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

Some of you may know, I have a love hate with Craig and his List.

It can be such a fun distraction, even though nothing concrete or serious has ever panned out (for the long haul) other than a hundreds–maybe thousands– of emails and the thought, the knowledge–of all the hard cock there is in this city going un–fucked. When this is realized, I know there is hope of finding the hard cock for me (or two).

Yesterday, from work, I posted an ad (or two), for a threesome. Fun! My Chicago guy is coming to town, and what better opportunity than to work on that grand sexual to-do list. Right? Right.

I posted in the MW4W, of course I got zero responses, which is a shame, because I think my Chicago guy would really enjoy that, as would I. It has been some time since I spent anytime with a cute mutual girl. I also posted in the MW4M section, which resulted in many fun naughty dirty day passing responses.

So much cock going un-used out there. Such a shame.

My work day flew by as I gazed at pictures of men and cock.

Sometimes, okay many times, my ads result in nothing more than a few days of full on virtual flirtations. Which is fine, I like that. An inbox full of filth and want. CL has the ability to fulfill my instant wants. It gratifies me quickly. Unlike other online “dating” services I continue to find myself back here time and time again. I have sworn it off, placed self-imposed bans on my use, and even entered into my own makeshift CL rehab, but eight plus years and I still come back to it. There must be something there.

It is random, hit or miss…and I love random. I have made a few lasting relationships, they may not be concrete and all together tangible, but relationships none the less. Relationships I do not want to give up or lose. So– as much as I hate Craig and his List, I love him too.

As for my Chicago man and our third party, stay tuned for all the messy girl details.

Two cocks, I want two cocks.

And yes, I am sporting a big hungry Vixen smile.

Can you believe I have never had any web cam action before?

Before this weekend–that is.

It had been several days since I had come, the days have been a bit hectic and I’ve not had the time I usually like to stroke the kitty. So– I was pent up, backed up. My theory on women, they can go either way. If they do not keep the frisky flowing it can disappear, and many women will be okay with that, some might not even notice. Some are okay with letting their lust lay dormant. Frisky takes work. Many of my women friends have reached that phase of no longer having or wanting sex, and there is quite a few of them. They no longer put the effort into this aspect of life. It has lapsed and they do not seem to mind.

I empathize with the notion of  “not being in the mood.” Being in the mood takes some work. For me I constantly try to maintain a thought of sex, of fucking, of cock, of cute girls in tall boots, of sweet hard dick passing across my lips….

While maybe many women think in this manner, they still do not perform the act anymore. Perhaps it is an age thing, I hope not–because I still hope to have many years of sex left. Mostly I think there is a defeat, a loss of interest– dui’s, work,  kids, the same man day in day out, or if single–like me, just that constant search for a true fuck, and just being with yourself takes work, but then adding in the factors of life–sex can so easily disappear. I know this, but I also know that if you start to play, let your mind open, your pussy is sure flow and follow. Basically what I am saying is– I had not come in three days, and that is not acceptable for a little cum slut like me.

I have been flirting with him for awhile, we discussed the idea of the mutuality of web cam fun, but really, you may not know this about me–but I’m quite shy. So, while I liked the idea, I simultaneously had excusing circling around my head. The absolute live-ness of it sort of freaked me out. There is no photo magic to hide behind, no edits I can make, no sound bites I cut, it is just me and he on the screen.  It has turn-offs, equally as it has turn-ons, but I love technology (when it is not fucking with me that is), it has done wonders for porn and sexuality, or maybe not, but fuck it–I love it anyway.

My camera goes on.

“can you see my toes?”  still in their Valentine red.

“yes”

Big smile.

I push back with my feet that are propped on the desk, the view of my legs and thighs spans the screen. My knees slightly bent. I know I am wet already before I even begin to run my fingers through my silk.

Your cock, that has been in state of tease is now pointing at me, being stroked for me. I like that. The impersonality of machine to machine becomes personal. Momentarily at least, just like everything. Moments are just that, moments, it is on us to take them.

His words begin to flow, odes of beautiful filth just like I like. I taste myself and report back on the sweetness I suspected.

“I taste good, you should be between my legs.”

Innuendo has gone. It is me my legs spreading for your view. Your cock being stroked. Your so hard, throbbing, shades of red. Ready. You could come anytime.

But you want to watch me come don’t you?

It does not take long for me. The moment I slide my wand in, I feel the flow surround my fingers. I get so wet, so quick, it has been days, I am ready, to be fucked.  The first one comes quick.

“oh that felt so good, I want to come again.”

“I want you to come again, you naughty slut.”

You may not be able to see it from the camera on your screen, but your words make me smile and drip at the same time. There is something about being called a slut, that turns me on. It is like my duality being uttered into the world and I like it, accept it, own it.

I am a slut, fucking you online on our web cam. Coming and dripping all over myself. While one watches the other.

It symbiotic.

Even when flesh to flesh, I like to watch you stroke, I like you to watch me, the way I react to my own body as your eyes take me in.

I come again for the third time, hard, I bring the wand to my lips and taste myself off. Sweeter than when I started. Sliding the wand in and out of  my mouth, lips caressing, longing for it to be your cock, watching you from slit closed eyes, as you long for it to be your cock. You stroke.

“I want you come. I wanna come at the same time.”

“You just tell when you are ready naughty girl.”

I love coming at the same time, which actually may be easier to do online. It’s  a great electric charge. I thoroughly enjoy that fourth come. It sends me over the edge, exhausts me, needles flying out of my brain plunging into my skull then exploding into a pleasure release unlike the three before. Release from all access point.

Plunging and slow grinding that curve of the wand into my spot, dripping all around.

“come for me, come for me…”

Messy girl in a pool of her own cum, messy boy in a splatter of his own. Separated and together.