hotel 3

Yes, I know. What happened to "hotel 2"?

Well, the local boys and girls got me last night. Went out wandering around this odd little city. Danced, drank, flirted, danced some more. I wish I could tell you something about myself that would make this story so much more interesting - but, alas... I can't.

But I can say that I ended up at a heartbreaking little karaoke bar (but then, karaoke always breaks my heart... so much earnestness) where a woman was singing a country western song. She must have been in her early twenties, with shoulder length dark hair, big eyes and hips, and wearing tennis shoes. Clearly a lesbian - or, at least, clear to me.

I could not stop staring at her. Could. Not. Velcro eyeballs. On her.

After she put the mic back in the stand and went back to her friends, I had to rip my pupils off of her so that I wouldn't appear to be the raving lunatic stalker that I was so close to becoming. No idea why, suddenly, all I wanted - all I want - is a woman. All over me. And this is all I could think about all day.

And, in some way, the universe, as it often does, provided. At lunch, a woman I had not noticed before, and who is here attending the same event that I am, came over and sat at my table. We made small talk about the event, but, given today's private obsession, I felt like all I could do was look at the curve of her neck, her hands, her lips. She is from the north of England and had a slightly raunchy sense of humor. We were laughing loudly by the end of the meal.

As dessert was arriving, she suddenly said that she had seen me earlier and felt like she wanted to meet me. For a second, it was awkward. I was trying to read behind what she was saying - same sex interactions are, if there is even a hint of the erotic involved, so muffled by layers of water-testing. Is she? Could she be?

I was still taking it in when she got up to leave. We had been talking about going out to an Irish pub nearby, so it didn't seem odd that she asked for my room number, saying that she will call later to see if I am still up for going.

I had to sit and listed to a presentation for about an hour after that, and I was vibrating. I did that delicious thing where I innocently crossed my legs, draping my sweater over my lap, my hands in full view on the table taking notes, while I pulsed my inner thighs and vaginal muscles until I was on the edge of an orgasm. I just kept imagine what her breasts would feel like against my skin, against my tongue. And yes, sometimes I would think of you watching.

But at the last minute, I didn't cum. And now, several hours later, here I sit. Still damp, and wondering if she will call later. I will, of course, keep you well informed.

Going to take a nap now. And I will be very, very good. Very, very, very, very good.

hotel 1

Arrived. Started stripping the second the door shut behind me. Took a bath. Ordered room service. Got in bed, a huge king-sized expanse of white sheets with me in the middle, fingers brushing my already wet, wet...

I've brought myself to the edge about three times, stopping at the last minute. My hands smell of my juices, nipples poised... waiting...

Three more days...

keys

Whenever I need to cum, I get an
ache in my lower belly that extends in a warm wave
downwards
to my clit and then
separates out to my inner thighs.

I have come to think that when this happens,
if it happens in public,
small molecules of "fuck me" begin to
leap off of my skin and travel through the air and are
breathed in by
unsuspecting victims who suddenly find their eyes on
my belly,
which,
if I haven't mentioned this five hundred times before,
is smooth and flat and toned and today on the train

my hand was

drawn to it.
Just lighting there for a minute,
a bit too low.
Thumb disappearing
under my waistband and he just

could not take his eyes off of it.

Fluttering away, coming back, small bulge,
now larger.

I can help it.
I just don't want to.
I want him to think of me when he gets home,
fly unzipped before the door closes behind him,
cock springing out,
keys falling to the floor as he leans against the wall
imagining the way my legs were open just a
little
too
wide.

horizon

I just got a request to make a... a sort of targeted recording. I mean, a recording that aims to please a particular someone.

He described in detail what he wanted to hear- and so, right now, I am thinking about how, exactly, to give him exactly that in a one of a kind, digitally recorded masterpiece of my own making.

Could be fun ;)

A tidbit: He asked for me to slide something, a large something, into my ass while I talk. I am thinking it needs to be just large enough so that he will hear the intake of air, the tightness in my throat, the ache of pleasure in my voice, but not SO big that I can't talk at all!

I think I have just the thing. One of my girlfriends bought a strap on dildo. Big and black. She was nice enough to give it to me when we broke up. The gift that keeps on giving. I think I will use that.

He asks for a few other things that I won't describe in detail, except to say that they involve giving myself over to him for at least a few minutes. I can do that.

I am not kidding when I say that I want to be used. I want to go anywhere you want to go. I will not be faking it. I am an open horizon, stretching out endlessly in all directions at once. In this liminal place, nothing is off limits.

I want to reduce you to a grunting, panting, greedy mess. I want you to think about jacking off all the time. I want your cock to be sore, your balls to be raw. I want you to be distracted in meetings, check your email obsessively, and think about my hard nipples until you have to sneak off and find somewhere to jack off thinking of my dripping cunt.

Show me everything. I want to see it. The way I feel now, I would even beg you for it.

later

Just a quick update - I just got off the phone with someone at work who was in a cubicle! Not even full walls!

He didn't say anything the whole time - well, maybe uh huh, and yep, like I was talking about something really important.

I just told him exactly what I was doing to myself and brought myself to the edge of cumming. Then he said, thanks, and took a little bathroom break.

We talked on skype, which I don't do often. Too complicated, but it worked well for this.

Anyway, now I am really in pain! I mean, a pleasurable sort of pain. A swollen, hot clit, nipples raw from pinching them. A delicious hotel day...

two hours

I am traveling for the weekend and am in quite possibly the most boring midwestern town on the map.

I got here early, and am lying, completely naked, in my hotel room.

I know you are probably at work. Which could be fun.

I don't necessarily need to cum. Though I could if you wanted me to.

I could also just... flirt. Tease you. Talk to you. Get you through your long and tedious day.

Or we could just talk for a few minutes - long enough for you to get my voice in your head so that you could imagine it later, or for you to say a few things that you need to say... things you might have only thought before, but never said out loud.

Though, I suppose, if you are at work,you'd have to say these things very quietly - unless you have a private office. Or a storage closet. ;)

I am going to do something unprecedented. I am going to post the secret link for about an hour or two, and then make it disappear. If you are up for it, and ok with it, then follow where it leads and make an arrangement/appointment to talk with me. If not, then send me some entertaining email, though I might not get to respond until later.

Strike while the doors are open. Longtime readers know that this almost never happens.

You can find me here. [Sorry - link gone, door closed. But who knows... it is a long weekend...]

recording

I am in the mood to make another recording.

I think I know exactly what I want to do on it.

I am going to strip down to my thong, which is already soaked as I type this, put on some heels, just because its fun and adds to the tacky porno effect, lay back in my chair, slide my fingers into my wet pussy, and imagine you standing in front of me, still in your clothes, your erection straining at your pants.

Then,
I am going to tell you
exactly
what I want you to do.

This is only the second recording I have ever made, but the first was very, very, VERY fun, so I think that warrants a part two.

More in a sec.

LATER: Done. Sopping. Exhausted. ;)

recovery

Who knew I could cum so many times in one day? I am still trying to recover from yesterday. I just cannot say what has come over me this week! Whatever it is, I say, bring in on ;)

Wish I had time to play more today, but I only have about a half an hour. Who would like to bid for this welling orgasm?

I am kidding, but only because I don't have time to take bids... I want to cum NOW. A few months ago, I made a recording of myself cumming in about two minutes, but I am going to try to beat that time...

But first, if you could just do one thing for me... If you are at work, reach one hand down, very casually, under your desk, locate the head of your cock, and just rub it gently for a minute. Then, if you can, grab as much of the shaft as you can and squeeze. Hard.

I want to be here for you. There is nothing you can't say to me (or write to me). Take advantage of it, ok?

public places

Well, after months of relative quiet, I decided to take a break and do something fun yesterday.

A few months ago, someone sent me a particularly generous gift. He said that he would like to meet me, even though I made it clear that I don't do that. If things happen spontaneously, I often - as you know - go with it, so to speak, but I don't plan meetings with people I have been in touch with in other ways.

But I wanted to give him something back. And I was thinking, wouldn't it be fun if he knew I was in the room, but didn't know which person I was? I did a version of this game last year when I went to a Starbucks on a certain date/time, which I posted online. No one, of course, figured out which one, out of all of the women with laptops, typing away, was the one (though there may have been more than one!) on the edge of cumming.

For this version, however, I told this guy to go to a large, busy public place of my choosing (it was indoors) at a particular time. I told him to find a place to sit for awhile and said that I could show up for any length of time within the hour. The important thing I wanted him to know was that I would have a vibrator directly on my clit the whole time (I just got a tiny one that is controlled wirelessly and I put the controls in my pocket) and that I would, at some point during the hour, cum.

I LOVED this! In fact, I came twice, just for good measure. I never even looked over at the guy (actually, I wasn't entirely sure which one he was, either). If you had been sitting nearer to me, you might have heard my breathing change a bit, or noticed when I pinched my nipples for a minute. And at the last minute, I arched my back a little, pushing my clit harder against the vibrator. But that's all.

He wrote me later in the day saying that he felt as though he had memorized every woman in the place, but still had no idea which one was me. He made a few guesses, which were wrong. He also said that it took him a while to be able to stand up to get to a private place where he immediately jerked himself off, hard and fast.

I told him, predictably, that I wish I could have been whereever he went, mouth open, hands up my cunt, waiting for him.

disassembly line

My clit is aching today.

Why today? I couldn't say. I have been traveling for the last week... maybe I have been working too hard.

But here I sit, legs crossed, squeezing my thigh muscles together every few seconds, which sends a rush of pleasure from my swollen cunt down my legs and up my stomach to my nipples.

Here is what I wish was possible:

I want to set a time, like 3pm on some boring work day. At that moment, everyone who would like to participate would start stealing touches to their hardening cocks. You'd start feeling the precum dampen your underwear, shifting in your seat in anticipation if you are at work, or stripping naked if you are at home, porn on, cock in hand.

Then I would just start down the list. You would have five minutes to cum for me and then I would go on to the next cock. So by the time I called, you would be ready. Desperate, even. Needing me to hear you jack off for me while I pumped my pussy with my wet fingers. Feeling like you will die if you don't get that rush, that hot spurt, while you grunt into my ear.

I want to be your release.

If anyone is around this afternoon, I could at least satisfy some part of that fantasy...

the end is nigh

Well, this is it. Tomorrow, Friday, will be my last full day of summer. Starting next week, my schedule fills back up, and I will only have one, sometimes two, day(s) off per week. And I somehow doubt I will be able to spend all of those lounging around in a tank top and no underwear writing about what I want to do with your cock.

Thus, here is my plan:

Tomorrow afternoon, I am going to get in bed, strip off all of my clothes, bring myself just to the edge, and be yours - for the rest of the day.

We can talk about the wetness between my legs, your cock, my endless summer, your fantasies, or we can discuss the weather, sports, politics, literature, or philosophy. I could not care less. I just want to hear your voice. Not sure when I will be able to do that again. So, if you have been curious about curiousGirl, this is your chance to scratch that, um, itch. Or if you have cum to know me well, stop by and say hello.

If you know how to call me, then you know what to do. Just put yourself in the line if it is busy. If you don't know how to call me, and you are sure you want to know how to call me, then just send an email. If you don't want to talk, for whatever reason, send a note or I will be sad.

Don't worry. I won't be disappearing entirely. I'm trying to think of an appropriate metaphor... something like, once the snake is out of the bag? Or, now that the pussy has found the milk? Or...

I think I will just stop there. Keep in touch, ok?

what i have become

At a cafe yesterday.

Friend: Shit, here comes that asshole guy.

CuriousGirl: (Looks, sees fifty something man coming in the door.) Why is he an asshole?

F: Fucking pervert. He actually slapped my ass one time as I walked by.

CG: Oh. Hmm. (Looks again.) How hard? And was it kind of low down, like where your thigh meets your ass cheek?

F: ...

small pink thing

My vibrator officially died this morning.

I suppose I can't fault it. The poor thing worked hard this summer. I had to dig it out in March when I started this whole, um, thing - couldn't even remember where it was. Finally found it in a drawer somewhere, dusted it off and got busy.

Such a small pink thing. It has buzzed away between my legs while I wrote to you, teased its way along the edge of my clit while I talked to you, and squeezed itself, at times, not so gently, into my cunt while you talked to me. If you heard the recording I made, then you might have even listened to its dulcet buzzing as it brought me to a, yes, ok, an extremely fast climax! (But, damn, that was a good one.)

Now, it lies still on my desk, looking utterly exhausted. Beat up, even.

Should I bury it? Say a small prayer for it? Write a poem in honor of it? Tattoo "Doc Johnson" on that soft place just inside my hip bone? Swear off cumming for, uh, an hour?

And the biggest question of all: What could possibly ever replace it? (Later: Wow... thanks!)

normal

I just want you to know that I had a completely normal, uneventful, if mildly flirty dinner (lunch got postponed) with my ex-business-partner the other day.

I think it is important for you to see that I really can have a non-sexual interaction with another human being ;)

Went to yoga this morning, and I am now all nice and sweaty and revved up, iced coffee sitting to my right, new mac humming.

I am going to get a little work done here and then I am going to cum several times and then I am going to do some more work.

One more week, then I will only have one day off a week to be your orgasm-on-request girl, so enjoy me while I last, which, as you may know, can be a long, long time, or thirty seconds, your choice.

fly

Guess who is town today? Yes, her.

She is married now, and quite a proper businesswoman. I think we are going to meet for a very innocent (sorry) lunch, but don't you just wish you could be a fly on the wall? Or casually sit at the next table? Hi, I'd like you to meet the woman who made me cum so many times I almost passed out. Ah, so nice to meet you. Etc.

Well, we will be sitting somewhere in Manhattan around two or three this afternoon, I think, in case you want to imagine this. Maybe our knees will touch a bit under the table or she will, in her corporate wear, stand up at the end and hug me just a little longer than is normally acceptable.

Too bad I can't rope her into my burgeoning porn ring - if she and I could spend a little time together with a cam, I might be able to get going on my novel right away ;)

I'll keep you posted.

dude

In an airport. Yes, you know what that means. On the prowl for new stories for you.

Just overheard in the bar... man on cellphone: Aw, dude, I thought they were gonna suck me off at that meeting today.

An auspicious start.

poor

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.

soaked

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.

twenty minutes

Hey from the west coast... from a hotel room. My roommate just left today so I am all alone. Let me repeat that: I am all alone in a hotel room.

Last night, I spent four hours in a kind of spa-like place. Started with a steam room, on to the best massage of my life. Yes, even better than THAT massage. And then, steamed up and slicked down, I was submerged in a hot tub under the stars.

I am sorry to say that I did nothing even remotely sexual.

But while I was in the steam room - and I love it REALLY hot, so I was pouring sweat - I did some slow yoga stretches and then I just lie there for a minute, staring down the length of my body.

I have a sort of little girl body - very petite and very... efficient. Nothing really jiggles or floats in water. My stomach is completely flat, my ass is smooth and muscular, my legs are strong, and my hands are not the delicate kind. They are feminine, but they look like they get things done. My body still looks almost exactly the way it did when I was eighteen. I even weigh the same. It is, some days, like an odd time warp. I know that it will change. Especially if I ever have children. And I think it will be sad, somehow - I will miss the body I have had.

I keep my pubic hair trimmed and partially shaven. I ran my fingers over it, and then I sat up and spread my legs and took a closer look.

My clit is not the tiny, buried variety, though it is not enormous. But it is prominent, and I pulled the skin up a little so that it was exposed. The lips of my pussy are very full and a rich, pink color. I spread them open a bit so that I could see the smooth passageway leading deep inside me.

There are moments when I can really see the parallels between men and women's genitalia. I can see how the lips are the vestigial balls, and I can almost feel the length of what might have been a cock buried in my pelvis, with just the most sensitive tip peeking out from the folds.

I can almost feel what it would be like.

Maybe it was because I was being so clinical and reflective about it, but I didn't feel turned on at all. Just curious and sort of... nostalgic? Warm? You know, like, here is this vessel that I live in or that is me, that is carrying me through this life, bringing me so much pleasure, etc.

But today, in the middle of the conference I am in, while the presenter was in the middle of her powerpoint presentation, I suddenly had to excuse myself. I came back up to my room, stood in front of the mirror, stripped off my jeans and underwear, and made myself cum in about three minutes flat. Fast and furious.

I went over to my bag, pulled out a dildo I had brought along, went back to the mirror, and slowly slid it inside me. It is a little bit large for me, so it stretched my pussy lips all the way open as I slowly fucked myself with it, watching every move.

I just wanted to watch the whole thing - the wet dildo, my clit swelling, my nipples hard and pink, aching to be grabbed, pinched, twisted. I was moaning, grunting, bending down a bit, crouching so that I could shove the dildo deeper inside me.

But what made me cum was the thought of you shooting your load on me - all over my tits and neck and face. When I thought of that, I pulled the dildo all the way out, and then slammed it back in just as I came, hard, crying out, tasting your cum.

Then I washed my hands, slipped back into my jeans (left the underwear off), walked back downstairs and sat back down in my seat. Only twenty minutes had passed.

one thing

I am still here.

I have just been working so much. Too much. This, you see, is part of my frustration.

Why can't I just meet you for a few hours at an adult film place near midtown, get a drink, and watch porn with you in a small, dark room until you are rock hard and begging me to let you take your cock out of your jeans and jack off for me? Then you would pay me some amount that felt completely worth it to you, and that would, upon repeated meetings, allow me not to be working so much, so I could spend that much more time making you cum again and again and again.

It all seems so simple when I say it that way.

Someone invited me to go to one of those swinger parties - and, I admit, it sounds fun - but I would be thinking the whole time: I can give sex away for free anytime. How does this free up my time?

How does this ridiculous waste of time forge a powerful and private exchange with a handful of people who come to me for one thing, so that they leave feeling drained, taken care of, and I am filled up and able to spend the rest of the day focusing on my work in the world, which is to read, to write, and to make things?

I need a patron. Are there still such things?

Feeling dejected.