I was working on some freelance stuff this morning, but I have just reached for the vibrator. I wanted you to be here while I put it between my legs.

There. And... on.


Now comes that delicious transformation. A stepping over some invisible line. I feel it first as a flush on my skin, my nipples start to harden, and my shoulders start to relax.


My mind is getting a little fuzzy and my back is starting to arch. I can feel all of the blood rushing to my cunt... gathering itself.


Can't help it... always reach for the nipples first. Squeezing. Kneading. They are rock hard now... pink, aching. My eyelids are starting to get heavier. Damn... I will cum in a second if I don't stop.


A little breather. Whew. Pussy damp, starting to throb. I want to cum so badly but will wait. I like the teasing part. My pussy lips are starting to swell up and stick out in anticipation of a hard cock pushing them apart to fuck me as hard as I can take it... which is, as you might know by now, really hard.


Flicking it on... cumming just to the edge of cumming... then flicking it off. Over and over.


Legs spread now. Underwear on the floor. Tanktop pushed up over my tits. You wish you were here.


I should be recording this.


Vibrator on now as I type. Trying to focus so that I don't cum. I am going to stop typing and slide my fingers inside. I need to be fucked somehow...


Hands wet now on the keyboard. Fucking myself with my fingers. I desperately want to see someone standing over me, cock in hand, jerking for me.


Ok. Really have to stop. Really. At least for now.

I love this feeling - cunt on fire... face hot... hands damp... clit swollen... nipples rock hard. Completely alive, vibrating, and vulnerable. I especially love having the time to do this - to go to this place and then just... stay there... ;)



Sorry I have been a bit scarce lately. Besides my rebalancing plan, I have had to take on a chunk of freelancing work.

Now. Wouldn't it be delightful if I DIDN'T NEED TO DO THAT? Because if I DIDN'T NEED TO DO THAT, guess what I could have done today instead?

Exactly. That. And I might have even had some time left over to do some of my own projects as well. Double bonus.

Instead, I sat in a meeting with clients imagining you stroking yourself all alone, without me there to provide critical feedback and encouragement designed to optimize your orgasmic experience.

Poor lonely you.

And poor fidgety me.



Feeling better. Much more balanced. Two hours of hardcore yoga, many runs, several speedy bike rides, a private pilates session and soccer lessons. All in just three days. I am sore. In more ways than one.

Ah, but those of you who are not cheapskates (those pics really separated the men from the boys!) have seen the results of all of my physical exertions. Yes. Fabulous, rock hard abs and the most spectacular ass on the eastern seaboard. So tough to be me ;)

Not that all of this working out did much to distract me from my... distractions. I woke up at two in the morning, cumming hard in my sleep. I had tiny, little black panties on and they were soaked. Soaked, people.

This morning, after coming from the spa where I spent the morning getting waxed, which tends, by its very nature, to sort of, um, warm me up a bit, I stopped into Paragon to buy some new shin guards, and, putting out the freshly waxed signal as I must have been, was converged upon by cute salesmen asking if I needed help. I put on the long socks and when the twenty-something year old slid his hands down in them to adjust the padding, I almost moaned out loud. I was wearing a thin, low cut shirt and my nipples were so hard he could NOT take his eyes off of them. As it should be.

This is my summer to play, and I am not done yet. Four more weeks.



I am looking for you. I want to be yours. I want to live just under the surface of your everyday life.

I want to call you from the bathroom while I am out to dinner with friends because I crave the sound of your voice. I want to cum for you in the stall before I go back for dessert.

I want to email you while you are at work, and tell you what I am doing to myself until precum leaks through your pants and you are counting the minutes until you can go home and jack off.

I want you to think of me while you are fucking your wife or your girlfriend, whispering to you all of the things she would never be able to say.

I want to watch you stroke yourself just for me. I want to see you play with your balls, squeeze the swollen head. I want to see the cum arch up and land on your stomach, your shaft shiny and twitching.

I want to listen when you want to talk - lazy, meandering erotic thoughts or dirty, fucked up things you can't believe you are saying, or intelligent conversation with someone who gets it. Finally.

I want to be there for you when you want me. When you need me.
I want I want I want to be completely yours.



I am striving to have a relatively non-sexual day today. You know, maybe I will do something radical like go to a museum or something and NOT flash my pussy at the staring guard (short, hysterical laugh), but wanted to say thanks for yesterday - one of the hottest, wettest days on record.

When I go back to my job in the fall, and they ask me what I did for my summer vacation, what, exactly, shall I say?



Interviewer: So let's get right down to it. You've been doing this for a few months now?

CuriousGirl: Yeah. Since March, or something like that.

I: Uh huh. Actually, before we start, could I just ask, do you always conduct your interviews in the nude?

CG: Well, this is my first one, so I guess you could say I always do, yes.

I: Ok. Well. Not that I have a problem with it. Actually... well, ok, let's just... Have you ever done this before?

CG: Ummmm, not exactly in this form. A few years ago, I put an ad in a paper in Boston saying that I was looking to negotiate an ongoing, uh, situation, and that the more creative the terms were, the better. The main difference between now and then is that after hearing their phone messages and ruling out the ones that didn't seem like they understood what I was asking for, I would arrange to meet them right away. And I was open to relationships which involved sex right at the start, which I am not doing right now.

I: How did that go?

CG: Well, as I am finding this time, the initial, sort of, interview and weeding down process is both exhilarating and exhausting. At that point, I was meeting about five or six men a day, you know, coffee, breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinner, drinks. I had to eat slow, or I would have gained a lot of weight. Or died from caffiene overdose. Wait. Can you die from caffeine overdose? Anyway, it was crazy. But completely amazing.

I: How so?

CG: I have a neverending fascination with the deep workings of people. There was such a layering of fantasy and expectation. Most would see me and say something like, what a relief. Because they thought I would look like some kind of white trash ho-type, or maybe I'd be all done up with four pounds of makeup and heels, or maybe I'd be a man, or whatever preconceptions they had about someone who would do this. Then I'd just be normal and cute and they would have to marvel at that for a minute and ask me why I was doing this and all of that...

I: Did any of them not like you right up front, or say they didn't find you attractive?

CG: Well, none of them said it to my face, but I think the ones who wanted the big, fakey tits or super duper curves were not psyched. I am not hyper feminized in any way...

I: So...

CG: Oh, and I was going to say, the other thing that was amazing was how many people needed so badly just to have someone to talk to in an intimate way. Like, I know they wanted to fuck and get fucked and all of that, but there was often this feeling of wanting to be able to say absolutely anything they wanted to me, with no sense of judgment or innappropriateness. And they could ask me questions or tell me things about their past that they really wanted to say out loud.

I: Did any of them get, you know, visibly turned on during the interview.

CG: Actually, it was funny, most of them were so... I mean, the discussions themselves were really... if you had been sitting at a table next to us at a restaurant, you would definitely think that, at least with most of them, we were lovers, but it is not like all of the discussions were openly sexual. Ok, well, there was one guy...

I: Oh?

CG: Yeah. He was absolutely touching himself under the table. But that was so my fault. He was a bit overweight, so I think he was self conscious about his body and hadn't really had sex in a while. He asked me what I liked to do, and, well, I told him. At one point, he was stroking his cock full on under the tablecloth, but I actually had to go meet someone else right after that, so we had to cut it short!

I: So did you ever find someone?

CG: I did. A few, actually. It ended up being really clear who was looking for the same thing I was. I met the first guy during my very first day of meeting people. He took me to this really wonderful restaurant, which I am a complete sucker for, and we had this truly incredible conversation. It went on and on and I actually called to postpone the date I had after him. He had my email address and I had a PO box, so from the very next day, he started sending me little things - gift certificates, books related to what we talked about, and, of course, some things he wanted to see me wear. I spent time with him every few weeks for almost a year. As things evolved, he would usually take me to some ridiculously fabulous restaurant, then to this one, excellent hotel. He never gave me cash, always some wonderful gift, or something useful for my house or a series of massages or whatever. I loved it. And on those nights, I was just his. Sometimes he just wanted to talk, other times he would do more kinky things, he loved to keep me from going to the bathroom until I peed in my jeans. He also had lots of little girl fantasies... like underage stuff...

I: He wanted you to pee in your pants?

CG: Yeah. Actually, that was really tame next to one of the other men I was spending time with.

I: Oh, meaning...?

CG: I met the second guy for breakfast on the second week, and by lunch, I was in a room at the hotel we had met at. He offered me several hundred dollars on the spot to just come up and let him spend time with my arms and feet. No sex. He would spend maybe a half an hour just on my left upper arm, kissing and licking. He'd work his way down to my feet, and I would use my feet to jerk him off. He made a lot of noise. Then he would just pay me, and I'd leave, and then show up at the same time the next week.

I: Simple.

CG: Yes.

I: Any more?

CG: Just one. I am still in touch with this one on occasion - he is the one I connected to the most. He was working a lot then, a kind of stressful job, I think, and just didn't have time to deal with dating or all of the associated efforts of dating. It's funny, some guys get this right away. He just wanted, you know, the good parts of dating, and he knew that in order to have that without the other stuff, he would have to make some kind of deal. So it was always really easy and clear with him. He appreciated me very much, and I came to know him well, or as well as you can in that situation. I knew what he liked, that is for sure.

I: So... what did you do with him?

CG: Well, he actually was not into full-out fucking most of the time. What he really wanted was to say things to me, have me say things to him, and to watch him jack off. He was fabulously dirty. I mean, really, really, dirty and just hearing him talk to me would make me cum several times in an hour or two. We would sometimes spend a few hours in the buildup - talking really dirty at dinner, or masturbating in a public place, sometimes with people really nearby. We did a lot of bathrooms and subways and stairwells... HEY. You are getting a little red...

I: I am, I am. Sorry. I am just having a little trouble here. I have to admit, this is turning me on a little. But I want to hear what kind of an arrangement you made with him. Not that this is for any personal reason!

CG: Right. Of course not. And yes, I can see what is going on with you. Those were really not the right pants to wear to interview a naked woman.

I: I give you that.

CG: So. The deal I made with him. Well. It really did evolve over time. We weren't sure what it would be at first. He actually didn't want to just hand me a wad of cash. He was moving into a new house at the time, and had absolutely NO design sense. The ultimate straight man - black leather couch and entertainment center and some things from his old house before the divorce... So I would go to Restoration Hardware and Crate and Barrel or wherever with him and help him pick things out for the house. And, over time, I would pick things out for myself as well, with his help, and have them shipped to me. They were beautiful things, and he liked choosing them with me and imagining me around his gifts. So it was perfect.

I: Did you talk to him outside of the times that you saw him?

CG: Absolutely. He would often call me in the morning. He would have been jerking off in bed for a while first, and he would call me, his voice tight, so I could hear him cum. Or he would call me from work where he would have snuck off to the storeroom or whatever. I got to know his sounds really well, so I would bring him right to the edge of cumming and then make him stroke slower and slower until he was begging me to cum. So nice!

I: Ok, now I am really having problems. You've got me... ok, well, you can see that. Would it bother you, I mean, do you think I could take it out for a minute.

CG: Sure. Of course!

I: Mmmm. I'm sorry, I just can't listen to all of this, and... ok, I'm going to, will you, I mean, could you just touch your nipples for me? For a minute?

CG: Like this? they are already hard! Perfect. I'm going to pinch them for you.

I: Mmmm. God. Oh god. I want to cum for you so bad. Didn't think I was going to make it through that. Will you get down on your knees for me? I want to stand up and jack in your face.

CG: Sure...

I: Oh yeah... mmmm. I'm going to put it right up to your face, like this. Suck my balls, could you... yeah. Suck them. Mmmm. I'm going to jerk of really hard now... mmmm. God. Do you like my cock? Mmmm. You're such a little dirty bitch. Look at my cock... I want you to watch me stroke it for you. Mmmmm. Show me your tits. Squeeze them for me. Mmmm. I'm going to shoot my load all over your tits. Mmmmm. Mmmmmm. Uhhhhhhh. Yeah. Uhhhhhhh.

CG: (After a while) Any more questions?



Ok, so clearly this heat is getting to me.

I am buttplug free today. (Laughing...) I'm nice and cool actually. Went for a long run, took a shower, put on the skimpiest thing I could find, and I am sitting down to actually do a little work, after two days of something like an orgasm every two hours. Can tire a girl out!

I am realizing more and more that I really can't keep this up - not in this form, anyway. I have some ideas about how to get to the kind of arrangements that I want without spending the kind of time online that I have, for example, in the last few days, but I am a bit nervous about these ideas. Sigh. I will keep you posted.

Just a small window into what would be a perfect scenario for me right now. I have the next five weeks to myself every day, all day. I want to roll over in the morning, fresh from my dreams, naked and warm, and talk to someone with a morning hard on until they explode.

Then I want to make coffee.

Then, while drinking my coffee, I want to describe my latest fantasies to someone else and hear the catch in their voice while they pump their cock, imagining what I am saying.

Then I want to go for a run.

After a cool shower, I want to turn on some porn and watch it until I am dripping. Then I want to talk to someone who is a bit more dominant, who likes to order me around a bit, say things to me that he can't say to his wife or girlfriend, make me do things. I want to hear everything - even the sickest, dirtiest, nastiest fantasies.

After he shoots his creamy load, I want to have lunch.

Feeling rejuvinated, I want to talk to someone who wants to be told what to do and how to do it and when to do it and how long, how hard, and how fast or slow. I want to humiliate them, make fun of them, walk on them, and then, when they can't take it any more, allow them to cum.

Then, maybe, I'll take a quick nap.

As I wake up from my nap, I want to whisper to someone while they are at work, backed into a bathroom stall, jerking off quickly and quietly while I finger my cunt and tell them how wet it is, how much I want them to fuck me, and how hard I like it. I'll go into the bathroom, too, and push on my full bladder, maybe stand in the tub and let the wet, hot urine pour down my legs as he cums so hard he has to sit down.

Then I will take some time to write a weblog entry, so I can describe how desperately I need to cum.

And, for the next caller, I want to cum. Just for them. Even better, I want them to watch my wet cunt on cam while I do it, fingers thrumming inside of me, juices flowing.

Then I might take a break, rest, run errands, squeezing my sore pussy muscles while I go to the corner bodega, smiling at the guy who takes my money as he notices my nipples, still hard from the day, clearly visible under a thin t-shirt.

And, for my follow up orgasm, I want to watch someone jerk off for me on cam, stroking his shaft while I watch and talk to him, hunched over, sweating in the heat, showing me his red and swollen dick while I put a dildo inside of me and urge him on. The second orgasm is always so long and deep.

Then I might have dinner and call it a day.

What do you think? Nice summer vacation, right? I thought so, too.



I am just about to go out, but I wanted you to be here for this.

I am sitting on the edge of my chair, perched, really, because I have a butt plug shoved all the way into my ass. It has been there for at least thirty minutes while I have been chatting here and there on skype.

My cunt is so wet that I am actually, not figuratively or metaphorically, drooling onto my chair. My clit is enormous. Swollen. Huge, even.

I can squeeze my asshole just enough to feel it wrap around the plug. I just reached around and pushed it further in. Of course, I am remembering my recent experience. I am aching to be fucked that way again.

I am going to take a quick break and bring myself literally, right to the edge of cumming. I am going to barely touch my clit, and then fuck myself with the plug until my cunt starts to contract. Then I am going to stop.


I wish you were here to see me now, juices running down my leg, my asshole stretched tight. I want you to hear my voice right now, which would be husky and strained, desperate to cum for you. Your cock would be ramrod hard, and I would make you pump it for me.

I am going to count to three now, imagining you standing there, your swollen shaft pointing at me while you hunch over it, jerking off for me. On the number three, and not a moment before, just as I type it, I will cum for you. Watch me cum for you...



3fuuuuuuuuuuuuck oh fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck fuuuuuck me dkf


quiet man

Hey. I'm back.

I've been travelling. I was in the most beautiful place. But I am glad to be home.

On the plane on the way home, I had to laugh, several times, thinking of this time in my life. It is as if I am sending out some kind of high frequency vibration that speaks directly to some primal place in people who are, even if they are unaware of it, listening for that particular sound.

An example.

A few days ago, I stopped at a town that had a kind of spa in it. I had not booked a place to sleep that night, but the town was right on the ocean, so I thought I might just camp out in my car for the night. I went to the local campground/trailer area and drove around a bit looking for a place to park. When I came back around to the little office at the entrance, I parked the car and went in to talk to the woman at the desk.

She said that I was welcome to park overnight there, and I asked her if there was any particular spot I should go. She said that she would ask the owner and walked outside. I followed.

As I had driven up, I had noticed a man fixing the gate. She walked over to him and said something. He came over to me and we shook hands. And that was it. Really. In that exact moment, I knew that I would be fucking him in the next twenty four hours or so.

I said hello, he said hello, I asked him where I should park, he made some pretence of pointing out a few spots, he asked where I was from, I told him, and then he asked if I wanted to come over for some coffee. I said yes.

We walked up the hill, weaving through the trailers, and I expected to stop at one of them, but we rounded a corner and there was a little cabin on another little rise, overlooking the beach. I was just smiling openly at this point. Nice house, I said.

In we went, we had coffee, talked, he had to go back to work for awhile, I was going to go for a walk on the beach. Less than one hour after we met, he handed me the keys to his house and told me to stay. So I did.

I was waiting when he got home that night. Six hours of anticipation had left me a little breathless, but we talked for a while, had some excellent whisky, listened to music, prolonging the moment. He was very reserved, almost shy, but I noticed he had been eyeing my feet in flip flops, and I remember thinking that maybe he had a little bit of a foot fetish when he suddenly reached out and took them in his lap, covering my calves in kisses and massaging my arches. Seeing him sort of bent over my feet that way, oblivious to anything else, made me feel lightheaded.

When he looked up, I hooked my hands around his neck to kiss him, and in about three minutes, my clothes were off and I was on his lap, straddling him. The best part? The man was uncircumcised.

I won't take the time now to register my full opinion on the subject, but suffice it to say that this is the way that God intended penises to operate. I feel truly sorry for men who have been robbed of their full equipment. To me, the difference, while not extreme, is noteable. Especially when you are fucked, at length, in the ass, as I was moments after I got into his lap.

The gorgeous foreskin keeps the whole operation lubricated and moving smoothly. You have no idea. I could have fucked for hours. Which we did, actually, taking numerous small breaks to catch our breath.

The second or third time we started up, he was on the couch and I was sitting on him, his cock moving deeply in my ass. He started to whisper to me, fuck that cock, fuck it, come on, fuck it harder. Clearly, what could I do but oblige? At that point, I was bouncing hard on his shaft, wetness everywhere. He was taking my tits in his hand and twisting the nipples hard. I reached down and spread my lips so he could see my clit, red and swollen, sliding on his pelvis.

You little bitch, he said, fuck my cock, bitch. Come on, bitch. Fuck my cock. Fuck it hard. He was making these grunting, animal like noises in the back of his throat and his face was red, veins pulsing in his forehead. I was coming up almost entirely off of his shaft and then pounding my ass back down. He started slapping my ass over and over, telling me to fuck his cock, and I came hard, my asshole tightening and pulsing. I just kept cumming in waves.

Later, we went to bed. I was sore, tired, my nipples were red and tender. I pressed my body into him and felt him get hard again. He pushed his was back into my ass. It hurt, but it was so wet and hot that when he was all the way in again, the pleasure overtook the pain. He grabbed my hips and jacked himself off with my asshole while I moaned.

I slept really well that night. A nice start to my vacation, I thought.