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
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
sseeexxxxxxxyyy- wow. thanks sweetie <3
ReplyDeleteDAMN hon, that was hot. This is one kind of encounter I haven't had. I need to try the demanding type.
ReplyDeleteWow, Rachel, that is very hot. Very descriptive and making me want to read and see more of you. Isn't a day at Bike Week great. They are having a big Bike Day in Leesburg this weekend.
ReplyDeleteDamn that was hot. Very hot.
ReplyDelete