Reality check

I am gallivanting in my private members club with an old lover of mine, Mr PR, who is treating me to lunch with a view of fucking me later.

Mr PR is fantastic. He is smart, extremely funny, successful and and a dominating fucker. It's cats and dogs with sex thrown in when we get together. Plus he has a big cock which he loves almost as much as he loves himself. Which is a lot.

I swoon in and he's waiting for me already. I sashay purposefully while he's taking in the view. It's a game we play.

We lunch, he's getting pissed on expensive wine while I am sipping my favourite cranberry juice and watch him. He likes sparring with me in preparation for later. Every smart arse response, anything that he perceives as an intellectual defeat on his part will be repaid to me in full, with spanking interest, when we will be alone.

I continue the the game and I am ever so good at it. I am bold, head held high, in my tight dress and sky-high heels. I cross my legs, I curve my body on the chaise-longue I decided to perch on for dessert. I am in my full feline mode seduction mode. He is recently single and there is an additional layer to his usual banter. He tells me how much he missed me when I was off the market, all loved up with The Lover. I don't respond in kind. He likes me strong and unavailable because that makes the chase more exciting. And makes him feel like he really scored, because somehow he conquers me every time, even if the arrangement is painfully clear from the start.

We decide to leave with the tacit agreement of checking into a nearest hotel and proceeding to a fucking session. I am laughing at some insider gossip he tells me, (media darling!)and push the heavy oak door open.

Still laughing uproariously, I walk straight into The Boy.

"Hey... what are you doing here?", he says and takes me in his arms. Instinctively my body just gives in, I inhale his scent and then remember. Mr PR is right behind me. He's standing there in a wary pose, pointedly waiting. I babble nervously and introduce them to each other. The Boy sweeps his hair and says 'Hey man' while Mr PR extends his arm for firm handshake.

All of the sudden, my dress, the heels, the laugh, the whole fucking 'look at me' persona of mine seems ludicrous. When I see The Boy, I am not a sex kitten. I am usually dressed in shorts and Converse, fresh-faced from hurtling around on my bike or with the puppy in tow who's chewing on my laces while we chat leisurely. 

Worlds colliding doesn't even begin to describe this. And it's not just their worlds that are just smashing into each other. It's mine. It's the old me and the new me. 

My babbling awkwardness is odd. After all, The Boy and I are not an item. I haven't even kissed him properly, let alone fucked him. 

'Hey, we were just having a meeting', I keep on wittering while The Boy looks at me searchingly. We say goodbyes and leave.

"So... how do you know him?', he asks Mr PR as casually as we walk out.

'Oh, I've known him for ages, he used to work here'

Mr PR is quiet for a moment. 

"Oh well', he says smugly. "He might have a wet dream about you tonight but it's me who's fucking you this afternoon'

I have a feeling of deja vu. This has happened before. Exactly the same situation, the same conversation in exactly the same place, with The Boy, two months ago, although back then The Boy wasn't yet The Boy, he was just the friendly face in my private members club, and the man in a suit next to me was The Lover. 

And I realise I am no longer looking at Mr PR, I am looking at The Lover. The same suit, the same dark hair, the same air of cocky superiority, the same fucking 'you are my trophy' status-anxiety ridden attitude, perfectly in sync with my act. I am no longer me. I am a fucking platinum blonde accessory. I am the 'fuck you' to the other guy.

I thought I moved on but I haven't. Here I am with a fucking hologram of what I always went for in the past and the hologram of me that used to enjoy that shit. And like with holograms, none of it is real.

I turn around. Mr PR is looking at me with a smirk, buttoning up his jacket, ready and revved up.

"Shall we?'

I decide that I may have just arrived at the same station I left from but it's time to hop on a different train. 

"Sorry, I am actually really tired so I am going to have to call it a day'

"What the fuck?", he explodes. It's a fair question.

"No, I am not tired. You know, it just doesn't feel right. And it's me, not you..", I trail off as I realise I just walked into an elephant size cliche trap.

"Oh for fuck's sake...', he starts but something in my face is telling him it's not worth it.

"You are weird, you know', he sputters. Hell hath no fury like a man with a semi-erection scorned.

"What is it with you..?", he starts again and then I notice that face on him that all public schoolboys get when they don't get their way and default the ra-ra act hasn't worked. A desolate little boy on the train platform clutching a teddy bear and saying goodbye to the Nanny. He never finishes the sentence and walks off slightly unsteady on his feet, all that expensive Merlot, and the Amaretto he downed for dessert clearly taking its toll.

I walk back in.

The Boy is there, loitering behind the bar, bantering with the grizzly yet twinkly-eyed Spanish manager.

"You're back", he beams.

"Welcome back beautiful", grins the Spaniard.

'Yes I am. The meeting is over'

The Boy smiles 'Cranberry juice, no ice, right?'

'Yes please', I plonk myself on the bench and take my heels off. And suddenly I feel like me again.

Dark

I wanted to fuck in the dark for several reasons.

1. No faces, no memories. Not right now.

2. No interaction based on on what I think he's thinking or I am thinking or doing or experiencing.

3. Body to body combat because he matches me on propensity to fight and the darkness adds complexity and challenge.

That's what I wanted.

And that's what I got.

We fucked for hours, sweat, cum, smeared all over our bodies, heavy whispers, hands, fingers forced into me, teeth and lips and tongues. He wrestled me, I kicked.  He restrained me, I snarled and fought. He fucked me into submission, then when he was on his back, I jumped on him and rode his cock so hard that in holding to him for purchase, I left the imprint of my palms on his collarbone. It was all very good. No complaints.

Except when he switched on the lights. It was a wrong face on a wrong man. 

When the lights are on it gets that simple. 

"I thought you would never see me again after that time", he mused smugly.

"So did I', I replied wearily.

And after all that, I left the room with the face I did not want to see this evening still imprinted on my mind.

Wet. Again.

It happens again today.

He's browsing movies on LoveFilm. We are going to watch something. 

I have other plans. His closeness brings out my kittenish demanding me.

Slowly, I start kissing him, my entire body arched towards his, willing.

"Oh', he says, puts away his laptop and pulls me closer.

Yes. That's what kitten wants.

And what kitten wants, kitten gets.

He kisses me briefly, and then I get hard, hot erect cock between my legs. Needless to say I am ready dripping wet just wanting, open and ready.

As he fucks me, I beg. 

"Please, please, please"

I breached 'no talking policy'

'Oh dear...'

As I get his fingers filling my mouth I come spasming and quietly let go.

He comes all over me. Literally. His spunk hitting my belly is one of the most beautiful things ever. I smear it all over myself with a satisfied smug smile.

Bored

I am having a morning off. Nice. Time to myself.

I browse pornhub.com and slutload.com for to help me pass time.

Tell you what.... Gangbang porn, MMF, double penetration and all my usual favourites fail to get me excited. I browse and browse and... nothing.

In the end I lie back, start touching myself and think about this

And that gets me off in no time. Twice.

I think I am in love with The Lover.

The great outdoors

The day is gorgeous. The surroundings even more so. A castle, a waterfall, thick wood surrounding us, people milling around, music from the stage pounding in the background. The light is shimmering through the branches with that unmistakable afternoon gentleness.

"I want you to fuck me now", I say boldly. "But let's get a drink first"

As we stand at the bar, I order the drinks and I try to look dignified as his fingers sneak up my dress. I have no knickers on. I lost these swimming in the waterfall few minutes ago. My body is recovering from having been plunged into freezing water in that delightful 'goosebumps just easing' way. My nipples are still erect. But the sensation I care about is that between my legs. My pussy is feeling slippery and fresh, I can feel every move I make as more juice is slowly dripping out onto my thighs.

We sneak off, voices of kids shrieking with delight in a nearby adventure garden and fellow festival goers falling away as we walk through the woods, humming with crickets.

We don't go that far because there is no need to. As in there is need and that one overrides any sensibilities.

We kiss briefly. This is not about taking time. I want to be fucked. Now.

He pushes me onto my knees. The undergrowth feels gorgeously soft and I am so comfortable that when his cock, rock hard, takes my mouth, I close my lips greedily around it, licking, sucking, my mouth salivating. I take my time to play with the deliciousness of it.

He has other plans.

He lifts me up, pushes me forward, bends me over a fallen tree and hikes my dress up. I part my legs wide because I want him now and I want him deep. He peruses my arse just for a moment, adjusts my hips to his liking, pushes my down and as his cock stars parting the swollen drenched lips of my pussy, I feel myself closing around his girth inch by inch in a hot wet needy clasp. 

The sun is penetrating through my closed eyes. He fucks me hard.
I am moving with his cock and by now, I am whining, whingeing, begging, my arms holding onto the mossy trunk.

"Yes, please, take me like tha.."

He reaches over and puts his hand on my mouth to keep me quiet and I come so quickly it surprises me. As my head is spinning, I feel his spunk hit me. Deep inside.

The crickets are singing. It's country side after all.

Supportive

Privately Absurd is going through some tough times. Work bullshit. Apart from having rampant sex, I also have to pay my bills and in my line of work, emotions run high and drama is ample.

So, recently, I have been a little down and a little out of sorts.

Lover is being lover. Understanding and supportive.

He ponders for a bit and says:

"We need to get your confidence back. Whatever it takes. You can fuck me on top if you like?"

Touching.

Line of beauty

He's sleeping. Looking peaceful.

My Lover is a beautiful man, you see. Classically so. Hence the word beautiful, rather than just handsome. With wide, bold forehead, his soft chocolate brown hair casually framing it, piercingly blue eyes framed by long dark eyelashes, straight gorgeous nose, and a square jaw he looks sort of Cary Grant-ish. Or like a man photographed by Bruce Webber.  A pure gorgeous Americana.

I study him for a while.

Then, when I can't resist it no longer, I sneak up and softly drape myself over him. I say 'softly drape', as this is exactly what I am doing. Not being overwhelmingly needy or pushing onto him. Just brushing him lightly with tips of my breasts, my nipples fleetingly meeting his skin, my lips hovering over his, my breath slowly waking him up with butterfly-like gentleness.

He smiles without opening his eyes and moves his hand on my neck to pull me closer. We kiss. From soft, shy, teasing, puppy-like licks we move to more urgent, needy, tongues buried deeply in each other mouths hungrily kissing.

He slides me down and I can feel his cock, gorgeously hard, slipping into me easily. It always amazes me how easily he enters me. No need for hands, lube or anything else. His cock just naturally belongs inside me, and I bubble up with wetness at his mere touch.


I start riding him, without letting go of his lips. We are moving together, in perfect synergy, by now drooling and dripping into each others' mouths.

After this flood of tenderness, he flips me over. I know the drill. I stretch and extend as as much as I can. I know he likes the display of my willingness to be apparent. He loves my back and he loves my arse. Preferably as arched, tense and willing as it gets.  I feel his hands take hold of my hips. HE fucks me this time, and good Lord, I do know my place and I know I am the one being fucked. 

And everything about it falls into the line of beauty.

Trace

I look at my holiday tan. It looks good. Observing the tan lines on my breasts, I notice a bruise.

Teeth marks to be exact. Around my left nipple.

I reach for the baby oil, which I customarily use to keep my skin as smooth as it is, and leisurely apply the protective layer over the delicate aureola, savouring every moment of the tingling sensation and the memory it brings.

His lips closing around my nipples hungrily, me: capriciously dipping tips of my breasts into his mouth while riding his cock.

Wet

It amazes me. It really does.

Sometimes we fuck with virtually no foreplay. He just reaches out for me, slides his cock inside me and fucks me into a breathless, gasping mess.

I sometimes wonder why it's so easy.

And then I realise that the mere proximity of him, his hand casually brushing my thigh, my catching his scent, a fleeting kiss make me wet and ready to fuck.

When with him, I just walk around being instantly fuckable. 

Nice.

Missing

I am disgruntled. I am not used to this. To want someone and nobody else. I lie in my bed, at night, thinking that I want him in that very simple way.

The way he talks, the way he smells, the way he looks. The way his thick gorgeous hair stubbornly falls on the wrong side and I impatiently smooth it back from 'posh boy' to a 'matinee idol' look.

I miss his presence. His clipped foppish tones when he talks to me leisurely between the drags of a cigarette. 

His lazy ways when he drops clothes just where he stands. Which really does not bother my usually fastidious self because when he's naked, I can feel him all over my body so little details of his clothes dumped everywhere do not bother me.

I even miss him getting annoyed with me because I am a fidgety, breathy, noisy insomniac, I am all nervy and anxious with my mind racing at 2.00 a.m and when I bolt the bed in a haughty way, he pulls me back under the protective armour of his arms and legs, wrapping me in a safe cocoon.

I miss his messy ways of cooking a dinner when my tiny kitchen looks like Al Quaida has blown up Sainsbury's veg isle.

But most of all I miss it when he walks in, holds me, kisses me, and then, as a result of our drooling needy sensation, me usually wearing something inconsequentially accessible, he bends me over something that's near, table, chair, bed, kitchen top, not checking how wet I am because there is no need to, drives his cock inside me and fucks me so hard, he has to keep the little madame quiet with his hand in my mouth and spunk all over me as I come, arch and feverishly lick and bite his fingers like a wily little kitten.

Come home.

Lesson

It starts gently.

His hand snakes deftly around my neck. 

I bolt, my arms pushing him away, my hands rolled in fists, small and punchy.  Leisurely, with a languid smile and closed eyes, he locks my arms behind my back with one well-thought out move.

I am now fully immobile, with my back arched.

His cock enters me from behind. I gasp and cry a little in exasperation of having been defeated so quickly.

He knows it and fucks me slowly, driving the point home.

"Stop struggling"

As if on cue, I try to bolt again, all mieowling, scratchy, resisting mess.

And all he needs to do is to tweak my arms so that I have no room for movement.

That simple.

Clearly, I am a slow learner. I hiss insults and turn my head in a defiant angle.

'Fuck you"

Then he lifts me up, gets my hips exactly how he likes them, pushes me against the wall, my entire body squashed against it, my hard nipples pressed in, his cock penetrating me so deeply that I gasp and protest loudly right until he sticks his hand in my mouth to stifle the noise and fucks me even harder in long measured strokes.

I stop resisting.

To be fair, he holds my forehead so I don't bang my head against the wall. Nice gesture.

Apart from that, lesson learned.

Morning

We wake up. I catch his scent immediately. It's the 'I want you to fuck' smell. 

I leisurely rub against him. His cock responds to me instantly.  I arch helpfully. He likes me in a mieowling, cat-like 'please fuck me' position pretty promptly so I snake, wriggle and wrap myself around him with my legs wide open. Natural slut.

Scent

I am in bed. Knackered.

As I slowly drift into sleep, a snuggle up to the pillow and catch his scent on it. I inhale it, savouring every bit of the warm sensation.

My hand leisurely travels between my legs and I slowly start teasing myself. It doesn't take long.

I am just thinking about that time he fucked me and gagged me with his tie to stop me screaming, right on this very bed. 

I come in a shivering and satisfying mess, curl up and sleep.

The joys of extra virgin

I am writhing and pushing into him hungrily. More so than usual, because we spent most of the day together and as we strolled leisurely around a museum and then had a howler of an evening with friends, I was bubbling up with desire and building up a healthy appetite.

So now is the moment and I want him so much that having his hard cock in my wet, desperate pussy just isn't enough.

"I want your cock up my arse", I yelp like a greedy puppy.

No objections. The Lover is a very understanding man.

Logistics though. No lube.

One mad dash to the kitchen later and I get exactly what I want with a generous smattering Tesco's Finest Extra Virgin Olive Oil.

Every little helps.

Drinking

I like to drink from his lips.

I like kissing as foreplay.  And I love the way he fucks me. But when the two are married together, it's pure heaven.

It was the kissing, his mouth on mine, connected.

For once, I forgot about whining, whimpering, screaming, moaning, talking dirty , or really, being fucked. I just wanted more of the wet, sloppy, drooling sensation, more of his mouth juice just seeping in between my lips.

One thing I forgot to mention... his tongue was like his cock, buried deep inside me, penetrating the core of me, his body falling heavy on me, like his lips. All at the same time.

A little

I wake up. Stomach cramps. I am on my period.

He sleepily recognises that I moved a little. 

Hand on my neck and another in the small of my back.

I gasp.

It takes so little to have me ready.

His cock, smooth and hard, teases the crevice of my arse.

I gasp again.

Within that two minute window I arch and stretch like a cat and I push against him as he puts his hand on my mouth before I even make any noise.

And within these two minutes, without much ceremony, his cock enters my arse.

I am not arguing.

No point.

My arse

Well, I am funny about my bum. Not in the strict sense. I have an exceedingly good arse so I like it to be stared at, admired, stroked and caressed. And even more so spanked, caned and whipped. If I notch up a welt or two or an unsightly bruise, I am a happy woman. But still. I don't necessarily like to be fucked up my arse. 

As I said, I am funny about it.

I have done things in my relentless pursuit of sexual exploration that at first I found incomprehensible. And so did my friends, constantly amused by my exploits.

Schoolgirl, escort, secretary. Turning up in a hotel wearing nothing but a smile and a long coat. Being fucked by a virtual stranger in an alleyway in Soho. Talking so fucking dirty it made the air turn blue with things so taboo, even thinking of them seems very wrong. Being tied down, whipped, spanked, caned.

Yet. Taking it up the wrong 'un. No.

Even when one of my favourite lovers suggested it once, I just said coldly "I AM FUNNY ABOUT MY BUM', and stonewalled it. It needed capitals because that's how strongly I felt about it.

On that particular day, we fooled around for a bit on the sofa as you do. Kissing intensely, saliva coating our mouths. I wetted your cock with my mouth, sucking greedily, inadvertently lubricating it with my needy lips and as your cock nestled at my pussy I said no. I was on my period. Boundaries and logistics... blah blah...

We kissed a bit more. My breasts were heavy with menstrual tension. My nipples dark pink and painful, yet appreciative of the drenched sucking you meted out with your lips. I was on top of you, stretching, rubbing, begging to be fucked.

And then you flipped me over and played with me, your fingers opening my pussy, your cock probing around. Suddenly, the tip of your cock, playfully based at my arse was no longer just there. It was there because I wanted it to be there. You got that pretty quickly.

'Touch yourself', you ordered.

And so I did. As my clit was swelling in response to my teasing fingers, I could feel your cock, opening my arse and sliding into the cavity of it. It hurt. But the thought of you taking me that way was so incredibly powerful that I simply could not think of anything but just pushing my arse out and opening a bit more for you to take me. To posses me fully. To take what was rightfully yours.

I ended up stretched out, helpless, with your hard thick gorgeous cock up my arse, biting the pillow under my mumbling mouth as the sensation just overwhelmed me. Your slow pulsating girth filled me up time after time, and my fingers were feverishly taking me up to a shattering climax.

'Does it feel right?' you asked thoughtfully. Nice.

'Yes' I gasped (or said something approximating a word) not wanting you to stop while your cock was penetrating every single boundary I ever had.

I have been done up my bum at last.

I am feeling very right about it now. And not at all funny.

Neck

It's Monday morning and after the tedious ritual of 'How was your weekend. Good. How was yours? Good' exchanges I finally sit down. And then jump up as my workmate exclaims:

'Bloody hell, what happened to your neck?!' 

Quite frankly, I have no idea at first.

But then, the flashback comes of him holding my neck down repeatedly, as he wrestled me into submission.  It all makes sense now.

'Oh, I had my hair done over weekend. Must be the reaction to the dye'

It flies. For now.

I promptly trot off to the ladies' and peruse the damage with the help of my compact powder mirror.

A distinct finger-shaped bruise makes my mind wander back to that moment when he had to restrain me quite harshly this morning and then slapped me. I was whingey, ungrateful and what's worse, slapped him back. In the end, I was pressed against a wall, my whole body melting into the hard cold surface, as his cock, penetrating me, relentlessly delivered the discipline I needed. And probably the several fucks that proceeded this one did not help my neck either. Like the one just before we had to leave for a Sunday lunch with friends and I sat on his lap roly-pollying, pawing and asking for attention like a cat you left outside for too long. 

'Don't tempt me'

Red rag for a bull, that one. I get even more kittenish and naughty at the mere sound of 'Don't'. A quickie over the kitchen counter followed, where my neck was once again subject to restraining, and I was subject to an unceremonious fucking.

He had no choice to be fair. I was pretty badly behaved on both occasions.

Just a quick one...

... as the vicar said to the altar boy.

'Fuuuck, I am so late'

I lean over to kiss you, trying to get off the sofa by jumping over you. But I get stuck. At kissing.

And suddenly I am not going anywhere. Your hands cup my bottom, the blanket slips off me and I have the overwhelming urge to press my hard nipples into you. 

Cursory glance at the watch. I am so late I am yesterday.

You don't bother with my knickers. Just pull them aside, your cock slips into me easily because I am drenched already, from this moment and the two times you fucked me this morning. You fuck me with great urgency. I protest a bit and get a correcting slap. I slap you back because I feel like it while your cock penetrates me to the core. Fuck time. Immaterial. As the orgasm starts building in me with every brutal stroke, I start screaming in my usual wildcat fashion. I get another slap and a hand on my mouth. As you spunk feverishly on my belly, I relax for about 30 seconds, then jump off, taking advantage of your weakened state. 

My clothes go on in record time and I run out of the flat with a fleeting parting kiss. I know better now not to linger. I leg it to the station. 

On the way, I decide to have a quick cigarette. No lighter. Fuck. I see an entrance to a club where the tired bouncers are wrapping up the after hours drug-fucked party full of recalcitrant punters. I swing by and magically they all turn to me. I say nothing and at least three lighters are extended to my expecting cigarette.

I light up and walk off, their stares lingering on me.

Then I catch myself in the shop window. My hair is a mess.  My top is inside out. My face is unmade, my eyes hazy but I look oddly serene.

Another man walks by and stares at me in an almost involuntary way. I look and smile.

Freshly fucked. That's the look. Catnip for boys.

Simple

Walk in.
Grab my arm.
Stand me up.
Straight.
Then march me to the nearest meeting room.  Yes, that's right. March me. By my elbow, me tripping over my high heels trying to keep up.
Bend me over the table, hold my neck in place, my cheek squashed against the hard surface.
Lift my skirt.
Push my knickers aside.
Don't check how wet I am. No need for that.
Take your cock out and fuck me. Hand on my mouth to keep me quiet, drops of my saliva wetting your palms and dripping onto the table.
And when you are done, zip up calmly and leave, without a single glance.