Friday, April 30, 2010

I Think The Boyfriend Is Horny Today?

The boyfriend, who never calls, has called me three times today. I think someone – besides me – is wanting to get laid tonight.

The first time he called was to see how I was and tell me that he had been thinking about me. When I asked him what he had been thinking, he got all flustered before he finally just said "nothing in particular". I could not resist teasing him a bit further by asking "was I wearing any clothes in his thinking about me". The second time was to see if I wanted to go to lunch together. The third was simply to tell me that he enjoyed lunch.

He is being so adorable.

Now, do I make him keep working for it or do I throw him down and have my way with him?

Hugs,
Rachel

Monday, April 26, 2010

Why Does My Mother Hate Me?

Why does my mother hate me?

My parents live only a few miles from me; yet we probably see each other less than families with an entire ocean between them. Yesterday, I decide I have put it off long enough and drive over to visit. In the forty-five minutes I was there, my mom felt the need to tell me the following things wrong with me:
  • I am fat (trust me, I am not fat).
  • My bra was all wrong.
  • My hair was too long.
  • I am not married (though she likes the boyfriend).
  • I am supposedly focusing upon my career when I should be married and pregnant.
  • I never went to college.
  • Why was I not a nurse or a teacher like I used to talk about becoming?
  • I do not visit enough (she has never been to my apartment).
  • I do not call enough.
  • I was wearing boots she did not like.
  • I did not study hard enough in high school.
  • My friends were all a bad influence.

And that is only a partial list.

I suppose it should hurt my feelings, but the truth is that I stopped feeling hurt a long time ago. I have always known, on some level, that nothing I do will ever be good enough for her . . . and I suppose that means I can never be good enough for her. I just think that a mom should make her daughter feel good about herself, not about ready to cry every time I leave.

Okay, enough meloncholy. I have many more tales about Harley. Soon, I promise.

Hugs,

Rachel

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Harley

I know that I promised myself a sex blog today. However, I did not feel like up to throwing the boyfriend down last night to fuck me just so that I would have something to write about today. Additionally, today has been chaotic leaving me little time to think about anything else but putting out fires. I have taken some time for lunch now and thought I would enjoy some peacefful time alone in my office. I do not have much current that I care to write about. But maybe there is something from the past that would be fun to recall.

When I think about the past, one man always comes immediately to mind – Harley. I was twenty. Harley was quite a few years older than me. He was forty-two. But he was more alive than any man I have ever dated, before or since. Harley was the kind of man who could walk into any room and everyone in the room would notice him. When I knew him, he had already done his twenty years in the Marines and was then a deputy with the Sheriff's Department. He stood 6'2" and every ounce of his 240 lbs was solid muscle. It should be pretty obvious from the way I write about him that I had a major crush on Harley. Hell, I loved him.

We rode his Harley over to Bike Week in Daytona (thus the reason I am calling him "Harley"). I had tried to dress the part for him. I wore a camo-print bikini top, matching cap, and a pair of painted on blue jeans. I think Harley enjoyed showing me off every bit as much as I enjoyed being seen with him. I also think Harley figured out quickly that I would do just about anything to please him. He was so protective of me though that he really asked for very little. I do think, that day in Daytona, that he would have loved me getting on stage for the wet t-shirt contest. I would have done it for him; albeit embarrassed as all get out. But that would have required an ID saying I was twenty-one, which I wasn't. As it was, I was already getting into far more places than I should have been at just twenty. Instead, Harley and I had fun watching it together on the front row. I do not know if the ladies were having fun flashing me or him. I never got jealous because Harley always made me feel special.

But a man – especially a man like Harley – can have so much power between his legs (the bike) and look at boobs only so long before he finally needs to get laid himself. We had stopped at a mall on the way back to look at something quickly. And then Harley needed to go pee. Harley pee'd a lot. I used to tease him that he needed to mark his territory everywhere he went. Since the t-shirt contest, I had been teasing him mercilessly. I was doing it intentionally because I wanted him worked into a frenzy when we finally got back to his house. We were headed towards the bathroom and I stroked his dick through his pants asking if he was going to be okay. He threatened me saying that if I kept on that he might just drag my ass into the men's room. I teased back that if he did, then I would have no choice but to go along quietly with him. I did not think any more of it when he walked into the men's room, but two seconds later he returned and grabbed my wrist.

"What?"

"You're needed" is what I clearly remember him saying; it was all that he said in fact.

I gathered he had gone into the men's room and checked to see that no one was in there. He then turned around to get me to come take care of the problem I had been buidling up inside of him.

He pulled me straight into the hand-capped stall (more room, I suppose). He began unbuttoning my jeans to slide them down. I tried to tell him that they were going to be way to tight for me to slide down half way for him to bend me over. I tried instead to suggest I would be very pleased to take care of him with my mouth.

"You do not want me dong to your mouth what I need to do to your cunt".

Oh my!

He plopped my ass down on the toilet then and began pulling my boots off. Them out of the way, he took my jeans completely off me. In keeping with the theme, I had worn a camo thong as well. He took that off too.

Standing there, looking up into his face, he held me, naked but for my bikini top. He kissed me. I remember it still. How do you describe a kiss that was both tender and demanding at the same time. When he released me from the kiss, he smiled into my face and said "no noise" as he then put my moist (hey, teasing him teases me too) panties into my mouth.

He then turned me around and shoved his dick right inside of me.

When ever anyone would come into the mens' room, he would sit down on the toilet taking me with him. Still impaled on his dick, with my legs on either side of his, it was impossible for my feet to touch the ground. I think he loved those moments a lot. He would reach around and begin to manipulate my clit. He tortured me there.

When we were alone, he would stand me up and hammer away into me. How he was able to fuck me so hard without making any noise is a mystery. He gripped my ass and stopped himself just short of slamming into my ass.

And when Harley cums, I swear it is like having a fire hose explode inside of you. It drenches everything. The entire two years I dated Harley, I swear that I felt like there was cum running out of me every single day; even if we had not fucked for a few days (the longest tHaley went without was 72 hours). When Harley came inside of me in that stall, it may not have been the most romantic place in the world to be fucked, but I never felt more needed by my man than in that moment.

He needed me and I was his.

Hugs,
Rachel

Idle Wonderings

Back to my dreams from the other night - I was wondering what is it about a girl being tied up that seems to get everyone so excited (the boyfriend being possibly the only exception)? Do not misunderstand me, I am not saying I am opposed to it. Just wondering. Treat me well and I will probably do anything - anything - my man asks . . . or, even better, just starts having me do for him. So, why the need to restrain me? Maybe someday I will get a chance to find out . . . sigh.

Hugs,
Rachel

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Boyfriend and Dad?


I had intended to write about sex this morning since, after all, this is a sex blog. But something happened this morning and I think I want to let my thoughts drift along another line. I promise though – next entry, sex.

It is a beautiful Florida morning. The sky is a deep blue. The sun is bright. I thought about playing hooky and driving to the beach. Instead, I came into the office this morning feeling bright and bouncy to be greeted by Penny who was pretty much being the exact opposite. I have known Penny for more than eleven years, since her daughter Tiff was five and Tiff is now sixteen. I really should have driven to the beach instead. Penny was angry with her daughter Tiff. Tiff is a brilliant gorgeous girl who makes extremely stupid decisions whenever it comes to her boyfriend Jamie. It does not really matter what Tiff did this time, just take it that is was stupid . . . again. Then Penny went into how Carl, her husband, yells at her and blames her for Tiff's behaviors with Jamie. I did a dumb thing then and I should have known better – I said something when I should have just kept listening. I really really should have just kept driving to the beach. I could have bought a bikini there and spent the day under the sun. But no, I had to be responsible. And that is probably why I opened my big mouth to Penny as well. I said that Carl maybe needed to stop blaming Penny and maybe needed to start looking more at himself. Tiff's boyfriend sounded like the mirror image of Carl, I said. Maybe if he treated Tiff better, she would not be dating a loser. Penny busted my chops saying that Carl and Jamie “LOOKED” nothing alike. Hm, I thought. Carl is an unemployed pothead and alcoholic who is always telling Tiff how bad she is. Jamie quit school to sit home all day smoking pot and drinking and is incredibly jealous and critical of anyone Tiff speaks to when he is not around. They may not “look” alike, but they damned sure act alike. Then I remembered Penny's father who often comes into our office. He is amazingly sweet to everyone; everyone but Penny. I have heard him call her fat (she's gorgeous!!!!) and stupid and a hundred other nasty things. All she is back is sweet and calls him “Daddy”. And yes, he is an alcoholic as well. Pattern?

What about me? How much is my relationship like mom and dad's? Dad would do anything in the world for me. And he is Uber-dad at being protective. Once, years ago, pre-boyfriend, he called me while I was out on a date. I do not know what I said or did, but he thought I might be in trouble. He made mom get ready to eat out then he drove over to the restaurant my date and I were at. I knew something was up so went to sit with him a moment to talk. He said he was “worried” about me and needed to know I was safe. I felt so warm and fuzzy inside that the date even got laid that night (the next morning too if I remember right).

Protective – yes. Affectionate – no. Of course, it was not just dad who was not affectionate. The two of them, mom and dad, never hugged or kissed that I ever saw. Not each other. Not me. I used to joke, but I was really being serious, that mom does not have a clue when my birthday is. She once called, several days after my birthday, and left a message with the boyfriend to tell me happy birthday. I could not tell you the last birthday card or present I received from either of them. On Christmas, they usually go away so we have not done much family things around that time either. Truth is, I was pretty much raising myself by age ten. I got myself ready for school, fixed breakfast, and came home alone. Mom and dad worked late usually, but mom would fix dinner and I just needed to warm it up in the microwave. Mom had a harder time with affection than dad did. If I went to sit on dad's lap, he would cuddle me up and make me feel all safe and secure. If I went to sit beside mom, she would try to slide over to give me more room on the sofa. But dad, like the boyfriend, never once came up to hug me on his own. Even as a little girl, I initiated everything with even him.

Rachel

Monday, April 19, 2010

Tied Up Naked

I think dreams mean whatever you think they mean.

Having said that – I have no idea what my dreams last night meant. Weird!!!

It was a quiet weekend, absolutely nothing of any interest to write about. I am enjoying still a great book on the life of Julius Caesar. I turn out the light, give the boyfriend the token kiss good-night (I think I did anyway, he would not notice either way), roll over, and go to sleep. Now, you tell me why I dreamed about being tied up naked, spreadeagled, in the bed.

And no, it could not be anything as simple as just being tied up naked and spreadeagled – OH NO. I am tied up, naked and spreadeagled in case I have not made that clear enough, when the boyfriend walks into the bedroom. Good, you would think, right? Wrong! The boyfriend is not whom I am apparently tied up naked and spreadeagled for on the bed. Now I am dying with anxiety that he is going to notice and start to ask questions. You know, questions like, “honey, sweetie, why are you tied up naked and spreadeagled on the bed?” He is looking in the closet and rambling about something, I do not know what. I am trying to pay attention to him so that he does not stop searching to come over to me by the bed. And I am trying to act nonchalant like it is perfectly normal for me to be laying there so that maybe he would not notice I was also naked and tied up. Hey, it was a dream. You make sense in your dreams. The boyfriend never leaves. He just keeps looking in the closet. And babbling about something. And then I begin to worry that the boyfriend is taking too damned long to find whatever it is he is trying to find. My lover is going to come walking into the bedroom soon. That would be awkward. “Honey, sweetie, why is this strange man walking into our bedroom? And while I think of it, sweetie, why are you tied up naked and spreadeagled on the bed?” The boyfriend just would not leave! No, I take that back, he did leave once and promptly came back saying that he needed something else. (SCREAM!!!) And no, the fantasy lover never arrived either so I do not know who that was either.

Needless to say, I was pleased as all get out when I finally woke up and realized the entire thing had been a dream. For a brief second, I was thinking I was still tied up on the bed, but soon the head cleared enough to realize I was on my side and not my back. The amusing thing is that the boyfriend was actually mumbling in his sleep.

I drift back to sleep and guess what – you got it – I was back on the bed, tied up, naked, and spreadeagled. The boyfriend is not there!!! But wait, he is calling my cell phone. I am tied up. How am I going to answer? If I do not answer, he is going to come home. If he comes home, then he will start asking questions; like, “why are you tied up naked on the bed?” Randi is there though. She answers the phone and holds it my ear to talk. I am trying to carry on a normal conversation with my boyfriend on the phone, a phone that my girlfriend is holding, while I am tied up naked spreadeagled on the bed waiting for my lover who is going to come do things to me. The boyfriend is just babbling about stupid stuff. Finally, he gets off the phone. I expect Randi to leave, instead she pulls up a chair and sits down beside the bed. “Um, whacha doing?” She tells me that the boyfriend might call back and she will need to answer the phone. “Okay”. WTF?!?! Then her and I carry on a conversation about normal stuff with me tied up naked and spreadeagled on the bed. I am still anxious the boyfriend will return. Randi says she has my back. I am so anxious about his coming back home that I am not even thinking about who my lover is. It is like I know, so do not even think about it. I ask Randi if she will leave when my lover does come. She leans forward to stroke my hair and says, “no sweetie, why would I”? It is then that I realize I am not in my bedroom, but I am on a stage tied to the bed, naked and spreadeagled. You guessed it – more anxiety!!!

What does it all mean? I have no freaking clue.

Hugs,
Rachel

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Disillusioned

I have been disillusioned.


I would say it is the equivalent to learning there is no Santa Claus, except that I am still holding out hope that there is a rolly jolly bearded man in red fur with a big leather belt that will come visit me on Christmas Eve to bring me things (and maybe I can do something nice in return for him too).


Everyone has seen the freecreditreport.com commercials. I was completely in love with freecreditreport.com guy. There is a mandate in our apartment - absolutely no channel surfing when this commercial in on the set. The boyfriend may not have the highest sex drive in the world, but he knows he will never get laid again if he violates this caveat. And watching it might mean he will get lucky that night - who knows! Freecreditreport.com guy sings his ballad, with his sad little three man band, about how his life would have been better if he would have been checking his credit scores more frequently and had learned that his identity had been stolen. Every time I saw him sing and his voice that I could listen to for hours, I was ready to marry him, have his babies, and single handed restore his credit. Well guess what - the voice I loved to listen to is not his. He is an actor and someone else is doing the singing. I guess the boyfriend does not need to worry about his place . . . yet.


I decided to check on the UPS whiteboard commercials as long as my fantasies were being busted. I figured there was no chance in hell that the actor was actually drawing those amazing pictures on the whiteboard as he was narrating. Turns out - he is. He is actually the advertising manager who came up with the idea. He did a test video to show what he had in mind. They tried various other actors out to take his place, but no one could do it as well. He finally had to do it himself. Sadly, I do not have a crush on him. Freecreditreport.com guy broke my heart (and, by the way, freecreditreport.com is not actually "free" in case anyone thought that).

Hugs,
Rachel


Monday, April 12, 2010

Saturday Night At The Fights (UFC)

Randi calls me Saturday evening. A group of her friends were going over to Hooters to watch the UFC fights. She knew that I liked UFC and thought I might enjoy going along. The boyfriend would not budge from his chair. I do not get him sometimes. He had a girlfriend approved opportunity to go watch guys beat on each other while being served by scantily clad women; as if that were not enough, he knows what I am like when I have been drinking. But, and this is the part I do not get, he wanted to sit home and watch television. After several frustrating minutes of trying to get him to go, I told him I was going to go alone then.

I had a great time.

Anderson Silva was a jerk in how he showboated the entire fight. I can see, if you are truly that good, showboating for part of a round or maybe an entire round. But, after that, just try to finish the fight. I would love to see Silva fight GSP (George St. Pierre), but I doubt that will ever happen because of the differences in their weight classes. If they did, I can say this - Silva would not pull that junk with GSP.

Randi's friends were great too. There were four women, counting me, and six men. I wish I could do a better job of describing everything, it was all so much fun. Maybe you just had to be there for it to be funny, maybe the alcohol made it all so funny, maybe the alcohol just destroyed my memory, maybe I just suck at writing, or maybe some combination of the above. This is some of what I vaguely recall:

Susie announced to the bar that she is a shapely woman; adding then that "round is a shape". Randi said her nips were the size of a quarter. Susie retorted that hers were a silver dollar. When I said I did not know mine, Randi walks around behind my chair and starts looking down my blouse. I am thinking she is only going to fake the next bit, but nope, she reaches down my blouse and begins to move my bra around to see my nipples. The guys at the table stopped watching the fight and starting paying more attention to us (the fight going on then was boring anyway). Apparently mine were more like a nickel. Randi has a "gag reflex". Susie was proud of herself for not having one. I stayed quiet!!!!! Josie, who I swear could not have been over 18, saved me by chiming in with how fruit juice makes semen taste sweeter. Her boyfriend promptly asked the waitress if they had any fruit juice. The benefits of hair pulling and ass slapping were fully discussed. And tattoos (of course, Randi has several if you remember).

The men were all perfect gentleman too througout the entire night, even when the conversation was at its most sexual. Not one of them tried to hit on any of the ladies or anything. Do not misunderstand me, I am sure that each of them would have eagerly slept with any of us, including the 'shapely' Susie. They were still respectful of us. (Big sigh). I would not have done anything, but I kept noticing Joe who was sitting on the other side of the table. He was the oldest - I think he was 52 - but he was also the most in shape. He said he went to the gym, but that he has always been strong, probably from the auto repair shop he owns. He was very into the fights and did not say much; and maybe did not say much because he was the oldest by quite a bit too. Too bad, I thought he was the most attractive and the most interesting (next to Randi and Susie of course). I started wondering what was wrong with me. The boyfriend is actually trying - okay, I am actually trying and he is going along for the ride - but there I was thinking about another man. I was not sure I was every going to be satisified. I just had another drink and listened to Randi and Susie.

Rachel



Friday, April 9, 2010

Two Days In A Row!!!

Two days in a row!!!!

Two days in the same week!!!!!!

You would have to go back a ways to find a time when the boyfriend and I have made love two days in a row. Well, I am here to say it happened last night. I wonder if I am creating a monster. God I hope so (smile).

We were laying in bed reading. You would probably assume I read romance novels (and I am not opposed to them, especially for the steamy sex scenes). Believe it or not, I read history late at night. It started when I saw the movie "Tombstone". I was curious how much of what was in the movie was real, so I began reading all I could about Tombstone, Wyatt Earp, and Doc Holliday (along the way also getting highly turned on by both of them). One set of questions led to other questions and I began reading more history. I do not read particularly fast and I find reading history to be relaxing. Nothing that happened in the past gets me upset and thinking; neither of which is a good thing when trying to go to sleep. I guess one way of looking at it is that reading history puts me to sleep. I an currently reading about Julius Ceasar. My boyrfriend is reading a compilation of the comic strip "Foxtrot". I read. He mostly giggles.

We were laying in bed reading. The evening was warm and neither of us were beneath the covers. He was wearing his gray sweatpants. I know I tend to be a bit excessive with the detail sometimes, but this is important for a reason. When I glanced over to him I could see an obvious swelling.

"Are you needing help with a problem", I said to him without having really thought about it.

I will never forget what he said - maybe how he said it - "OH GOD YEAH, PLEASE".

A few seconds later, I was stripped naked, his sweats were off, and my ankles were back behind my head again. I think I have noted before how much he loves to bend me up tight. Truth is, I kind of like it. I like it the most when he takes my wrists into his hands as well and stretches them out far with his shoulders holding my legs high over my head and his weight pressing firmly into me. I love everything about it. I love how deep he feels in me. I love the control he takes. I love feeling of submissiveness it gives me. And I especially love the look on his face. He tries to be a good lover and is often tender (too tender). But, sometimes, not always, when he gets me in this position, he becomes so completely self absorbed. It is in those moments that he is, to be blunt, fucking me for all he is worth. What can I say, I love the look of intensity and complete control his face gets. I would never ask him to stop before he was finished with me. But in those moments, I do not think he could even hear me if I were to ask. His need to cum inside of me is so intense that it completely turns me on and makes me feel good to be under him then, to give him my vessel for his need.

And that was precisely what was happening.

If you recall, I said earlier that on some occasions the boyfriend is gifted/cursed with God-like stamina. This was one of those evenings. I am not the kind of woman who would ever say "will you hurry up and get off of me", but I can certainly understand how a woman can reach that point. He had pounded me hard and solid for what seemed like forever. His fury seemed to have ebbed. He was tiring. He was just rocking into me then, letting only the motion of our bodies rocking cause him to slide into and out of me. I wanted him to finish. I wanted him to feel good. I wanted him to know it was okay for him to keep going.

"Can I ask what got you so horned up", I asked him. I did not think about it before now but that could have been a dangerous question - he might have been thinking of another woman. Not sure I would have handled that too well.

"You", he said. Safe answer, good boy.

"What about me?"

"That night at your mom's".

I am not sure I can describe how I was feeling. The boyfriend had me pinned beneath him, his dick deep inside of me, and we were carrying on a conversation of sorts. It was all so surreal. And strangely, in a way I can not describe, it made me feel so close to him in that moment.

"What about it," I wanted to know.

He kept looking down at me. I kept looking back up at him. I wanted him to say more. "Tell me", I whispered encouragingly.

"Everything".

"Like . . . "

"Your fixing dinner for us, making a real romantic night, but then getting naked to give me head outside, the way you talked, and . . . . "

"And . . . "

"Wanting me to take you from behind".

"You mean in my ass".

"Yeah".

"You liked that", I said almost laughing I was smiling so hard.

"Couldn't you tell".

"I could sort a tell, yeah".

We did not talk any more for a bit. We both seemed to focus solely upon the pleasure of his dick deep inside of me. I had closed my eyes. When I opened them again, he was staring intently down into them.

Without thinking I said, "you know, I am not stopping you if you want it again".

It was all the encouragement he needed.

In hindsight, I have to ask myself what the hell was I thinking! He has a diamond-cutter of a hard on happening and I tell him it is okay to fuck me in the ass. And my answer back to myself is that I would do it again in the same situation. He needed me. There was nothing I would have denied him.

A moment later, his dick was seated fully in my ass. It was the second time I would have surrendered my ass to him. The change, his rest, my submission, the whatever, his energy had returned in force. He was merciless on my ass.

I was suprised when he withdrew from inside of me. There was no way in hell that he was done. I was even more suprised when he just started to role me over. No words. No talking. He just moved back, took hold of my legs, and rolled me. To my defense, we almost never change positions. How he starts is how he finishes. This was unexpected. I say that, but let me say also that I was pleased because I had been bent double for a good while too. As flexible as I can be, he had pushed my limits too. What I liked most though was that he just did it. He simply took hold of me and moved me to how he wanted me.

He pulled my hips up till I was on my knees. My face remained buried in the bed. He spread my knees and very gently re-inserted himself back into my ass. Taking my hips into his firm grip, he resumed his furious pace. My poor ass!!! I did not know how long he was going to go, but I knew he was to go until he pumped his load into me. He was not going to quit and I would be damned before I quit. He fucked me hard. Sometimes he was banging into me, other times he was using his grip upon my hips to make me fuck him instead while he remained motionless. I loved every merciless second of it.

I can always tell when he is close to cumming. He begins to grunt as he thrusts inside of me. As hard as he was riding, I was not suprised to soon hear him begin to grunt. The sound of his own grunting seemed to motivate him all the more. I thought he was fucking me hard before, it only got harder with each thrust. The headboard was pounding into the wall. I briefly thought of the neighbors - "great, they know I am getting fucked tonight". He pulled me further back along the bed until he was standing; I remained on my knees on the bed. Oh God, could it be - I actually felt myself starting to cum. Oh we were definately going to do it this way more often. It was intense. I did not know it was possible to climax that way. He was oblvious, I think, to his own needs. I raised up just a bit and could see him in the dresser mirror. He was focused upon my ass. I imagined him staring down at his dick as it slid into and back out of me. He grunted with nearly every thrust as he drove himself ever harder into me. I knew it was a matter of time before he exploded inside of me. I loved that it was me and something I had done for him which had made him so turned on to begin with. I loved that it was me he needed. I loved that he was taking pleasure in my body. And I loved that very soon he would be pouring his need deep inside of me.

A moment later, he did just that.

Exhausted, he stood behind me, with me still impaled upon him.

I was ready to fall forward and lay down myself spent.

Still inside of me, he pressed me forward further upon the bed. I guess I must have got the hint as I lay down and he laid down upon my backside, keeping his dick inside of my ass still. He kissed the back of my neck before laying his head down upon my shoulder.

We lay there for a while.

I was smiling.


Rachel

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Morning Sex w Boyfriend

I am getting ready for work this morning and 'kind of sort of' thinking about how to describe the boyfriend and mine's last few sexual encounters. Mostly, I wanted to describe how things are more often than not; the few times i have written about being the very strong exceptions. I wanted to describe how the boyfriend and I have very different needs. I would 'put out' every night if I was 'needed'. His 'needs' run to about once a month. I had planned to write about each of the times since my great role-play effort several weeks ago. And trust me, there were not that many to describe. But then, the more I thought about it, the guilter I began to feel. I know, there is a part of me that is also screaming at me, saying "WTF is wrong with you". Still, I had promised to be this new improved girlfriend. Granted, I thought I had done a pretty amazing job with the role-play and my first back door. Since then, though, I have not done much of anything. He makes it pretty easy to slide back into our routine. Truthfully, it has become that I seldom even think about sex much when we are together; it is when he is not around that it is on my mind. I looked at my watch and decided that I could afford to be late into work this morning.

We get up at the same time most mornings; however, it takes him a lot less time to get ready than I do. He generally fixes himself some coffee, then channel surfs until I am out of the bathroom. And sometimes, he still manages to get out of the door before me. Well, this morning, I decided he would be leaving with a smile on his face. At least, he damned sure had better been smiling.

I slipped back out of the slacks I had planned to wear today. I pondered a moment on whether to leave my bra and panties on - there is something sexy about having your clothing - but quickly opted for naked. I padded into the room naked and, without hesitation, went right towards him. I straddled him upon the sofa before he even had a moment to gather his wits. The boyfriend is not a morning person.

"Good morning", I said to him before giving him a big kiss on his lips.

When we finally broke, I moved up just a bit and was hoping he would just take the hint. He did, as he took my breast fully into his mouth. I pressed ever harder into his face. He was not being gentle, as was his tendency; there were going to be bruises - but dang it felt good. I was ready for more.

"I want you", I said down to him, my hands roaming through his hair.

He was able to pull down his shorts enough without either of us having to move.

A moment more and I was fully impaled upon his dick. I do not know how to describe the feeling of having his dick up inside of me except to say simply it was a filling sensation. It made me feel good to have him there.

This was not a morning for subtleties, so once mounted, I began to ride him. I love this position because I can usually cum here. Okay, I do not "O" all that often, now you know that too. I just simply rode him and pushed his head onto my breast. Oh my. I love looking out the window behind the sofa too when I am riding him here. I have never considered myself an exhibitionist, but I enjoy it none the less. I thought about having his cum up me and having him drip slowly out this morning. I wondered how many other women this morning were going to have cum dripping out of them. I concentrated more on simply having him inside of me. Ow! He was getting extremely rough with the puppy, so I pulled him from the one and gave him the other to play with.

I was a bit concerned he might ease off thinking he had done something wrong. "It's okay", I said smiling down into him, "the other one just wants some attention too". I pressed into him hard and rode him all the harder hoping he would respond in kind. He did.

I had not anticipated this would be a long morning workout. Once in a while, the boyfriend can surprise me with God-like stamina. I did not want that to be this morning.

I felt my moment approaching. I focused more upon all that was happening there and then, being in the moment, blocking out the rest of the world. I heard his breathing increase, his nostrils flaring like a race horse trying to breathe since his mouth was full of my breast. I wanted us to cum at the same time. His breathing was like a riding crop to a race horses ass, it pressed me to ride him all the harder. He responded by biting down a bit harder with his teeth. I hugged his head. He bit me. I fucked him. And when all ceased to exist but the feel of his head upon my breast, my breast within his mouth, and his dick inside of me, I came. A second later, he exploded inside of me as well.

Spent, we simply sat there for a bit in each others grasp.

Now, if he would just 'need' me a little more often without my having to always start it.

Rachel

Monday, April 5, 2010

An Old Girlfriend's "Chore"

Since the boyfriend does much of the cooking, I do the grocery shopping. I sometimes think I would rather do the cooking. His chore is once a night; whereas, my hell is only once a week (every other week if I get lucky). I know, unimportant information, but it does tie in with what I hope to write next. At the store, I saw an old friend whom I have not spoken to in what must be years now. We were reasonably close at one time. You know how it is though; she got busy, I got busy, and the touching base got further and further apart. We spoke, just briefly, which is good because I really hate being at the grocery store any longer than I have too. I can not begin to describe how much I hate grocery shopping. She was still married to her husband of, what she called, "an eternity". I suspect that was how come she had put on quite a few pounds. I remembered something she had vented to me years ago. We were supposed to go out to the movies and she was running late. When she finally arrived, she was clearly trying too hard to be in a good mood. I suspected a fight with the husband only I was mistaken. She eventually exploded complaining of her husband being a sex maniac. I gathered from her tone that she did not consider this to be a good thing. She was rushing to get ready, she told me, when her husband came into the bedroom while she was dressing. She knew what he was hinting around for, she said, and she tried to ignore him. I guess he got unpleasant then and started asking a lot of stupid jealousy type questions; like who was she really going out to see. She said this was what her life was like anytime she didn't just spread her legs for him. Mostly, I remember just sitting there listening. What do you say in response? She called sex a chore. She knew what she would be listening to all evening after she returned if she didn't just go ahead and put out then. She didn't want the movie ruined by her knowing what she was going to be returning too. I thought he was being manipulative myself, but opted to keep my mouth closed (a rare feat if you knew me at all). I guess we all make choices on what we are willing to live with and who was I to question her choices. Remembering her did get me to thinking though. I have complained of my relationship with my own boyfriend. I have written about some extremely passionate moments between us, though I have complained about his apparently complete lack of interest in sex. I can see someone wondering - which is it Rachel? Truth is, the passionate moments were more fun to tell. Duh. But, maybe I will take a few moments in the near future to describe what a typical month is like between us intimately. Trust me, he is not a sex maniac. (But I might be).

And, for the record, I do not believe my girlfriend's husband is a sex maniac either. What he is - is an asshole. He just uses sex as one way to control her. Jerk.

Rachel

Friday, April 2, 2010

I Try To Keep My Promise (Part II)



I wanted more passion from my boyfriend. I had promised myself that I would try harder too. If I had meant it, then it was my turn to do something. Part I was not the story I intended to tell. This, part II, is the story I wanted to tell.

My parents live in the same town. They were going away for the weekend. It seemed like the right time and the right place.

I planned things for Friday. My parents would be away. Saturday would mean I'd have all day to think about it and chicken out. Friday would keep me busy with work and then rushing to get ready. I could do this.

The hard part, I suspected, was going to be getting the boyfriend to cooperate without me having to fully tell him what I had in mind. As it was, he wasn't all that difficult. I told him on Thursday that I wanted to do something special for him on Friday. He tried to find out, but didn't press any harder when I said I just needed him to be at my parents place at 7pm.

I was going to cook! Okay, you might need to re-read the first part of this tale to remember why this was a really big deal for us.

My mom was bit more suspicious. I had already okayed using their place, not that they would have cared if I hadn't asked first. I just didn't need them suddenly deciding to turn back around. I told mom I might serve my boyfriend dinner outside by the pool. She made a special point of showing me how to disable the security lights saying she figured I might want it darker for the "candles". The way she put it, mom knew her baby girl was planning on putting out beside the pool. What a mom!

Truth is, I wasn't really planning on dinner out beside the pool. I had thought about it. But, in the end, I thought it might be more surprising to him if I led him out there for the first time when I was prepared to give him his surprise.

Dinner was okay. You're not really reading a sex story to hear about my cooking. Suffice it to say that my anxiety over cooking dinner without blowing it completely wiped out my being anxious over what I had planned later for my boyfriend.

Dinner went surprisingly well. He was very attentive and appreciative. I looked killer in a short red dress, my hair down, those same sexy black heels from our famous kitchen encounter. I was drinking my fill with wine. Remember, wine has this inhibitions killing effect on me. Yeah, he knew he was gong to get lucky that night.

I was waiting for it to get dark outside.

And now it was.

I began clearing the table. Good boy that he is, he started to help. I told him to just talk and keep me company, but that I wanted to do it all tonight. If he only knew how true that statement was going to be too. When I was done, I said I needed to visit the bathroom. He didn't suspect a thing.

I took a deep breathe before I left the bathroom. I was completely naked. No heels this time either. And yes, ladies, I was dripping wet. Apparently, I was excited. I walked out of the bathroom and was grateful to see that he'd gone into the living room. I stopped by the kitchen to pick up the final accessory for his surprise. I then walked into the living room completely naked holding a six pack of Corona.

"Oh my", he said.

I smiled. His look alone told me that he was totally turned on by me. What girl doesn't love to see that.

I am not especially good at demure and submissive, but gave it my best shot. I walked over to him and held out my hand for his. I pulled him up from the sofa, gave him a light kiss, and asked him to follow me. I led him through to the glass doors which led out onto the pool. It was very dark, no moon, and the sky was filled with stars.

"Tonight, you are a ruthless pirate captain".

He smiled, "argh".

"Yes, ruthless. And I am your captured princess. You've stripped me naked and ordered me to perform for you with my mouth".

"I'm liking this", he said.

"It gets better, I hope. You're going to drink a beer, you tell me, and that if I have not satisfied you with my lips before you finish your second beer, that you will allow your pirate crew to begin fucking me from behind. They won't stop using me until your cum is sitting prettily on my tongue, you threaten".

"Really".

It was time to begin, I decided.

"Please Captain, my father is rich, he'll reward you well. Please don't despoil my mouth with your vile seed". It helped to have time ahead to think up things for me to say. You can attribute my saying anything at all to the wine because I have never been more embarrassed and self-conscious in my life.

My boyfriend looked down at me. The moment of truth, was he going to go along with me on this or was I going to be standing her naked, ready to suck his duck, and just look foolish.

"Princess, your father will still reward me well. The only question to be answered is can you please me before I open your treasure to me crew".

Oh, good boy, he was into this.

"You tell me", I say to him, "now, to your knees Princess, ye have some work that needs doing. And then you place yours hands upon my shoulders and push me down onto my knees. I obediantly un-do your pants". There was a certain pleasure at being completely nude before my boyfriend and playing that I was being forced to pleasure him (and no, I am not into being raped, this was all make believe). "Oh please sir, I will do anything; don't use me this way".

"You say to me", I add, "you will do anything I want anyway Princess - now to work . . . or I won't be waiting to give me crew permission to sample your virtue". Looking at him, in my most pouty face, "and tthen I tell you . . . Yes sir . . . " saying it with a whine and faking a sniffle.

I took him into my mouth, slowly at first, making sure he was watching me as much as possible in the darkness. Oh, he was too. His Corona sat in his hand, I think forgotten. "I must be doing something right", I thought. Taking him deep, I looked up at him less and began to work more on my task. I tried to put on more pressure with my lips and tongue this time. I moved slowly up and down his length, then moved quickly for a while, varying the speed and pressure often. I tried to keep my tongue firmly underneath him, trying to give him as much sensation from my mouth as possible. I really don't know how long this went on, but I do know he reached for his second beer.

The beer? I did bring a six pack and, yes, I also said earlier that he didn't really drink all that much. I brought a six pack because I figured he would drink his usual two, when he did drink, and that I would probably be needing the others for me. The wine was still working though. I was good.

I leaned back some and went to take him into my hands.

I took a brief time out from character to ask for a sip of his beer. Okay, it was a good bit more than just a sip.

I'm still massaging his dick with my hands. Finishing my sips, I tell him, "you look down at me and demand . . . What are you doing Princess? I tell you, sounding confused and scared, I'm sucking your dick Sir Captain. You remain gruff with me and say . . . Um, no, you were sucking my dick. Now you have your hand around my dick. You place your hands onto my head and guide my mouth back onto your dick." I had taken his hands into mine and guided them to my head for him to do just that. "And then you say to me threateningly . . . Use your hands again and my crew will use your ass".

At that I returned to sucking his dick. Adding in a few moments, "no sir, please no", and I managed to say with his dick still inside of my mouth. I do pull back a bit, his dick just at the tip of my lips to add, "and then you say . . . do not use your hands again. And swallow, without missing a drop either. I say back . . . Yes sir, I will be a good girl sir".

I return to bobbing on his dick, but its time to add more to my role play. I pause to tell my boyfriend, who has been listening and enjoying intently. "you decide I need to be punished though and say . . . but because you were bad, just trying to use your hands instead, you must be punished".

"No sir, please no, I wail to you".

"You don't listen to my pleas. You say . . . my crew will not have to wait for me to finish this second beer. Get onto your hands and knees and be prepared to pleasure two cocks . . . one at both your ends".

Okay, I will admit it. This little role play with my boyfriend also dealt with my fantasy of having to pleasure two men at the same time. I wasn't going to do it, but this was just in fun. I was willing to tell the entire story and had been so far. My boyfriend had played a little bit, but mostly it was me. I want him to join in more. I hope that he will. "Tell me what's happening", I said suggestively to him, "what is your crew doing to me while I have your cock in my mouth".

I wasn't sure he was going to get into this as much.

I am pleased to say that I was wrong. He tried really hard.

"My first mate is behind you now, Princess".

"Is he going to fuck me".

"Oh yes".

"is he going to cum in me".

"The cum will be pouring down your legs tonight".

A bit later, it was "Pedro's" turn at me. "Pedro wants to hear you beg him not to fuck you".

"Pedro please, don't fuck me. Please don't shove your dick inside of me. Please don't pump me full of your cum. Please don't use me".

I ask my boyfriend then, "what is Pedro doing now".

"Oh, he says he is still going to fuck you, he just wanted to hear you beg".

Another crew mate was "Israel". My boyfriend told me that Israel was fucking me now, hard, demanding, that was going to spank me until I was moaning in pleasure for him.

Believe it or not, but I've not been that much of a noise maker in bed. However, I will admit it, I am sometimes a moaner.

I would love to tell you that I can remember every single thing he said. Truth is, I was a bit busy at the moment sucking his dick. And he wasn't the most descriptive anyway. It was okay though, we were both having a good time. And apparently, he had me pulling one massively long train!!!!!

This went on for quite a while. I shared another beer or two with my boyfriend. I think he was having a tremendously good night.

I took a break with my mouth and slipped my hands back around his dick. I took another sip from the beer my boyfriend brought sweetly to my lips. Then, I stopped, and gave my best horrified look at my hand wrapped around his dick.

"No sir, please, it was an accident, I will be good, I can make you cum with my mouth, please don't fuck me in the ass, please Captain, let me make you cum in my mouth".

Hopefully, you realize that this was to be the final part of my story for my boyfriend. If he expressed any interest in my VIRGIN ass, then I was going to let him have it.

I continue along so that he would know it was okay.

Looking at my boyfriend, I tell him, "and you say . . . but Princess, a Pirate Captain who gives a command must be obeyed and you disobeyed . . . now how am I going to look if I don't follow through".

Still looking at him, I just asked, "would you like my ass?"

He smiled the most wicked grin when he said yes.

"Then lead your captive to the towels over there", I said pointing to a number of towels I had laid out before he'd arrived. Several towels and a pillow, with a bottle of lube too, to make things easier . . . or so I hoped. He helped me to my feet. "Give me another sip of beer first", I said, taking a very long drink.

He took me to the bedding of sorts which I had created. I took the lube from under the pillow and applied it liberally to both him and me. I had read about this, but was not sure about it. He laid me back and lifted my legs high over my head. My boyfriend has this one, let's call it a fetish, thing he likes; he loves to lift my ankles as far behind my head as he can get them. He lined his dick up with my hole and I told him to slowly make his way inside.

Okay, this hurt!!!!

I gritted my teeth, but was determined to 'ride it out'.

He took a while and he nearly pulled back out when he saw me grit my teeth. "No, no, its okay, keep going", I told him. When he was fully seated up inside of me, I think we both felt like we'd accomplished something.

He took my ankles and began to press them ever farther behind my head. Fortunately, I've learned to bend well over the years. This is the one thing he is guaranteed to do in almost every fuck session. He loves it, I'm telling you. Of course, the further my ankles go, the deeper he seems to get inside of my ass.

Oh wow!!!!

Adjusting to him, he began to rock inside of me. By now, he had me bent so much in double that his chest was on my boobs and he was able to kiss me on the lips.

I was never more vulnerable to a man than in that moment; doubled up with him fucking my ass.

Between kisses, I said to him, "tell me you love me". I guess I had stopped being the captured princess. I needed to know he appreciated me, that he wanted me, that he wanted this.

"I love you", he said, kissing me deeply.

I needed that then.

He said it several more times for emphasis.

Then he began to fuck me all the harder. And harder. And harder.

Being doubled up like I was, there was nothing I could do to move with him. My body was completely his for his use. He was in complete control. I was there simply to accept him inside of me.

He kept increasing his pace.

He was demanding the most from my body.

I couldn't move, true, but he was wanting me to accept all the fury he could place into fucking me.

I could not deny him. I was trapped beneath him.

He fucked me the hardest he'd ever fucked. He began to grunt with each thrust. I raked his back with my nails and moaned all the louder into his ear. He pushed my ankles even further back, his forehead now resting on the pillow beside mine, he never stopped stroking his dick inside of me. He pulled his face back just enough to lock eyes with mine.

No words were said.

None were needed.

I wanted him to know, by look alone, that I was not moving until he was completely done with me. I was his that night. Fuck me. Fuck my ass. Cum inside of me.

He rode all the harder still. And I could tell, our eyes never leaving one another, I could tell when he was right there.

"Cum in me".

And he did.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

I Try To Keep My Promise (Part I)

I want to tell you that my boyfriend continued to demand my body on a regular basis after that evening in the kitchen. I want to tell you that he insisted I do things for him that I only did because he would not let me deny him. I would love to tell you that, but I'd be lying.

Our sex life returned to pretty much what our love was like for the past several years - extremely restrained passion . . . with emphasis upon "restrained".

I still don't know what had gotten into him that evening when I returned from my trip and from my first affair. For a while, I thought he knew something; though I could not for the life of me figure out how. He always calls my cell phone, never the motel, so he had no way of knowing I spent the night in another man's room. In one of my more insane moments, I worried that he had driven down to surprise me. I eventually realized that he didn't even know which motel I was in. Whew. I finally decided it was one of two things. One, he didn't know anything, but he suspected something. He was more aggressive to see if I was still willing, still wanted him, or still cared about him maybe. Two, he didn't know anything, he didn't suspect anything, he had just finally built up so much sexual energy that he needed release. Whichever it was, the change was brief.

Which isn't to say the change back to normal was instantenous.

We made love once more that night I returned. By the time he had finished himself off in me in the kitchen, dinner was ready. My too long delayed shower was delayed to even longer. Because I was just minutes into my "going to be a new better girlfriend" resolution, I asked him if he wanted me to change for dinner first or come as I am. I wasn't thinking clearly yet, which I blame on the worrying, guilt, and being bent over to the floor for almost a half hour. If I had been thinking, I would have realized I had said "come as I am" before I had put my blouse back on.

The dear boy said "come as you are". When I went to pick up my blouse to put it on, he smiled and took it away from me. He said again, "come as you are".

"Oh", I realized he meant me there in my heels, skirt, and bra only.

Dinner was excellent.

Truth is, my boyfriend is an excellent cook. In fact, he's so much better at it than I am that he does most of the cooking. I realize I am succombing to sexist stereotypes, but so be it, when I say that I am sometimes jealous. Don't get me wrong, I like that he does the cooking. Its just that sometimes I feel less like a woman because he does it and I can't cook as good as him.

He also kept my wine glass full throughout dinner. Looking back, I should have suspected something then. He fixes dinner. He normally leaves me to my own when it comes to getting my wine. My boyfriend doesn't really drink. He doesn't dissapprove of my drinking for reasons which will soon become apparent.

Several glasses of wine into dinner . . . I really needed wine that evening . . . and if you need to ask why, then you haven't read "My First Affair" . . . I was starting to relax. By relaxing, I mean that I was now eating dinner wearing only my high heels. My boyfriend was loving it. And now you see why he doesn't disapprove of my drinking. I can't really tell you, with any honesty, how I came to be naked at the table. Okay, more honesty, we don't eat at the table. I was naked on the sofa because we were watching television while eating. Excuse me, I was nearly naked - I had my heels on still. I do remember how they stayed on. I had asked him.

The skirt was already gone. I extended out my leg while still seated on the sofa, "don't you like the way my heels make my legs look", I asked him. Of course he was going to say yes. "Want me to leave them on?" And, of course, he was going to say yes to that as well. So, there I sat, eating dinner on the sofa, naked but for a pair of black heels with my legs curled up underneath me.

At some point, I ended up sitting on his lap with his fingers up inside of me. I'd have been nervous about that but, liked I said, I was drunk and, by now, he was sure to think he was responsible for all the swelling to my girl. I don't remember the name of the show we were watching. I just remember it had to be the best I ever enjoyed any show.

Finally, it was time for my long awaited shower. Imagine my surprise when the shower curtain parted and the boyfriend joined me!!! He hasn't done that since the very first time we'd slept together. I was feeling pretty good though, largely due to the wine and his magical fingers, so I welcomed him with a deep kiss and turned my back for him to scrub down. Of course, he lingered a little while once he got down to my ass. I could feel him started to swell again and this girl was getting quite sore from all the attention over the past day. Not wanting him to get any ideas, like maybe bending me over again, and since the wine was having a very liberating effect on my inhibitions, I decided to work on being that new girlfriend for him.

I turned around and kissed him again. then got down onto my knees before him. Looking up at him, I tried to say submissively, "I think I promised my 'sir' head ealier".

"And swallow", he asked.

"If you 'make' me", I said smiling back up to him just before taking him fully into my mouth.

Writing "My First Affair" and this story are causing me to make way too many admissions. You now know I wasn't fond of giving head. You now know I am not a swallower. So, now I might as well admit that I wasn't entirely sure what all to do. I didn't just part my lips and hope for the best. This was not my first time; and no, don't ask, my first time will be an entirely different story if I ever get around to it. What I mean is that I had never brought a man to finish with my mouth, so I wasn't really sure what the best way to do that was. Before anyone starts making fun of me, let me say that my girlfriends don't sit around and talk about what the best way is to suck dick. And please, there is more to it than just opening your lips too. If I am going to do this for him, I want him to enjoy it. And I didn't want to be down there on my knees forever either.

As it turned out, I was down on my knees forever. Either I really sucked at sucking or he had some major staying power going on. My knees were getting sore. My jaw was beginning to ache. Also, the more my jaw ached, the more I began to worry about my teeth. I'm guessing he would not have taken too kindly to my biting his dick. And worst of all, the water was beginning to get cold!!! No, that wasn't the worst - the worst was that my wine was wearing off. All in all, I was not a happy little cocksucker. It was time to take things in hand, litterally. I sat back on my heels, releasing him from my lips, very slowly releasing him so that he could really enjoy watching his dick slip out of my mouth. Smiling up at him, I guess hoping that my smiling would make up for what I was going to try next, I took him into my hands. I began to masturbate him with my hands. He didn't complain, so I'm taking that as he was happy with me. He was still going to cum and I was still going to put it into my mouth when he did. I maybe wasn't being the perfect girlfriend, but dammit, I was trying. I was going to town I was beating him off so fast and hard. His eyes were closed, so I stopped looking up at him and paid attention to what I was doing. Damn, how do boys do this for themselves, I wondered, my arm was getting tired now. Fortunately, I am ambidexturous when it comes to giving my boyfriend a handjob. His breathing began to quicken so I suspected I was getting him close. I began to take switch up some, bobbing on his dick with my mouth and fucking him with my hands. He was in my hands when the first explosion came. Give a girl a heads up, dang it boy, if you want her to swallow your cum!!! Two bursts popped out before I got my mouth around him. My first official swallow.

I still had his dick in my mouth, a little post cumming blow for him, when he smiled down to say, "you missed".

I don't know that that was entirely the best thing to say to me then. I still had his dick in my mouth. He'd cum in me for the second time that evening. And I'm sure he was hoping to cum in me more in the future as well. It might have been the time to stroke my head and say something sweet. "You missed," was definately not sweet. "Dick", I thought, and this time I meant him, not his dick which I STILL had in my mouth.

"Yeah, well, I heard guys love seeing their spunk on their girlfriends face too". You see, the two spurts I missed - because he didn't give me any heads up - landed on my face and breasts. With my back to the shower spray, a good bit of it was still on me.

"You are the best girlfriend in the world".

That was better, I thought.

And so far, this is not the story I wanted to tell you yet. I got a bit distracted. I do that. Sorry. Guess I'm also feeling defensive about how we lapsed back into our sexual ruts. I know I had promised myself to be the new and improved girlfriend. I guess I wanted you to see that I had tried, the first night anyway. We'd had sex. I had said that I had never denied him and I meant to stick to that extra hard after my affair. Well, I hadn't denied him, but he was never as aggressive again either. He returned to making a move only after we'd finally gone to bed for the evening. And the sex was fairly traditional. To be blunt, he hadn't spanked me again, pulled my hair, or said another naughty thing to me.