Butt of course.

I planned on greeting her with barbecued steaks during the previous night, but her ride from eastern Ontario was so grueling for her that they turned into a grilled steak and egg breakfast that morning. We hadn't seen one another for a few months, and Nothing Happened during her last visit, so since she was passing through town again she enjoyed telling me that we had some unfinished business.

Since our breakup some years ago, the Tomboy and I have developed a really nice, relaxed friends-with-benefitship. We relate completely as poly people and kinkster Tops, and she has this way of dragging me to motorcycle rides or deepearth caving events or scuba sessions and other stuff that really is quite the awesome.

And yes: there is the occasional moment when I regret having broken up with her. I like to think that that's pretty good praise.

The previous night, we caught up. She told me all about her new dude, a subbie kinkster who's made quite the name for himself in the academic military history world and who recently returned from a tour in Afganistan. She beamed about the new Harley that I heard her roar into my driveway with. We talked about her presence on this blog and how she enjoyed it. She languished on the futon and read the erotic anthology that I've recently been published in. We slept, spooning. Cats awakening us with the sun. I was up earlier, so I fed the furrybeasts so she could sleep late. Her blearily wandering out of bed in one of my tshirts, her lengthening hair wayward and tussled. The steak and eggs on the deck. Showers.

I'm sipping tea on the parlour futon when she's bent over and rifling through her backpacks and travel bags to fetch some bike event swag that she wants to show me. She's wearing camoflage panties now and I'm enjoying the sight of her strong thighs and round ass in them. I'm smiling.

"So," I find myself spontaneously asking, straightfowardly, casually, the mug to my lips, "wanna fuck?"

She's still bent over, an event patch in her hand, when she looks at me from over her shoulder with a saucy smile.

"Yeah. We can do that."



She takes my hand as we stroll back into the bedroom. She's already straightened the sheets and giggles as she nudges the cats out of our way. She takes off the tshirt, revealing her large breasts for me as I step out of my clothes. She's smiling at me. She loves to be nude. A slow breeze is cascading in the room, the ceiling fan humming quietly. Naked, I slide next to her and she rests her head to my chest as I sit beside her, cradling her lower back in my arm.

Her kisses deepen as I begin caressing her legs, holding her impressive tits in my palm and squeezing them gently. I've relearned a whole new appreciation for enjoying breasts this summer, and I've been totally getting off on how appreciated a sensual, firm session of titmassage can be. The Tomboy isn't an exception.

But as her tongue slowly slides across my lips and her panting deepens in her chest, soon I find my fingers inching under the waistband of those camoflage panties. Half sitting, half languishing beside me, she opens her powerful legs wide when she feels my whole hand firmly cupping, and simply holding, her covered mound. I can feel her growing heat. I can feel her pillowy outer labia. She's reached to me and is slowly stroking, petting, squeezing my hardening cock.

I love it when she does that. I love it that she's unabashed about holding me, wanting to hold me, unintimidated about just going ahead and reaching out and holding me. My cock twitches and stiffens more as I think about her brazenness even as I'm feeling her brazenness. Her moan is stifled in her throat with our making out, and that hardens me even more.

I reach into her panties. I'm slowly circling fingertips around her little pebble. She's wet. She's soft. She's hard. And she's collapsing against my chest as I start to jill her in earnestness, my fingers making a rotating tent out of her underwear as they begin to quickly, but gently, spin around and swirl her flesh. I'm using her labia, her own wetness, to massage her clit, and it isn't long before she's starting to shake and shudder and grip my cock tightly as the waves take control of her.

I love to do this.

I give her a few moments to breathe and I enjoy the weight of her back and shoulder against my chest. I'm gripping her hair and breathing in her scent. She's limp and relaxed and languid when I kneel up and, guiding her with a hand at her thigh, roll her over onto her belly.

My eyes are riveted to her bare back and covered ass, and I move to rest my knees at either side of her legs from the edge of the bed. She raises her behind in the air when I start peeling those panties down, and my cock is twitching again as her seam is revealed to me. I firmly grasp her asscheeks, tug her a little higher in the air, reach for the base of my stiff dick and rub my cockhead against her glistening pussy before pushing myself forward and into her body.

She repositions herself comfortably, her hands next to her head and on the pillows. She lets out a long, slow moan.

"Oh, yeah. That's it," she says. "That feels real nice."

Yes, it does. She does. And as the incoming breeze continues to cool us, the quiet in the room allows me to clearly hear her wetness slickly lubing my cock as I gently thrust in and out of her. It's a sound that I adore, and my eyes are closed as I enjoy how she feels, smells, sounds as we take a slow, languid, relaxed, moist, tender between-friends doggystyle fuck on a sunny morning.

Her face is mostly hidden from my view, but when I do see her, her mouth is silently open, her eyes are tightly closed, and she's panting quietly. I'm keeping my torso still, but my hips are thrusting back and forth, pistoning my dick into her juicy pussy in taunting, steady, moderate strokes. I'm withdrawing completely. I'm tapping her clit with my cockhead before returning. When I'm completely in, I'm gripping her hips and cheeks to grind my pelvis as much as I can, giving her as much of my length as I can and staying lostly still before starting the whole process again.

And then, as I was midstroke, she slowly raised and turned her head over her right shoulder to watch me. Her brow was sweating. She bit her lower lip, blinked her dark eyes pensively, and in a very matter-of-fact, casual tone said the most adorable thing. It could have been "what time is it?" or "nice to meet you" or "would you like another cup of tea?" or something equally simple, flat, unassuming. But it wasn't.

"Would it be possible for you to put a finger in my ass?"

My cock was midstroke, and I was just feeling the base of me meet her round butt again when I stopped and burst out laughing. I'm certain that made my dick twitch like hell inside her.

"Um," I managed to say between laughs, "sure."

Still fucking her, I reach into the bedside table drawer and get the lube. She's looking at me and smiling. I smack her ass, stay still again, and moisten my fingers and her tender, winking anus.


Dark, crinkled, the remnants of the tiniest rich brunette hairs. A strong contrast in colour to the rest of her skin. Tomboy has a gorgeous, very fuckable anus.

My forefinger slips in easily, and she groans softly while resting her head on the pillows. She's ass-up and face-down now, and I keep a steady pace with my cock as my finger probes and swirls around her clutching sphincter. She's gripping me. I'm probing deeeper. I'm pistoning my finger twice as fast as I'm pistoning my dick, and she's writhing happily underneath me.

Soon, it becomes too much for me to retain this much self-control. I switch fingers and slide my wet thumb inside her, raising her with it like a hook as my other hand grips her waist strong enough to make my knuckles white. Now it's time to fuck her hard and deep and steady and fast. And faster. And faster still.

For speed, I have her pressed completely to the bed now, and she's grunting my name as my perspiration starts to slicken her bare back almost as much as her happy pussy is slickening my throbbing cock. I'm pounding hard into her now, totally enjoying the sound and feel of her naked ass against my body. I'm getting ready to explode.

When I do, I withdraw. My eyes are focused on her quivering ass now, and I return my thumb to her tiny hole as I stroke my cock from above and behind her. She's reaching underneath to stroke herself as she watches me burst my cum across her upraised, gorgeous butt. Ropes of me mingle with her juice, our sweat, the lube. I'm seeing stars. She's gasping for breath. I collapse to the bed beside her.

We hold each other, enjoying the slickness of so many fluids on our bodies in the August morning heat as our legs intertwine. Cats snooze nearby. The room falls completely silent but for the cicadas rattling their songs outside, the ceiling fan, breathing.

More showers. More steak. More wistful hugs goodbye. More winks from the lesbians downstairs as they see her dressed in her vest and leather chaps. More deep sighs from me as I watch her mount the bike and roar down the driveway again, perhaps until the next time she's in town.

The Mound of Venus.

Ami had been working very hard, and she's almost always completely stressed.

As we curled underneath her exquisite tiedye duvet, the coolness of the sheets ensconced us as we listened to the clicking insects singing outside the window. All was dark, all was comfortable.

I smiled as she cuddled close. Feeling her long, auburn locks cascade across my bare chest and shoulder, I smiled to myself as I thought of the
small purple vibrator that she openly kept on the bedside shelves, just beside the egg vibe that I had given to her.

She was stiff beside me. I could tell that she was trying to relax, but to little avail. I kissed her head, deeply inhaling the scent of her russet locks of hair. I whispered in the dark.

"Would you like me to jack you off? So you can sleep better?"

Dark though it was, I have no doubt she she blinked several times as she digested my question. It often amuses me, in a perfectly nurturing way, to introduce her to new experiences. She paused.

"Um," she whispered back as a breeze caught her plants near the window, "would you like to? You're not too tired?"

I chuckled.

Her lips met mine as my right palm began a slow caress down the shoulder that rested on my chest, along her arm, and soon gently clutched her solar plexus. As always, Ami's skin was warm, soft, yielding, just slightly innocent. I pressed my head to her hair again, savouring her scent, feeling a slight stirring in my cock as I took her energy in.

She dropped more weight of herself against me. She began to relax more. I smiled in the dark.

My arm continued to explore under the pillowy duvet. I traced circles around her navel, and after completely bypassing her mound, began tracing a slow finger in circles at her upper right thigh. She sighed gently.

Clutching her thigh now, caressing it wholly, my fingers very almost grazed against the light tuft of black fur she kept between her legs. I opened my palm and grasped her thigh firmly, squeezing her, knowing that her petals were oh so slightly parted as I firmly tugged her flesh. I kissed her temple.

Wiry, feral, just slightly curled fur at my fingers now. How I adore a nest of pubes. My fingertips swirled in slow circles as I enjoyed the texture, the faint coarseness of her forest thatch, and my cock grew alongside her leg as I closed my eyes and licked my lips.

But, no, I wasn't going to taste her tonight.

Instead, my fingertips found themselves darting lower, and soon both index- and forefinger found themselves making gentle caresses at her labial mound. I lowered my hand further and gently cupped her, holding the entirety of her feminine essence in the hole of my hand, embraced, possessed, adored. I felt the Mound of Venus of her vulva against the Mound of Venus of my palm.


I brought my fingers up to my face to lick them liberally. I returned them to her core, and this time, my first and second phalanges angled themselves convexly so their nubs could press sensually just above her hardening clitoris. I began to swirl them, feeling her nubbin against my fingers.

Fast, slow. Clockwise, counterclockwise. Hard, soft, hard, fast, clockwise, soft, counterclockwise, wetter, firmer. A probe within, just so slightly.

Slow. Very slow. Firmer. Clockwise. A few gentle pats. Another probe, feeling the new wetness, a finger trailing it upward. Clockwise, soft, softer, hard, harder, harder still, faster, even faster, spinning, my left hand caressing as she rests her head on my chest, firmer, wetter, spinning.

My hand is a swirling blur under the duvet, but the actual pressure against her flesh is moderate. I'm jilling her. She's going to cum in my hand.

And in another few moments, as she rested herself against me in the dark, the summer breeze whispering through the window, Ami let out two... three... four quick and deep gasps in succession. I felt her wetness against my gradually-slowing fingers. I felt her tense up upon me, hold herself so still, shake, quake, and soon drop her weight against the bed and my broad chest.

She had cum.

I slowed my fingers down, but not exactly right away.

She kissed me deeply, moaning into my mouth.

We fell asleep.

She came for another ride.

"You know something?" she asked me the last time I saw her, perhaps a year ago, when I was helping her move out of the Toronto area. We were standing at my car as I got ready to go. Her idiot boyfriend, unhappy I was there but probably grateful for my help, had skulked back into the house they were leaving. We were dirty. Their U-Haul was packed.

"After we broke up," she continued, "you became the one I thought of the most when I masturbated."

Words I'll never forget.

More than three years since I ended things between us, we've remained friends. She's still with her freeloading, unemployed boyfriend and his sidekick, still defiantly polyamorous, and still as high-energy and boistrous as ever. She had heard that I'd recently become single again, and when she made plans to visit mutual friends in my area, she texted me to see if we could "meet over coffee or a beer." She said she'd be riding in and was concerned about the weather for the trip back. My brain was still on we're-just-friends mode when I mentioned that she'd be welcome to crash at my place if a night drive through the coming cold would be too much for her to bear. "We're-just-friends." I swear.

But it's also true that, still in post-Kara mode, I hadn't been properly laid in a while, and even during these last months she and I were together, things had cooled down some. Leave it to The Tomboy to tease me on this.

Tomboy: Ooo! I get to crash with you?

Me: You'll like the new place. And my new futon is way comfortable.

I have two futons. Only one of them is my bed. I swear.

Tomboy: ...Does that offer come with all the bonuses I'd like? Ha ha!

The Tomboy is an athletic, mid30s soldier who is among the most pro-poly women I know. Her myriad list of outdoorsy hobbies make her a riot to be with, and while sometimes I think she can be a little crazy, she's good people. And here she was, randomly suggesting that after more than three years, she'd like to share my bed again. A year of monogamy under my belt left me blinking my eyes a lot at the possibility, but I also knew that breaking my cherry again would go down so much nicer with a former lover and friend.

I was letting a bottle breathe when I heard her bike rumble down the driveway behind the house. I hadn't even seen her since she moved from the city, when she gave me that delicious praise, and it was a treat to hear her boots clonk up my stairwell to my pad. Hugs and laughter abounded. She removed the black leather chaps she wore, and as she turned her back to me, I was reminded of how gorgeous her heart-shaped ass is in a pair of jeans. My cock thrummed.

Small talk. Catching up. I tinkered with the filet mignon I was preparing and started to sauté the cremini mushrooms. Slowly, as we spoke, we found ourselves drawing closer to one another until, standing in my kitchen, our arms touched. I coiled a hand behind the nape of her neck and ran fingers through her dark brown hair, now much longer than I remember it being last.

"Kiss me," I told her. What followed left my stomach tightened and my cock as hard as stone as she let loose three years' worth of fantasizing against my lips. She feasted on me, her mouth opening for me as her tongue darted across my teeth and teased. She grunted when my arm wrapped itself snugly around her waist, her lips never leaving mine, her thigh raised to graze my own and her knee pressing gently but firmly against my crotch. She reached around me to grip my ass. I reached around her to grip hers.

When the kiss broke, I saw only one thing to do. I smiled wide, grasped her wrist, and led her to the bedroom. "Come on." She laughed out loud.

She tugged my shirt over my head as we knelt on the thick futon, and she stroked my nipples when she brought her mouth to mine again. Her shirt. Her head on my shoulder as I undid her bra. Her hand clutching at the hot bulge in my jeans.

When my hand rediscovered her breasts, memories of them flooded to me. Warm handfulls of her flesh stiffened me more, and she gently chewed on my ear as we knelt before one another while I enjoyed them.

The Tomboy, for all her sex-positive attitudes, is one of those few (in my experience) women in the world who reserves sucking cock "for special occasions." Go figure. It wasn't that way when we were together, but after three years, I wasn't going to assume anything and left well enough alone there. I, on the other hand, was craving warm and randy feminine flesh in my mouth at that point, and I intended to have it.

She splayed herself on her back, languishing in the cushions underneath her, as I drew my face to her bare stomach and started undoing her jeans. Raining kisses and tender bites on her abs, I snapped her pants open and started tugging them playfully, smiling as her black cotton panties revealed themselves to me. The jeans pulled off from her legs, she laughed when I bit her calves and reached for my long locks when I brought my head between her opened thighs.

"Oh, yeah..." she cooed. She hadn't felt my mouth in such a long time.

Pressing my lips to her covered mound, I exhaled deeply and roasted her. I looked up and into her smiling eyes as my warm, wet tongue swabbed in slow, searching strokes and pressed the cotton against her mons. Her underwear was drenched by both my saliva and her trembling, expectant excitement when I finally peeled them off and began sliding my tongue along her seam in earnest.

I had forgotten how gorgeous the Tomboy's pussy is. Soft crescents of reddening smooth skin framed her long and eager clit, which nestled at the core of some of the tightest, most gentle soft petals one could hope to find on such an orchid. A disciplined tuft of dark fur above pointed the way to her button, and I followed the directions it was giving me as I swabbed, as I licked, as I swirled my tongue around her glistening grrlshaft. The lightest of flicks at either side of her left the Tomboy in a cooing puddle of goo, her legs slowly squirming at either side of us, her head occasionally jolted from the pillows, her breathing deep and full of joy.

I love it when my partner likes to have her pussy sucked. I live for it. And when I finally started to slide my fingers inside her core, taunting her G-spot and pumping while I sucked her button quickly through my wet lips, her hips bucked as she rode my mouth. My free hand grasped her beautiful ass, caressed her abdomen, squeezed those tits that were left to sway along her chest with each shaking movement she made. She came in my mouth. A lot.

It healed me.

Beating the heat.

"Wanna join me in the shower?"

She smiled and lifted the blue Tshirt over her head, revealing those small, pert breasts that I like so much. The "muffins". How many times had we laughed over that nickname as we lay awake in the morning, contemplating breakfasts?

Cool water pattered on my head and seethed through my long locks as she stepped in after me. She made cute clowny faces when the spattering water splashed her. I smiled as I enjoyed looking at her trim form, the dimples above her ass, the way she slicked back her short, dark hair to reveal the spikes through her earlobes.

Gently, I drew her close, and my chest swelled when she groaned in approval. My palm spread itself out and across her belly, a finger playfully sliding across her tiny navel, while I pressed her close to me and started chewing on her shoulders and the nape of her neck. She loves it when I do that. The fingertip at her navel slid lower until I could just barely feel the top of her sexily trimmed black stripe. My cock began to swell, and I could feel the pressure build within the length of me, widening me, raising my girth in slow upward waves until the middle of my shaft started to meet her pert cheeks.

She turned to face me and thrust her tongue into my mouth as we kissed. The water continued to pound on us, rivulets skimming through her clavicles and between her pretty wee tits when she reached forward to grasp me in her hand. She lathered her fingers with soap and started to pull and stroke my growing cock. By the time her other hand was gently squeezing my balls, both of my own hands began to play with her as well, cupping her round little ass with one as another teased her mound.

Holding on to her gorgeous ass always makes me hard as stone.

My fingers probed between her thighs, through her drenched folds, and easily found a hardening shaft of her own. The tips of my fore- and middlefingers began to press and circle slowly, gently, at either side of her hood until I felt it begin to swell and become larger. Her button was soon primed, and as she steadied herself before me and continued to heft my girth and squeeze me in her hand, I began to jill her off with consistent circular strokes. I lightened my touch when drawing toward me, pressing more firmly when fingering forward, alternating pressure and speed as she started to gasp and squeeze her dark eyes shut. It doesn't take her long to cum from there, especially if she's getting her little ass squeezed at the same time.

She came suddenly, loudly, pressing her head against my chest as she panted and felts both the waves within her and from the water continuing to rain on her bent back. Her hand never left my cock, and I loved the tightening grip as she held on to me like an anchor to keep her steady.

When she had centered herself again, she squatted down and washed away what lingering soap remained on my shaft and balls. Soon, the cool water was starkly contrasted by her warm, wet mouth when she hefted me from my base with her hand, opened wide, and began to slurp on my silken head. I closed my eyes and enjoyed both the feel of the water through my hair and her soft tongue along the underside of me as she took me deeper in her mouth. When she started bobbing her head, I relished how her soft lips felt as they tugged backwards and forwards across the crown of me. Her tongue swirled under my frenulum while I was in her mouth, and hearing her happy moans just made me harder.

I arched my back and held her head gently. I started to thrust forward, filling her mouth with dick. She held the base of me in her fist and soon added wet strokes with her hand to her gentle slurping. I felt myself widen even more, pressure building inside my pipe with every stroke of her tightening lips over my cockhead.

She stood. It was time to take this to the bed.

She makes abstinence sexy.

Toronto radio personality Fearless Fred recently featured Claire Brosseau on air to speak about her new project to entirely give up on sex with men for one year. The "boy crazy" early30s Toronto comic and actor is sharing her experience in the blog, The One-Year Manbbatical.

Until May 2011, she plans to restrict herself to "no sex, kissing, flirty texts or emails or conversations of any kind, dates (including lunch and coffee), handholding, pictures, suggestive status updates or tweets. No looking at dudes' websites, Facebook or Twitter page more than once per day, inviting boys to (her) shows or going to theirs, or making any decisions based on dudes (including gigs, outings, number of drinks consumed once realizing said boys are in the same location."

But, as she said during her interview, "man-shaped objects" are still ok, as her newfound path has been more about reducing attempts at finding love than sex alone. "If I have an afternoon of flicking my bean, lovely flicking my bean, say with a lovely battery-operated object, I want to go out and pick up dude, so if I refrain from that, I'm slightly more composed. I can watch porn, and though I find porn very romantic, it hasn't been interfering. My porn habits have not been interfering with my manbbatical."

You have to love a woman who talks about flicking her bean on the radio, regardless of the circumstances. But not that I'm waiting to see her trip up (I think what she's doing, and how she's doing it, is interesting), but the newly-abstaining darling has already tweeted, "say what you want about lebron james. i'd still make sweet, sweet love to him."

You'll find Claire's updates on the blogroll posted here.

Watching television with Tammi and Joe.

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Sunday comics.

from Titi Fricoteur

Metamorphosis.

It was during one of our relaxed, dinner-and-a-DVD dates when, not long after we had smoked some excellent Jamaican herb, she started to pass by me in the hallway. I was coming out of the bedroom for some reason or other, and she was walking from the studio toward the kitchen. I have a long bookcase unit against the south wall of the hallway, filled with treasures about anthropology, history, mythology, sexuality, mysticism. An autographed, out-of-print hardcover from Stewart Farrar. The Egyptian Book of the Dead. Freemasonic texts published almost one hundred years ago.

It's very difficult for two people, when using the hall at the same time, to avoid coming against each other. Framed photographs, and an original work and personal gift from artist Cindy Sudano, on the opposing wall require some caution. What a fitting place to have serendipitously pulled Dean, who in both look and spirit always made me think of the ladies of some ancient, Mediterranean city, aside for some passionate kissing.

It could have been a simple peck. It could have been a light brush of my hand against the small of her back as she strode by. It began as a tender grasp of one another when our hips brushed together, my arm coiling around her small waist as I bowed my head between her neck and shoulderblade to kiss her there. We began facing opposite directions and holding one another as if in mid-tango. And then we stopped.

Passion is a power that I love to feel overwhelm me, and I worship that cascading, utterly carefree moment when all other consciousness is suddenly, irretrievably cast aside and all that matters is the yearning and the pursuit to satisfy the yearning.

Dean brought her arm to my back and pulled me closer while, at the same time, my right hand slid to her thigh and tugged it firmly against my leg. We conjoined in the hallway under the bright stares of the pot lighting, beacons that glared white and warmed our clothes and skin. Our lips met hungrily, our mouths parting with faint gasps as our heads moved in slow circles. The moistness of her lips inflamed me, and my grip to her thigh became more insistent, our bellies pressing against one another. She ran fingers throough my long locks and grunted sexily, quietly, as the energy began to shift and I became slightly more forceful, demanding.

We said nothing to each other. Her eyes pleaded to me. Gently but firmly, I grasped a fistful of her short and curly hair between my fingers, twisted her head to the side, and pulled her mouth hard against my own. She parted her mouth open with a stunned awareness, her eyes tightly shut, and my lips crushed against hers with possession. No gentle embracing, no coy maneovres, no subtle gestures would this be.

She was mine.

I stood my bearing, my heavy steeltoes firm against the floor as I prepared to manhandle her body weight. My left hand suddenly swung to her right leg as my right hand continued to hold her by her hair. I was grasping and squeezing her thigh over the thin camo pants she was wearing (we had matching pairs), and now my right fist changed intent from gentle tugging to an urgent pulling of her hair. With her small, auburn curls held tightly in my fist, I held her head in the same one one would command a cat by possessing the scruff of its neck in a moment of discipline. I tilted her head in the ways that pleased me best, moving her kissing mouth to where I desired it against my own lips, to my neck, to my chest. Dean began to go limp and pliant, unsteady on her feet, but my hand at her leg kept her weight in balance. She was panting. Beads of sweat started to seethe from her brow. Her mouth remained open like a salmon struggling for life.

My hand left her leg and coarsely ran up the length of her ribs and over to her black Tshirt. Her arms gripped my back and held my ass. There was no gentility here: I was pawing at her breasts now, holding and squeezing her tits through the cotton like a man who hadn't handled them in years. I felt her flesh meld between my strong fingers as my squeezes pulled her skin into my palms with heat. Cupping her left breast tightly, I tugged it upward as my other hand yanked her head back and exposed all of her neck. She cried out and opened her eyes, pupils dilating under the bright lights. I moved closer, bringing my covered but hard cock against her leg as I started to rub my girth against her.

Quickly, I reached behind myself with both hands and yanked hers away from my ass. Gripping her wrists, I placed her palms on the white pine shelf behind her, just under her hips, before resuming my naked possession of her heaving tits. Standing resolutely before her, now both of my hands were clutching, pawing, squeezing, cupping her breasts while my kisses continued to crush her. I started to pull her top off, yanking the black wifebeater over her shoulders.



But that fucking bra was in my way. Grunting in annoyance, I grabbed her by the back of her head and thudded her brow against my right shoulder, bending her over just slightly. Dean was shaking now, quivering, still panting, and she stayed perfectly still while my hands made quick work of the hooks at her back. Throwing the bra to the floor, I kept her exactly where she was while I started to undo the button of those camo pants, yanking the zipper down, and sliding my hands inside them to squeeze her little ass.

She raised her head to passionately kiss me, and I could taste the sweat on her upper lip. Her bare ass was in my grip, and I squeezed and caressed her asscheeks like the property they were to me at that moment. Cupping a cheek in each firm, hot hand, I met her kisses while our tongues darted, and I flicked the tip of my index finger against her winking backdoor. I pressed the fingertip against her there, feeling her anus open so very slightly, just enough to hold onto the smallest bit of my fingertip in a circular embrace.

I brought both hands up. I held her hair again as I kissed her. I started to tug her hair now, savagely, tightly, causing her to yelp and stare into the lights above us again. I held her head high as I bit and licked at her bared tits, the dark crinkled nipples hard and yearning up for attention. And then I pressed the full breadth of my right hand, palm against her chest and fingers spread, just under her neck and shoved her backward and into the wooden bookcase.

It shuddered with the force of my shove as her back thudded, small pieces of sculpture left shaken and spinning, volumes of books resettling, a framed picture knocked to the floor. She stood there now, topless and her pants in a wayward mass around her calves and ankles, shaking. Her back squarely met one of the support planks of the bookcase, her shoulderblades against copies of Ovid's Metamorphoses and Suetonius' The Twelve Caesars. How fitting.

I pulled her panties down.

Resting my hip against the bookcase, I leaned beside her now and returned to enjoying her breasts as she gasped for air. Holding her close to me as she wavered and swooned, my right hand began pawing, slapping, pinching her tits, her flat belly, her bare thighs. I smacked her thighs to urge her to part them more, and she was obedient. After enjoying the feel of her torso some more, I cupped my hand and slid it between her legs to completely cover her drenched and quivering cunt.

I looked into her eyes. I brought her mouth to mine again. I started to swirl my fingers, and soon I had her outer labia softly pinched between them and felt her urgent clit, hard as a stone, in the middle of her soaked flesh. I spun circles. I tugged upward. I smacked her cunny with broad, flat fingers. Dean's knees started to buckle, and I held her weight as she leaned between against me and the bookcase. I probed her with firm, spreading fingers, feeling her urgent need and her soaking sex. Holding her wet flesh between my fingers again, spinning my fingers in fast circles, it wasn't long before Dean's head arched back against the wood and she began screaming in long, loud, repeated, gasping bursts.

Her cries echoed throughout that narrow hall, and, upstairs, I both hear and feel the presence of someone wearing shoes slowly walking through their own hall above us and stopping not three feet away and over our heads. One of the Women Upstairs, or one of their boys, had heard us, came closer, and now was listening to Dean's screaming climax. I could picture her or his eyes blinking in amazement, because mine were as I smiled a Top's smile.

As my hand continued to possess her tight, soaking flesh, Dean started quaking when the first streams of her grrlcum began to gush from her. Her knees buckled again, and now she slid her back back down against the naked wood and crouched slightly as I supported her weight with my hips. My spinning fingers were unrelenting while stream after stream after long and pungent stream flooded from her and splashed against my boots, the floor, the opposite wall before she completely collapsed into my arms, panting, exhausted, her camos and panties in a crumpled heap around her boots.

This is completely gratuitous.

I enjoy porn. So do you.

But, perhaps unlike others who make picture catalogs of their sexblogs, 'sharing faves' and the like, I prefer to use a hot pic to enhance or illustrate something else in the story that I'm sharing with you.

So if I find myself making a small exception and simply offering a hot visual for the hot visual's sake, I hope you'll agree that it'll be worthwhile...

I think there's something worshipful, sensual, but also intensely hot about watching my lover's face when she climaxes. And, I ask you, is there anything more arousing than a woman in the fullness of her sexual, shameless confidence?

I can't embed this video, and the provider will likely keep it freely available for only a brief time, but trust me on this...

She wants you to watch. Give her what she wants.

Wine and whispers.

I've drunk the La Terre cabernet sauvignon that I acquired during her last visit.

Savoring it, I remembered the afternoons when I would call her at work, and when she snuck away from her desk to jill herself as we talked on the phone. I remember the first time we did this, before we actually met, and how she would boastfully share with her girlfriends about the phonesex I gave her.

Drinking the wine is like a letting go. I don't want to let it, her, go. I miss her whispers over the phone as she devoured me and my voice. I miss hearing her climaxes. I miss hearing her whispers for me.

The air vent.

I've just stripped off my gym pants and am walking, naked, to the shower. My soft cock sways against my thighs as I pass the air vent. A sound stops me in my tracks.

One of the women upstairs. Not the one whose bedroom is above my own, as these sounds seem to be coming from another end of my pad, but still clear through the vent.

It was a loud gasp. A moment of silence. Then a short, high-pitched cry. Another. And a third, even higher in pitch. There's no bed creaking, no foot stomping, no other voices or sounds.

She's masturbating. A vibrator? No, a thick and heavy dildo, I tell myself. She's fucking herself with a hard cock. I'm picturing her on her back, legs wide, her head pressed hard against a pillow, her mouth open in silent ecstacy.

Then a quick, high cry out followed by a a wail, a beautiful howling wail, a long and satisfying "Ohhhh..." in a descending note as she crashes in her cum. It slowly tapers into silence. I stand near the vent, listening to the sudden and complete quiet.

I picture her enraptured in satisfaction. My cock continues to swing against me as I step, smiling, into my shower.

And now for something completely different.

The Toybox: Lelo's Iris. Or, Shayne drives a BMW.

We were nude and sipping tea.

I sat on the hardwood floor at the edge of her bed, casually stroking her warm bare legs as we talked in the afterglow. It was another sunny morning in Chicago, and again we began our day with sensual and tender sex. We enjoyed the respite, smiling as we yawned, indecisive about whether or not we we done playing for the moment.

"You know," she whispered coquettishly to me, her head resting on the pillow, "this might be a fine time to explore the Iris..."

I smiled wide and my heart skipped a beat. Bringing the Iris was one of the highlights of my visit, an early holiday present for my naughty lover. She had asked for it specifically once upon a time, and I was happy to oblige her. Earlier during this trip, I enjoyed her as she explored with her Mini Corsair, and during a threesome with one of her former partners in the past, I was privileged to watch her fuck sexy Annie with her G Twist. But this was a treat we both had been eagerly awaiting.

Similar to the Gigi and the Liv, the Iris is among Swedish manufacturer Lelo's finest products. Sculpted like a burgeoning flowerbud, the Iris is made from phthlate-free silicone at its play end, which is specifically designed for G-spot fun. It features a sensually curved and girthy shaft that houses a merry-go-round of varying vibrational tones, timbres, and speeds, allowing for an incredibly versatile experience.

We enjoyed the charming black case that toy came in. Being silcone, the Iris shouldn't be extensively exposed to direct sunlight, so we also appreciated the sleek black sleeve it could be discretely held in as well.

Tempted as I was to join in on Shayne's play, as she brought this treasure to her happybits, it didn't take long before I realized that I was observing sheer carnal beauty. I simply couldn't intervene, and relaxed on my haunches, occasionally caressing her, as I remained riveted to her lovely, contorting face as Shayne entered her own jilling nirvana. The subtle movements of her body revealed to my eyes that she was experiencing waves and currents that I had rarely, if ever, witnessed a lover enjoy before. Clearly, she liked this girltoy.

So, naturally, after she had crested in her ecstacies, I solicited her collaboration in sharing this review with you. "Homework!" she cried out happily. I have no doubt that she enjoyed the necessary study sessions.

"I have gleefully been speaking of "her" as the "Cadillac" or "BMW" of vibrators," Shayne wrote to me later, "and let me tell you why."



"I still can't count how many settings this little puppy has. She goes from quiet-little-butterfly-kisses strength of vibe to something-like-lion-in-a-cage to V8-under-the-hood-roar. I prefer closer to the roar."

Shayne and I both love the fact that, despite its powder-blue and white colour, the Iris is really very green. It's completely rechargable. It also comes with a warranty, which is virtually unheard of for sextoys. Lelo knows what they are doing.

"The first and best thing about the Iris is that she's electric. I go through so many AAA and AA batteries with my other vibrators (and they aren't even as perfect as the Iris) so imagine how often I'd be running to the corner for another pack of batteries if she weren't electric! Huzzah! She recharges really quickly and holds a charge for a long-ass time. I haven't plugged her in in over a week and have used her several times for maybe a total of ninety minutes and she's still purring as smooth as ever. A beautiful thing.

"The Iris is also gorgeous to look at: befitting a queen, she's sleek, classy, and sensual. I'm happy to leave her on the bathroom shelf to dry after a rinse because she's just so pretty to look at.

"One of the settings I like best is an alternating setting. This vibrator has the capacity to vibe either at the base, or at the tip, or both simultaneously. Being the eclectic lady I am, I really like the setting that alternates tip, base, tip base and back. It really adds to the rocking motion that I've come to love on the Iris.

"My favorite method of use: first I use the vibe in the tip over my panties to get me revved up. Then, when I'm wet and hot, I pull the panties off and put the setting to steady (no pulse) in both the base and the tip at max vibe and slide her halfway deep into my cunt. I hold her there and rock my pelvis to simulate thrusting while I flex my kegel muscles and rub my clit in those nice circles you've described. I pretty much stick with that until a first shuddering clitgasm happens, and then I back off, take a breather for a minute, and switch to the alternating vibe. That's when I start thrusting by hand while still rocking my pelvis."

During our play, one of the things we noticed was how both the shape of the Iris and the way it needed to be held was visually similar to a man stroking his cock. We both smirked over the genderfuckery about that.

"Remember that awesome jack off motion? That's where this comes back. I jack myself off then, fucking my cunt and grazing my hard clit. I flex my muscles to really milk the sensation of being fucked. It's pretty amazing and it makes me cum really hard.

"One of the very few drawbacks to the Iris is that it's easy for your hands to slip and change the setting when you're holding it. A lock mechanism of some sort would be great. So would a handle; I declare all vibrators should really have some sort of handle, as that's definitely one thing dildos have going for them."

Later, when Shayne enjoyed a bath, we also learned a second, minor drawback: unlike her Mini Corsair, the Iris is not waterproof and must not be submerged.

"But that aside, this is just one of the beautiful stories of the Iris. I'd fucking marry this thing if I could!"

And there was a time when I thought she might marry me. Ah, well.

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.

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.

Shayne takes a bathroom break.

Shayne: I have ten minutes of lunch left. I'm going to rub my clit til i cum in the hotel bathroom next door. If you want to call me. Now. That'd be nice.

How could I possibly say no?

She's whispering when she answers. I can imagine her, cautiously checking the other stalls for occupants and then locking the small door behind her. I can picture her lowering her panties slightly as she bends foward to the metal support bar of the larger wheelchair-accessible stall. I can see her slightly splayed legs, one hand holding the phone to her head, the other beginning to explore her full and pillowy folds. Knowing Shayne, I am certain that she is already wet and musky with arousal.

I start to speak to her, telling her how I love to suck her, how I'd love to have her bent over in that stall and fuck her hard. Soon, it becomes clear that she'd rather I just shuttup and listen, enjoy the sounds of her jilling as she escorts herself through her own fantasy. In that fantasy, she later tells me, we've pre-arranged to play a little game.

I'm waiting in the hotel lobby. I'm looking for my prey, looking for her. She enters. She reaches the elevator. I will have her. I've chosen her.

Racing up the stairs, I catch the elevator as it makes the second floor. I've just missed her, but I know where she's going now. I take the elevator one more flight up. Once there, I see the door of the women's room just closing behind her pump. Now she'll be mine.

The light is bright in the restroom. She is alone, in the last stall, and she's foolishly left it unlocked. So trusting, so available.

"You entered the bathroom stall, she later shared. "I was there, facing the wall, holding the accessible-rail lightly and looking down deferentially. You shut and locked the door. My pants and panties were already around my ankles. I said nothing and neither did you."

Look at that ass, I said to myself. How demure she is, coming here and making herself available for me. For my cock. It's time to have some fun with this slut...

"You grabbed me, first taking my left ass cheek firmly in your grip, then biting me on the right side of my neck. The rough cotton of your denim against my bare ass and legs made me wetter. My cunt throbbed. You gripped both of my breasts from behind firmly and gave them a short but rough massaging, obviously for your own pleasure. You unzipped your jeans and the sound of it echoed in the silent bathroom. My wetness felt as though it would begin to run down my legs.

"You took your hard cock in hand, spread my legs a bit, and then slapped my cunt with it. You said nothing, but the intake of your breath showed me that you could feel my hot moisture. You teased me this way, slapping against my swollen lips for half a minute before sharply grabbing my hips, pulling me up and sliding your cock in. You did it smoothly but with a slowness that made me want to cry out."

Through the silence on the phone, I hear the faintest of gasps. It's followed shortly after with some quiet moans, and I faintly hear an echo. I'm sure her eyes are squeezed shut now, her body swaying a little, her fingertips speeding across her thrumming pebble, her back raising and lowering as she breathes deeply. I love listening to her cum, and I really enjoy these serendipitous moments of random play. It isn't long before she crests, and I'm listening to her moans and cries echo in a hotel women's room west of me.

"You built up steam and eventually were furiously fucking me this way in the hotel bathroom. Someone could walk in at any moment and we'd be trapped there - I liked the idea, but didn't want you to stop for anything. You fucked and fucked and fucked me, and I wanted to cry out at the top of my lungs with coming. I did not. I knew the consequences that might bring and wanted only your pleasure.

"Just before you came you then said the first words to me since walking in:

"'I'm going to come on your ass and I want you to rub it into your skin. Let it dry and wear it under your office clothes for the rest of the day, slut.'

"That made me come again."



I listen to her peak and relax. I can imagine the sparkle in her eyes. When she's finished and leaves the restroom, I listen to her giggle as she brushes through a crowd of conversing businessmen, then the sound of traffic around her as she heads back to her office. There's pep in her voice, and I have no doubt, a saucy smile on her rosy face.

She's such a lovely and fiery tart, this one.




images MerryToons, personal collection