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

give me breath–
breathing

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.

someday it will all be
smooth as Rhapsody

someday it will all be different
stand-up bass
sounds off into the night back ground

loneliness changes my mind
I just wanna change my mind
like so many times before

I cannot look back
track the lack
of contact

map the loss
create a legend
Northeast
Southwest
the West is where I lay to rest

that past that binds
chains that link
genes that create
tears that stain

the hidden emotional maneuvers
between lovers
“love chess”
leaves me
Kind of Blue

nonlinear deformation
my wrecking yard rebuild
beautiful smut

infinite filth
transform want

ingredients earth and bone
architecture cheaper than a dollar bill
should we pretend?

layers run

Thursday’s at the library are my worst day.

We are always understaffed, but Thursday’s are the worst. The level of being overworked and the intense amount of public service required zap my usually sexy friskiness, like no other days do.

When I find myself drifting into mean library woman mode, I try to step back check the room out and scope someone to drift into a library fuck fantasy with.

Yesterday this was even more difficult. But, not impossible, I just had to focus attention on my mind and pussy.

But sometimes, at the library, good fantasy material is few and far between.

There has been a new patron lately, who is wheelchair bound.

He is all there mentally, good looking–a bit off, but most are at the library–he moves well for being in the chair, good sense of humor, and he could not keep his eyes off my tits. Sometimes I wear blouses and tops that make it impossible to look anywhere else. I began to trip into what it would be like to fuck around with him. I imagine he would have to lick a lot of pussy, and fuck me with something besides his cock–that probably doesn’t work. Or maybe it does work. Even better.

I began to think how would he get off if his cock didn’t work, and do I really even care if he does get off or not? I thought about standing on the arm rests of his chair, my legs spread in that inverted V, my pussy looking down at him. Taunting. Teasing. Making him pussy willow hungry. I thought about lowering myself to his nose, his lips, I thought about coating his face in my gloss.

I thought about his cock functioning properly, his chair becoming and aid for me, a prop to better grind into his hard cock, my legs straddling his lap my hands grasping the handles of the chair as my pussy engulfs every bit of him.

I drifted into his hands grasping, mashing and devouring the tits he loves so much. Filling his mouth with mounds of flesh, biting at my nipples, making  hard little cherry pebbles on top of the scoops of ice cream, pulling and twisting to his pleasure and mine.

And soon enough, I began to get wet an d drift away from the library into fictional fuck land. I think it  was a combination of the control I could have with this man, his leering stare at my tits, and the the lack of fantasy material in the library. But, I could see he was hungry for me and it made my crappy Thursday a little better.

I mentioned the other day that love is not as easy as sex–I would like to amend this statement. Love is easy, I fall in love all the time, daily even.

Because love can come easily, and while it may not be that love some think of, that… I want to marry you, have your children, buy a house, get a dog, wash your underwear kind of love. It still is love and it is the kind of love that makes the sex, the fucking– all the sweeter.

It is simple, while being complicated at the same time. It can happen quickly without notice–in fact it usually does. But it can also be temporary, momentary, fleeting. Transitory love.

Last year I fell in love twice, maybe three times, and the sex was memorable. The men are gone. We get to this point in life where obligation comes in many forms, men can’t stay, and I cannot have them stay, but I loved them while I had them, even if it was only two days, two nights, two months. Because I loved them it made the sexual– more powerful– than the ones I had/have on a regular basis, but did/do not love.

When we fucked we fucked, his cock stabbed me and I felt it with every part of me. Electric mind threads and strands of bodily fluid connect and we made love. You bent me over, my palms to the floor, body in half, open. You plowed me, grabbing on with each thrust,  stopping abruptly because the heat of my pussy, the center of my core was pulling everything out of you. Everything. Your cock dripping with lust.

Your eyes lost.

I fell in love with your eyes first. Can you fall in love with someones pain reflected in their face?  Because I think I did. The short time together was full of passion, poetry and lusty nights of rain and the smell of cock to cunt. Sometimes we connect in solace to people. Life brings many things to us, including a whole lot of pain. Like the songs say– you can’t sun without the rain, and your can’t have the laughter without the tears. Life is struggle and these pains and joys are what make up our beings–it’s what makes people fall in love with us, even for just one night. I saw it in his eyes before I tasted it on his cock.

But… when I tasted it on his cock, all inhibition melted away and spilled into some form of love. We find love, comfort, two drunken stones warmed themselves side by side –until those transitory waves takes one or the other away. Until then the nights were full of your hard stone. I loved the way you fucked me. The way my pussy surrounds you, when I pull up and squeeze you inside of me, then slide back and down your solidity, leaving your trunk coated in a varnish of my love. The way your eyes become slits as your hard beam slides between my lips. And I loved the way you taste, salty lustiness drives down my throat in attempts to lock out the daylight. I open wide to drink you in and for the moment my search is ceased, I found love and am I fucking your like I love to fuck you, like I fuck to love you. My mouth loving your cock. My eyes do the talking, because I have nothing left to say.

Sexuality charged becomes pumping and fast. Love. We spin, pant, buck and moan. I gasp in pain with each permeating stab that I love. You fill me with your come, draining your swell inside of me like only someone I love would. Spent– we collapse, want quelled,  liquid spills and your cock is glossed with me. My other me runs her fingers through your hair. Softly I fall in love.