Those late night knocks– the ones that catch me when I am weak for love and cock.

Love and cock, why must I continue to connect the two the things, this seems to be where my weakness lies.

Stepping aside– an invitation. Our bodies awkward with the passing of time, but find each others solace quickly. I set you in the kitchen chair, my fingers through you hair, the smell of you fills me and I wish I had never loved you. I breath you in. As much of the past I would like to bury, you keep resurfacing. Usually it’s thoughts, words, a poem, a song, but tonight it is you.

“I can’t fuck you, I have a girlfriend.”

Crushing and freeing words.

“Then why are you here.”

Resignation in the lowering and shaking of his head…

“I don’t know.”

I pull him up from the chair, coaxing him into my room, I put some low sad Lucinda on and we have a dance. I sit him in the chair in my bedroom…

“Well, since you can’t fuck me, then you will have to watch me fuck myself.”

I start slow, rubbing my pussy on top of my green cotton boy shorts, pinching  my nipples through my t-shirt. I sit up at look at you watching me. Pulling the shirt over my head, letting my tits spill out, I cup them both, grabbing and squeezing the way I liked you to do.  Coming off the bed I crawl toward you, flanked by your jean covered thighs, again grabbing my tits, bringing them together around your stiff cock that strains to be released– I can feel how hard your are under the denim. A wet spot has formed there.

“For me?”

Pushing me from your lap pointing back at the bed-

“Show me what I’m missing.”

In the middle of the bed I sit.

“I had a dream I talked to you all night.”

Sliding my panties off.

“I told you secrets and dreams, I told you how much I longed for you to choke me. We talked until I fell asleep, then I woke up and it was a dream.”

Now here you sit watching me part my thighs for you again. Open my cunt up to you, my slickness. I slide around my pussy with my fingers, then I slide the make me wet toy in. Plunging it deep as I can, where I want your cock to go.

“Oh– you like that don’t you? You always did like to watch me fuck things, shoving things into my pussy. I bet you would have enjoyed watching me fuck another cock.”

My cunt so wet we can hear it.

“God you are such a slut, the way you get wet for me– I haven’t seen that cunt in months and here it is dripping all over the bed for me. Slut, you never change.”

I hate you and I love you. It’s  as old time- -hate and love. They go together, like laughter and tears.

I fuck myself, I watch you– I get lost– in my mind I am fucking you, not just myself.

All you do is watch and listen.

What I really wanted was you to lick me for a long long time.

That is what really what I want right now too.

This Vixen is in serious need of long licks. I wanted you to get down there and stay. But it is just a fact-  some men lick and stay and lick and lick and lick,  and some just don’t. Those usually don’t get a second round with me.

Good thing I brought the njoy  along, it always makes me wet wet wet and cummy. Hovering over me you plunge the wand into me, I can hear the sound of my pussy gushing around the toy and your hand. Looking at the scene splayed before you, like it’s one you haven’t seen in quite some time  feeding me you cock while fucking me with the toy. These brief moments are perfection, when all is flowing simultaneously, my mouth being filled, my cunt being filled, the sounds of pussy, the smell of sex.

Back and forth your cock slides into my mouth, you’re in no hurry, you slide in and out. I can feel my orgasm rising, I take over the steel wand and my pussy. I can feel my tiny clit is popping out, hard and needy. The words of cum spill out into the room–

“I’m gonna cum, oh I’m gonna cum.”

Your cock continues sliding down my throat, I leave my wet spot on the bed from cumming. As I my cunt still throbs froms orgasm my hands wraps around the base of your cock, feeding you into my mouth.

It’s your turn.

You remain slow fucking past my lips, I look up at you– your eyes still glued to my wet pussy and the toy still filling me. When you cum it is slow too, the hot juice fills my mouth and drips out the corner, you taste good.

This posting is in response to a dear readers comment (Vox). He points out his age and his paternal protecting nature as perhaps partial justification as he questions my emotional well being and the manner in which I gather “source material.” I like a man who questions my motivation– it shows he is genuine and that he too must question his own life, being he is questioning mine. This manner of pondering is important, it is how we evaluate our life, we question what we do, we allow others to question us, and if we can manage to question ourselves before the behavior that we both “love and hate” then we as humans are gaining some ground.



It of course is not the first time I have been questioned about fucking to write– but I must agree and disagree with the reader. In the beginning of this blog, I did fuck for material, but before the blog I fucked for nothing– nothing but loneliness and bullshit. Now, I feel relatively solid in my sexual choices. Like booze and weed, I am not having any of it unless it’s going to be good– or in the case of sex– fulfilling in some way.



While on vacation I knew that the opportunity would present itself– I like having sex on vacation and have in the passed shared a few reckless moments with this same man before. He is my official Denver New Year’s Eve and vacation cock– and well, you know the good think about New Year’s Eve and Vacation cock is that it is frivolous and fun– end of story, it is not love, it is not anything more than what it is– cock to mouth. I have not had frivolous sex in too long. And in all honesty I am quite fond of him as person, as a man and as a friend he is young, naive (and I mean this a good way), a dreamer and sings to me in Spanish when we fuck.



So, why the “love hate?” The love and hate is not about cock by any means. It comes in because of how much I want to have a cock in my mouth that I really love and that really loves me. I love and I hate longing for love.



So, should I deny my love of cock, because it is not the cock I love or the cock that loves me?



I think not.



In the last year or so I have embraced the notion of “selectivity.” In my selectivity I have had only two lovers in the last year, one of which I truly with all of my being did love and it ended in heartbreak. I am not sure if with age (because I am not as young as you may think) love and the subsequent heartache gets harder, or if I really just loved him more than I should have. On my long drive between Denver and SF I thought about him a lot, trying to find some happiness or acceptance in the knowledge that I got to experience love again and that one day if I am so lucky I will get to experience again. But– what do I do until then? Keep my mouth and thighs sealed shut? No, I will not deny myself the pleasure that cock/sex gives to me, but I will make sure the cock I do take in is what I full heartily want, not just out of loneliness– which in the past I have spent many years partaking in. Loneliness is a bitch.



As I said I am fond of that Denver cock and his wild young man ways and that is why I chose to enjoy the pleasure of his thick cock, and I am apparently fond of his brother’s cock too.



Ah yes,  I was a good bad girl with my fun and frivolous vacation behavior. My vacation cock has a younger brother, both are adorable.



We had a wild night of drinking good CO whiskey one of those up until four in the morning– drinking, smoking, and spilling another year of boozed induced confessions. The brothers were both there and I was sort of secretly hoping for another go with that vacation cock of mine. And things were going well– secret ass grabbing, hidden kisses, dirty filth in the ear– but then the booze hit him and he became the evil version of himself– apparently it happens on occasion when he drinks such good poison– eventually he had be ejected from the party.



One by one people were dropping off– soon it was just two.



It was almost sweet and simple…”you wanna make out?”



A question I just don’t hear enough, how could I resist the simplicity of that. It was all sloppy, celebratory and drunk. As we sat in the summer nights heat our lips and tongues mashing– his kiss harder than his brother’s– my mind turns to thoughts of his cock. Is it the same thick meat as the older brother?



Of course things got hotter– soon we were rolling around, his chase became a pursuit, he was far more aggressive. It turned me on, but– I am still fond of his brother. I attempted to explain this to him, telling him we shouldn’t be doing this, because straight up that I had fucked his brother. I asked him if he had ever told him about us, his words say no, but his eyes and body say yes. He knows, he knows about my blow job skills.



I resist, somewhere in my mind thinking it’s not right to fuck brothers.



Then he asks, “is my brother here now?



No, he wasn’t.



It was a good point, I have no real vested deep connection in either one, I am very fond of both.



So I conceited, and we rolled around the living room. He finger fucked me, it felt good– a firm clutch inside– full of assurance. Soon my lips and hands found his hard cock. And it was not like his brother’s, it was completely different and sometimes the same. My mouth coated him in spit and my hands and lips alternately worked his cock. In the lights filtering in from the street I could make his face out, turning and hitting shards of light he looked like his brother– it was strange and wild– I liked it.



Dropping around trunk and lost myself into making him cum, I could feel it, he got harder in my hands, his cock pulling in then letting out– his cum shot out and into my hands and all over his chest. Of course I licked his sampling of cum off of his cock– then we drifted into a drunken sexed sleep.



Brothers are fun– imagine them together, I know I have been.

Despite a rock to the windshield the road has been good to me.The weekend was spent boating and having crazy fun on the lake, a few attempts to wake board (I have never been one not to try– but alas my ass never got up), but I did have lots of fun being pulled at high speed on a tube. I am exhausted, battered, bruised, my arms feel like they were nearly pulled from their sockets, bug bitten, and sun weathered– but completely enjoyed myself and the company.

The night lead to a campfire and a skyline of stars one can only witness in the middle of nowhere.  Lighting storms around our parameter danced and illuminated the clouds around us, the milky-way in all it’s glory- shooting and falling burst of starlight, campfire talk, passing the bottle around, no cell phones, just the darkness and weight of the sky consumed us.

As the night grew, people drifted away, falling off to their tents being lulled to sleep by beer and the sounds of the water licking the shore. Soon seven turned to two. We sat stoking the fire, watching the flame surround the the embers on the few logs left in the pit, acknowledging the magnificence of the universe that blanketed us with stars.

Every so often we would stand, warming the back sides of our bodies in the fire, pulling our pants below our asses to feel the heat directly on the skin. After one of these moments I sat back into the chair, but you did not. Your body standing close to me, too close. In my mind I thought, why the fuck is he standing so close to me, then it hits me– oh I bet he thinks he is going to slide his cock into my mouth. Of course why shouldn’t he think that- it is not an out of the ordinary event for me suck cock.

However I had best intentions not to, you are a friend of two of my best friends, who hate it when I fuck around with you.

Halfheartedly I attempt to explain why we should not fuck around, but already– despite my knowledge that I shouldn’t, that we should just refrain– all of sudden I want cock. That feeling of want consumes all thought of what I should and should not do. Rising to meet you, turning my back to your body so my ass cheeks could feel if your cock was hard or not. Yes it was, and in that moment everything else clicked off and I became consumed with the thought of knowing this cock again.

At your request I sit back down. Your cock right at face level, my hands quickly find your thickness. Thicker than I remembered. I began to scan in my mind the last time I had your cock in my mouth, I could not remember if you were cut or uncut– then I thought– well, there is only one way to find out.

Pulling your cock and balls out of the top of your swim trunks, I am again taken back with just how thick you are– drifting into how you would feel spreading me open. Those are the the thoughts that completely put me in a “one-track mind” state of being. The need to have you in my mouth, the want to make you cum becomes all consuming.

My hands wrap around your shaft as my lips begin to kiss the tip, licking and circling with my tongue. Despite the fact we had been swimming in the lake all day, your cock does not taste like it, it’s good– it made me even more hungry and needy for it– a feeling I both love and hate.

As one hand cups your balls, the other strokes the girth of your now solid cock, my lips sinking around the your head. I am hungry, but not eager. I could make you cum, but I am not ready and though I was not bobbing on your cock, I still take it down a notch, slowing my lick, dropping you down my throat and keeping you there, lingering my way back up.

Drifting down the back side with my lips to meet your balls and then I fill my mouth– my hand works your trunk.  I know you will cum soon, I can feel it, I can taste it. Firming the grip I have on your testicles, I work my lips, my tongue and I can feel your cum rise. Almost unsure your hand lands on the back of my head, an attempt to guide a girl that is already there– then your cum fill my mouth. I savor it, keeping your cock in me, draining every last drop.

You walk me to my tent and we part ways, until the next time.