An Honest Question, Part 2

So. We were leaning against the wall and I was about to go into more... detail, when he got a call on his cell phone.

I don't know who it was, but I know that he looked at the caller ID for a minute, then looked up at me.

You, he said, have no idea how much I don't want to say this, but I have to go.

Such excellent timing, I said. He cleared his throat. Yep, he said, and made a funny snorting sound, which made me laugh.

No problem. I can tell you more another time, I assured him. He said something like the moment would have passed. I shrugged, but thought, he is probably right.

Someone started to open the restaurant door so we moved back into the street. At the corner, I headed towards the subway and he stayed to catch a cab. I waved as he got in.

And that, my friends, was it. I haven't seen him since.


I know! That was kind of cruel. But that is just what you get with nonfiction. Real life is either breathtaking or mundane, it seems.


An Honest Question

Long time no see.

I logged on today, after many months away, becuase... Well, there is only one reason why you would see me here ;)

It's been a fairly uneventful time, so you really haven't missed too much. I have been working a lot. Too much, I think. And I haven't had time to really... wander. Mentally or physically.

So today was funny just because my mind was completely on work, and it took me a minute to figure out what was happening.

I have a... I'll call him a client. Someone I do work for.

I know what that sounds like, but I assure you, it's not that.

He is in his late fifties or so, balding a bit, portly. He stopped in to my office briefly about three months ago to talk about a project. During the conversation I made a reference to a friend of mine. He looked surprised and said that he knew her as well. We made the appropriate small-world comments and he asked how I knew her. I said that I had dated one of her old girlfriends.

I didn't know you were..., he started. And I said, well, I am bi, actually, but was dating a woman at the time. He seemed a little awkward and we talked a little more about the project and then he left.

I've gotten to know him a little better since then and have seen him several times, although the conversation never came up again. But today he stopped in to pick up some things and we were in my office again. He brought up the fact that he had seen the L Word on TV last week.

I know this is probably not a very PC thing to say, he said, but I always wondered what exactly lesbians did?

Well, just what you'd imagine, I said, but not like in videos that they make for guys. Those are usually straight women anyway.

But, he insisted, what is there to do, really? If you know what I mean.

There is a lot to do, I said. The body has many sensitive places. And there are many ways to reach those places, if YOU know what I mean.

I laughed a little, but he looked really thoughtful.

Yeah, I guess, he said. I don't know why I have such a hard time understanding it.

At this point, he shifted a little and I could clearly see that he was pretty aroused. And you know what this does to me.

So I got a little crazy.

I have to go run some errands. Want to walk out with me?, I asked.

He agreed, looking a little startled, but followed me out. As we walked, I turned to him and said, look, normally I wouldn't say this since we are working together, but this project is almost over, so we won't be working together any more. So just ask me anything you want and I will tell you.

He laughed and got very flushed.

Ok, well. Wow, he said. It's really not that big of a deal, I just want to know what women do!

They use their hands and mouths a lot, I started out. They kiss, they lick, they squeeze. The usual! One of my favorite things to do with a woman is to kiss her and just sort of gently move on each other's hips and thighs. That can be it for me, if you know what I mean.

I went on for a little more until it was clear that he was in serious pain. He was laughing again, more uncomfortably than before, saying OK, I get it! I get it! But clearly wanting me to go on.

I can see you are liking this, I said, gesturing below his belt line where a full hard on was now raging. We had ducked around a corner near the back door of a restaurant.

Sad for you, I am going to have to leave this story for now... must go to a meeting. But I promise to come back and tell you how it turned out ;)

PS. You can comment on posts now, although I will have to approve them before posting...


likes and wishes

After more than a year of dangling my fingertips in the darkside, I have come up with a draft (subject to constant revision) version of what I think I know I like:
  • I like to watch or listen to men jerking off. This is not big news.
  • I like to be told what to do more than I like to tell others what to do. I like to be used.
  • I like everything from grunting need to articulate control, and everything in between.
  • I like the catch I can hear in a man's voice as he gets hard and starts to touch himself.
  • I like to pinch my nipples when I am talking on the phone and I start to get wet.
  • I like light pain. Sometimes.
  • I like getting fucked in the ass. Hard.
  • I like having my head pushed down on a man's cock.
  • I like the thought that a person can say whatever they want to me.
  • I like cumming for men.
Now, some things I wish:
  • I wish, and this is not a new wish, that I could queue up a line of men in the mornings who have woken up hard and just need to cum fast. I would listen to them one after another. Encourage them. Release them into the day.
  • I wish the world were a different place and I could meet total strangers in out of the way places and watch them jerk off for me without worrying about being hurt or raped.
  • I wish I did not have the job that I have so that I could show you what I am doing right now on a web cam.


quick and fast

A blink of an eye image for you.

This morning, walking the dog, car parked on a side street, windows rolled down.

I am walking by, five minutes out of the shower, no bra, no underwear, cool cotton skirt, t-shirt.

Glance over, seat back, man in driver's seat, reclining, eyes closed, hand moving... no way... yes way...

I slow down (of course), slow down more, then stop, watching.

He does not notice, eyes still closed, cock out, long, slow pulls, then faster, slower, faster.

I am rooted, staring, wet, dog pulling me ahead, wanting to keep walking.

His hand moving faster now, moving toward release, skin reddened, engorged, mouth open, small groan.

I am, predictably, wet, still watching.

Faster still, head lolling to the side, tongue out, imagining a breast or a cunt, uncontrollable jerking, hand is a blur, I can feel the wetness slipping down my thigh as he cums, a spurt, a groan, his shirt, eyes fluttering, and I am suddenly awake, letting the dog pull me away, cool air hitting my hot clit.

Straight to a cafe, tie up the dog, head for the bathroom, hands on my newly shaved pussy and pouting lips, a violent cumming, then outside for an icy coffee and a slow walk home.


ebb and flow

I find it somehow fitting or ironic that, when I have not checked email for over a month, hotmail deletes my entire inbox. It is as if this world I have created will not let me leave, and if I do leave, it will not let me come back.

Or at least, if I do come back, it is like I am presented with a blank slate and the echo of my own... voice?... keyboard clicks?

So, FYI, if you haven't heard from me, or don't hear from me, it is because I did not get your email and no longer have your email address! Feel free to correct the situation at your leisure.

Anyway, hello again. Been awhile. For those who have been around since I started this odd little project, this is nothing new. I come (and come, and come...) and then I go. And then I come again.

Summer is approaching. Long, hot days. I don't think I will be around as much as last summer, but anything could happen. I am not sure, too, how I will set things up. I am in the mood for a bit of a change ;)

Soon. I hope. But can never promise.



Last week, I met a friend for drinks at a bar near my house. She was late. While I was sitting there waiting, the bartender was flirting with me - he was Australian, open-shirted, smooth chest. Slightly hipster-ish. All of which I noticed only out of the corner of my eye, which was fixed on a woman sitting alone a few seats down from me.

She called the bartender over for a minute and asked him to watch her things while she ran back to work to get something. He seemed to know her well enough that this was not an odd request. She put her coat on and I watched her walk outside and across the street, and then disappear around the corner.

I nursed my way through an expensive but completely delicious imported Belgian Ale, waiting for her, halfheartedly flirting back at the bartender who was drying glasses in front of me, asking me where I lived.

I have been dreaming of women lately. I want to feel that particular kind of softness; the way my body melts into theirs; the endless making out; the fingers and tongues that know the lay of the land. So when my friend texted me to say that, actually, she wasn't going to be able to come out at all, I just stayed put anyway. Couldn't hurt.

I am, admittedly, usually attracted to androgynous, or even butch women. I am even interested in FTM (female to male) guys, though I have never been with one. But I have my femme moments, and this night was one of them. The woman - who was just now coming back into the bar, cheeks red with the cold, catching my eye for a minute and smiling - was most definitely on the femme side, though not in a girly way.

She had a low voice, which I noticed when she had spoken earlier, but which I was now hearing directed at me as she said something like, "Did you see him going through my purse?" as she nodded towards the bartender and laughed. I said that I had kept my eye on him and that, at least for that span of time, he had been a good boy.

She said that she had left a phone number at work, which was why she had to run back, and I asked where she worked. She was an advocate for affordable housing in the area and worked with a group that was trying to build some new apartment buildings about ten blocks away and encountering lots of resistance from the neighbors. We fell into an engaging discussion about how people say they want a "diverse" environment but don't really know what that means, and about property values, and urban living, and...

Somewhere during this time, she had moved over to sit next to me. She bought a round of drinks. Much stronger ones than the beer I had started out with. I was getting drunk. So was she.

We managed to maintain our conversation, with all consonants intact for quite a while. She was in her early thirties, incredibly engaging, dynamic, and completely committed to her work. As she talked, my eyes rested more and more on her lips, which were full and un-lipsticked.

At one point, I told her that I found her frankness really refreshing. She laughed and said that it got her into trouble a lot in her work, but that it also helped her get what she wanted. This was that unspoken turning point in the evening - the point where a conversation becomes something else and you know that you will, eventually, see this person naked.

I asked if she always got what she wanted. Her eyes locked on mine and she said, not always, but that she was persistent, and patient, which usually paid off.

There was an unusual amount of women in the bar. She looked around and commented on this, saying that it was probably because there was a lesbian club a few blocks away. Have you ever been, she asked? I said that I hadn't, but would love to go. She was testing the water here, seeing how I would react. The Gay Dance, I call it. If I lead, will you follow? Where are you on the scale?

She was sitting very close to me now, and I was beginning to ache - nipples hardening, clit warm. The bartender was eyeing us, aware now of what was happening, trying to make his way back over. Come with me for a minute, she said, and jumped up, heading towards the back of the bar. I followed her, weaving through tables of women, into the bathroom. I was drunk in that way that you only notice once you stand up.

The door was barely closed behind me before she was on me, hands up my shirt, behind my head, kissing me deeply. She grabbed both of my nipples, pinching them firmly as she brought her leg in between mine, pressing into my cunt just hard enough to make me moan.

Sorry, she said, I was having trouble making intelligent conversation out there. I laughed and said I was having similar difficulties. We kissed for a few more minutes, hands tangled in each others' hair, and then I slid my hand down between her legs. Her thigh was still pressed between mine.

I unzipped her jeans and cupped my hand, moving down into her underwear until I found wetness there and my fingers just slid inside her. She took a deep breath. I felt as though I was going to pass out. It has been a while since I have felt this.

I slowly moved my fingers into her, and then back out, finding the hardness of her clit, slowly applying pressure there until she said Oh, God, and then sliding them back into her wet pussy.

All this time, I was grinding my cunt into her thigh, already so close to cumming that you could have blown on my clit and I would have exploded. But I wanted to taste her first.

I slid down, pulling her underwear down just enough for me to find her hardness with the tip of my tongue. She had to bend her knees a little and move down the wall, spreading her legs as best she could since she still had her jeans on.

Just then, someone knocked on the door. I pulled my head away, but she pushed it back. I just need one minute, she said, I'll be very quiet. I pushed my tongue back in and started to gently, but firmly, stroke her clit. She grabbed the back of my head and pushed me into her. I reached up with my hand, sliding a finger, now three, into her cunt, stretching her out, pushing towards my mouth from inside her, then up, deeply into her.

I could feel her orgasm gathering. She was breathing heavily. Her clit was rock hard. She grabbed my shoulders and suddenly went rigid, her cunt gripping my hand, pulsing while I kept fucking her pussy. After a few minutes, she pulled me up onto her leg, and started whispering in my ear while I humped her leg, helpless, desperate to cum. Then she stopped me, reaching her hand back under my shirt to my nipples.

I want you to look at me, she said, and cum for me. And I did. Wave after wave. I had needed that so much. She held me until it was over.

By this time, someone was knocking insistently on the door. She said she wanted to make me do it again, but I said we should go. Not that I didn't have it in me.

We went back out, smiling at the woman who was waiting, and sat back on the barstools. The bartender came over to us, eyebrows raised. We made small talk, evading his questions. I felt like I had been run over.

I am seeing her again tomorrow night.



One of my blog posts is in Sugasm (an "informal sex blog network") this week. Here are some selections from other blogs on the list...

This Week's Picks

You’re So Dirty When You’re Clean. (http://middleurge.blogspot.com)
“The side of your hand slipping along her pussy lips. Her laugh, a mix of I-knew-it and do-that-more.”

Before ( http://thismuse.blogspot.com)
“Condoms and lube go into the bedside drawer next to the Bible. Purse into the drawer with clothes, whore-bag into the closet with my street shoes.”

Rude Bits: Tracy Quan on the Raunch Debate (http://susiebright.blogs.com)
“If someone is making money off your body, you should too.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself
Sex Mad(ness) (http://sugarbank.com)

Editor’s Choice
The art of pegs (some artistic CBT)
( http://mistress160.blogspot.com)

More Sugasm

Join the Sugasm