It’s been one of those weeks (more like three weeks) for me where I feel angry and hostile, yet utterly horny. I think it is just all of the life circumstance that has me feeling on the antagonistic side, but this emotion also prevents me from pursuing the cock I want in the flesh, as though I just cannot muster up the happy enthusiasm or even smile to get that prize cock.

But, what’s a girl to do with all that horniness and wet pussy? Masturbate, flirt with cock online, and tease the men I come in contact with– make them hard, make them blush, make them think I want to fuck them. It is really just furious flirting going nowhere, but it sure does make me soak my panties– and makes me day drift into fucking and sucking cocks of all variety. This week I’ve been fantasizing about black cock, big cock, two cocks, three cocks– in box, with a fox, in my cunt, and in my mouth- in the house and in the car– Cock! Cock crazy angry girl, I would be one hell of a fuck right about now.

This week I even had to take my fantasy to my favorite bathroom number 3.

After an hour of fantasizing while at the reference desk– toying in my mind the thought of fucking one my co-workers, day dreaming about what his black cock looks like, feels like, about what it would feel like as it began to grow inside his jeans. I thought about my mouth on him, swallowing him, licking his precum. Only once did I think about him lifting my skirt up and fucking me, it was all about worshiping his cock. Following that hour of dick dreaming reference service I grabbed my little Lelo and hit bathroom 3.

Standing in front the mirror I mash my tits together, filling my hands with the mounds of my heavy tits, pinching my nipples, twisting them to erect. I thought about how I told you to grab them, how I like them to be handled– how when I am grinding on your cock I like your hands grasping kneading them,  and needing them– like I needed your cock.

Taking my skirt down, but leaving my panties and boots on– I sit in the orange chair and spread my thighs wide, propping my feet on the gray tiled wall. I slide my panties aside with one hand and my fingers between my lips with the other. It is so easy, I am so slick already. Tilting back and enjoy the feeling of my pussy, trying to get my tiny clitty to bloom, giving it a little pinch and flick. I collect a globule of saliva, lick my fingers with it then slide them in as deeply as I can, squeezing around, deeply and slowly moving in and out– fucking.

My head drops– Elvis singing Ring of Fire plays in my ears, I imagine you there watching me, taking pictures of me. The toy fills me, I can hear my sloppy pussy– even over the music. So needy of cock that she flows like a river, dripping around the toy and my fingers. Pulling the vibe out I bring it to my mouth so I can taste what your cock would taste like, after licking it clean I bounce the vibrations on my puffy pussy while I finger fuck my cunt, it’s good, I am lost…

I want to cum, I want to cum on my fingers, I want to cum on your cock. I want you to watch me cum, while you stroke and milk your cock– feeding me your cum at the same time. That is what does it for me– imagining your cock so close to my mouth– your hands stroking your turgid shaft, your tip grazing my face–leaving a trail of silver slim across my lips and cheek. I feel my stomach drop and my breath sink and grow heavy with lust, a low moan fills the room. My cunt swallowing my fingers even and the vibrator pressing into my clit — I let go with a solid and heavy silent orgasm that soaks my panties even more.

Despite the sadness and death in our air, I was on a role with the patrons (or patients as we sometimes call them). Then he  walked in. From my vantage behind the reference desk I could feel him sizing me up. Glancing up, I see his eyes looking me up and down– fidgeting his library card in hand.

I know this look, trouble, but they’re all trouble, it’s nothing I can’t work with.

In my stern yet polite voice I ask,
“How may I help you.”
Stammering forth a few steps his words start to spill…
“uh umm um..”
then with a found forceful,
“No”
He spurts the words–
“When did they start hiring strippers at the library ?”

Stunned and with that dumbfounded– what the fuck are you talking about look, one that I get all too often while manning the reference desk, I tell him–
“I don’t know how to respond to that, but I will take it as a compliment. Thank you– now how may help you?”

Mind you, I certainly do not look like a stripper, maybe a Burlesque Librarian, but certainly not as hot as a stripper.

I can see his blood begin to rise at my comment,
“No,NO. I do not want to be helped by a stripper, look at you, you look like a disgusting stripper.”

Patrons overhear,  a woman makes eye contact at me— shaking her head–don’t listen to that freak, you don’t look like a stripper– she tells with her eyes.

Another patron barks at him–

“then get the fuck out of here mother fucker.”

Shutting down my rage and my urge to jump over the desk and wail on his ass, I say…
“I wouldn’t know sir if I am dressed like a stripper, tell me about.”

More rage fills his eyes. I try to stay calm, but can feel my adrenalin beginning it’s own dance in my mind and stomach. He almost makes me feel self conscious, but I absolutely refrain from adjusting any part of my wardrobe. I have tits. I have tits that show cleavage, I have tits that many men want to get into, I like to wear shirts that show that I have tits.
I become empowered.  But this empowerment can be dangerous in a civil servants position. I bite my tongue and pick up the phone to call security. Alas he gets away, but the empowerment and now warped horniness rides with me.

I am wound up, incidents like these make me high, like I just snorted a giant line of coke and I hate coke. But, fuck I feel electric and pissed off and my cunt is wet. I have that fuck off energy that makes me want to fuck it out. I meditate the feeling down so I can continue my desk shift.

I begin to scope the room for a round of– who would I fuck in here.

Then he walked in,  leading with his cock. The bulge and sway striding my way, my eyes glued to the heaviness in his pants, so prevalent that it takes my breath away. I could definitly  ride my anger out on that joint, and with that thought I feel the calm rise in my body. I watch him moving through the room, his cock free and so apparent behind the fabric.

With my eyes I follow him down the Rock and Roll aisle, past the Blues, then further into the stacks where he disappears from view. I slip into a daytrip that I’m back there waiting on my knees, waiting for his cock to be close to my face, to my slut hungry mouth. Clinching the muscles of my pussy, I imagine his hand landing on the back of my head and with a forced gentleness he guides my mouth to his cock. Pulling my hair toward his crotch, holding me there, making me feel him grow underneath his pants– and that panting sigh of want escapes my lips. I want him to feed me his cock.

Well, fuck it and fuck it again– I am once again solo. Fuck and when I say fuck– I mean a screaming growling I am fed up FUCK.

My nearly year long experience in trying to have my cake -or cock- and eat it too, two men for one girl, appears to have been a failure. Now I have no local cock and my NYC is done with me too. Men are a sensitive creature, but women are too. How quickly joy can pass.

If I am blessed enough I would have cock for breakfast every morning. 

I was blessed this morning with a thick cock, to make heavy, to make hard–to show my appreciation and to be able to put this slutty hungry mouth to work.

A day off, a languid kiss to your soft heavy cock. My tongue learns the ridges, the tilt of your head tell me that is the spot. Music filters my sentiment of slow sweet licking, sucking, allowing myself the time to savor how hard I make you. Because all too soon, your cock will be raging, the blood will fill and take control, and I will lose mine.

Momentarily at least.

When the blood takes control, the cock, the man, the cunt can seem urgent. Flipping me, bending me in half your cock plunges– no fingers to see if I am wet– we know I am ready for the cock I engorged.  Sounds of my pussy, being lunged fill the room–sloppy and wet. I bounce and ride, but beg for your to cum in my mouth.

“I wanna taste you. Please.”

How could you resist? Between your legs I prop, your cock mine for the taking, and I do. When your fingers wrap into my tangled mess of hair, I feel your cock stiffen in my mouth even more. You like to pull me my my locks–sliding my mouth up and down your shaft, making me choke. But then you let me have my way--and I do. The thought of devouring as much of you as I can consumes me, and my mouth and hands  work you earnestly as whore and lovingly as a wife.

“Cum for me.”

My hand cupping the head of your cock, my thumb works the sensitive under side, my lips and mouth are filled with your tightened balls and I want your cum now. My hand works faster as I pull you cock into me, between my tits, close to my waiting mouth–and I milk you and drain you and lick you clean of all that sweet tart hot morning cream.

Really–it is more just a prolonging of the night– a longing I never want to end.

I don’t want you to cum, that is my cum and I am not ready for it yet. My interest lies in keeping you in a state of want– cock rock hard and ready one moment , to a place of–my god her hands feel incredible, what the fuck is she doing to me? state of being. I could keep that up all night, literally.

My mouth brings you to the point quite often, but I get too determine when I taste you–determined to let my mouth drop and pleasure you until the heat of your cum fills my mouth. However; the thought of not getting to feel your cock again, makes me want to prolong every moment I can get. I want to give you the slowest, pleasurable and tortuously delicious hand job, just so I can set to memory every ridge and vein. I just need to feel the velvet skin grow taunt, then firm, the soft flesh becomes bone.

“Bone me daddy.” yeah I say daddy…

With your hard shaft ready to be fucked, I hover my slit over you, feeling the heat of your cock reach for my pussy. My hand guides you to, but not in. I like to slide you around, feeling your pulsing head split open my full lips, and flick at my clit. If I were not looking down into your eyes from this vantage you would be nothing but a toy.

This move always makes me want to fuck, to ride, to grind down on you. But I opt for a slow fill, allowing me pussy to spread and take you in, like she too, is trying to put to memory every inch and girth of your cock. Looking at you as your fill me, I feel my eyes begin to slit, and my head fall to the pleasure your cock is giving me. I always want to start slow and do, but then something happens to me and I am fucking you, trying to get you inside of me as deep as I can. Wanting your cock to fill me so much it hurts, I want to feel it.

“Your gonna make me cum, if you keep doing that.”

I slow myself. No cumming for you.

My hands, lips and tongue replace my pussy– I taste the tartness of my pussy on you as I swallow the length of your root. I work slow allowing the cock to come down a bit, still hard, but not rigid and ready to cum. Hard enough for me to enjoy fucking with my lips and hands. My mouth scoops up your balls, filling my cheeks as my hand works the branch and tip.

Again, I bring your cock there. Filling my throat with you, at first I can easily take all of  you, but the harder I make you– the more my mouth fills and I choke a little, small tears begin to well as my mouth bobs up and down.

“Do you want to cum daddy?”

This weekend was spent nursing this broken heart with a steady diet of streaming netflixs, art and physics, scotch, reefer and some rape fantasy porn–of course. Well, actually the rape fantasy porn only last a brief moment or two– as it always does. As my taste softened, my body tingled with that want to be touched feeling– I sought out something more toward my liking to watch. First a tiny blond who squeaked too much, but I sure did like the way he could grab her and impale her on his cock. This is a move I long for, but I am just not a tiny little thing, it would take a pretty strong big man to impale me on his cock like that.

Then I switched to a nice big cock fucking a nice soft bouncy girl, with lots of cock worship and plenty attention devoted to some pussy licking and clit exploration, still not ever enough of that in pornography, but this one was pretty good. Why is it so rare to see the male star go down on his co-star and not slide some finger in while he is licking her? I will come every time a man does that to me.

Whenever the fucking ends with someone, I always have that feeling that I did not get to have their cock in my mouth the way I wanted at least one last time or that I really should have rode their face with my pussy when I had those last few chances to do so. That I should have let my insides pour out all over his face in one last release of me. My heat break is not just for the companionship of that man, but for the loss of his cock, the loss of our sex. I wouldn’t say it killed my sex drive, but fucking myself becomes horribly sad the first few comes, like there needs to be this release of loss, tears and cum. My first come of the weekend was fast and hard, and so strong from the core of my cunt the walls of my pussy locked around my fingers pullingthem deep inside of me—pulsing and pulling, not letting go–my slit filled with the slickest of fluids, the best lube. I wanted to go to bed immediately, but I had not seen the cum shot, so I continued with the bullet firmly vibing my clit–shooting a heat pulse through my body, my tits heavy and nipples on fire, and my pussy still pulling my fingers in, as if they were your cock. I wanted them to be your cock. I came with the stars of porn– my cunt pulsing, gripping and leaking. When I pulled my fingers out they were coated in a cloudy clear gloss with tiny pussy juice bubbles all over my fingers, I really needed to come.

The rest of days were spend very similar to this, a little bit of crying and a whole lot coming –coming, laughing, crying– coming and thinking of you– contemplating when to fight, when to chase and when to let love walk out the door.

Image by Mikey McMichaels and on Tumblr