful every day if it was up to me.

After a good ten minutes of fantastic sloppy head, I pull her face off of me. She resists a bit, really liking my cock hitting the back of her throat. A few times she almost had her face buried in my pubes, but she gagged enough that she had to withdraw. I know she's one who can overcome that gag reflex, which means some furious and aggressive throat-fucking to come. Lucky me.

I pull her up to me and roll her over, pushing her shoulders down. I want to get on her back so badly, but she pushes my head to one nipple and screams at me to lick it. I do, but I still tease enough that she pulls my cheeks down to it against my will. The more I fight, the more she moans. My hands are on her forearms and her back, eliciting moan after moan.

"I think you need to fuck me now." I think I need to lick your pussy and clit for a half hour. "No, I need your cock inside me."

While she is straddling me, my cock laying on top of her shaven pubes, I reach over and grab my medicine bag. As I reach for a condom, the bag topples over to the floor, spilling the entire contents across the hardwood. Shit. She laughs, as do I.

I get between her legs, on my knees, and stroke my cock a little bit more to regain the hardness I like for penetration. It's not as hard as it can be, but that's LFH for you. I'm not nervous, and she spreads her pussy and tickles her clit herself while I open the condom, squeeze the tip, and unroll it over my cock.

Her eyes are on me, not on my dick. I push her hand away from her pussy and rub my cock her across her lips and lightly on her clit, which is fully engorged and ready for a good licking. She smiles as I tease her, battling my tease with her own goading glances. I put my cock between her pussy lips, the head just barely penetrating them and look at her. She nods. As I push in slowly, I realize she is completely soaked, but her pussy lips are full enough to prevent major spillage. Her smile retreats and her eyes open nearly to the point of bugging out.

"Fuck, that's thicker than it looks" she says as I slip the cock head in finally. "Ohhhh, fuck that's good." Yes, tell me that. "I love it, put more in." I need to hear that you really want it. "Ohhh I really want it" she says as I slide another inch inside.

"Fuck, put it all in." I refuse, putting only the first three inches inside of her, then pulling out to make sure she's wet enough. "No, put it back in" she implores as I pull out almost entirely.

She grabs my hips and pulls me, and I give her a little power as I slide back in, only 3 inches. Her pussy is wet and fairly tight, paying the rent expected from my cock landlord. "God damn, put it all the way in." I nod my head no, smiling nefariously as her eyes pop out again when I give it a little more penetration than before. "Yes, like that. Please fuck me." Why? "I need it, so bad."

I push in further, spreading her legs a bit more on the bed and laying my own body on top of hers. "Oh God please more." I pull out again, grabbing her biceps in my hands as I kiss her. Her eyes are still opened as I push in another inch, leaving the final inch outside.

"Ohhhh my" she moans. I love her verbal openness. My cock is now almost entirely inside of her, but her moans cause it to get thicker than usual. "Oh fuck, I can feel you stretching me." I look at her eyes, which are open but dazed.

I pull my cock out almost entirely, leaving just the head in. I pull one hand down from her shoulder, lick my thumb, and put my hand flat on her belly with my thumb on her clit. "Oh God, yes. Please fuck me now." I abide by her request and push my cock in, feeling it thicken at the looks she's giving me, at the "O" shape of her mouth that wants to speak or moan but can't.

I still don't give it all to her. I leave the last inch out, but she doesn't know it. I pick up the pace, leaving my thumb barely touching her clit, almost no pressured contact, just warmth and touch. "God I needed this, I needed your dick so bad." I'm fucking her faster now, still refusing to push entirely in.

"Yes, fuck me, Sane." Do you like my cock? "Ohh, I love it." You know it's in your pussy, right? "Oh God yes, it's amazing." We kiss, me temporarily withdrawing my hand from her clit as I embrace her face. We kiss, and I slowly penetrate and withdraw, forcing myself to withhold from entering her fully.

As we kiss, I nuzzle my cheek to her cheek, kissing her cheek, forcing her to kiss mine. I let her kiss my chin, my nose, my mouth as I continue to pummel her slowly and softly.

As I return my finger to her clit, I realize just how wet she is. She's loving every minute of this. I give it a little tickle, just a touch of pressure. Her eyes close as I push into her, stretching her, while giving her clit just enough attention to make her feel filled and attended to.

She's biting her lip, moving her head to one side as I continue my rhythm, trying to find the rhythm that she needs. I continue to thumb her clit, and suddenly her pelvic bone is pushing against me in rhythm to my cock falling into her. That's just the sign I need. Instead of pressing harder on her clit with my thumb, I push down on her pubic bone, right under her pubic hair. I massage her clit still gently with my thumb, but the pressure on her pubic bone causes her eyes to open, she screams "My God, don't stop" and then closes her eyes again.

As I push onto her pubic bone, I thrust my cock into her, still refraining from giving her the last inch. She starts making moaning noises, and her hips are thrusting back at me, knowing subconsciously themselves that there is more there to conquer. I pull out entirely and slide back in, pushing down on her pubic bone with each thrust, removing pressure a little with each withdrawal.

"Fuck, don't stop, please don't stop." I say nothing and continue the rhythm, the pressure on and off, the penetration and withdrawal, increasing the speed at which my thumb is circling her clit, but not increasing the pressure yet.

Finally she gets there "Oh fuck, I'm coming, please, please." I laugh a little inside, wondering what she's begging for. Her clit pushes up at my, and only then do I push back with my thumb. I also push down on her pubic bone as hard as I can, finally pushing my cock all the way into her, completely. "Ohhh fuck yes, fuck fuck fuck, yes, God yes." I stop fucking her, at least I don't withdraw anymore. Instead, I push my cock as deep as possible, holding her hip with one hand, keeping my cock as far in as possible.

My other hand is pushing her pubic bone down, my thumb is pushing and releasing against her clit in the exact rhythm I was fucking her before. I keep my cock pressed inside of her, and feel her body quake. Her chin is aimed at the ceiling, her face tipped backwards, her tits are up as her back arches. I keep my cock pushed in, but I withdraw the pressure on her clit. I still keep my hand pressed against her pubic bone, as her hips push back. My cock is soaked.

Finally she comes down. "Oh God no, I'm I'm" I look up and her eyes are filled with tears. No sad tears or happy tears, just emotional release. "I'm sorry" she says as she closes her eyes, pushing tears down both sides of her temples. I laugh a little, release my hand from her hips and clit, grasp her shoulders and put my chest on hers as I nuzzle into her neck.

"Oh God I didn't think THAT would happen." I chuckle again, saying nothing.

She takes 15 minutes to come down entirely. My cock is still hard, still inside her. Finally, she lets out a final strong breath. "Ok, wow. Just. Wow." I smile as she sees me watching her face.

"Shit, did you come?" I nod my head no. "Oh crap. I don't think I can handle anymore fucking." I smile and nod and begin to pull out of her. "NO. Don't pull out, just don't push in yet. I think I'm sore." Hah!

"Holy crap, what the hell were you doing to me?" Nothing, just investigating your body. "No, I mean that crazy shit with your hand on my pubes." Oh, just seeing what brings you off. "Fuck yeah, you can do that shit always. I love it."

We kiss again, and I fight hard not to fuck her. At this point, I could actually pound the hell out of her for 2 hours, she was that sexy and gorgeous when she came on my cock. But I can tell she's sore, I was letting her pussy adjust to my cock by not giving her all of it, and then I gave her the last inch pushing past her adjustment/comfort phase. It's a cheating trick, for sure.

"I want you to come." I'm actually OK. "No, it's not fair." How many times has a guy fucked you, come, and left you without anything? "Always. Well, often." So what's wrong if we consider the job done here this morning, and I'll get a little extra attention next time? "It's not fair to you." I just got to fuck you, I got to see your first good orgasm from a cock, I had my cock in your mouth for 10 minutes, what's the problem? "You need to come." How about I take a rain check? "Did you lose respect for me?" I laugh LOUDLY. Fuck no! I'm just happy with what we just had.

"Are you sure?" Yes, I'm sure! "I can suck you off again." I know you can, but I'm honestly OK.

I withdraw. My cock is still hard and she doesn't believe me. I'm honest when I say that orgasm is not the end result. Fucking isn't the end result. The end isn't justified by the means, the means are what matter. We had sex, really good sex. Not for very long, not very hard and hot and heavy, just a good fucking. She needed it, and I wanted to be the one to give it to her.

Sure, I'm horny, but that doesn't mean I have to satiate my desires right now. For me, I was just happy to please her. If it happens again, and I know it will, she'll get her chance to give me something and not get anything in return. Until then, we'll be pals. Good pals, I hope, but pals first. The next fucking can wait for another day.

A Man's Intimate Needs

Auto-posted at 1:00pm because I am on a return flight to Chicago today from Europe.

I had a bizarre discussion with a blogger recently regarding men in bed. She complained about how bad her recent lovers were, and wondered what she was doing wrong.

I've heard this before, and most of the time the answer is the same: you're a bad lover. No, no, not he's a bad lover, YOU'RE a bad lover.

I always laugh inside a little when I hear the trite complaints of a typical woman: "He needs to give me more attention" or "He moves too quickly" or the like. Guess what, women: you're the problem, not him.

A woman who is frigid in bed is going to have a guy who moves too fast. Why? Because he's the only one moving. It's plain as day, I've been with women like you. I get bored. Usually I'd rather go to sleep than even THINK of having sex.

If a guy is moving too fast, check yourself. Are you teasing him back? If he's going for the nipple, how about flipping him over and giving him a back rub, or roll him onto his back, straddle him, grab his face and kiss him for awhile? No, you're not "teaching him" anything new, you're just putting in as much work as he does.

Then there are the guys who orgasm too fast. Yes, I know there are actually men who have this problem for real, but in most situations that I've talked to, the guy is just trying to get there because the woman is showing no sign of pleasure. How about letting out a moan or even a little dirty talk? Be vocal, be physical, show him that you're having fun. When I see that a woman is actually having a good time when I'm pounding away, I last even longer.

I generally don't have a problem with stamina, but if the woman acts bored, then I'm bored, too. Let's just get it over with and skip sex in the future. What's with being all quiet and ladylike in bed? WE'RE FUCKING, so fuck me back.

Then you have the guy who is just BAD at sex: he pounds too hard on the clit, his legs shimmy like a jackrabbit when he's thrusting, etc. This is an easy solution, too: BE VOCAL. Asking him to slow down or go lighter actually works. You're not teaching him something he needs to know, you're letting him know that your body is different than past lovers.

I've been with lovers who can't orgasm unless I'm biting a nipple practically to the point of blood. I've been with lovers who can't have clitoral stimulation until 30 seconds before they're ready to pop. Each woman is different, and it is not the guy's job to figure out how they're different. If a woman wants good sex, she better be ready to explain her physical needs and issues as they arise.

It won't spoil the fun, it makes it better.

So there you have it: a man has intimate needs, too, but we're more vocal and aggressive about moving in the direction of orgasm. Women who lay there, silent, and don't vocalize what they're liking and not liking are frigid boring lovers. I sure as hell don't want her. Most guys won't either, and they'll hit the road as soon as the next lovely lady comes around who seems a bit more passionate about life.

Just because you're hot, have nice boobs, and think your pussy is heaven-sent doesn't mean that you're good in bed. From my experiences in my 20+ years of dating, I would say that half the women I've been with have been TERRIBLE lovers at first and needed their asses slapper (regularly) to get them into shape.

Open your mouth for more than our cocks and you might be surprised at how much better that guy you think is boring Mr. 5 Minutes becomes.

I had sex. And a date. Actually 2.

I had sex tonight. Not the kind of fast and furious sex you're probably used to here, not even in a bed. That kind of slow and passionate sex that includes every taste, every touch, with conversation and laughter in between sessions. The kind of sex everyone should hope for, but rarely gets.

We fucked on the dining table, sloppy sex that tasted amazing. It was loud in the room, the lights were bright, and our neighbors didn't care at all.

THE SETUP
It all started when an anonymous blogger and I chatted a bit online. Neither of us had much in the way of large plans later, and I'm flying out of the country tomorrow, so tonight would be a good night to get together with someone fun and cute. Since my in-town bootie calls number in the low zeros, I figure what better than to take a lovely lady out for dinner, drinks and good conversation?

I proposed we get together, and she said she'd let me know. Usually that's a bad sign, but it WAS last might. She left work, I went home. Eventually, she hit me up on the Google Chat, confirming wanting to do something.

We bantered back and forth about where to go: Taxim (tapas) or maybe Avec (French). I love Avec because it's good French cuisine served "family" style: everyone sitting at one big table, with their own orders.

I left my house at 7:55pm and told her I'd be there in 22 minutes. She didn't seem impressed with my ability to know times and distances. 21 minutes later, I pull up to her apartment building and stepped outside of the car to call her.

I'm here, but I'm a minute early. "Oh, that's a problem, I need a minute more" she joked. We laughed and she said she'd be right out front. She was a COMPLETE FUCKING KNOCKOUT in a purple dress. I told her to dress casually and she comes dressed in a way I'd expect a woman to dress for Alinea. Thank god for tanned women with great curves AND good legs who can dress. God graces me regularly.

I hold the car door for her and she makes a comment, to which I replied that my mother taught me well. We hit the main thoroughfare to get to the highway, and we're pulling up to Avec not 20 minutes later. Avec is a restaurant that packs itself to the gills. Family-style dining is WISE if you're busy, there is NEVER an empty chair. This makes it hard to give the hostess $20 for a seat when there are none. So I drop my name and we step outside.

THE TEASE
The hostess warns us that the bartender may or may not come outside. Anonymous Blogger and I look over the menu, her noting that she doesn't like heavy reds (generally my favorite) and both of us agreeing against pink wines. She likes Champagne, as do I, but there is neither Champagne nor prosecco on the menu. Drat!

Within 20 minutes, our 2 seats are called so we wander in. Our waiter is Gentile Dave (my nickname for him so I don't forget). I do ask him if he's Jewish Dave, to which he frighteningly/jokingly responds "No, Gentile Dave." Good enough. We're seated in between a party of 4 or 5 guys and a pregnant girl, with a bunch of ladies on the other side of us. Not many gorgeous people in the joint, but everyone's cute and dressed well.

I wore a simple pink linen dress shirt and jeans. Anonymous blogger had tits, I mean, she had a purple dress. Right. We decided to take a stab at a PINK sparkling wine, I believe a Baga Rose Brut. I could be wrong. The waiter wasn't sure if he even had it, so I proceeded to back it up with the best sparkling white on the menu. The price list was CHEAP.

A few minutes later, he arrives with our wine, the rose brut I ordered. He pours for me to check the wine, and I take a whiff and nod as he finishes my pour and then hers. GOOD wine. Perfect for a hot summer day.

Anonymous Blogger and I go over the menu. I'll call her Delecta from now on (it doesn't mean what you think it means). She hasn't been to Avec before, so I make a few recommendations. She wants the Yelp favorite small plate, and we decide on one large plate to share. Gentile Dave takes our order, and we don't see him much from that point on unfortunately. I hate shitty unfriendly unbantering waiters. FAIL.

We imbibe more of our sparkling pink and make GOOD conversation. She's laughing. A lot. I'm laughing. She notes that I talk about myself a lot, something I rarely do if EVER. But I'm comfortable with her, and I don't mind making a fool out of myself if it means she'll laugh again. Contagious, damn it.


THE FOREPLAY
The first small plate comes out: asparagus, hummus-s spread, on crostinis. It's VERY good. I don't eat asparagus often due to my kidney stones, but they didn't affect me at all tonight. Hott. My spooge will taste like asparagus for the next 2 days though.

We eat, in conversation, and continue laughing and drinking our rose sparkling wine.

The the date portion of the night comes: spicy chorizo, wrapped in dates, wrapped in bacon. She had 2 dates, I had 2 dates (hence the 2 dates of the night). I try to talk, but she shushes me and puts her finger up to her mouth. I'm not kidding, I was 80% tempted to throat fuck her then and there. If that wasn't the hottest move I've seen a woman due as a precursor to food fucking, I don't know what is. I think Little Fire Hydrant may have moved a bit to the left.

We eat the chorizo/bacon/date combos slowly. They're AMAZING.

More chat, all over the place. We do cover it all: movies, dating, fucking, food, friends, animals, family, hobbies. I even told her about a real sword fight I had. Fun.


THE FUCKING
We're on our second glasses each of the wine as the foreplay comes to a close. In perfect timing, the final small plate comes with the large plate hitting our table moments later. The small plate is a hand-crafted boudin (sausage) with fava beans, parsley and onions. GOOD, but fell far short of the other plates. But then the orgasm happen, and it was mutual, and it happened over and over: pork shoulder, basted with sausage (boudin) and noodles in its own cast iron tub.

Her eyes rolled up into her head as her eyelids shut. We split it in two and it was so tender that it fell apart, but still so tender it didn't get snagged in my rough teeth. And it was GOOD sex, I tell you: wet, tender, loud, quiet. She swallowed all she could handle and still left a little bit for later.

Sadly, it was passing 10:30, more than 2 hours of fun, and she had responsibilities at home, plus work in the morning. I tabbed us out, surprised at the low 3 figure total. My car was valet parked right in front (I usually as for my car to be placed RIGHT in front, but the valet guys did anyway). The restaurant was still packed as we left, her with her doggie bag, me with a post-orgasmic look on my face.

I drove her home. We continued to chat. Fun was had by all.


THE CUDDLE
We both admitted the lack of good sex in our lives. I've had it more recently than her, but she's ready to pile-drive the next big dick that comes along her way attached to an attractive and intelligent man.

Still, I was THISCLOSE to the throatfucking after she confided in me regarding something about my blog. I'm not kidding, if I had let her out of the car, I'd have bent her over the hood of my car and had my way with her. There will be a LOT of fun-times by myself tonight thinking about THAT story that, alas, I can't share.

So there it is. It wasn't the sex YOU wanted to read about, but it was as good as it can come. And I'm looking forward to doing it again.

Maybe next time we'll hit a dive German bar, get sloppy drunk, and food fuck for 4 hours. Who knows? But I definitely am ready for round-two.

Onward and Upward: GOD'S PENIS

This post was auto-posted at 3:30PM CST because I am somewhere between Sao Paulo and Miami.

I had mentioned a phenomenon this past Monday that I like to call GOD'S PENIS. Yes, it has to be typed in all-caps, and it should be bold-faced. I'd go so far as to increase the font size by 1 or 2, but let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Many guys get this. Many women love it. What is it?

For me, it's when Little Fire Hydrant decides to get a LOT more blood in him, getting significantly longer and thicker. I remember the first time it happened to me, about 15 years ago. We were fooling around, and my girlfriend decided to whisper some obnoxiously vulgar things in my ear that she wanted or liked or fantasized about. Lucky for me, she was also PMSing, so her knockers were at least a cup size bigger. I'm not a boob man (far from it), but the combination of the two things made me extremely horny.

And it showed. She was just fondling Little Fire Hydrant when all of a sudden she said "HO LEE SHEE EET." Yes, it was 4 syllables. I didn't know what the problem was, so I followed her eyes down there. Holy shit, indeed. I'm not embarassed about my penis size, which is just average for an American male. But when I looked down and saw porn star penis, I almost jumped up, thinking someone had dosed me up with horse pills or something.

She didn't wait for the usual teasing foreplay. She found the condom, difficultly rolled it on (it was way too tight), and hopped aboard. And she went for a ride that neither of us forgot. I was hitting things I never hit before, she was stretched out more than she had ever been before me (her previously lovers had relatively average cocks, too, but I was thicker than both). We still laugh about that afternoon, not knowing how many times she came. I held off as long as I could, I didn't want that little (big?) sucker to go away.

Sadly, after I did, he did. I'm multiple orgasmic, so I can get back to game worthy in a matter of moments usually, but when I did, GOD'S PENIS was gone. We tried everything: dirty talk, watching her warm herself up for round two, everything. No go. I was slightly deflated (emotionally and physically).

GOD'S PENIS came and went over the next decade and a half, without much rhyme or reason. I've tracked it, trying to put 2 and 2 together (or in my case, 3.5 and 3.5 together), and have come up with a few things that have caused it:

1. Smoking reduction. Smoking is one of the #1 reasons for ED, or even limpy D. The good thing about ED and LD is you're probably not going to get VD, but that's not a good thing, I guess.

2. Exercise (lunging, squats, etc). I hate exercise. My body is fine without it, but I really need to get some abs and pecs back. When I work out a lot, doing high intensity training, blood flow definitely is raised down below.

3. Dirty talk. A woman who can honestly talk dirty, because she wants to and not just for me, will get the blood moving VERY quickly. The downside is if she wants to get throat fucked, and tells me, chances are that GOD'S PENIS will arrive and she'll gag more than you are right now when I tell you about this girl I knew with horrid swamp ass.

4. A very hot woman. This isn't a requisite need, but it does help. I'm not necessarily talking superficially hot; I've had GOD'S PENIS when a woman was scantily dressed and out on the town with me, I've had it with some models I've fucked, I've had it with a celeb I bedded for a summer, and I've had it when I slept with a friend of mine who had probably the best body imaginable (think Megan Fox) but a face that wasn't that great (think Michael J. Fox).

Here's the thing about GOD'S PENIS: it pretty much proves, to me, that penis size matters. No, not for general attraction or sexual desire overall, but a larger penis definitely can make a huge difference in bed. I've always dreamed of an extra 1/2 inch in length just so I could nail that spot many lovers like when they're forced down on their bellies and I'm banging away on top. So close, yet so far away.

I don't care what ANY woman says, size matters. Yes, you pencil dicks can bring her off, blah blah blah. I said it before: sex is not about orgasm. It's about having fun, or sharing feelings, or cleaning out your pipes, or showing your passion, or getting out aggressions, or celebrating a fun event, or conquest, or being conquered; so many reasons. A big penis doesn't always mean a better orgasm (for either), but it CAN enhance sex.

Here's the secret to a big penis that a lot of men and women don't realize: the best part of having a larger cock is that it's still efficient and usable during the waning periods of sex. A man's dick can change in size during the SAME sexual event up to 40% smaller and 20% bigger than their usual size. It does happen. It's not that the woman is boring or that the man is bored, it's just how blood flow works.

If you're bigger, when you wane you'll still be decent enough to not pop out every 36 seconds. That's a bummer, indeed. Remember, when you do pop out, all the woman is thinking is "Shit, he's going to fuck up and stick it in my asshole. I know it!" So you want to stay in.

With GOD'S PENIS, I've had the luck of it extending to be a little TOO long (again, I am normally average), and had to withhold from going ball's deep. That gives me leverage to keeping things where they need to be, especially in those crazy positions I like to rediscover.

Oh well. It is what it is. Some guys are lucky to get full length and girth from kiss to orgasm every time, but most of us aren't. There are exercises you can do, confidence building techniques, proper diets, cutting back on alcohol and smoking, etc. But it's so much work for what amounts to a little gain. I prefer to get it randomly, just so I can hear those magic words: "Oh my God, what are you planning on doing with THAT thing?"

Fighting over a woman's orgasm

Auto-Posted at noon since I am likely on a flight somewhere in South America.

I was chatting with someone last night who made the assumption that most women I've been with fake their first orgasm, or many of their initial orgasms, with me. Rather than battle with her over the specifics, I shrugged her off. There's no use in arguing with anyone who hasn't actually been in the bedroom (or the car, or the bathroom, or wherever it happens first). Myself included.

A woman's orgasm has NEVER been my goal in sex. My own orgasm isn't the goal, either. As I've reiterated time and time again, I want passionat people in my life, not sexual people necessarily. I can read a person's passion very quickly through body mannerisms and how they look at things. Most women have zero chance of getting into bed with me, they're cold and frigid and don't know what they're missing. No loss to either of us.

Sex is, for me, an awesome tool to display my passion for a woman. Sometimes that passion comes from having a really good date; other times that passion can come directly from our bodies' mutual needs for the other's. It can come from excitement over something fantastic that happened in our lives, it can come from something really sad. Passion is an odd thing, not really good and not really bad. I guess I could say soulfully-driven rather than passionate, both interchangable to some degree.

When a woman takes me to bed, and almost always it's that way and not the other way around, it very rarely is about sex. Clothes come off, bodies meld, mouths groan, fluids are thrown about, but it isn't the sex that drives us to want to be there. I love to fuck, sometimes hard and long and loudly, sure, but I prefer to try to increase the desire a woman has for me even more, and vice versa. Orgasm can be awesome, but increasing your desire is even better. I prefer to be a little frustrated, even, and want her more. I want her to want me more, too.

When it comes to my ministrations, most of my readers know my routine: tease, tease, tease. I want her getting my clothes off (the lovely, sexy lady in DC ripped my shirt off, not me). I want her touching my body. I want her kissing me deeper than I kiss her. I want her pulling, pushing, shoving, grinding. It's a sign of her passion, her desire. I don't want her laying there, frigid or bored.

The hotter both of us are, the better our orgasm will be, if we get there. In my history of lovers, I know of at least one who faked her first orgasm. It was obviously fake. I called her out on it laughingly, telling her she could do better. She caved and admitted she did it because she was nervous. I told her that nervousness, to me, means she wasn't ready and wanting it enough. She disagreed, but a few weeks later when we tried it again, the nervousness was gone and her orgasm was real. Then she agreed that I was right: it wasn't that she wasn't ready or wanting it, she just hadn't wanted it as badly as she did this night.

Her orgasms from that point forward were awesome, inspiring, passionate, and fun. If I was going down on her or I was banging away, she'd start them off by putting one hand out onto my abs or my hip, not pushing away, but not grabbing either. Sort of like a bumper for me to touch. Then her voice would get a little grunty. When she came, she'd kick her head back and then push off of me. Penetration for the next 5 minutes was unacceptable. She didn't even want me to touch her. I loved her orgasm, and we fucked even more because of it.

I can contrast that to the orgasm of some recent lovers who were less vocal and less physical. It doesn't bother me if a woman is quieter in her orgasm: some have years of experience living at home or with roommates and have gotten in the habit of forcing themselves to be quiet. Of course, this is a challenge, and when you can help a woman break that habit, their orgasms APPEAR to be louder and more physical, but they may not be better or worse.

Still, it isn't the orgasm I chase or covet. If she doesn't come, she doesn't come. I'm a great listener, and when we're done and out of the bedroom, I will often times ask if there is more I can do in general. Some women I've been with just didn't know their orgasms at all. Others were too sensitive, or not sensitive enough. Some preferred skipping foreplay and just banging hard for 45 minutes, others needed more touching than seemed possible, and light strokes that didn't go too deep. Each woman is different.

For the chatter who told me that most women don't orgasm from the first sexual experience with a guy, I'll disagree completely. I am friends with EVERY lover I've had save 3 (one being a recent one, mutually deciding to cut ties). They often still talk about how good I was with them, for them, on them, in them. It's not to stroke my ego (maybe to stroke theirs). Sometimes they ask me for advice on how they can get there with their boyfriends or husbands or lovers. Usually my answer is the same: build desire in yourself, in them. Tease more. Restrain yourselves more. Sex is too much fun to rush through it every time. Sex is too fun to forget to rush through it on occasion. Mix it up.

Never chase the orgasm. I won't come always from sex. I very rarely come from blowjobs, never from handjobs, never from ass fucking. It's just sex, as I said yesterday. When I fuck, when I make love, when I go down on a woman, it's just to shower her with my passion in hopes of stoking her own. The kissing, the touching, the foreplay, the sucking and fucking and unloading: it's all part of the sharing of our passions. If we both come, that's a bonus, but in reality, orgasm can be a let down if there's no more energy to play around some more.

And for me, the playing around before, during and after sex is far more important than the actual 2 minute orgasm you or I might have. Yes, I want to come. Yes, I want you to come. But more importantly, I want us to not get bored of our passion for each other, I don't want to lose it, waste it, derive sadness or frustration from it.

So if we fuck, let's fuck. Let's not chase the big O or the little O. I want you throbbing for me when you're not with me. I want you wet when you hear my voice on your voice mail. I want you aching for my touch, even if I am inches from you. I want you to want my body, my face, my hair, my hands. The cock and pussy are the least important things, and if they're used too fast or focused on too much, passion can disappear in a moment. That moment feels fucking awesome, but it still isn't enough, it isn't everything.

In my opinion, it's almost nothing.

It's just sex

I have a bone to pick, often, regarding sex. People think sex is on my mind all the time. Hint: it isn't. NOTHING is on my mind all the time except what is in front of me, and what I think I need to take care of in the future. Sex is part of my regular thoughts, sure, but I don't look at a woman and say "I'd like to have sex with her." I can't think of ONE woman I've met or scene in recent years where sex was the FIRST thing I thought. Usually, it's "I wonder what bothers her in her life."

But nonetheless, sex is popping up on blogs more than before, it seems. Especially female-written blogs, but some male POV's, too. People are either uptight about not getting any, talking about the convictions of losing their virginity, throwing chairs at plebians who disdain from sexual thought, freaking out about losing the option, or are reinvigorated from re-finding good ole fucking.

So here is my end-all, be-all opinion on sex: it is just sex.

When I buy a Diet Coke from the grocery store, it is me and a store owner swapping things we have for things we want (namely, money for a Diet Coke). We both get something out of it we didn't have before.

The same is true with you and your employer: you're both getting something more valuable for what you give up (time v. money).

Sex, to me, is also an action we trade for something else: maybe it's orgasm, maybe it's money, maybe it's to get backstage at a concert, climb the corporate ladder, or find yourself as a speaking walk-on extra in a soap opera. Either way, sex is an action.

Too many people are high strung about sex. We teach teenager girls that their virginity is something special. It isn't. It's just sex. We teach people that sex should only be done with someone you love. BUZZ, wrong. It's just sex. We hold to a moral fiber that sex should be done as an intimate relation with someone we know. Uhh, no. It's just sex.

I prefer sex with intimacy. I've had very intimate emotional sex with a woman I had known only 48 hours. It was one of my best love affairs and it lasted for months. In the end, it was just sex. The rest of the relationship was wonderful.

I fucked the brainstem completely off of a friend's spinal cord. We'd been friends for 15 years. We never fooled around. We both went through a breakup, fell into the arms of one-another, and tore our kneecaps on her carpeted floor. For two weekends straight. Guess what? Just sex.

When I was young, my father sat me down and explained it to me. He said that sex is really fun, and it isn't something I should be too worried about or focused on. When I meet someone I am attracted to, sex may happen. It may not. He said not to pine about it if it doesn't, that there are billions of fish in the sea. He was right (still is). It's just sex.

Why do we have sex? Sometimes it is because we want to show someone we love them. Other times, it is because our bodies need a cleansing, a pipe-cleaning. Sometimes we do it out of anger towards another person ("the rebound"), or because we're really hormonally-attracted to someone. Sometimes we do it to try to keep someone in our lives, or we do it because we feel we're expected to ("expensive dinner date"). It's all just sex.

Here's the thing that no one knows: sex has been immoralized by the powers that be for thousands of years to control the plebians, the huddled masses, the weak and poor in power. The powers-that-be are strong, have always been strong. They lead our political movements (every party), they lead our religious movements. They head up our medical societies, our educational societies. They're strong people who pretend to care about you, about society. They never want to tell you that it's just sex.

When you control a society's sex drive, you control society. You've been lied to by powerful people. No, it's not some big great conspiracy of people meeting together in a hotel convention hall under protest by left wing anarchists. This is how powerful people think. I know, I work with them. They laugh about it. These powerful people of all positions have sex, and they have it often. They act like pompous, wealthy snobs, but in reality they're fucking everything in sight behind closed doors. To them, it's just sex. Sometimes it's conquest, other times it is just fun. Who cares, it's just sex.

Yes, I know, your religion/educational/parental/political/emotional upbringing wants you to believe there is something special about sex. Only to the underbody of society, which numbers about 96% of citizens of the world. They've been lied to. You've been lied to.

I laugh when people tell me that Barack is just fucking Michelle, or that W was fucking his hag. Right. Those marriages were political from the start. Kennedy, Clinton, Eisenhower, Roosevelt, Johnson: they all had affairs. Many of them. It's part of being powerful. They just cover it up because they have to try to pretend that they care about the moral compass that the rest of society believes is true, even though it was all based on a lie, a desire to control.

It's just sex.

I'm pretty pick about sex. My average, long term, is about 2-3 lovers per year. That includes long term relationships, fuck buddies, friends with benefits, sugar babies, long distance lovers, and four-night-stands. I don't sleep around. Why?

Because I don't have time for it. I don't want to get a disease. I don't want to get someone pregnant. I think sex is better when the partners are both in agreement about the validity of the relationship, on what pedestals it is founded on. I refuse to have sex with people who think that both sexes are equal completely. I refuse to have sex with people who think sex is only about love (even if I love them, dearly). I refuse to have sex with people who have sex to cover up their own damage or baggage or drama or self-hatred. I refuse to have sex with people who abuse their bodies with drugs or overeating or over-exercising or excessive plastic surgery.

So I'm picky, but it's not over sex. I'm picky over relationships of any kind. I turn down 3 out of 4 possible customers because I don't like them. I turn down more women, too, because I don't like them. I laugh at many women and men my friends screw, because they're such worthless drivel that I can't imagine putting my penis in the same room as them, let alone in their body.

But it isn't because I have the mad moral compass of the ignorant majority.

It's just sex. Yes, you're free to believe sex is more than just sex, but it isn't. What your relationship is made of may be far more than just sex, or it might be just sex. Either way, sex is just sex. It isn't something special any more than buying a Diet Coke from the guy at the convenience store, or putting in 8 hours of work for a few bucks from your boss, or whatever other action you barter to gain something.

It's just sex, and the faster society realizes they're being duped, the faster they can change themselves to become more powerful, financially stable, and limitless in what they as individuals can do.

Until then, listen to your pastors, your presidents, your doctors, your psychiatrists, your lawyers, your teachers, and all the other people who are duping you from reality. It isn't just sex, it's special. No, really it is. It is so special, you will have it with only one person in your life.

Sucker.

On whiskey dick

After I wrote about how Little Fire Hydrant wasn't so happy with my visit with AFB#3 last week, I received TWO emails:

#1 Maybe you need viagra.

and...

#2 I heard whiskey dick is a myth, maybe you weren't interested?

I'd like to address the issue of impotence today.

I had a bout of impotence twice in my life: one time with the woman who would bite me, tear my hair out, and beat the living shit out of me when I slept. For about 3 months afterwards, Little Fire Hydrant was a no-show, no-go. No morning wood, never friendly and happy when kissing a gorgeous gal, nothing. So I went to the doctor, who prescribed me a visit with a shrink, who talked to me for 3 days and said "Get over her. She was crazy. It wasn't you." Then I realized I was dating hot mamacitas, and it went away.

The second one had to do with chemicals, namely cigars. I love cigars, but I tend to inhale, A LOT. Because they're unfiltered and way heftier than a cigarette, I was overdosing on nicotine. Nicotine constricts blood vessels, especially down there. After a few cigars in a week, the proud soldier can't salute for a few days. My blood pressure skyrockets, too. So cigars are down to once a month, at most. I also talked to a doctor about this, and he confirmed the issue.

I've never understood the issue with guys talking about erection problems. Most guys don't know, but your first issues with it happen in your 20s, not in your 30s or 40s. I've talked to literally hundreds of men about it, and about 20% of guys start having waning sex drives starting around 28. It sucks for the guy, and it REALLY sucks for the woman, who feels unattractive because the guy can't get it up.

I call this Cosmic Karma. When the guys and gals are young, the gals are so uptight about sex that they can't get wet. The guys pay them back, in kind, a decade or so later. The woman is gushing more than a real fire hydrant, and the guy would rather read a magazine and go to sleep. I love the universe.

In my case, both bouts of no-go-bro were easy to fix, non-medically. I have yet to get an issue that would require real medical attention, short of whiskey dick.

Whiskey dick, as most people know, happens when men drink too much and can't get an erection. Here's the thing, though: whiskey dick happens for 2 different reasons in men. Some men (not me), get so drunk that they can't get an erection at all. Blood flow ceases. Other men (me) get so drunk that they can't FEEL anything. For years, I'd have sex drunk and would not orgasm. No feeling at all. Bang, bang, bang, bang, you done yet? Then roll over and disengage.

After getting bored with slamming for an hour, I realized I didn't like drunk sex, not at all. Once in a blue moon it's really hot and crazy (especially when she's swearing at me in the most vulgar way), but more often than not it's not satisfactory for me. So when I drink brown liquor, I know that sex will be bad. Hence, LFH decides to stay at bay rather than tease the woman to thinking I want to have good sex.

It's not clear liquors that affect me, it's ONLY brown ones: whiskey, scotch, beer, rum. Not tequila, either. I can't figure that one out, and neither can my doctors, but it happens.

I have a friend in his 60s who has the BEST sex life imaginable, thanks to Viagra (actually, Cialis). I told him I never tried it, so he flipped me a pill (Viagra at the time) and told me to take it 30-60 minutes before sex. I told my lover at the time, a gal who could come 5 times each at the 1/2 hour mark. I had no problem keeping it up for her, but when I'm really turned on (more than physically), I get a super cock. It's easily an inch longer and over an inch wider in circumference, and it looks mighty nice and happy.

So I told her about the pill, and she was revving to go. We restrained ourselves: no alcohol, no smoking for 3 days, no chemicals. Lots of walking, flirting, etc. 9pm came, I popped the pill, and 15 minutes later I had the erection of my life.

She took pictures, which I know she still has to this day. I was gigantic, for me. I never brag about my very average penis size, because it is just that, average (maybe a tiny bit shorter than average, tiny bit thicker than average). This was not my penis, this was GOD'S PENIS. I could have ripped through sheet metal, I think.

So we fucked. I pounded her for 3 hours, off and on. I came 3 times myself. It never went away. I tried to sleep, it didn't go away. She gave me head, tried to take it up her ass, we banged in positions I normally can't hit because I'm not 8" long. It was awesome.

But it wouldn't go away. After my 5th orgasm (mostly dry), I was HURTING. But it wouldn't go down. So I called my doctor's 24 hour help line, and the nurse said I had priapism and to monitor it for a few hours. If it was bad, GO TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM. Umm, hmm. Scary.

I didn't see blue (some guys do), I didn't lose my hearing (lots of guys do), but the little fucker wouldn't take a rest. So I sat there, trying to go to sleep. She was laughing, of course, and every so often throughout the night she'd get a condom on it and ride it some more. I have no idea how many orgasms she had, but at one point she was on top of me and I was reading a book. It was just there.

At the 5 hour mark, he went to sleep. Instantly. It was a HUGE relief, I was so happy I wanted to party. I decided then and there to never do that again unless I really needed it.

For me, I know I am medically-sound to fuck on command. I get great morning wood. I get wood when I makeout with a gal. But if I am drinking dark liquor, it's a no-go. If I smoke too many cigars, no-go. If I am stressed because I've traveled too much and had no down-time, no-go. I'm comfortable with it. It doesn't bother me, because I'm in my 30s, and it did this when I was 15.

Lately, I would say I have more worry, mostly because so many of my guy friends are dealing with relationship issues that are stemming from their impotence. I have friends who are 30 who can't get it up at all. They're masculine, sporty, attractive, physically fit. They don't drink much, don't smoke at all, and they have gorgeous girlfriends and wives. So far, I'm safe. I know my father still gets it up without assistance (we have a very open family relationship). I think I'm OK.

If the day comes that I need it, I'll be the first one to post about it. I've had medical issues in my life, and I'm never afraid to talk about it. Hopefully, I have many years ahead of me where Little Fire Hydrant will jump to attention the moment a pretty cute thang puts her tongue in my mouth, or elsewhere.

What do you women think when your guy can't get it up? Blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-alcohol?

Losing a friend over sex

I've slept with friends and became friends with girls I've slept with. Sex has never ruined a friendship for me because my friends know that I can separate sex (a need) with love (a need). It's like separating eating hot dogs from drinking cola. They're both needs, but they don't always have to go together.

The one friend I lost over sex was an interesting situation.

Peg's dad had died. She was 23, I was 22. We were very, very close since the age of 18. Peg's dad was awesome and died under unusual circumstances. It was not expected, to say the least.

When I heard, I flew home immediately from doing business in Switzerland. I think the plane ticket cost me $3000 on cattle class. I was on a flight within 3 hours of getting the call, and back home within 11 hours.

I spent the night consoling her. I took her to the funeral. Peg and I were never more than friends, maybe even best friends. We'd judge each other's dates, we'd wingman one another, we'd laugh while riding roller coasters or riding horses or attempting to snowboard. It was a good friendship. Once, when drunk, the topic came up of why we never even kissed. I said that it was because she was hot, but not my type. She said she agreed, and I believed her.

After the funeral, I took her home and we talked until late at night. Peg and I had many late nights, and she always invited me to her bedroom to sleep. We never cuddled, never kissed, never even touched. It was just a big queen-sized bed.

This night was a bit different. There was no alcohol. In her bed, she rolled over and tossed me the ultimate High Fidelity question: "Sane, will you sleep with me?"

If you've seen High Fidelity, highlight between the lines to read the script:

~~~~~
“Listen, Rob, would you have sex with me? Because I want to feel something else than this. It’s either that or I go home and put my hand in the fire.”
~~~~~

I didn't understand her, so I told her I didn't think it was wise, because of what had happened. "That's WHY I want to sleep with you. I need to feel complete in some way." I thought about it for a good 20 minutes, and finally told her no. She kicked me out of bed.

In all honesty, I'd probably have slept with her given ANY other circumstance. She was pretty, had a great body, and I knew she wasn't cold in bed. We just never really hooked up because we found each other attractive for others, but not ourselves. So when the proposition happened, I didn't feel right about it.

We never really talked after that. I tried adding her to Facebook, but she declined. This is over a decade later. It amazes me that a friendship can be ruined from a LACK of sex. I don't think she had a crush on me or anything like that (talking to friends later confirmed that she always answered their questions saying I was cute but not her type). I believe I just dropped the ball on a friend that needed me, and I didn't fulfill her needs.

What would you have done, in my shoes, with full 20:20 hindsight?

A Touch (A Fantasy), Part II

This is a multi-part story that starts with Part I.

We continue our embrace, your arms pulling me into you, grabbing my back, my shoulders, my arms and my ass. I keep my hands off of you, pressed up against your head to prevent me from smothering you with my attacking kissing. We break to catch our breath, and I roll you over, me on my back, you on top of me.

I tell you I want your breath on my body. You slink down to my neck, attempting to kiss my neck. I push your head away slightly and feel your breath on my body. I shudder slightly at your warm breath, and you try to kiss me again as I push you away once more time. Just breathe on me.

You pull my shirt off my shoulder and move your mouth to my shoulder, again trying to taste my flesh as I pull you off. Just your breathe. Your hands are on my skin, and your lips are bare millimeters from my tanned body. Your face moved down to my chest and your mouth breaths warm air on my nipples, on my chestbone, on my ribs as you work your way down my body. Every time you try to kiss my body, to lick my body, I pull your hair harder to punish you for violating my rule.

You work down to my abs and I shudder again as your breath runs through my belly hair. Your hands are on my belt as you unbuckle it, popping the fly buttons from my jeans. No lips, I remind you. You pull my jeans under my ass and I lift it as you pull them clean from my body. Your face is less than an inch from my cock, still hidden from my boxers but showing the urgency of my need to be in your mouth, in your throat.

Your breath leaves my boxers and my cock and moved down to my thigh, causing me to slightly arch my back. In doing so, your lips touch my thigh accidentally, but I pull on your hair harder to remind you what you're allowed to do.

Your head shifts down to my knees, one of my most sensitive spots. As you breath on my knees and inhale my body's scent, my cock jumps in my underwear. You look up and notice, an evil smile on your face, mixed with your own frustration from not being able to touch me with your mouth.

As you're down by my knees, you hand snakes up and pulls my boxers down to my knees. You crawl up slowly, using one hand to slide off my boxers and your other hand lands on my hip. Your face is now inches from my cock. You open your mouth, as wide as possible, and try to put your mouth over my cock without touching it. Every time you fail, I pull on your hair, causing you to scream once from the pleasurable pain. To punish me, you hold your mouth over over my cock, now pointing up and ending at my belly button. Off your tongue comes a large drop of spit, dripping onto the underside of my cock head, causing it to jump and emit its first dose of precome.

You breathe your way back up my body, to my face as you breathe onto my mouth. I unzip your jeans and remove them completely, then use my hands and feet to remove your panties, too. You kick off your socks over the edge of the bed, and lay on me, your tits on my chest, your pussy on my cock, your face close to mine. We stare into each other's eyes and kiss again, deeper than before. I can taste your hunger for me on your lips, on your tongue as it enters my mouth.

"Fuck me now" you tell me, pushing your wet pussy lips up and down my rockhard cock. No, not yet. I roll you over onto your belly, my cock resting between your checks as I torment your back with my own breath.

I start at each shoulder, pausing to warm your neck when I pull your hair above your head. After the shoulders, I work down and up each arm, slowly, finding the spots where my breath's warmth and pressure cause you to wriggle. I pin your hands down sideways to prevent you from daring to touch your clit for release and relief. When I get to your spine, I let a little spit drizzle off my tongue, then breath out a warm gust of air following by a slow cold exhale. Your body writhes, goosebumps form, tingles move from your head to your toes.

Your moans get louder. "Please, fuck me, please." I slide my cock from between your cheeks and work my way down your back, stopping at your sides with a large open mouth of slow warm breathing. Your goosebumps appear every time I do this, and when I breath slowly and move across the bottom of your back, the goosebumps follow my breath.

I continue to drip some of my saliva onto your spine, watching your goosebumps disappear for a second and then return as my breath down. I get to your cheeks and breath on them softly, watching the same goosebumps form. I pull your cheeks apart slightly and let my spit fall into your ass, giving you shudders from the touch that you need. I let go of your arms and remind you to keep them there as my face ventures between your slightly parted legs, my breath on your pussy, your clit, your thighs. You squeeze them together tightly to try to grab my head, so I slap your ass hard, leaving a red mark.

Your scream is cut short with a bite of your lip, and I can tell from your scent that you knew you deserved it. As I work my way down your legs, you moan "No, please, lick my pussy, eat it," which I ignore. Your thighs, the back of your knees and your calves are incredibly sensitive, so I focus more on the areas that cause you to stick your gorgeous ass up in the air slightly, as if to meet my cock plunging into your wet pussy. I laugh evilly when you realize I'm not there against you.

Then I get to your feet.

(To be finished in Part III)

Room Mates

I'd known Carla for years. Her and I dated for maybe 6 weeks. It was a beautiful short term relationship. Both of us had gotten out of longer relationships, with us being the breaker-uppers. We met at a wine tasting, with her admiring my happy attitude and talkative rapport with other guests. She approached me.

We chatted, sipping wine, laughing about some of the horrible plonk the store was trying to pawn off on those who don't know better. We chatted about cheese, about favorite secret wine bars, about cigars. She was younger than I would have guessed (25, I guessed 27), but right in line with my age range. I was 23 myself.

She wrote down her number on the back of a business card. "Don't call the number on the face, I let that one go to voice mail." Home number? "Yeah. Call me when you want to get together again." I would.

I was doing a lot of travel, so I honestly didn't get around to calling her the next week but the week after. She answered when I called at 7pm on a Thursday night. We chatted for about 10 minutes, and I pitched her the idea to get together the following week. She was busy both nights (Monday and Tuesday) but said she'd make any other day free, offering Wednesday. "I'll buy." I agreed, and appreciated that she'd cover the date because she counteroffered.

The date went well, and we slept together on the third date. It was a little bit out of the blue: she was interested in me, certainly, but I felt that her attraction towards me fell short. After our short term love affair came to a close (mutual), she did admit to me that I was not really her body type, but that she loved my energy and mood. We agreed to be friends, and we were.

For years Carla and I would run into each other in very odd ways: I met her at a wine tasting in Kentucky (don't knock it, some Kentucky wines are really good). I ran into her crossing planes in Denver (she was getting off the plane I was going to board). I ran into her in Chicago on occasion, once doubling up our mutual dates into a 4some that was hilarious and a little bit scary (I think my date liked her date, oops).

We'd hang out at her place, popping open old bottles of wine I discovered on my regular treks to France. Sometimes they were amazing, other times they were vinegar, or worse.

In 2001, she called me up and said her roommate needed an uplifting experience. Her boyfriend of 6 years was cheating on her, and she needed to just drink and drown her sorrows. Who better to take a sad gal out than Sane, she thought. I agreed, and we made plans for the next night.

That night was a raging experience of ridiculousness. I hired a limo since the 3 of us were going to get plastered. I set us up with bottle service across the city, and we hit 3 clubs before 4am closed us off. The limo took us back to their place, with her roommate, drunk, falling asleep on the couch. She hit her bedroom, so I took the roommates bed myself. My head was spinning even when I woke up at 7am.

They were knocked out, so I took it on myself to help them out during this depressing time. I did their dishes, cleaned up the bathroom, and even ran 2 loads of laundry for them. Breakups can cause total shutdown of the person dumped or the person hurt. There's nothing wrong with pitching in for friends when they need you. I know some women are aghast at the idea of a man doing their laundry or cleaning their bathroom, but it was the least I could do.

Around 1pm, the roommates still blacked out, I returned to the roommates room to take a nap. I needed it, I was dead tired from working hard for the past 5 hours. Around 4pm, I woke up to the roommate, Ela, kissing my cheek. I slowly opened my eyes to figure out who it was, and found her in her bed with me.

"Good morning. Afternoon, I guess. I noticed you cleaned up around here." Yeah, I'm an early riser, regardless of what time I get to bed. "Thanks. You have no idea how much I needed that done, and not by me." Of course I know, I've been there. You're kissing me. "That's not the only thing I need."

I turned to her and pressed against her and enveloped her in my arms and my mouth. She moaned quickly, and often. "I need you today." I smiled and nodded. As our clothes slowly fell away and the sun was beating through the window around 5pm, her door opens. Carla notices what's going on and yelps a bit. "Whoa, you two, what the fuck?"

I turn to look at her closer and smile. She came to me, not the other way around. "It's cool. He's mine for today," Ela told her. Carla seemed a bit perplexed, but she closed the door behind her and ventured into the room. "How about we take care of that thing?" she told Ela.

Ela looked at me, Carla looked at me. What thing? "You know. Have your way with both of us." I smile and explained to them that the fantasy is usually better than the reality. Unless they had any digs for one another. "No, just you. Ela knows about our wild ride so long ago," Carla said, in a cute-but-sexy manner.

Ok, but understand I'm just one little boy. "I didn't think you lied," Carla chuckled. She was in bed with us, down to her panties and bra, snuggling in behind me as I returned to kissing her roommate.

I kissed Ela, but also kissed Carla. Ela grabbed Carla's hand when I removed her bra and nuzzled up against her breasts. Carla had the best nipples I had ever seen, and she definitely liked attention on them. I made sure to do it teasingly, but didn't avoid them as I usually do. Ela, who had much smaller boobs, didn't like them played with so much (maybe because she wasn't secure with their smaller size). I teased her too, and the two girls held hands while I wandered their arms, their bellies, their thighs and their calves. At one point, both completely naked, they hooked one leg each over at the knee, giving me a great view and a quick path to switching roommates.

I asked them why they didn't kiss. "Ummm," said Ela, "it's a bit weird." I looked up and saw that Carla was looking at Ela, with Ela looking at me. Don't you find her amazingly attractive? Ela turns to Carla, and Carla kisses her. That's better.

And what a kiss it was. The hands that were previously held starting pawing at the other's body. If it was a guy and a gal, I would yell at the guy for being such a tiger, but in this case there might have been months of pent up desire from one combined with intrigue from the other. I proceeded to go down on Ela, who was obviously more turned on that Carla. While they kissed and bit and pinched and pulled at each other, I brought Ela off in my mouth in very short order.

I got out of my boxers as I stood up to go wash up. The girls were entwined in each other, with Carla on top of Ela, kissing her deeply, both running theirs hands through each other's brown locks. It was quite a site.

I came back in and searched for condoms. "They're in the bottom drawer," said Ela. I found them and tore a package to get one on. Ela had her legs spread with Carla on top, both their mounds touching and rubbing. I spread Carla's legs as best as I could and pushed in. Carla's pussy is the perfect tightness for me, and she never was worn out even if I fucked her for hours. I forgot how much I loved it: not too wet initially, but it would get wetter and wetter as I pumped into her.

Carla came in less than 20 minutes and Ela held her as she did. That was sex worth waiting so many years for again. As Carla relaxed, I started to pull her slowly from Ela's mouth. They were kissing for over an hour. Carla's darker skin was beautiful on Ela's pale skin, but I wanted to see more. Carla grabbed at the sheets a bit, knowing what I was doing as her face passed Ela's neck, her tits, her belly. As her own pussy was sitting over the edge of the bed, her face was perfectly aligned with Ela's. She looked a bit nervous as she threw me a side-glance. Ela looked down and begged for her to do it.

She did.

I hadn't come yet, so I removed my condom and went to the top of the bed, sticking my hard cock in Ela's mouth. She wasn't that talented, but the sounds of her moans pushing through the sound of spit and precum was amazing. I grabbed the back of her head, turned sideways toward me, and slowly pushed my cock head deeper into her mouth and throat. She gagged once in awhile, but eventually loosened up and I was able to slowly slide into her almost fully. Her eyes would always open whenever I breached the back of her throat, but she didn't gag again. When I turned to see Carla lapping up at her, I had enough. I warned her that I was going to come, and pulled my cock out just in time for my first stream to spurt across the edge of her chin and onto her tits. The second stream was a lot stronger, landing closer to her belly and some into Carla's long hair. The third one landed on her tits, and the fourth in her open mouth.

As she accepted the rest of my load, she came. She had her hands in Carla's hair, running her fingers through the hair, my come load, and her scalp. She came hard, too, harder than when I went down on her. As she was coming down, Carla crept up to her, running her tongue up her body, picking up some of my come along the way. She looked up at Ela, and then looked at my face and smiled. Some of my come was on her chin, too. It was a lovely view.

I was still hard, holding back my orgasm so I wouldn't make too big of a mess. Some women are picky about come on their bodies, on their faces, in their throats, so I wanted to be a gentleman and reduce the mess. "You still taste amazing," said Carla. "Yeah, you do. I could go for more of that," said Ela. Carla rolled off of Ela, and the two of them noticed my cock was still hard.

"You fucked me, you gave her head, what's next?" asked Carla. I grabbed another condom from the night stand as I stuck my cock in Carla's mouth. She was amazing at head, one of the best. Surprisingly, Ela took it deeper and with fewer problems, but Carla just knew how to do it right. In a few minutes, I shoved her face from my crotch and put a condom on.

Carla rolled over Ela to her left, and I approached her from her right. I grabbed her legs and turned her 90 degrees. I pulled her waist to the edge of the bed and asked her to pull her pussy lips apart. She was still wet, and did what I told her.

I stuck my cock head right up to her pussy and waited. "Please." What? "Fuck me, please." I did. Slowly, but with deep force, I pushed inside. Ela was ridiculously tight, and I didn't want to tear her. After a few minutes, she was opening up to me, incredibly wet and gorgeous with my cum smeared on her body and chin. I was standing, and Carla knelt on top of her face, her pussy put right up to Ela's lips. Sadly, I was not able to kiss Carla as her roommate licked her clit, but I put my hands all over Ela's body, caressing her with every stroke in and out of her.

I pumped hard into Ela's tight pussy, it grabbing me with each stroke. She had her hands on Carla's thighs, and I could see her tongue stabbing at Carla's clit and into her pussy. It was an incredible site, and I actually had to focus on what I was doing or I'd have come too quickly for sure.

We fucked in that position for 15 minutes when Carla said she was tired. I pulled Ela out without warning, flipped her onto her belly and told Carla to lay down so she could finish. As I pounded into Ela in this position, she started to moan loader, which caused Carla to moan from the clit tickling she was getting. I licked my finger and shoved it into Ela's tight ass as she came on my cock, on my finger, her tongue on Carla's pussy and her hands on her hips.

As Ela came, I forced another finger into her ass and pushed down, feeling my cock pumping inside. Carla saw what I was doing, and then she herself came. I kept pumping into Ela as she came down, and Carla finished her orgasm at almost the same time. Carla's hands fell to the sheets, and she collapsed on Carla's mound.

I pulled out of her pussy, and I snuggled up to both of them as Ela also found motivation to move up to nuzzle into Carla's neck. I pulled my condom off, knowing neither gal was able to handle anymore.

The sun had set.

Finally Carla looked up and noticed I was stroking my cock. "Not done?" I can finish. She nudged Ela, who may have dozed off. Ela rolled over onto her back, and I knelt up near her face. I popped my cock into Ela's sleepy mouth, and she grinned. Carla reached up and stroked the base of my cock as I fed it only partially into Ela's mouth. "Come for us, Sane. On us, whatever you want." It didn't take long with them both begging me to shoot my second load.

And I did. I came across their tits, their necks. Carla licked some off of Ela's neck as I shot my third load into her forehead and hair. Ela finished my final spurts in her mouth, with Carla licking her clean of any evidence of the fact that I emptied a big load across her body. I collapsed, with Ela rolling over to cuddle against me, and Carla spooning into her roommate.

We all napped for a few hours, one of the roommates waking us all up at midnight. "I'm fucking hungry." I turned on the lamp on the nightstand and looked at the room. It was a mess: clothes strewn everywhere, condoms and wrappers on the floor, two beautiful 20-somethings in a bed I was napping in just half a day ago. I kissed Ela, then Carla, and asked what they wanted to eat.

We ended up driving to a Burger King that was open late: Carla wearing Ela's shirt, Ela wearing Carla's. We talked and laughed and told stupid jokes. We all ate double Whoppers, drinking Diet Colas, munching on onion rings. At 2am, I dropped them off, getting a last kiss from Ela who sat in the front seat. We all had a great need fulfilled, and I knew it wouldn't happen again.

Ela and I fucked a few times after that, with Carla's blessing. Carla was sort of seeing someone and it was taking a serious turn, plus the roommates discussed the threesome a few days later and both loved each other more for it, but were not looking to duplicate a night of lust and passion and desire and love. I don't think they've done it again, but I still talk to both on Facebook, and I wonder if all 3 of us will be single, lonely, and hot for contact. They don't live with each other anymore, but one can dream.