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I type to keep things from running amok
Keywords | Title View | Refer to a Friend |
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Posted:Apr 26, 2019 5:04 am
Last Updated:Apr 28, 2019 4:14 am

I tend to work more than is required for financial independence. I love what I do, and it’s difficult to force a head-space shift, most days. Today, I’ve decided it must occur and I’m starting off with a lazy sleep in. I’ve been on the edge of dazed while swimming in my soft sheets, for over an hour, and It feels good to embrace my fatigue. It feels intimate and it’s arousing.

Stretching my muscles, waking them slowly, and reminding myself they’re not always required to be working. Rolling about the bed and feeling the soft layers press against my skin, reassures me about my decision to purchase such expensive sheets. Turning over on my side creates shifts in the weight of my breasts; they feel gloriously full and heavy. They fall together and rest on one another. Another stretch and an arch and I follow it with a fingertip slide from collarbone to belly and back again. Slow easy movements. No rush. No real goal. No need to go anywhere.

My skin responds by rising and tightening...nearly imperceptibly, at first. I can only feel the change. My nipples follow closely behind, a far more obvious shift. The sun is highlighting small areas of my skin and I play with the light by moving my hips and shoulders- watching how the shafts of sunlight alter my view. I continue running my fingers along my skin, searching now, for newness. I close my eyes and open myself to discovery.

Running my fingers tips along my inner arm, beginning under the shoulder heading toward my wrist, I pause at the top, and recall a man, who I shared my body with, telling me this was his favorite part of a woman’s body. The little pad of fat just under the crease of the arm, under the shoulder. I pause and stroke her- first like a kitty, using my finger pad then turning my hand so the top of the finger, where the nail lies, may have an opportunity to play. Eyes still closed, I imagine this tiny part of my whole being as a mound of sorbet: sweet and cool to the touch. Likable. Lickable.

I smile and recall his face, and his excitement when he came in me, how he cried. Breathing in deeply, I begin to move on. Tracing my arm to the elbow, the sensitive inner elbow, then the wrist. I move down each finger and I am suddenly struck with how much fun they’ve had. How they’ve stroked a variety of cocks, over the years, caressed balls, and massaged every body part known to man. How they’ve traced the lips of beautiful men... brilliant men. Men who sensuously parted their lips so I could slide my fingers and tongue into them.

I bring my fingers to my mouth. I run the tips, slowly and purposefully, along my lips, tracing the edge, feeling the change in texture- recognizing the edge of the lip and the beginning of the softer skin that surrounds it. Then a return, running over the speed-bump like bodypart, I slide my tongue out to greet the tips of my fingers. Slowly separating my lips and having them meet, almost timidly. As if for the first time. Being aware to recognize what’s been lost all other times, due to lustful intensity. One body part registering texture, the other taste. Breathing deeply, I let it sink in.

I slide my fingers in deeper and wet them, deciding to take some juice for our journey. It’s warm and plentiful, in my mouth, just like much of my body. I remove my dripping fingers and run them straight down my center. Just barely touching the skin. I leave a moistened line to follow from mid neck to just above the clitorus. I return along the same route and retrieve more natural lubricant. I can feel my skin waking and my breasts are swelling in anticipation.

I slow at my belly, this time. Run the nails, lightly over the surface and toward each hip. Slowing each pass to circle my bellybutton. My hips respond by stretching toward the fingers. My breath reaches into my belly and moves her up and down. As my hips tilt, my breasts sway and I move toward my aching nipples. Before reaching them, I slide up under their fullness and cup their shape, pushing them up and toward my center, then slowly releasing. I repeat and increase the pressure with each go. Breathing in deeply and slowly, I imagine lovers who’ve spent great lengths of time sucking and nibbling my lush mounds. Running their faces on and between my breasts, cupping and squeezing with their big hands. Some hands soft, others calloused ...following up with a hungry wet mouth. I run my thumbs over my erect nipples to acknowledge their excitement and appreciate their shape.

Squeezing my nipples is like tapping a button to wake my vagina, in her entirety. I feel twinges deeply and externally. My lips begin to itch with desire. My clit swells and my juices begin to pool. All working together to prepare for a guest. I slide my hands to my pussy lips and part them with one hand. I spread my legs open and run my other fingers between the warm space I’ve unveiled. A finger on either side of my inner crest, surrounded by swelling labia. This is a warm and inviting space.

Reflexively licking my lips, I direct my fingers to explore the entire region. Caressing my labia first, I move on to my clitorus, and circle her for quite some time. She’s responsive and a source of tremendous pleasure. She wants all my attention and it’s hard to move away and continue on. Reluctantly, I head south and circle my opening, which is wet and tender, and equally as wanting of attention. She’s also animated and makes a beautiful sound when being played with. Soon, she likes a bit more pressure and an accidental nail flick reminds me of the desire for nibbling... biting. The need for each area to experience multiple levels of touch. I lightly pinch my pussy.

I pinch her again and squeeze my lips with my fingers. Running my other fingers back up to my clit I begin to circle her, then run on top of her swollen flesh. Rubbing and lightly scratching my pussy lips, I slide my fingers into my wetness. Two center fingers tickling and rubbing my g-spot while a third finger strokes my perineum. My hips are gyrating and my ass is lifting and clenching. My muscles are recalling all the joy this stimuli produces.

My breath begins to match my stroking and my body begins to warm all over. Swaying and rubbing, arching and penetrating those hungry fingers into my pussy. Juices spreading from inside to my clit with quicker movements. Legs opening and my entire pussy reaching toward the source of joy, I begin to feel the familiar twinges, deep inside, as my body prepares for a spasm. The sudden feeling of being drugged and chasing a high that needs your focus. Squeeze your muscles, rub that clit, relax and let it in, breathe, tickle, gyrate, open up, squeeze...the juices are singing with each pass of my fingers and it hits me, the euphoria. I’m holding my breathe and squeezing all the while I’m relaxing. Soaring. High. Shuttering. Hearing colors. Smelling light.

I cum for whole minutes, still rubbing my clit and still gyrating, though it’s more spasmodic than rhythmic, at this point. I’m hyper aware while feeling numb. I’m certain I could taste color but you could pound my pussy with a huge cock and it would feel like a tickle. Slowly, I rest each muscle group while altering the pace of my attentive touching. Breathing in deeply I feel relaxed, heavy...tired. I roll to my side, feeling the heaviness of my breasts, as they shift, and I settle in for a endorphin-fueled nap.
The Written Word
Posted:Apr 25, 2019 4:17 am
Last Updated:May 25, 2019 3:58 am

The university, in my city, has a number of great libraries. On my days off, I can be found wandering the rows upon rows of titles. Even if I don’t have a topic in mind, I enjoy being in the space. The smell of bound paper, the feel of the printed sheets and weight of the books...the quiet tension of the students, and professors, not to mention the mind-altering knowledge. I’ve been known to bring a coffee and just sit near the stacks, even lie on the floor and gaze up...if I squint my eyes, the spines go for miles. I feel as though being there might prompt magic.

I’ve imagined the books having a voice and when their spines are tickled, they come to life and tell me what they have to say: A lecture on quantum mechanics, a lesson on permaculture...a monologue on feminist poetry. It’s potential. It’s also a place where men go, men who like to think- men who use their minds like a playground. I like those men. I want to play with those men.

Coffee in hand, I’m heading to the medical library, today. I’ve decided to foster a fantasy I’ve run through my mind, for months. This particular location is the oldest the university has to offer. Its pre-aluminum shelving is dark, heavy wood that climbs to the ceiling, absorbs sound, and calms the soul. It has fantasy-approved ladders that slide the length of each row. I’m heading to heaven.

As I enter the main foyer, I note the, higher than usual, number of medical students sitting, dazed, at the common tables in the center of the library. I like these odds already. I head over to my favorite section, human anatomy, fill my arms with these rectangular joys and head to a table. I’m thrilled to discover an open table at the front of the room and I settle in.

I’ve spread my books out and I am attempting to pay attention to the information, but I can’t sit still. I’m thinking about the men behind me. Will they glance up from their studies to note a wanting woman? I begin to shuffle a bit more, in my seat, to shake up the silence. A few exaggerated turns of the pages in my textbooks, and I can hear the sounds around me shift, ever so slightly. With my heart racing a smidge more than usual, I change positions on my chair and settle for a kneeling/sitting posture.

As my heart rate begins to regulate, I rise, onto my knees, and reach forward to open another book. Breathing deeply and slowly, I hold the position and pretend to peruse. I’m not going to look back to see who’s shifted their focus from text to my bare flesh. My skirt has been pushed up, just hovering my clit and I can feel the change of air pressure. My heart begins to gallop, again. Slowly, I return to my previous, sitting atop my calves, position and continue my faux studies.

Soon, I can hear the creaking of the old wooden chairs, behind me. A quiet cough or two and subtle shuffling. My heart leaps to match my brain activity. I wait a few moments and lift again, slide my torso forward and extend my arm to grab another book. This time, I lean back and as I’m settling in, I reach up and release my hair from the bun I’ve created at the top of my head. My long hair spills to my waist and I run my fingers through it to attempt to manage the direction it flows. All the while knowing it will effect the direction of blood flow for my observers.

With high hopes, I rise and wander toward the most secluded section of the library. As I reach the last row, I extend my hand to the shelves and lightly run my fingertips along the book spines, as I continue walking. This act, alone,
is titillating, for me. A hundred titles later, I find the ladder and begin my ascent. Several rings up, I’m suddenly aware I’ve got company. A glance in their direction, to ensure it’s not the elderly female librarian, and I continue my masquerade.

With outstretched arm, I sigh with animated frustration and begin my descent. Thankfully, my scholar has deftly found his way to the base of the ladder. I feign surprise, let out a soft laugh, and suggest I try “... just one more time.” He, generously, offers to hold me steady. He’s holding a book in one hand and my ankle in the other. With my second attempt, I involve my other leg. Unhooking it from the rail, I move it out away from my body. With this move, he’s taken his hand and begun to slide it up my calf. I glance down and he says: “ for every action, there’s an equal and opposite reaction...balance”.

With a smile, and maintaining eye contact, I steady my stance and slide the calf he’s holding, over as far as I can, ensuring the best view possible of my wet folds. He obliges the move and runs his thumb, followed by his fingers up to my thighs, wrapping his hand around my leg. My breath escalates and I move to my toes and push my ass toward his face. He sets his book down and I feel his fingers slide into my wetness. His other hand moving along my thigh and toward my ass, he begins to stroke my lips and search for my clit. He takes my leg, lifts it and rests my foot on the book shelf. I squat down a bit, and he’s buried himself in my warm pussy. I hold tight to the ladder and begin lowering my ass...closer and closer.

He’s pushing his face into my lips and sucking my clit, lapping up the juices. His fingers slide into me and he’s ticking all the right spots. Stroking then sucking. He’s nibbling and I’m riding his face. My grip is turning my knuckles white and I’m getting dizzy. Still tapping and stroking my gspot, he begins licking my ass. Spreading my cheeks with his hand, while the other attentively plays with my darkest parts, he covers my ass with spit and dips his tongue into me. I begin shaking and try to stifle a moan. He digs deeper.

He’s penetrating me and I’m riding his face while I begin to shutter. My legs are shaking and my mouth opens, head falling back, I’m cumming all over his face and hand. I’m still gyrating when a librarian wanders to the end of our row, cart in tow, and he, quickly, slides his hands onto my hips and brings me down from the ladder, in one solid, fluid movement. He hands me his book, laughs and remarks, for the benefit of the librarian, something about object permanence ...which makes no sense, but I can’t remark because I’m still cumming. I grab the ladder to steady myself and he smiles and walks off.

legs still spasmodic, I continue to gather myself and smile shyly at the librarian, while trying to hold it together. “ muscles aren’t quite what they used to be “ I say. I’m asked if I’ve found what I’m looking for, I stifle my verbal response and I wave the book and nod. I glance at the title, as they walk past, and laugh, ‘ Handbook of Clinical Sexuality for Mental Health Professionals’, it’s been bookmarked...deviant behavior.
Posted:Apr 24, 2019 1:36 am
Last Updated:Apr 25, 2019 4:49 am

I have this free-flowing skirt I like to wear. It’s sheer with a sweet, blue flower pattern. It reaches the ground, flows easily, and has slits which run up both legs, all the way to the top of my thighs. I wear it low, hugging my hips below my bellybutton. When I walk, my legs are exsposed to whatever and whomever. If there’s a breeze, everyone is happy, including me. This morning, I’m heading out for a day of sailing, the skirt will be worn like an honorary sail.

Its early, just after sunrise, and it’s busier, on this series of piers, than I expected. It’s, mostly, quiet, morning kind of noise ’s oddly full: sounds of people focused on getting where they need to be with as little vocalizing as possible. Cars starting, engines purring, containers moving...birds singing above, and today, the sounds of men moving about their sailboats, preparing them for a dance with the water. I’ve decided to pair the skirt with a blue bikini and a straw-like woven cowgirl hat. In order to get from point A to point B, I’ve covered the suit top with a button-down blouse I’ve tied under my breasts. I have ample breasts, covering them isn’t easy, my lushness spills, easily, into view. The only other sounds I hear are of my sandals as they hit the pier, with each step I take, getting closer to my morning ride.

I’ve been chatting with a couple of sailors, online, about sailing and how it’s time for me to experience it. They’ve agreed, and here I am. I’ve brought my camera, what else could I possibly need? As I attempt to find their boat, I’m greeted with a series a quiet nods of appreciation from the other boat goers. A head tilt here and there and a lift of a glass of joe, as I round the last series of angles. And there she is, the Wanderlust. A bit obvious...but I’m in.

The captain notes the arrival of my legs and welcomes all of me aboard, his boatmate follows suit. They are a couple of white-collar gentlemen who love the water almost as much as they do their cocks. They’re both in their fifties and have taken care themselves. One is tall and lean, the other average in height, but bulky, like a Rugby player. They’re easy going and full of banter- this pleases me, tremendously. I, already, love sailing.

My sandals have been removed and we’ve hugged our hellos to one another. I’m excited and want to help, but my eagerness is refused, kindly, and I’m invited to wander about the beautiful, white beast. I’m keenly aware of their eyes on me and this fuels my anticipation. The sun is warming and there’s a lovely breeze. Within a short time, all is ready and we unleash ourselves from the dock.

It’s a slow, methodical start and it’s already exciting. The sounds of the water, as we slide through her, the birds escalating their calls and flight speed, the wind picking up and moving my hair and skirt about, it’s just as I hoped. Soon the sails are set free, and exciting becomes thrilling, in the time it takes the sail to celebrate the wind. With a whoosh and a clap, we’re soaring. The boys are busy with ropes and handles...I take the moment to remove my lens cap and begin shooting. We spend the next hour riding the wind in relative silence.

The sound-filled silence is broken when the first mate suggests we toast to our beautiful day. Cork popped, bubbles trying to make their escape, we sway and swerve our glasses to one another with cheers all around. The sweetness, of the champagne, is a welcome guest. A second bottle, later, banter-filled air, and the sail is dropped. The sun is warm on my skin and small beads of sweat are forming on the back of my thighs. I stand to encourage air flow and the breeze takes me my skirt with her. She knows best, so I begin to remove my blouse.

Slowly, and with an attempt to be graceful, I start to untie the knot. The boat is swaying a bit and the champagne is hitting my head. With all these converging...I find myself in the arms of the captain. Swaying and laughing, he wraps his arms around my waist and I cover them with mine, assuring him he’s on the right track. I look back towards our other friend and ask him if he’d like to help. He seemed good with knots, earlier, I say, smiling. Generously, he moves into my space and begins to untie me. Our captain has taken this opportunity to discover the back of my neck with his mouth.

As my skin becomes more exposed, to light and sailers, four capable hands begin to explore. The captain spends some time running his hands down my neck to my hips, like he’s following the lines on a map; he’s searching for the next stop on his journey. All the while, our first mate runs his finger tips between my breasts and bikini top. Slowly, spreading the top wider and wider, he unveils my hard nipples. Gently caressing them, then giving each a light pinch, he moves to cup and then suck my buoyant breasts. While lost in the environment, a moan escapes my throat.

I can feel the captain’s cock getting harder against my ass as he pushes into me, now holding my hips. My skirt is blowing and wrapping around his legs. I run my fingers through our mates hair and pull him closer to get more of my flesh into his mouth. I can feel hands sliding down my sides as the slits in my skirt become invitations to discovery. Fingertips tracing the edges of the skirt’s opening and sliding toward my warm center, and I’m breathing heavier and spreading my legs. My breasts are being caressed and squeezed and the licking is beginning to enter the valley between my swollen topography.

My belly is being explored, now, and my ass unveiled, all while my wet pussy is being encircled. I reach back and turn my head to feed my mouth’s hunger. Lips and tongues, nibbles and sucking. Arching my back and spreading my legs more, they meet at my wet space, simultaneously. One sliding under the bottoms the other is nibbling over the top of. My lips are being spread from top to bottom and head to pussy. A quick pull of a string and the mate has removed one side of the bikini. The captain spreads my lips and our mate slides his mouth over my flesh and begins to suck and lick my clit.

Together, they spread me wider and I begin to moan and gyrate. Nibbling my clit, I gasp and pull our friend’s face in tight, by his hair. Two fingers find their way deep inside me and find me soaking wet; juices are dripping down two sets of hands and my inner thighs. Rubbing and tickling, they work together like an orchestra. I’m squeezing and wiggling, sliding up and down, in response. They’re sucking and rubbing, pinching and biting, licking and spreading. The breeze is cooling my hot skin, keeping me from overheating, and I can feel itch needing to be scratched. I hear the captain in my ear, “ cum for us, ride those fingers, let’s yours.” He hasn’t even finished the sentence and my body begins her show. The shaking from my center, the sounds and lights...muscles spasmodic, mouth agape, moans escaping, breathing haulted. glorious feeling.

I’m still gyrating when mate begins to stand. Captain, holding me tight, spins me around and begins biting my lip. “Our cocks need your mouth, those lips, tongue” and he directs me to my knees. They unleash their hard dicks and together slide them to my lips. Rubbing and slapping. One inserting just past my swollen lips to the tip of my tongue, while the other rubs his cock and tickles my cheek. I open wide and they both slide in, tight but delicious. Then one head at a time. Suck, swirl spit and Then deeper. A quick slide in and out. Then deeper. Almost to my throat. Then out. Then the change of cocks. Then deeper. Into my throat. Sliding. In. Out. Change. Deeper. I open as wide as possible and one by one they begin to slide their cocks all the way down my throat.

My eyes are watering, my nipples hard, my pussy is wet. I’m hungry for these cocks. “More” I say, between mouth full after mouth full. Captain begins fucking my throat, mate is holding my mouth open and grabbing my hair from behind.
“I knew you’d be good at this. I knew smile wanted dick. Those lips needed cock.” He’s pumping and gasping, I grab his balls and he explodes. Mate slides in faster than I knew possible and fucks my throat while tangling his hands in my hair. He pulls out just he’s he’s cumming and lays his cock between my tits. His cock pulses and spasms his white adoration all over me.

Mate leans in, still reeling, kisses me and begins to lick and suck all the juice from my mouth. He moves down my neck and between my tits and cleans up his party favor. I’m smiling, and I need more, I look to my sailer. Captain knows this and is already planning. Once I’ve been properly prepared, they stand me up, only to bend me over the side of the Wanderlust. Skirt flowing, mate begins to lift my skirt and lick my ass. Captain, watching, begins to stroke his dick then follows behind mate with the head of his cock. Rubbing and teasing both he and I. Mate sucks his dick, then captain tickles my ass. He runs his cock on his lips, then mine. This goes on until I’m begging for a cock in me.

What’s better than one cock...two. Mate slides under me, I straddle him and captain slides into my ass. The boat is setting the rhythm and we happily follow her lead. The sun and dicks, wind and champaign and all the bouncing on cocks. I’m arching and open to the air. My tits are swaying and celebrating their luck. My pussy and ass are working like it’s the end of the world and we’re all elated and breathing heavier and heavier, faster and faster. Captain spits on my ass and picks up the pace. I’m trembling and taking it all. He cums first and all over my ass. Mate grabs me and bounces me on his dick until he cums.

Captain grabs me off mate and puts me on my back. Spreading my legs, he chews up my pussy lips and clit until I’m screaming from ecstasy. Trembling. Blind. Wriggling from near confusion. Overload. I shake until I don’t. He smiles, lays my skirt back and leans in for a lower-lip bite and a kiss. Mate slides over and joins the group. We all finish off another bottle of bubbly, nosh on some cheese and fruit...enjoy the sun.

Our sunburned bits say our goodbyes, several hours later, and I wander down the pier, as the other boats begin their return. I’m swollen and sated. Freshly fucked looks good with blue, I say to myself as I adjust my hat.
You Must Know
Posted:Apr 23, 2019 2:16 am
Last Updated:Apr 24, 2019 8:30 am

It’s the very first touch that’s imprinted in our memories. A kind of marker we can return to, a touchstone, of sorts. Whether it’s breaking the touch barrier, the first time your lips connect with another’s lips or the very first stroke of your cock as it slides into me. It’s when there’s a shift and all the anticipation and imaginings collide with reality and our physical bodies. The first blows of the chisel and mallet to the stone. The first pump of your hard dick into my juices is, almost, more than I can comprehend. Certainly, it’s more than I can share with my meager human vocabulary. And I want to share it.

Words don’t meet the need to explain such things. Yes, I’m swollen like a lush piece of fruit on a hot summer’s day, and wet with desire. I do need you in me. Nothing matters more in that moment. Nothing. Yes, my muscles are contracting in anticipation of envelope and welcome you. It’s a fact that your cock is deliciously alert and poised to please us both. However, skin touching skin, the sliding, the warmth, the energy that’s produced- it’s worthy of more than I can summon. Maybe repeating the event is the only way to truly express what it is. Maybe, you simply have to be part of it to feel what it is. To know it. And you want to know it. It’s more than lust and want. More than firm bits which slide into one another. More.

You can read about it, if you’ve never experienced it. You can certainly imagine it, even watch others do it. It’s all wonderfully exciting. But to be in it, have it come from your body and mind’s collective manifestation, it’s beyond a recipe of events and feelings...nerve endings. To have another human, in my case a man, slide himself into my body, is electrifying. Every pull and push is delicious, but it’s the first that bends my mind. Maybe It’s tantamount to the musician whose hearing the needle first touching the surface of their greatest album. Possibly, for the conductor, it’s the moment they lift their baton... or the sound of the captain’s sail the first moment the wind catches and fills the mass of fabric. Anticipation, passion and satisfaction colliding.

I need to tell you, you must know that that fist slide of your cock, into my wet pussy, moving along the ridges and burying itself in my warmth, filling my space before my body remembers the shape of you, is, for me, unimaginably delightful. It’s the physical yes to the the concert to follow. The needle, touching down on the album.
Cock-Spit- it’s a web of desire
Posted:Apr 20, 2019 3:17 am
Last Updated:Apr 25, 2019 8:53 am

I’ve made plans to meet a man for the pre-sex interview...the sniff test. Do we resemble our photographs, are we who we claim to be, wants and all? Is there chemistry? I’m going in disappointed, not a great start. He’s one man, likely to be fueled by fantasy and delusional about his endurance and abilities. It’s common and I’m over it. But my pussy wins this battle, every single time. So here I am. The pre-date, date.

I’ve stopped encouraging sex chat, prior to meeting- who can live up to fantasy? Certainly, noone I’ve ever fucked. I need- in the moment- reality and flow. I need a man who can negotiate real time. Can he read the Not my mind, but my body and my speech. Can he tell me what he wants without sounding like he’s watched porn for the past five years verses communicating with a human. “Suck my dick” oh sweetie, how about “ I miss your lips around my cock”. I’ve no idea what to expect from my sniff-test date. I’ll hope for a good outcome and foster his best.

It’s 5:45 and I’m on my second Bumblebee - some concoction the bartender suggested- waiting at the window seat of a pub downtown. It’s tasty and my date is late. Frankly, the later the better for his cock; a few drinks nearly ensures a mind-blowing suckfest. I’m already imagining a trip to the men’s room for quick lick. A suck of his swollen head and I deep throat lunge to get my juices flowing. “ please don’t be dull” it’s so hard to fuck dull. I mumble to myself. Maybe a bit too loudly as the table next to me glances my direction. I raise my glass, “cheers!”

The drink is warming me all over, wait, second drink...drinks are warming me and it’s lovely. Maybe I should hold off on that third drink. I stretch out a bit and peruse the room. Maybe it’s time for a backup plan. A pre- game event? I’m liking that idea. The room is filling slowly with the after- work crowd and the volume seems to have been turned to high. The energy is less than chill, and I’m questioning everything. Including but not limited to my attire. I’m all curves, curves are best served tight. Im wearing a blush color which enhances said roundness. I’m surrounded by rectangles and professional color pallets. I sip the last of my drink through my straw, straighten my spine, blink and decide to wander. Waving over my waiter, I begin to plot my next move...bathroom visit first.

I’m navigating the maze of polyester when I find myself face to face with a bearded wonder. He has quite the influence on my gate, even I note the increase in fluidity. Ginger beer, beard and testosterone = my sudden desire to pose in motion. Breasts up and out while swiveling my hips and pulling my long hair from my face. All while tilting my head, maintaining eye contact and coming to a graceful pause. I pay close attention through my buzzed goggles to note where he’s going to look first. Is he a breast man? Ass man, just waiting for me to walk nipples harden in anticipation. I slow toothy smile crosses my face and there it is, he maintains eye contact and steps aside...ass man.

I’m good from the front, I’m great from the back. Round, full ass, small waist, long hair. The hair is like an arrow, follow it to your next destination. More importantly, I know how to walk. I wear skirts when I’m open to fucking; easy access and they give men a great line to follow. I slide past my bearded dream and make sure to stay in view as I wander off.

As tempting as the men’s room is, I head for the ladie’s and fumble with my phone while I wait in line; because there’s always a line. No text from my date. Maybe it’s time for another fuck-site visit. Logged in and perusing I try to find locals. Available, attractive, locals. As I nudge forward in line, I start looking at cock pics- I know, I’m the only woman who likes a nice cock pic. “ here’s a delicious cock” I enlarge the pic and suddenly there’s a hand in my waist, moving me aside. This is common, I reflexively start to side step, when I realize it’s my beard. “ I can help you” says a baratone voice. I smile and let him lead me away. Taking my hand he walks me to the end of the hall and turns the corner. We’re facing a wall, it ends about 12 inches from the open hallway, and he’s turning me so my back is to the wall. Hand above my head, holding my wrists, he leans in and takes my lower lip with his mouth. He’s blocking some of the view, with his shoulders, but I couldn’t care less the moment his other hand slides up my skirt and between my legs. I begin kissing him back and spreading my legs as much as possible.

My tits are aching to burst out of my top and my nipples are their leaders. “follow us, his mouth and hands are out here!” I’m moaning. I’m soaking wet from anticipation alone and he’s a magician with the clitorus. He’s rubbing my clit like he knows me. Little pinches, I tiny flick now and then, lots of circles. Then he slides his fingers along my lips and back to my clit. Rubbing and flicking...squeezing. Back down the lips, circling my pussy hole, sliding back up. “Fuck. I need your cock in my mouth” I breathe into his ear. With that he slides his two fingers into me. Not a word, only a smile on his face as he leans in to bite my lower lip.

I’m swaying onto his fingers, letting him finger fuck me. I’m sucking his mouth and I can feel myself dripping all over his hand. Squeezing my pussy around his fingers, slide, arch...fuuuckkk. His thumb? moves to my clit and I know this won’t last much longer. How is he doing this? Yes, rub all of me. My mouth is open and wanting. Fill my mouth. His mouth moves to my neck and he starts pounding my pussy with his fingers. I’m seeing new colors, I’m hyperventilating...then the wash of ecstasy begins. It almost knocks on your brain for permission. Or tickles your cunt as a warning. We are here. Have us. Take us. Open up for us. I open wide. As the sensation of warmth travels through me, his fingers begin to feel like they know all the answers, and then the internal quake begins. You know exactly where it is, you want to chase it, yet it’s foreign somehow.

He’s still fucking me with his hand, biting my neck and I’m starting to see, normally, again. Take it all in. Register the new moment. That’s when I realize that my date is standing there. My sniff test. Beard notes my attention shift, slides his fingers out, turns to date boy and slides them in his mouth. I’m instantly hot again and only slightly terrified. I stare at him, waiting for a response. It feels like forever, it’s less than two seconds. Date boy sucks his fingers and I can feel my pussy vibrate with joy.

I get on my knees and unzip their trousers. I start with date boy, he’s hard and swollen and oh so fucking tasty. I suck just the head. Slowly. Wrap my lips around and tickle his cock with my tongue. Get it as wet as I can and pull my juices down his shaft. While I stroke his cock, I grab beard’s cock and slide him all the way down my throat. One long, tight slide- his cock is big and throbbing from our little excursion. My eyes begin to water and my nipples nearly explode.

What’s better than two cocks in your mouth? I’m licking and sucking, rubbing, grabbing and stroking. They’re taking turns holding my hair or my neck to get their cocks in deeper. I’m looking up at them and I’m thinking this could only be better if I was bouncing on one more cock. I’m thrilled. They’re watching every move. Opening their own mouths out of desire. Moaning and smiling. Cajoling. Encouraging every delicious taste. The sucking intensifies and my nose is running. My eyes. My pussy. My mouth. Liquid everywhere. Sucking heads, stroking shafts, deep throating cock all while grabbing a sack of balls now and then. Oh my god. Fuck my throat. Make me gag. Drool is hanging off their cocks and dripping onto my chest, between their’s a web of desire.

I grab their asses and they take turns fucking my mouth. Pound, pound, pull out. Slide, gag, slide deeper, pull out. Beard let’s date finish first and he comes in my mouth. I’m sucking his head as he gyrates his load. Beard slides in and gets his cock so deep his balls are under my chin. He stays in there and pumps until I can feel his treat on the back of my throat. Warm and filling. I suck his cock dry and settle back on my heels.

My ass is in the hallway that leads to the restrooms- the hallway is full. Still. I joke with beard that I was certain he was an ass man, as I stand. He smiles, turns me around, up against the wall, leans in and whispers, while pulling up my skirt, “ oh, I am .”

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