My porn watching goes in waves. Sometimes I will get wrapped up in it, but lately I have not used it all. It has been quite sometime even, but this doesn’t mean I stopped fucking myself.

Lately I have been playing music and drifting away into thoughts of fucking certain men, it is not the same one each time. I focus on one and evolve that fantasy with that one until the end of the orgasm.

It has been the man I just fucked, rolling back into my memory, the way his hands wrapped around my throat right before I was about to cum, the way his terrifically solid beam was filling me up.

Sometimes I think about who might be, that possibility of the lover. I may have tasted you, tasted what might be, maybe I want more. Often, I drift into fucking you again. My feet propped up on my desk my thighs spread open, at first just wide enough for my hand and my arm to drop between, but then they naturally spread open wide–wanting to feel your body between, space for my strong legs to wrap around your torso. To pull you into me. Feeling your head slip between my things, miles between, as your tongue begins to work. And I drift. The way you eat me and lick me makes me pour sweeter with each lick.

And I drift, music playing in the background, my fingers explore my pages, surrounding, growing full and tight and then back to wide open again. The wand slips in and out.

And I drift into you, the man I will never have, except for in this capacity, my memory, my thoughts, your curve becomes my masturbation fodder. I drop into my “fuck me in the office chair” slouch, legs still propped. I imagine you there on the couch watching me, spinning the chair to face you. My pussy wide open to you, my eyes in lust slits. And I drift. Filling my mouth with my fingers, then into my pussy. I think about you stroking your cock. I swear I can see you there, we don’t ever fuck we just watch each other. That drop of pre drip is forming on your glistening tip. Licking my lips in want, I drift. I’m longing to know what you taste like, smell like, feel like. I can hear my pussy, she takes over my brain and the music fades and that static rain noise fills the room.

Would it sound different if your cock was plunging into me instead of this wand, would I get as wet, could you make me cum with your cock, I want you to finger fuck me, I want to know your taste, scent, your cum, I want to make you growl…

My eyes slide open and I see you watching, your cock stiff, calling me, glued to your belly.

Are you ready?
Make me cum.
I want to make you cum.
I want to see that branch sway in my direction.
My pussy is so needy it almost makes me cry.
And I am deep inside myself.
And I drift.

I have alwasy considered myself a pro when it comes to “cock worship.” There is nothing like having cock in my mouth– that mix of hard stone and the soft velvet of flesh combined with the saltiness of pre cum. There is a power I have when your cock is in my mouth. The sounds I can elicit from you with my tongue as it runs the backside of your shaft. The sigh that escapes my own mouth at the pleasure I get from having you this way.

I like to slide my tongue in you slit and taste that drip of brine, suck it like a straw trying to get more. Cirlcing my tongue around your round head, running it along the ridge, trying to know you through your cock. Is that possible? In some ways I think so. I try to link more than mouth to cock, because to me it is. I don’t just suck cock, I want it and I do slip into worship, I get lost.

I am sure I’ve mentioned that I try to be a generous lover on nearly every occasion, men like to have their cocks sucked in a variety ways. Some will let me just find my way, do what I want, how I want. Then there are those who want to face fuck me, gag me, make me cry, drool, almost vomit on their meat. And all those in between. My personal taste is a mix, I like to do what I want, but I also like you to take part. Maybe your hands locked in my hair guiding each swallow, or slow thrusting into my mouth bring me close to gagging–a slow mouth fuck I like. Kneeling below you looking up. Glasses on or off? Do you like it when I fill my mouth with you balls? I like the way your balls change from heavy to tight with my lip service. I like it when you can no longer control the lust and rise up and start thrusting into my parted lips, making them conform to your shape, filling me.

Once I have you nice and wet, coated in my saliva–hard as rock, bouncing and throbbing, my hand gripping tight–sometimes I’m amazed at how tight my grip is around your solidity–then, I like to feel your cock on me, on my face, cheeks, under my chin, my tits, back in my mouth, all over my face. There is something about that smell of spit, cock, want, and precum that makes me acts like a crazy cock worshiper–rubbing your wet cock on all parts of  me, making me wet and hungry for more. The want almost make me want to cry, your cock almost makes me want to cry and I can never get enough.

I like to take my time to you make cum with my mouth. I think  I enjoy making you cum with my lips more than any other way. This is why when I could not make my Chicago guy cum with just a blow job I became quite troubled. This has never happened, I am still shocked. He said only one woman has ever been able to make him cum with a blow job. I have tried every time I’ve been with him, but nothing, lots of precum and dripping, rock fucking hard cock, he is choker–like to make me gag, likes me to hang my head over the side of the bed for a proper face fucking–but no cumming. Dammit! I tried to get him to find that woman on facebook so I could know what it is she did that made him cum, it drove my crazy, it still is. I am not sure I could be with a man for the long haul that I could not make cum with my mouth.

My worship must conclude in hot white. I want to know the fruits of my labor.

It’s been awhile since anyone was so bold, I am sure there were many before him, I’m sure there were those whose cock I wasn’t even grinding on  that wanted to.

The last man who did it, did it anger not in sexuality, it sort of felt the same though, but different. His cock was figuratively deep inside me, while yours was literally filling me when it happened.

The first guy who ever did it I asked him to, made him do it.

But this time it felt like a release of everything in one slap across my cheek. He said he did it last time we fucked, but I didn’t recall that.

When his lumbering hand barreled across my face I was in shock, my pussy soaked instantly–and I was pissed off and turned on like crazy–all at the same time. I wanted more, but l like the way I can’t tell when it is coming. It was sort of a sick game, played in a healthy way. A give and want. A shock and surprise landing across my jaw, as I rode your cock, lost in the sensations of being filled–eyes slit in fuck lust, then slam, a convergence of pain and sting stemming from your hand connecting to my face hits. My eyes open a bit, I know I flash a look of fuck you and a look fuck me simultaneously, as the wave of heat surges through my body being released through my pussy and on to your cock in a rush. Culminating in clinch and pulsation from the flesh inside my core. Connections of an electric pussy.

I didn’t have to ask. You knew what I wanted from you.

Well, there certainly is nothing like a rock solid cock and firm spank until my ass is pink, red and stinging to make me forget about my blues. There is just something perfectly fleeting about having a “fuckguest” to come roll around with you for a few days to make you forget reality.

Chicago guy in SF has been fun, and actually sort low key, not the sex but our activity. Almost like playing house for a few days. It is easy for me to let that submissive side become the dominate side of me if, especially if I am aware it’s only going to be momentarily. I like and enjoy it then, I like to make my man happy in many ways. I like to cook you dinner, rub you down from head to toe until you fall asleep, and then I like fucking you like the crazy girl I am. Fucking all this recent pain disgruntledness away. There is a freedom to being with someone you know and fucked before.  It allows me fuck like me, and like you want me to be, and then like me again. The dynamism of man woman. Magnetism of cock to cunt.

After a nice romp and serious tear jerking cum on my part, we hit the Golden Gate Bridge, and the Marin Headlands, it was quiet, almost sunny, my bitch of German car loved the drive.  I loved the drive.  Back to the city, we hit up Madame S. I cannot believe I have never been here before, I had been to Mr. S at it’s original location, but not the new combined store. First off, this looks like fun! Secondly,  Christ latex wear is expensive–we didn’t get any. The one little thing I wanted, this cute latex collar with a tiny purple bow was $40, we didn’t get it. And another thing, the sex industry is like the wedding industry, or baby industry, they jack the price up about 300% because they can, it’s niche market. They have a leash there, selling for $18.95, the same exact one I scored at the army surplus store for $2.50. Crazy. That reminds me I need to find someone to use that leash with.

We did get some Bondage tape to try out,  a little bit of restraint. I have never tried it, looks like fun. I sort of prefer restraining myself though, I like locking my hands behind my back while I grind on top of your cock, or my peace fingers locked around my big toes– legs spread wide in a slut V shape, open for serious pounding by you, or locking my hand around my thighs at the bend in my knees–feet in the air– ass and pussy smiling you, inviting– while you slow slide in and out of me, my feet may come to rest on your shoulder while you appear and disappear inside my flesh. I can see you looking at my pussy and your cock taking it all in. Or even better, I like it when you restrain me with your strength. Pulling my hands behind me, or around my shoulder, or neck, or hair– while you fuck me from behind.  Keep me in my place, tell me what to do, what not to do, take my thought away from me for this brief moment of fucking.

Chicago also bought me a new glass blown butt plug. I had one, but well one, it did get lost that one time–  and two,  it was not (bluntness ahead) opening me up enough to take his cock. We had tried early that morning and I practically punched him the nose.  It hurts like nothing else I have exactly felt before. A finger, a thumb is certainly not a hard cock, it takes more time to get it in.

When we got back to my place, I jumped in a shower to put the plug in, the heat makes me relax more. It was difficult still, I had to get on all fours and spread my cheeks a bit to get that lubed round tip to pass. The pain shoots to pleasure and it’s in.

We lull around the rest of the evening–ass plugged, I make drinks, relax, watch a movie–then “let the wild rumpus begin!” We fuck all over my tiny room, the bed sheets lost to the floor. I am acrobat on your cock. Eventually I am backwards riding, my ass to your gaze, with each grind you push the plug in deeper, twisting, and fucking both apertures. Then you pull the plug out and I slide you cock in with ease and, yes, with pleasure. I ride and ride, until you command me to face you without getting off your cock. Twisting around, we are eye to eye, leaning my hands behind me for support, I slow grind.  My pussy wide open and clit begging for attention, which you give.

You cannot take it any more, pulling out you flip me over grab on to my body, limbs, hair–and fuck me from behind, truly. I have my vibe coursing through my core, as you plunge, face lost in the pillows, and you plunge. My pussy opens up wide and you cum hard, in my, now, not scared space, my pussy willow jerks from your release and the vibe hitting just right spot.

Collapse into fuck sleep.

(thanks GrayRake for term fuckguest)

Wow and wow…

I had the best massage last night, unlike any I have ever had before.

Post hot yoga, waiting for the adorable Cy to come find me for my deep tissue massage. I had changed into dry clothing, but did put a bra or  panties on, so I felt a bit uncomfortable standing there, sort of naked but not.

He comes out, we chat, he asks me what my problem is, I start to answer…

“Don’t answer.  That is not a question for me.”

Okay?

He then ask a series of strange question, my least favorite color, if I was an animal what kind of animal would I be, how do you breath?

Okay?

We get into his little room, ahhh such soothing aura–soft orange light, candles. He tells me to undress to my comfort level, get under the sheet face down and he will return momentarily. I stripped to nothing, and slid my still warmed from yoga, freshly waxed pussy under the sheet.

He came back–demonstrated for me how to breath, then said..

“I have something for you.”

He began to pour a mixture of oil– the smell fire and chocolate filled the room, it made me instantly melt to the table, to the floor.

His hands begin to work. His strength apparent with zero hesitation. I continue to concentrate on relaxing (is that possible?) and on answering (in my head) the questions he continues to ask, but  doesn’t want hear the answers to.

“what do you want  and how are you going to get it?”

Like I said–zero hesitation, his hand knead my ass, my thighs, for what seem like over and hour he bends, twists, compress every part of my body, it hurts and feels so right at the same time. He climbs all around me, on the table, laying on top of me, kneeling here and there, standing above me, he bends my legs up then sits on the bottom of my feet. Yeah right? It felt fucking amazing, while there his hand stretching across the landscape of my body stretching it beyond it’s capability and them some. He lifts me off the mattress, twisting me like a rag doll, left then right. My body creeks and pops in sweet agony and ecstasy. As he works my neck and shoulders his hands begin to work into my hair. He is like an animal he yanks my hair band out, and wraps  and tangles his fingers into my hair, pulling–tender and rough simultaneously. fuccckkkkk my pussy melts as he pulls on my hair into an animal tail, straightening my neck while doing so.

He works every part of my body, my feet, ankles, hands, fingers, toes, ass, thighs. Zero hesitation. It felt like we were having sex, if his cock entered me in anyway, anywhere it might have just been part of the massage, it would have just felt that natural. Of course, my mind drifted, many times, into him sliding his cock into my mouth into my pussy while he lay straddle on top of me.  His pendants,  beads and long dreadlocks  drag across my back sending electric waves through my body, his breath strong–appears to run the length of my spine filling me with his energy. His cock, I imagined  hard, massaged it’s way across my frame as an extension of his hands. Our bodies at times, tangled and entwined, but separate, still–body to healer.

I feel great release. I think we are done.

“are you ready to flip over?”

Fuck yeah I am!

When I turn it feels like a wave of fluid or absolution of my body comes out. I begin to laugh, the same exact laugh that I do when I have an amazing orgasm, uncontrollable, free, sexy, me. I can feel his smile

His hands begin their exploration of my lower body, stretching my legs and thighs, and hips. My joints rotating as his will. My body pops dynamic sparks with each pull and proliferation of my limbs. His palms so close to my full mound–now full of life, even my pussy is breathing.

He come close to my ear and whispers…

“I’ll give you a choice… A, B, or C?”

Silence no explanation.  I choose B. He moves to the top of the table, again an amazing hair pull massage, to my face, shoulders, breast bone, breasts, belly. His hand heavy on my belly like he is trying to understand me. I get flash in my mind of a traditional Art History concept of  Ram horns  equating to fallopian tubes, his hands seem to reach inside, feeling for my fallopian tubes, for my uterus. Pressing straightening, trying to somehow know me through my body. I know that sounds so strange, but that is what it felt like.

Again, what seems to be like hours he massage my front. His strong hands always coming so close to kneading my pussy, but not quite. My breast and belly are loving his hands. I tell him his hands are like fire. They seem to spark and heat my flesh at every point he touches. And I cannot believe I just said that.

As he finishes he hovers over me, breathing deeply and forcefully, placing his forehead to mine, and breaths. Rising he runs his hands across my body and pronounces..

“you are alive.”

He tells me to take my time, to come back to my body and that he will meet me out front.

And I feel it, I feel the same exact euphoria of having had great, hot connected sex and my body is relaxed, stretched and limber.

Stumbling back to reality, I breath, rise, and get dressed.

Out front he tells me I should seriously consider changing my name to Pink Rabbit, I give him a $20 tip and he gives me a giant bear of hug, too long, not letting go, followed by a kiss on the cheek.

Yes, I know it is–yoga, Cali, weird massage guy strangeness, but DAMN! that was the best massage ever!

Well, maybe yesterday’s post was a bit extreme, due to the response and wonderfully thoughtful emails I receipted. Thank you all.

Yes, I do admit I am having a bit of a rough bout, perhaps mild depression, existential crisis, the good old fashion blues, is the sun ever gonna shine again doldrums–but, in absolutely no way have misplaced my sex. I just seem to have a loss of energy to go out and get it.  Yeah, that sounds fucked.

Believe me when I say my pussy mojo is still intact.  In fact in the middle of the night last night I had one of those dreams, where  I was masturbating. Do you have those, dreams about fucking yourself? Well the dream felt so real, that I could almost feel myself about to come, I could no longer tell if it was a dream or reality. The line between sleep and awake became blurred and I began to slide my fingers into my wet slit, the flesh full of pumping blood, ready to burst forth from my cunt.  Asleep, I slid two finger into me, it was hard to get them in, because my arousal had made my pussy even tighter, full. Once my fingertips were in, I slowly worked inside, small pressure circles–while more furiously working my slick outer lips and clit. My room muggy from all our rain and and getting hotter because of my body being on fire.

That fire spread from my core, out of my pussy, radiating through my body and limbs, into my breath–now deep and heavy. I had to kick the covers off, I got so hot. I came strong and hard and creamy and then fell right back asleep with my finger still in my pussy.

Sex is not the problem, a good sex partner is the situation and my momentary lack of ability to find that is the problem. Of course–I have a phone sex partner, and online partners, the virtual lovers. But I need more. It is about the flesh, the here, the now. Blood flowing into me not through my land line or blue glowing screen. Blood pumping through a cock that wants to pump into me. I am thankful to those I play with virtually and have a few I consider true friends and lovers, and both in one, but I will never get to feel their cocks pump into me and that, therefore is not real, it’s virtual fiction, and yes–that does sort of make me sad or wax poetic. But that is what it is. What  I need is blood, hard, pumping, hot boiling fuck me blood.

Which, I will get again–as soon as I slide through this patch of troubled blues.

I am calling in sick today, I need a personal day. I must get prepared for my Chicago guy to come to town.  First, a kitty wax, Chicago likes a clean shaved pussy. Second back home for apartment cleaning and laundry (not so fun, but better than the library). Third hot yoga followed by a deep tissue massage from Cy the yoga hottie. Then I will actually make myself get out and have a drink with a man whose blood is pumping, whose cock has the potential to throb.

It is quite possible I am having a mild existential crisis.

I am certainly not myself, but then again I am questioning who myself is. I feel like I am living a good solid dual life, if not a triple life.

Since the DUI incident I have just been stuck in a funk. I even canceled a date. I feel a bit shook up still. Yes I am dealing with it, it is a costly deal that is for sure, and it has all left me with a lack of friskiness and with some questions I think I need to answer.

As much as I am longing for cock, wanting to get fucked and wanting to fuck, as much as I have been daydreaming about wanting to taste your curve slide into me. In fact I have been daydreaming about giving head so much it hurts, I think I might cry when I get the chance to make you hard in my mouth, tears of cock joy.

But for some reason I am having the damndest time getting the energy up to seek that cock out.  Just thought of dating seems exhausting right now. And while I can always go for the random meaningless sex, well it is just that, while I love the random–I hate the meaningless.

So, what’s a girl to do. What if I am losing my mojo, what if I am becoming overwhelmed with shyness? I am out of dating practice and I just don’t feel like doing it. But I also think that things such as dating need to be done or you do get out of practice, and you do lock your self in you apartment and watch too much porn and fuck your self way too often.

What do I do with all this want? All this cock want?

Near the back I shelve the non-fiction DVDs, the 300 section, the Social Sciences, everything ranging from Heavy Petting Lesbians to Cutthroat Gangster Killers (I’ll take one of each). From this vantage point I am able to survey whenever  someone comes into the room, just in case I want to be a slutilicious flirt.

When you walk in I cannot help but spontaneously biting my lower lip, crinkle my nose, clinch my cunt, and my mind begins its perpetual wanderlust…hmmm he’s kind of cute, kind of disheveled, what’s up with that messy hair, wonder what section he is looking for, I wonder what he’s going to checkout, I wonder if he likes naughty French films, I wonder if he needs help, I wonder what his cock is like? Can I tell, can make the outline of his cock beneath his pants, Mmmm, I wonder what it taste like, smells like ? How hard can I make him? Does his pre-cum taste sweeter than his cum? How many times can I make him cum with my just lips, mouth and tongue? These thoughts orbit around like a smoke halo of questions swaying through my dirty little mind.

My eyes follow you as you walk over to the row directly in front of where I am shelving, the biography section, strange, but perfect for me! From this view; I can look between the rows the space which separates.  Cock level. I grab the stack of material that belongs on the lower shelves and squat. Watching you there, flipping through the DVDs, in your somewhat loose fitting jeans. From this squatted position my pussy opens up and appears to be reading my mind again and begins her restless twitch and trickle.

I start my gaze at your thighs and work my way up to the outline of your cock, which I can easily make out. There is nothing like a well packaged man, needing to be unpacked. I lick my lips– in a naughty library girl wants kind of way— pull inward on my kitty, spread my thighs wider and am even so bold as to bend further down to get a better look.

When you catch me sneaking glances, I grow slightly flush a heat spread across my face, but you like this. You like the reddened cheeks of embarrassment. Your response is to slyly rub your hand across your cock and you sort of grabbing on, making the outline even more revealing to me.

Inconspicuously stroking your  curve right at my eye level and everything else fades away. Hiking my skirt up so you can get a better view of my flesh thighs covered in black tights. I stare up and fix my eyes to yours, my glasses framed face looks up with cock want.  My curly mop top ready for your hand to roughly pull my mouth into you. To feel you rise behind your pants, to smell that scent of arousal. To unbuckle that buckle getting one step closer to my want, which is rapidly becoming a need.

I have tripped, into that other space, where the my surrounding fragments and I in my own fiction, around me has faded and I am in my own short film with you, about to taste your cock. Waiting for your hand to drop to the back of my head, to feel your want guide me to where it needs to be.

Saturdays have, quite nicely, become Ass Appreciation Day on the Tumblr. This mean lots of beautiful ass, but it also means that about and hour before I roll out of bed I am thinking about ass. Not a bad Saturday morning at all.

Ass? I like my ass, it’s sturdy, fleshy, round–not junk in the trunk round, but looks good in tight pants round. It is perfect for spanking. It can withstand some pain. I have taken thousands of pictures of my own ass, bare, pantie covered, in tights, panty hose, stockings, fish nets–and in various stages of clothing being pulled off. There may even be an image our two of some sort of penetration.

With my Chicago guy coming to town, I am again getting ready to take it in the ass. Yikes! For me ass play seems to come and go, of course it is fun when someone is interested in playing there, but not all men are. When I play with myself I rarely go to the tightest space, once in awhile and it seems so random. It does feel good though, that curved end of the wand going in with each bulb providing a different sensation as it fills me up.  By this time my pussy is so wet the wand easily slides in my tight pristine space. The combination of the steel wand filling me and vibe electrifying my clit and random plunges into my pussy– always make cum so hard. Filth flies out of my mouth and girl grunts fill the air. It is a strong orgasm.

What about having your ass licked? Do yo like that? I  think you would. If you have a nice clean ass I have absolutely no problem doing it. The response it elicits is so worth it. Guys if you have not had this experience, do so now. My mouth working your cock, your tight balls filling my mouth, your shafts sloppy soaked from my worshiping–my lips caressing, slow and sweet as my hands continue to wrap around you stone hard cock, my mouth finding its way into your star. Your cock inevitably twitches strong as my tongue penetrates, you cannot help but release your own moan. 

“Oh you like that don’t you?”

You do, I know you do because your mind has left the room and all that remain is the physical body and your physical body is dripping all over me.

“Can I slide a finger in, I know you would like it, I’ll be gentle, are you ready….?”

Now most men, with the exception of few bendover boyfriends, have not wanted me to fuck them in the ass, but they do appreciated the attention.

And I do as well, so with out further adieu, Ass Appreciation Saturday.

Go get some ass.

love,

Vix

Good Morning Sexy Beasts.

Great news!

The website VeryTogether has asked me to take part in their new “erotica” section of the site. They will be featuring other great bloggers and illustrators, also famous works of erotica available in the public domain.

Very Together is  site geared, I would say mostly, toward women; on the subject of love, sex and technology. It also features a section highlighting new books, which makes this literary girl happy.

There is a lot of great information and what I hope to be a successful  great erotica section.

Go check out.

Much Love.

LV