This morning I told my first friend, let's call her Stevie, that I had started a blog.
“No.” Said Stevie. “That is the worst idea ever.”
I reminded her that I had just told her I was beginning guitar lessons, which she promptly had declared “hysterical.”
“You're showing a marked lack of support here,” I said.
“You? And blogs? I feel like I'm watching the beginning of a disaster comedy,” she replied. “Step away from the blog.”
Stevie then said that while I might be starting with purses, it would take no time before I ventured into describing in excruciating detail my sexcapades. “And that way,” she said, “leads to badness.”
Hell, yeah. Let the badness begin.
Yesterday I experienced two firsts, of sorts.
My current lover is a fantastic kisser, but he's always been a bit, uh, otherwise orally challenged. In the months and months of very vigorous fucking, sucking and sundry lovemaking we've done, he had never made me come with his mouth. He enjoys going down on me, but he has never really figured out what to do, even with repeated guidance on my end.
Yesterday, I found myself lying on my back, pillow under my ass and my lover licking my pussy for pretty much all of the Robyn Hitchcock I have on my iTunes, which is, suffice to say, a while. This lover has beautiful, full, cruel lips, a body like a whip, and a long, girthy, and compelling cock. He also has a Catholic guilt complex about the size and weight of a fully loaded garbage scow.
He likes to tie me up and fantasize about watching other men fuck me. And then he likes to feel badly about it.
Yesterday, as before, his licking my clit felt really lovely, but I didn't feel myself getting nearer to coming.
Until I began to let my mind ramble. I started to recall this threesome--and clocking in at under forty minutes, quite possibly the fastest threesome in history--I had last summer with a totally forgettable man and this 23 year-old woman who is the complete postergirl for a new, uncharted sexuality. Ava, a petite, busty, exotically sloe-eyed brunette, is married, also has a male lover, and regularly has threesomes with each her husband and her lover, though with separate women. (I shudder to think about the cryptography of her Blackberry.) Moreover, she comes at the drop of a g-string and claims to spend most of her time at her desk at work with ben-wa balls inserted in her small, pink pussy, chatting with girls online.
She came at least three times in our whirlwind threesome last July. The last time was while our male had gone off to shower, and I had propped Ava's ass up on a pillow and had my very oral way with it. As Donny was licking my pussy and fingering my g-spot, I remembered jiggling Ava's cupcake ass as I licked and sucked at her clit until she moaned and bit the pillow.
Very hot. But not quite hot enough to get me over the edge.
So then I found my mind wandering to an invite I'd received the night before for a swinger's party. And while the Id within wanted to say yes to this first date, the Superego put her heavy foot down, recognizing that as enticing as the idea might be, one wants to know one's date's first and last name before one allows one's young suitor to escort one to an all-night stranger fuckfest.
But I imagined it nonetheless, my lover's tongue finding a really swell rhythm on my clit. In my mind, a swinger's club looks a lot like the first strip club I ever worked at--flashing lights, a lot of brass and walls the color of newly coagulated blood--only more upholstered. In my head, his tongue became a multitude of men, four at least, attending to my nether regions and my naughty bits, while my throat was being filled to its capacity with some gorgeous, hard cock.
And around us, people were watching.
And in this highly imagined spectacule, I came. A polite little orgasm, but an orgasm nonetheless.
So that's the first kinda first.
Unlike my little energizer bunny friend Ava, I do not come repeatedly. I come once in one singular, pyrotechnic, yowling, banshee orgasm.
Walls shake. Neighbors complain. Dogs howl. You get the auditory picture.
So my polite little orgasm was not usual for me. And yet more unusual, I let my lover continue to lick and stroke my pussy after he made me come. Often, this kind of post-orgasmic attention is painful, but yesterday it felt really good as he sucked my clit gently and stroked my cervix with his long fingers.
Then I pulled him up and we started fucking, and it felt very good. I flipped him onto his back and started riding his cock, my fingers playing with my clit.
"You're so beautiful," he said.
I smiled, to intent on the wonder of feeling post-orgasmic pleasure, thinking, my effing god, is this another orgasm building?
"The pictures you sent me," he said, "the naked ones, they were so hot."
I continued to ride him, feeling him hard and filling me, my mind seeing the walls of my pussy clenching his cock, my fingers intent on my clit.
"I got them and all I could think about was how I wanted to show them to some guy, so he would want to fuck you. And I could watch."
I looked down at him and smiled, seeing this scenario in my head. He told me to ride him and urged me to come.
I did. A giant, howling, Linda Blair, demon orgasm. My second in under fifteen minutes.
A second first, kind of.
And the crowd goes wild.