The morning news.

The alarms from both of our cell phones went off at 6am, and she reached for them both with a groan and a whimper. We dozed. Later, the clock radio in the kitchen began offering us the morning's National Public Radio broadcast as we continued to snooze.

The night before had been an evening out with some of her friends. The line at Kuma's was ridiculously long, so it was beers and pub fare at Small Bar instead. I was fine with that: this bar had become virtually synonomous with visits to see Shayne, and many were the times I had thought of driving to Chicago on a whim, ordering a pint here, and texting her to invite her with me. In one past visit, she met me there in her pink 50s dress and she giggled as I gave her prezzies. During my last visit here, I nursed a few drinks as I contemplated time without her.

Last night was only slightly similar to that occasion, and everything seemed fitting.

We bade farewell to her friends. We retired to her pad. We filled the pipe and enjoyed Eddie Izzard. She collapsed. We slept.

The nights together have been cleansing, and the mornings have felt like refreshed opportunities for heart-to-hearts and mutual understanding. They've also been playful, and its been good to remember that not every discussion about the nature of what we've been to one another has to be intense.

And the mornings have given us refreshed opportunities for skin-to-skin.

While National Public Radio chattered on and echoed throughout her studio, Shayne nuzzled her bum and back close to me in the bed. She wore a Tshirt, I wore gym pants, and her pleasantly plump butt felt sensual against me as she lay in a fetal posture. Reaching around her, I idly cupped a breast as I held her tight, and she sighed under her breath and pressed closer. I dearly enjoy intimate, relaxed moments like this.

Knowing her breasts would still be sensitive from previous play and her lunations, I began squeezing her gently and tugging her tiny nipple over her Tshirt. She gasped when my nibbles began teasing her earlobe and my hand became more and more demanding in its touch. She stiffened nicely when I teased both nipples at once with my fingers and palm, and arched her bacl slowly when I began twisting one of them in a tight circle. She ground her ass firmer against me, reached behind her back, and began squeezing my cock over my pants in return.

I tugged them down. She smiled when she had free access to my hardening dick, and wrapped her exploring fingers around my thickening girth. I love it when she reaches for me and enjoys the feel and weight of me. I love it when she cups and caresses my full balls, my strong thighs, the base of my back.

Spooning, I caressed and parted her asscheeks open. She ground her head into the pillow and told me how she loved having her ass touched that way by me. I know.

I knelt up, behind and beside her. She pulled her knees closer to her chest and looked at me over her left shoulder, the sunlight just beginning to cast shafts of amber yellow through the blinds and across the bed.

Lubing my cock, I stroked myself with a wet and slick fist as I tugged the duvet down and revealed her ass to me. I squatted back on my ankles, raised my hips, and aimed glistening cockhead to her tight seam. One small adjustment and I was inside her, feeling her tightness envelop my bulb and suck me in deeper. Taking a slow, deep breath into my chest, I held on to her thigh like a railing and started what began as a slow, deep, penetrating fuck.

Stroking my cock inside Shayne's warmth, I clutched her thighs tightly and gently yanked her backward onto me. Her throaty gasps made my heart quicken, and soon I planted my fists at either side of her neck as I bent forward and fucked her harder and faster. I felt my balls slide against her thigh when she stretched her right leg downward, her left knee still high and hard against her chest. This let me tilt her hip slightly, giving me deeper access inside her tunnel, and I took advantage of it and mounted her fully with alternating strokes.

She moved onto her back, grasped my shaft, rested her ankles on my shoulders, and began using my dick as her personal playtoy. I stifled a groan and kept myself from cumming as she began jilling her proud clit with my cockhead, tugging me upward and downward between her flushed outer lips. The golden blonde pubes teased me, and her hard pearl brushed against the happy slit at the tip of my dick. I bent downward again and bit her nipples.

I pulled back and calmed myself. I've been happily helping Shayne move beyond some barricades during this visit, and I wanted to escort her through another satisfying cum of her own. She had the same idea in mind, and asked for a solid fucking with my hands.

I gladly indulged her, this shameless hussy of mine. Donning the last of the purple non-latex gloves I had given her as a clever gift long ago, I lubed my hand as she laughed and fell back onto the mound of pillows, biting her lower lip in a naughty smirk. I knelt on the floor beside the bed. In the growing sunlight, she parted her legs for me, revealing her feral, furry, and glistening mound. Her labia was red and swollen, her coral clit throbbing proudly, her giggle subtle and relaxed.

My left hand caressed her thigh as my right, gloved and eager, slid two fingers inside her depths. Twisting and stroking, I taunted her briefly before resuming the solid fucking she had been getting before with my cock. She reached for her clit, closed her eyes, and began jilling before me as my hand continued to pump and probe her warm pussy. It was all about her now, and she guided me to what strokes her sex was craving.

"That's nice, baby." "That feels do good!" "A little deeper now and a little faster..." "Curl your fingers for me, baby..." "Harder! Just like that!"

Focused on giving her a solid fucking, I held her tight against me as her hand spun circles above my thrusting wrist. I had given her so much attention that my hardness had calmed itself, though my fun continued and I enjoyed the feel of my thick softness against my own thigh.

"Baby, give me your cock to suck..."

I denied her. At this point, my focus was on finishing what I had started. "You'll suck my cock later." I was tempted to add "you slut," but I didn't. That can wait.

And there, I imagine with the thought of being on her naughty knees later in the day, my twitching fullness between her slurping lips and into her tawdry mouth, she overcame her barricades of late again and began shaking in a fluid, sensual cum. Her head pushed back into the pillows and her cloying pussy gripped my thrusting fingers as I wiggled the tips of them against her quivering G-spot. She gasped and cried out, her back arching, her voice echoing with the radio as she came in rushes, and she slowly settled into the waves of it all. My thrusts continued, gently and slowly, with the occasional tease. I smirked as she gasped aloud and giggled as I taunted her sensitivity. Smiling, I knelt back on the floor, stripped the glove from my hand, gave her a kiss, and made us some mugs of Earl Grey as the chatter on National Public Radio continued.

Breaking free.

We were enjoying a casual, sensual afterglow, the morning sun filling the studio as we idly discussed ideas for the day together. She lay nude before me as I relaxed at the foot of the bed, feeling the soft rug beneath my naked ass. The cats were sprawled and purring contentedly as she divulged to me about how challenging it had been for her lately to cum.

I smiled as I asked if she still had some of the gloves I had sent her. She had begun her moon, and I remembered from days (and nights) with Diva how a deep, resounding orgasm often helped her discomfort. Far be it from me to not be GGG enough to help a lover in need.

She smiled as she lay back and parted her legs. Shayne has allowed her feral pubes to return since I was with her last, and I enjoyed seeing her completely natural self again. Her skin glowed softly in the light, and the decadent comfort of the plush, white duvet under her naked ass only enhanced the beauty of her golden hairs weaving throughout and across her pouty mound and full, tawdry lips.

I lubed my gloved hands and began to explore her, teasing, taunting, probing. I looked up and into her eyes as I slowly fucked her with my curling and twisting fingers, enjoying the feel of her folds and her muscles as I did so. The tip of a lubed finger found its way to her winking anus, and she nodded in approval as I slipped it in. Fingers in her pussy, a finger in her womanly ass, and I escorted my sweetheart through her pleasure.

She asked for a vibe from her bathroom shelf, and when I returned with her Mini Corsair, she shuddered when she felt me stroking the walls of her G-spot with its curved tip. A finger made its way to her clit as I fucked her with her toy now and as she guided me through her desires.

At her request, later I slipped the vibe into her willing sphincter, and my fingers returned to her pussy as she enjoyed the double penetration and my kisses against her shuddering thigh.

I kept the tempo and the depth, and soon she was coming in a warm rush and a cry. It warmed my heart to bring her past her boundary of late, and she collapsed into goofy laughter as she enjoyed herself.

The cats, previously distressed by all the commotion, eagerly returned to the bed for their share of snuggles.

Daybreak over Chicago.

The sun was slowly awakening Chicago as our passionate embrace continued. While it was clear and calm outside, we had weathered a storm the day before, but in the morning it seemed to clear enough to welcome the better parts of our closeness.

She had addressed me as "babe" as she slowly awoke, and the sound of it was a salve on my spirit. Not long afterward, we were embracing again, and she relished on the torturous feasting I gave her breasts. Pinching and biting her tender, small nipples, she sighed and gasped into the golden room's air in pleasure and delightful anguish. She begged me to savage her tits, and so I gripped them in strong grasps of my hands as her back arched and her mouth widened silently. My sharp teeth sunk around her broad areolae, and her pale skin slowly reddened as I sated my hunger upon the lovely, innocent-looking pair she possesses.She climbed on top of me.

"Is it ok if I put your cock inside me?" she asked with a smirk and wet kiss.

I smirked back as I felt her grip the base of me and guide my head toward her wet, tight cunt. She loves that word. "Cunt." Shayne loves to have my cock in her cunt.

She eased her weight upon me, and I felt her soft warmth ensconse itself around my shaft. She ground her hips down and I thrust upward for a while before asking her if she would rather have me still. My suspicion was on the money, and she straightened her back upward and looked down to me with hungry eyes as she used my cock for her pleasure. I felt her muscles squeeze me, her cervix stroke itself against the head of me, her labia gripping around the base of me as she rocked backward and forward in her own pleasure. In my mind, I enjoyed how she took me, and fancied myself her conquered prey, her servant, he who will be used for her personal enjoyment. I smiled to myself as I watched her use my cock for her fucking.

She bent down again, pressing her pendulous breasts to my face and teasing me. I returned to squeezing them tightly, pinching and rolling her nipples between fingers and hard knuckles again, and again she winced pleasurably. My hands left her breasts to caress her back, to hold her lovely ass, to grip her hips as I thrust my cock upward and into her cunt.

We slowed the pace and began to kiss deeply again, holding one another. She wanted my cock in her mouth, but she wanted to have me ask for it first.

"Tell me," she smirked in her sassy way, "what it is you want me to do now."

I smiled back. "I want you to suck my cock, baby." She pulled herself off of me and slowly scooted down to the base of the bed. She stroked my dick in her warm fist as she looked up to me and smiled.

It had been so long since she last sucked me, and I had almost forgotten about how talented her sinewy tongue and gripping lips are. She reminded me eagerly, gripping the base of my cock in her fist as she swabbed her tongue across my thick head. Her mouth engulfed me, and as she pumped her wet lips down the length and girth of me, I relaxed and remembered her tenderness from lovemaking sessions past. Her suction gripped my shaft and spongy tip as she began sucking passionately, tapping my cockhead against her cheeks and open lips, coating her face with her salted saliva to mark herself with my seaspray scent.

She withdrew her mouth and jacked my cock slowly, firmly, and dribbled a little of her spit down to her stroking fingers. Well lubed, my cock loudly and slickly was serviced by her knowing fingers, and then she began to cup and cradle my swollen balls in her other hand.

Alternating between sucking and stroking, she brought me close before asking to see her stroke my cock myself. I looked down to my moving fist with wide and appreciative eyes.

"I love watching you do this," she breathlessly said. "Come all over my tits."

I didn't quite make it there, but her face shone appreciatively as she watched me burst and shake into rumbles of deep laughter afterward. We embraced.

Rivulets of cloistered awareness.

I crossed the threshold and set my bags down, the curious cats rubbing against them. She was already awake, having barely slept through the night in her excitement, or so she said.

The first kisses were quick, greeting-like, but as she lay comfortably in her bed, she sighed to my caresses after I had settled my things. It had been many months since we had last kissed deeply, and warm memories of her sensual mouth filled my heart and spirit when our kisses deepened. I was reminded of the soft, slow movement of her lips, the warmth of her tenderness, and of the joy it brought to me to share my own nuances with her as well.

She bade me to join her in her soft bed, and smiled up to me as I removed my shirt and did so. Laying with her again, embracing her strong form, brought me back to better days when the fire between us was bright and consuming. I felt home again, and when my hand cupped her soft breast as her panting and open mouth hungrily kept exploring my own, I remembered.

Her ribs, her tummy welcomed my lips. I smiled in myself as I heard her coo and sigh. Gradually, our clothes came off piece by piece until we were nude and beside one another again after having been apart, in more ways than one, for so long.

She relaxed on her back and rested her head on the soft pillows. I bit my lower lip as I asked if she would enjoy feeling my mouth tasting her again. She laughed and wiggled her hips in joyful reply, and when my hands cupped her powerful thighs at either side of my face, I closed my eyes and pressed myself close to breathe in her essences. Her soft cotton panties teased my cheeks, my nose, my lips as I slowly exhaled warmth through them and roasted her mound. When the panties had been slowly slipped from her, when she lay at one side as I placed tender kisses on her womanly bum, the soft golden tufts of her fur tickled my face as my warm and wet tongue teased her.

I had missed the feel of her proud clit against my tongue. A coral marble, it was hard and pulsing between my lips as I slowly stroked the underside with the tip of it, alternating my licks between there and down into and against her holes. She raised her knees up, giving my access to her anus. I swabbed tender strokes against her furry labia. I filled my lungs with her airs.

She was on her side when I knelt behind her, my cock slowly finding its way into her soft tightness for the first time again in so long. She looked up to me.

"That feels perfect," she said to me in a faint gasp. I held her thigh with both hands as I knelt as close to her as I could, stroking my cock inside her body.

She had moved to her hands and knees to get fucked from behind, and I marveled at the sight of her generous ass pressing firmly against me as my thrusts met her with gently audible smacks.

I was relaxing in the moment, enjoying the feel of her open tightness, the grip of her beautiful pussy along my cock, when the shift occurred. Perhaps it had simply been because it had been some time for her too, perhaps it was a shift in consciousness, perhaps the nuances had revealed heretofore unknown rivulets of cloistered awareness, but it became time to stop for the moment.

And what's followed since has been a cathartic exploration in our minds and hearts, even as we enjoy (and continue to want to enjoy) the lovemaking that we share with one another. There's been a delving into shadows and into intimacies that, depending upon how we approach them, will likely make or break what may or may not happen next.

Photo Essay: Caught by the short hairs.

The Toybox: Finger Fitting Products' Magnificent Vibrating Glove

Several years ago, because it was easy for me to get and would provide me with some fast money once my legal emigration to Canada was complete, one of my first jobs here was as staff in a very competitive adult DVD and sextoy store.

I had done similar work when I was in my late teens, and it was a treat to temporarily return to the old pleasures of charming giggling couples or eliciting the fantasies out of courageous but less-than-informed women as they explored the horny hardware our store had to offer.

These were the days when the Fukuoku 9000 was a fairly recent product, and among the hottest sellers in this particular suburban sex emporium. The staff received rave reviews from those who purchased one, although some were slightly disappointed with its lack of variable speeds. Still, the 9000 seemed like a revolution in sextoy technology those ten or so years ago, with its compact and clever one-fingertip design.

But progress waits for no, uh, woman, or so they say. More recently, the Rhodes scholars at Finger Fitting Product labs came up with the Magnificent Vibrating Glove, also called the Fukuoku Five Finger Massage Glove, and it's easy to imagine how. "My God!, some perky product tester must have realized during one of her after-hours sessions with the corporate VP of sales, "If oneFukuoku fingertip can get me climaxing like that, what am I in for if every fingertip were sheathed in these vivacious voracious vibrations?! Eureka!"

Or something like that. I'm sure. You can see that happening, cantcha?



The Glove itself is manufactured from an 84% nylon/16% lycra (Spandex) blend with a sheer look and feel that may indicate that latex presence is likely negligible, if present at all. With two speed settings, the Glove houses three AAA batteries in a waterproof casing located at the inner wrist and secured with a strap. One Fukuoku massager is located within the Glove for each fingertip. The Glove itself is hand-washable only and should not be exposed to temperatures above 120F (50C). Not that you'll likely make your hot tub that extreme. It's intended for external use only.

Sensations penetrate only the uppermost layers of skin and muscle, so while the Glove is no Hitachi Magic Wand, its ideal for sensual, stimulation-oriented play. Tops and dominants would enjoy the versatility of its use as a subtle pleasure enhancer, especially for fingertip-to-genital or -nipple play. Less fetish-oriented partners and/or solo jillers and jackers could certainly appreciate the Glove's usefulness that way as well, and the Fukuoku line of vibrators has an already well-established reputation with clitoral fun. Caressing faces, squeezing labia, tickling clits, pinching nipples, gently touching the eyelids or ears, squeezing scrotums, stroking cocks... the options are endless.

Using a large non-latex glove to cover over the Magnificent Vibrating Glove, I found that probing a partner's pussy was a challenging experience, however. The fact that the Glove isn't recommended for internal use notwithstanding, I found that the Fukuoku tips simply weren't snug enough around the fingertips to prevent them from sliding to one side of the finger or other. Even in normal usage, these little buzzZZzzzing bees (and truly, that's what the vibrations sound like) kept wanting to move of their own accord.

Perhaps this is why those same horny scientists at Finger Fitting labs have also developed the Fukuoku Power Pack, which appears to feature handydandy clips for the massagers to secure themselves around the fingers. It might look like something a Borg might be found wearing... but if so, there's bound to be somebody out there with the right costumes and kinky minds to make that work too.

Shayne counts the days.

Shayne: I'm gonna suck your cock in 4 days.

Me: Youre gonna suck my cock for 4 days?

Shayne: No no IN 4 days.

Me: Wow! FOR 4 days?! Baby, marry me!

Shayne: Pff.

Tits in perspective.

Let's get something clear here.

Toronto area pool facility owner Ellie Karkouti seems to have, shall we say, gone over the deep end. Not content with publicly harassing mother Cinira Longuinho from breastfeeding her baby on the site of her business, she complained to the local police. The local police, perhaps because they already know that toplessness is legal in Ontario, paid her little attention.

So when Karkouti heard that a few angry mothers were planning a peaceful breastfeed-in, she hired a security company to patrol her pool. They sported bulletproof vests and handcuffs. To prevent women from baring their (legal) breasts and feeding their (hungry) babies peacefully.

Karkouti is arguing that there's a health issue at hand, that pools are somehow inherently unsafe for a feeding child, or that others might be harmed should some breastmilk enter the water. According to some opinion pages in local newspapers, a lot of people seem to agree, and some are going so far as to suggest that breastfeeing is as "unsanitary" as, well, other bodily functions.

Please.

Is it because we, in our oh-so-tolerant Western society, take post-Puritanical umbrage to the sight of a pair of tits? And even if so, why is so hard to accept that there are miles of contextual differences between



tits presented like these



and tits presented like these?

Granted, breasts are beautiful and many people enjoy looking at them. I do. You do too. And, granted, there is a population of tit-appreciative people in the world who haven't learned basic manners, personal boundaries, and the perspective difference between each of the redheads we've just looked at.

But isn't it a little ridiculous to chastise women (or their babies, for that matter) just because there are people (read: some stupid, sexist, ogling men) in the world who are still a bit Neanderthal? Is it possible that an oversexualization of breasts plays a role in this sense of outrage among those who disrespect breastfeeding mothers? Or are we simply immature children at heart?

Longuinho is approaching the Ontario Human Rights Commission to defend her pre-existing legal right, as well as the right of her baby to eat when and where it's necessary. Let's hope she succeeds.

Her strawberry sex.

Bake a pie? Make pancakes? Get some rum and go crazy with dacquiris? Yesterday, a grocer friend of mine gave me an armful of fresh strawberries for two bucks, and I've been scratching my head to decide what on earth I'm going to do with them.

Leave it to Shayne who, as she texted me to say 'good morning' today, to help me figure it out.

Shayne: Good morning, baby. I love you.

Me: Love you too. I'm off to run errands and grab breakfast. Long sleep was good n needed. So were the two orgasms this morning. :)

Shayne: O! O! How nice! Do i really get to see you in 13 days? I'm so freaking excited!

Me: Yep! :) Whatcha wearing?

Shayne: LOTS of wool... and my little cock cucker shirt. :*

Shayne's shirt is part of the schoolgirl uniform that I gave her last year. Over the breast pocket, the initials "LCS" is embroidered in blue thread. Rather than represent a particular Ontario secondary Catholic school, we decided long ago that it represented her status as a good "little cock sucker."

And it'll be time for mid-terms when we see each other next.

Me: The uniform? Mm. "Cocksucker shirt." I like the sound of that. Want to suck some Daddy cock, young lady? And what the hell am I going to do with FIVE POUNDS of strawberries?

Shayne: Freeze some for smoothies. Feed some to me as i suck your cock. Which, by the way, i'm dying to do.

Me: Yum. I'll do more than feed you. I'll press the bleeding, dripping fruit upon your beautiful face. Your cheeks will be gooey with strawberry as they hollow around my throbbing tool.

Shayne: Um. YUM.

Me: I will dip my hands in a bowl of sweet berry compote. I will smear your face, slick your hair back with both hands and hold you while I fuck your mouth. I will have you looking like the hot, gooey tart that you are.

Shayne: Oh... (sigh. shudder. squeak. squirm.) I love the way you do what you do to me.

Me: ;) I'm glad. Love ya. But if I turn you into a strawberry shortcake, shall I feast on you too?

Shayne: Yes please!!!

Three paces from the door.

Shayne lives in a charming studio flat that gets plenty of sun and is home to a pair of cuddly felines. Her bed is beside some of the windows and directly across from the front door. It would barely take three paces before one could enter her pad and find oneself upon its puffy comforter.

Shayne: I love you. Had a great orgasm thinking bout you last night.

Sometimes I enjoy wondering how the acoustics of her place allow for her orgasmic cries to echo in the hall, through the walls, below her floor.

Me: Liar. ;)

We're planning on seeing each other in a little more than two weeks. I expect that I'd be arriving on the morning of the 23rd. It'll be a Sunday morning. Shayne may well still be in bed.

Shayne: Oh no. You came in my front door and i was on my back, knees bent, pelvis thrust up. You dropped to your knees and sucked, licked, and ate my wet cunt.

Me: Mmm. I do miss giving you my mouth, tongue, fingers that way. What do you like most about me giving you head?

Shayne: How involved you get. Your skilled fingers knowing where to push. The moans you make as you enjoy me... I can't pick just one. Or if i did i'd pick your tongue.

I have keys to her front door. I would be letting myself in. We would be those barely three paces apart for barely a moment, and then I will smile as I drop by bags, my jeans, and my knees before feasting upon her bared pussy.

A long wait.

An attractive brunette woman passed by me on the street today, and for some reason the way her wispy, dark, straight hair caught itself behind her ear caught my attention. Several short, swaying strands peeked from behind her lobe as she casually strutted down the street, and while she walked by, I also noticed the full thickness of her dramatic eyebrows above her dark eyes.

When I turned away, the distant memory of Danielle suddenly awakened in me.

Blake, Danielle, and me were almost inseparable friends during my junior year of high school. Danielle was Blake's girlfriend, and then as now, she remains one of the quietest women I have ever known. She was friendly, smart, and articulate when she actually said something. She had a radiant, friendly smile that would warm your heart, even if only for having broken through her shyness. Danielle was, in a word, sweet.

Of average height, she nevertheless had broad, strong shoulders and impressive arms. In sharp contrast to her vibe, she was built like a wrestler with a thick but firm midsection and trunk-like thighs on her strong legs. A plain-faced brunette with shoulder-length wavy hair, her voice was deep and resonant (when she used it), her eyes dark, her brows thick, her jawline strong and chiseled.

Despite being seventeen or so and only fairly recently having had my virginity taken, I still could sense a sexual tension between us. I never acted on it. There was one afternoon when the three of us hung out at Danielle's parents' house in Staten Island where the tension thickened enough that Blake was hinting about (what would pass for, in our high-school libidos, as) a threesome, but it never went past the wink-wink, speeding-palpatations, what-if-what-if stage.

Blake and Danielle graduated. I stayed in school for a few more months because I had been academically naughty. Blake followed in his father's footsteps and became an actor. I'm not quite sure what Danielle did. My plans to enlist in the U.S. Navy fell through and eventually I began working the renaissance festival circuit, meet Diva, and start a new life. The three of us gradually lost touch.

Fast-forward by ten years.

I've moved from New York to Massachusetts to New Jersey, and I'm on the campus bus while attending university. Things with Diva and I have ended, I'm newly-single, and I'm finishing up my last semester before planning a trip to Canada. It's a bright spring day, my backpack full of anthropology and medieval art history textbooks is killing me, I'm thinking about this paper I have to write about German mythology, and I look over my shoulder only to spy... Danielle.

She hadn't changed a bit: still shy, still quiet, still built like a killer wrestler, and still possessing that same radiant smile when she realizes who's staring, open-mouthed, at her as she rides the bus. I take over the seats in front of her and we begin to catch up in the way old friends are suppoed to do. It's very cool. We exchange numbers. Later, we talk, and we set a date to go for drinks and hang. Drinks become dinner.

We talk about the time she, Blake, and I were in high school drama class together. We had an improv assignment randomly thrust upon us by the instructor: "The three of you are on the subway when one of you begins reading a pornographic magazine." Before the class, the three of us sat side-by-side with me in the center. We rocked and jeered to the movement of the "train" as I "opened" the "magazine." Blake acted like an exhausted office worker, his head lolling side to side before eventually falling to my shoulder as he snored. Danielle behaved demurely and shocked as I leafed through the "pages." Catching her glimpsing, I offered her the "magazine" itself, which she rebuffed dramatically, only to snatch it from my hands and "drool" after I reached the "centrefold page."

That memory brought us to that afternoon in Staten Island. I felt our long-lost sexual tension rebuilding. Our night was ending. She had taken us back to the house she was sharing with some other women.

No one else was home when we got there. We went immediately to her appallingly tiny room. A desk and a bed.

I had my hands in my pockets, leaning against a wall, and was staring at my boots when I opened up about how that tension left me feeling when we were in high school. She grew quiet again, looking at me from the corner of her dark eyes, trying to hide a faint smile. She nodded silently.

The pit of my stomach was tight as I leaned closer and kissed her. Her eyes shut immediately as she leaned against the opposite wall. Her round breasts were firm and full against my chest as I pulled her closer, her tongue tentatively darting across my lips.

It had been a while since I had enjoyed a lover, but I sensed that it had been even longer for her. Her breathing deepened as she began to pant, her body vibrating with the low moans inside her throat. She was shaking slightly, and it wasn't long before thick, dark nipples were straining past her bra and poking through her white Tshirt. As I caressed her strong torso, I slowly tugged the shirt from out of her dampening jeans, clutching her sexy tummy in my fingers as my other hand drew the cotton upwards and over her head. She slipped out of her bra as I pulled her desk chair under me, holding her hips as I brought my face to her warm and taut stomach.

I love raining kisses on sexy tummies. My hands explored her warm chest, her strong back, her denim-covered legs and ass as I pressed my face into her. She undid the elastic that held my hair tight on my scalp. Her face yearned with desire. Her panting became louder when my fingers began to undo the snaps of her jeans while I looked up and into her eyes.

"I've wanted to do this for years," I said, slowly lowering her pants to her ankles. Her panties were plain, white, modest, and so very in character with this quiet, shy, reserved old friend of mine. On her, its plainness was perfect, like her un-made-up face, her Converse sneakers, her functionally simple bra, her basic Tshirt. Danielle was a woman without pretense, without ego, without statements to make or attitudes to project. She was simply herself, fully fundamental, completely free.

And so it was no surprise to me to discover, after I set her against the edge of her desk and pressed my face firmly to the dark mound under her panties, that she was completely unshorn, copious, and natural. I sucked in the air through my nostrils as my mouth opened against the cotton, and her feral, clean musk filled my lungs and made me heady in ecstacy.

Her scent was clean but deep, full and spicy, and somehow I knew that hers wouldn't be a polite, pink orchid but a textured compote of opened dates and split mulberries drizzled in dark, raw honey. The cushion under her panties told me that hers wouldn't be a bare peach but a wild, frenzied, lush forest keeping its tender treasures from easy view and access. I would have to earn my way to her secrets. I started to lower her plain panties.

She bent down to kiss me again. "What are you doing?" she asked in a fast whisper. I stopped.

I licked my lips and smiled. "I'm want to taste you, Danielle. Is that ok?" I kissed her thigh. I bit her playfully. Her eyes widened, her face immediately flushed red, she started panting more, and she breathlessly clued me in.

"No one's ever done that to me before."

Positively criminal. If Blake were there, all these years later, I would have smacked him upside the head. I settled in for a long ride.

"Are you ok?"

She nodded rapidly, her eyes as wide as plates, her face as red as candy. I licked my lips, closed my eyes, tilted my head, and brought the cotton to her calves. Looking into her face, I held each thigh in my hands as I parted her legs. She leaned back to the wall behind her desk and lifted her knees. The lush and feral darkness that she revealed to me left me staring for a full, cock-thickening moment, and then I pressed my mouth to her core.

I was surrounded in her heady scent, and my slowly exploring tongue searched through her tight and dripping curls. My face was immediately wet, and she began to shudder even before I found her clit. Pressing my tongue against her mound, I caressed her thighs as she arched further back and brought her feet to the desk. Her legs tightened around my head, holding me in place while my tongue discovered her long clitoral shaft. It fit easily between my compressed wet lips as I gently moved my head downwards and upwards, tilted, flicking my tongue at either side of it and occasionally taking it into my mouth for a tender suck.

I swabbed her dark pussy with the fullness of my tongue, feeling and tasting her contours, swallowing the wetness that seethed from her depths. Soon, her hands were through my hair, and I had a moistened fingertip gently probing around her backdoor while I flicked my tongue rapidly against her. Her panting remained loud and heavy as she squirmed and yelped and gasped. She cried out to God. She cooed. She screamed when she came, and her face was now as red as a beet as I slowed down and eventually pulled back, my face drenched.

Her small bed creaked terribly, hysterically, when I was inside her. She clutched me tight and held me with her wrestler's legs as I felt my balls slapping against her ass. She was so drenched, and so tight, that I stopped several times to make certain that the condom was still in place because she was feeling so right. My fists were above her shoulders and she was pressing her face upwards and into my chest when I burst, dropping all of my weight to her thighs as I drove my cock as deeply as I could. It was my turn to be panting.

After the night ended, I could still taste her even after washing. I could still feel her wiry and soaked pubic fur against my face as I walked home.

I felt like something had come full circle, like something that was intended had finally been completed. I could never explain the reasons for the sexual tension between us when we were kids, but it was there, and we both had remembered it. A decade and a lifetime later, both of us out and then back into school again, we found ourselves on the same bus and by the end of that week were finally doing what we had wanted, but never spoke of before. Danielle and I finally fucked, and it was good.

We got together two or three more times after classes wound down. We never really dated. Perhaps it was my weird headspace at the time, still fresh from my seven-year relationship with Diva having just ended, or perhaps it was Danielle's conversational timidity, or both, but we never really talked too deeply about what we were doing. I was already visiting Canada for camping retreats, teaching workshops, and hanging with travelling friends in a band. My life was shifting, and over time, I lost touch with Danielle.

Another ten years has since passed by. Blake's father did a few films, some stage, and several episodes of Star Trek. Blake did a few films and some stage acting, but apparently ended his career for whatever reason.

I don't remember having the opportunity to say goodbye to Danielle. She may have never known that I moved from the States. I still regret losing the chance to make some closure, especially since her friendship has an important place in my young adulthood. I hope life has treated her well.



images Hairy Pussy Cuties

Photo Essay: Craigslist courtesans of Alaska.

And now for something completely different.

12-Year-Old Boy Scouts Volunteer To Give Women Breast Exams

For the love of God, vote for Barack Obama.

Because the people at the Board of Elections were unable to get an absentee ballot to me on time, I won't be able to cast my vote in what's probably the most important US Presidential election of my lifetime.

That really pisses me off.

So instead, I'll do the next best thing and use this space to give you yet another reason, from the sex-positive point of view, why you American readers must vote for Barack Obama on Tuesday.

The reason? Sarah Palin.



It's ironic, really. For all her alleged sexiness, Palin is probably the most sex-negative politician (if we can really call her that) ever to make newspaper headlines since Rick Santorum. If any of you readers like to fuck and care about others in the world who do too, this is really important.

Her alleged physical attractiveness has certainly been a circumstance in her career, a point which must strike at the heart of millions of pro-active feminists the world over. Coat-tailing on her moderate success as a beauty pageant contestant, Palin pursued a podunk political career not through social convictions or community altruism but through ruthlessness and selfish disregard. She is part of the ultra-conservative, neo-fascist, militant Christian extreme that has actively laboured to usurp genuine democratic principles for decades in favour of erecting a theocratic monolith. For example, before Christian-oriented groups, Palin had boasted of how she not only opposes, but would actively work to undermine bills and legislations protecting gay rights, including the right to marriage.


According to Wasilla, Alaska locals who have spoken out against their governor (and many, it is claimed, do not because they feel intimidated to do so), Palin is very pro-censorship:

"While Sarah was Mayor of Wasilla she tried to fire our highly respected city librarian because the librarian refused to consider removing from the library some books that Sarah wanted removed. City residents rallied to the defense of the city librarian and against Palin’s attempt at out-and-out censorship, so Palin backed down and withdrew her termination letter. People who fought her attempt to oust the librarian are on her enemies list to this day.

"She’s not very tolerant of divergent opinions or open to outside ideas or compromise... Around Wasilla there are people who went to high school with (her who call) her “Sarah Barracuda” because of her unbridled ambition and predatory ruthlessness"

How might such a politician apply governmental powers on a national scale?

Brilliant sex columnist Dan Savage reminds us that "Sarah Palin doesn't believe... girls should be able to make their own decisions (and) that abortion should be illegal in almost every instance, including rape and incest. (Her pregnant daughter) Bristol Palin (was) celebrated for making a choice that Sarah Palin would like to take away from all other American women. Apparently, today's GOP believes that choice is a special right reserved for the wayward daughters of Republican-elected officials.

"Palin also believes that birth control shouldn't be made available to teenagers, she opposes medically accurate sex education, and she backs abstinence-until-marriage sex "education."

"The GOP has poured hundreds of millions of dollars into abstinence "education" programs during the Bush years. I believe this enormous investment of public funds begs the obvious question: Are our children abstaining? Sarah Palin's isn't. Despite this massive outlay on the part of the American taxpayer and the example set by her Christian parents, Bristol Palin became sexually active while still in high school. Excuse me, but if abstinence education can't keep the daughter of the evangelical governor of Alaska off the cock, what hope is there for the daughters, and some of the sons, of average Americans?

"When it comes to respecting your family's privacy, Palin and the GOP see no need. They want to micromanage the most intimate aspects of your private life. And if their own kids fail to live up to the standards that Palin and the GOP seek to impose on your family, well, that's a private matter between the Palins, their daughter, their God, and the thousands of screaming imbeciles in elephant hats waving McCain/Palin signs on the floor of the Republican National Convention."

Among many Alaskans, it seems that Sarah Palin is known as a vicious conniver who is largely tolerated either because of her alleged attractiveness or because her political ruthlessness has successfully intimidated others from expressing their free speech. Sounds sexist, but apparently it's true. "Even men who think she is a poor choice and won’t vote for her can’t quit smiling when talking about her because she is a “babe," say some Alaskans.

Whether from a sex-positive viewpoint or not, does the United States really need to compound its global mismanagement by making an ignorant, sexually repressive, vindictive person a heartbeat away from the Presidency?

I'll take a politician who receives blowjobs from interns, or frequents escorts, or flirts with pages, or even gives the knuckle-rap signal in men's room stalls over one who would destroy one's sexual rights and freedoms any day. I hope you will agree.