The Conference

Ever since I left Terminator, my relationship with Mr. Jones has blossomed. Spiritually, emotionally and sexually we are closer than ever. This doesn’t mean that I want to be tied down exclusively, but as I’ve said before, the love is worth me trying. And I’m trying really, really hard.

He must feel this somehow because his dick has been in a constant state of wood for weeks. Glory Hallelujah.

We’ve been fucking each other senseless for weeks. Our hunger has steadily increased, but we can’t always sate it. Life, distance and circumstances limit our time together, but we figured out how to squeeze some extra time together during the week.

Sometimes we meet in the middle of the workday because we just have to have each other. We’ll get a room in a small hotel and have at each other for anywhere between 30 and 90 minutes. Sometimes we don’t even take off our clothes. We fuck, we come and we’re back out on the street in less than an hour, sometimes in less than 30 minutes. It’s glorious.

It started accidentally one weekday afternoon that we were both free. We went to a luncheon that I had been invited to attend that was partly networking and partly me stalking people I wanted to pitch to in the future. I remembered I had the tickets and I was glad to be able to take him with me.

We were seated at a table for ten, and slid into our chairs while we introduced ourselves and shook hands with everyone. Shortly the “event” began with speeches and presentations (fascinating. I’m being sarcastic). Servers arrived with food (pretty decent) and drinks, we had fun and as always, I’m impressed with Mr. Jones’ intelligence and breadth of knowledge. At a table of people in an industry he wasn’t involved in, he managed to get into some pretty interesting discussions. Brains. The best panty-ripper known to man. That and humor.

Just before the coffee and desert was served I stood to go to the bathroom. “I’ll be right back,” I said. Mr. Jones gave me a look. I knew that look, and it didn’t belong at this luncheon.

I continue to the bathroom with a little smile on my face, wondering when the hell Mr Jones got so horny. He’s been the perfect gentleman the entire afternoon. Other than placing his hand on my thigh a couple of times under the table, he hasn’t touched me or indicated the hard-on I just saw in his eyes. When did this happen?

When I return to the table he stands as I sit down and then bends down and whispers in my ear: “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk.” and walks away. I almost spilled my coffee. I heard the gravel in his whisper and I knew I was in trouble.

I turned to look after him and I realize that he’s not going in the direction of the bathrooms, he’s going out to the hotel lobby. Huh? Wait. Is he getting a room? I can hardly stand the suspense. Just thinking about it makes me flush and I start fanning myself with my hand and sip some ice water.

“Are you OK?” asks the man to my left, who notices my discomfiture.

“Yes, I’m fine, the coffee burned me a little. It’s nothing.”

As with most of these business things, just when you start enjoying yourself another jerk has to take the podium and send you into a coma. My entire table ignored this development and we continued our own conversations sotto voce. Much more productive.

I noticed his return because of the heat he gave off when he sat next to me. I glanced over at him. He looked straight at the podium and downed a glass of ice water. Then he sat back in his seat and looked at me. The fire in his eyes made me glance at his crotch. There seemed to be some sort of baton stuck there. My my.

It was torture waiting for the luncheon to end. We didn’t touch and barely looked at each other until the lunch ended. Mr. Jones took my arm and lead me firmly out of the hall into the lobby of the hotel and to an elevator bank. There were other people in our elevator so we were silent until we got off on the 23rd floor. His hand didn’t leave my arm as we walked down the dim corridor. He was on a mission. I was excited but silent.

Suddenly he shoves me against the wall and kisses me with so much heat and desire I feel myself open up right there. His hands are all over me and I feel a wave of heat so strong my knees buckle. I just melted into that kiss like butter on toast. I wanted to wrap my legs around him, but he has other ideas.

He breaks the kiss and in one swift move scoops my tits out of my bra and dress. My dress was a wrap dress with a deep V-neck that I loved. He squeezed my tits and bent down to suck my nipples. That’s when I thought I would slide down the wall.

His hands squeezing my tits, his mouth tugs insistently at one nipple, then another until I’m moaning and my pussy is aching for his cock. I pull him up to my mouth and softly bite him into a kiss while I grind against his cock, which feels like a rock in his pants. He moans and his hand move down to my ass which he squeezes so hard I moan into his mouth. I throw my  arms around his neck and wrap my legs around him as he lifts me against his cock by my but cheeks.

His hot soft kiss, his woodsy aftershave, the brush of his suit against my bare breasts were all driving me mad but I broke the kiss.

“Let’s go in the room,” I panted. We were still in the hallway. Our room was a couple of doors away.

“Here. Now.” he said.

His voice is hard.

He let me stand while he unzipped his pants and I dropped my wet panties on the floor. His cock was huge and hard to the touch.

“Is all that for me?” I asked as he lifted me and pushed me against the wall.

“Every inch of it,” he whispered, sliding into my hot wetness like a shark through water.

“Oh my god,” I whimpered. “Soooo gooood,” I whispered into his neck. I couldn’t move and as he pulled back a little he looked at me.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

The force of his thrusts bang me against the wall, and I cry out softly with every bang, because how could I not. He fucked and fucked and fucked and fucked me until every curve and ridge of his cock was sucked in by my greedy, horny pussy. We were still in the hallway, and we didn’t give a fuck.

Every delicious thrust of his cock hit a spot (how may different ways can my pussy get hit by cock? How many different sweet spots is she hiding?) that just felt like the depths of me wanted to grab and hold his cock inside me until I could pump it to my release. This was something I’ve never experienced, an urgency so intense and so deep inside that I start grunting, mad with hunger and frustration.

Mr. Jones is enjoying torturing me, pumping me at a fast clip so that the depths of my pussy can’t  grab him the way she wants. My grunting is getting louder, as I feel a climax just beyond the horizon.

If i can just pump-pump-pump

hold — pump-pump-pump

fuck! hold on to — pump pump pump

The elevator dings at the other end of the hallway and we don’t even pause.

My pussy gushes all over the floor in her torturous attempt to get the cock to stay tight and close

We are dripping sweat. And I start to growl. growl in frustration.

He pumps me until my growl is loud. I can’t help it.

Then he impales me against the wall, shoving his glistening tool all the way in, until I feel his balls against me, and he slays me with these short little pumps that hardly move, but are stroking that magical spot that wants to suck and stroke him.

I start coming, a tidal wave of an orgasm that starts somewhere back in the depths of my pussy. I feel her clamp around his cock and I just pump and rock and fuck him until I’m growling like a beast and coming  like a tornado. We sink to the floor so that by the time I turn into a wild beast, he’s on top of me, all the way up inside me giving me that same stroke. The deep, wild guttral growl that exploded out of me was insane. I’ve never felt that kind of orgasm and I’ve never growled like that. Ever. Holy shit.

We lie there in silence catching our breath for a minute or so.

“I think we’re going to get tossed out of this hotel baby.”

“They can’t,” he responds, helping me up.

“Why not?”

He’s silent while we walk our sex-rumpled selves  into our room. We go inside and he hangs the Do Not Disturb sign on the door before closing it.

“I’m not finished with you yet.”

32Buy Me a Coffee at ko-fi.com

The Pussy Whisperer

It becomes clearer to me every day that I made the right decision.  

This relationship, whatever it becomes, is what matters most to me.  

I try not to compare my lovers, but simply record my experiences, perceptions, and feelings about them. But indulge me for a second. Both Mr. Jones (J. in previous posts, and not that’s not his real name, come on now 😉 ) & the Terminator can fuck me into quivering incoherence, but the paths they take to get me there are completely different. Terminator is all about conquering me, fucking me into submission. Together we’re feral and greedy. Our passion is violently intense.

Mr. Jones, on the other hand, who is also an alpha male – is all tenderness and sensuality. He’s dirty and sweet — you’d never guess, standing behind him in his dad jeans (I’m on it) at the supermarket, that he fucks the way he does. He’s made me come in ways I’ve never come before, accidentally (nipplegasms!) and on purpose.

If I ever say, oh xyz doesn’t arouse me, he’ll make it his business to drive me out of my mind orgasming (is that a word?) in exactly that way. He won’t stop, licking, sucking, kissing, fucking, stroking — until he finds the stroke or suck that leaves me quivering and incoherent.

It’s gotten to the point now that beads of sweat break out on my body the minute his cock or his tongue are inside me before we even start exerting ourselves. My body knows what’s coming. Even so, he surprises me all the time. Sometimes we’ll have a slow, intense fuck. Other times a horny acrobatic fuck, during which he flips me, turns me and spreads me to meet his pleasure. Or the fact-finding fuck — playful romps during which we try various touches, squeezes, kisses, and rhythms to see whether they work for us.

Other time’s I’ll suck his cock like it’s the last drink of water in the desert because I love to hear the low pitch of his moan when I press my tongue against his shaft as I suck him. And how his moan becomes higher-pitched when I swirl my tongue around his head, and suck it softly, like a lollipop.

I’m having the best sex of my life right here, right now smack at almost 50. When I was a kid 50 seemed like one step from the grave. Today 50 is the new 35. I feel about 28. And I’ll always be horny, no matter how old I am.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

The Other Night

It had been a perfect summer day. Sunny and warm, with azure blue skies and the occasional soft breeze. We got together without any firm plans other than to enjoy the weather. One of the things I love about New York is that you can stroll around as the mood takes you and the day unfolds before you with all kinds of fun. Street performers, block parties and street fairs, art installations and galleries, and a gorgeous waterfront. It was a gorgeous day.

We’d had a few watermelon and vodka slushies at a street fair and were slightly tipsy when we got home.  The moment we were inside the door he took my hand and pulled me toward the bedroom. Before I can open my mouth he slides my dress off and scoops my boobs out of my bra. He takes one nipple in his mouth kisses it and then the other, while he undoes my bra and tosses it behind him.

Next thing I know I’m on the bed and he’s trying to tear off my panties with his teeth.

“Baby, can I take off my shoes?”

He only grunts as he tears off my panties with his teeth and spreads my thighs.

I stop talking and he dives face first into my pussy. His tongue kisses me softly, circling my clit and lightly oh-so-lightly teasing the whole area around it with liquid soft swirls of his tongue.

My pussy is melting into his mouth, my clit comes out to play and I’m pushing into his tongue, into his face, to scratch that deliciously soft itch. I’m moaning, holding on to his head, trying to get his tongue to…and then he starts softly stroking my sweet spot (I’ve told him where it is) with the tip of one finger. Holy mother of god.

He’s driving me mad, his soft wet tongue swirling around my now-popped clit, and the firm wet stroke of his finger in that spot…I start humping his face, wanting more, yes, softer, harder right there, oh YES, I’m grinding against that finger, that tongue, and when I start convulsing he pushes in harder, giving me all the pressure and all the pleasure I want. YES YES YES!  I’m shoving it in his face coming and coming when I feel my pussy squirt straight into his mouth.  

I did. I think I did. It felt like I did. Did I?

I lay there catching my breath and Mr. Jones come up from between my thighs.

“You just squirted into my mouth,” he says, smirking.

My legs are still wobbly, and I’m barely coherent. Mr. Jones  kisses me and slides his throbbing cock into my slick twitchy pussy. MMMMMmmmmm. My pussy grabs his cock immediately, and I moan helplessly because it feels so heavenly. He goes in deep and delicious and stays perfectly still. He breaks the kiss and looks into my eyes as his hands move down to my ass. He holds my ass as he pushes deeper into me. I’m groaning with the feel of it, but he stays perfectly still while my pussy grabs his cock.  I pump against him in a frenzy, thrashing in another greedy orgasm against his rock hard stillness.

“You’re so greedy,” he whispers in my ear. “So horny. So Beautiful.”
He lets me catch my breath even though the strain of keep still is making him sweat droplets onto my face and chest.

He slowly slides out of me, almost all the way. My pussy is not letting him go easily — it’s like pulling the cork ou of a wine bottle, and I’m moaning in protest. I want him (of course) to stay all the way up inside me. I want him to fuck me until he explodes inside me. He has other plans.

I feel his powerful and steady heartbeat under his skin. We gaze at each other, panting and sweating, the tip of his cock inside my pussy. I know that he’s waiting me out, taunting me into an adolescent demand that he fuck me. NOW. I have the sex drive of a 16-year-old with just a little more restraint. I smile at him and wait.

My pussy is raging with impatience. So is his cock. I can feel it. He slides in slowly again, with a strong so delicious I start whimpering. His cock plunges all the way into me and my pussy grabs him extra hard, but he methodically slowly slides out again, killing us both. His eyes mock me.

“Did you say something?” he asks.

“No.”

He slides in again, sweet mother — and I almost start to come but he slides out almost entirely, his slick head just inside me. I can feel his heartbeat throbbing in his cock, against me.

He stays there, just inside me. We’re both sweating and panting with the strain. I’m about to lose it. my entire being is focused on that pulse just inside my pussy. Ohgodplease. Please. I think to myself.

“What?” he whispers. We’re both trembling now.

“Fuck me,” I begged. Really. I begged.

“What?” he asks, kissing my neck.

“Fuck me, dammit. Please.”

I wrap my legs around him as he thrusts into me and it feels like we’re locked together. His cock feels so good I’m begging him to give it to me harder, deeper and thrusting my pussy against him like a fiend. That cock was so delicious, I thought I would die of pleasure.

Then we’re both fucking and screaming and coming in wave after wave after wave of intense pleasure. I actually saw stars. Starbursts. or color bursts. I always thought that was just an expression.

We fell asleep with him still inside me and my legs wrapped around him.

Image: painting by Delphin Enjolras, public domain.

[wpedon id=”2999″ align=”center”]

Buy Me a Coffee at ko-fi.com

Pause

We finally left the house at around 10 p.m.

The night was sultry and warm, the soft breeze a sensual invitation. Terminator and I had our arms around each other’s waist as we walked down the street, partly holding each other upright and partly out of affection. I thought that if we let go, my legs would give out and I would wind up on the pavement.

“My legs feel like spaghetti,” I whispered, laughing. He tightened his grip around my waist as we made our way to the corner to hail a cab.

We fall into the back seat in content exhaustion, our eyes closed. The warm breeze feels like a whisper on my skin.  Our hands are laced together between us on the car seat.

Five minutes later the taxi pulls over and we get out. “That was quick,” I say. I’m feeling woozy from exhaustion. He holds me around the waist as we descend a short staircase leading to a restaurant. “It’s a neighborhood spot, I just couldn’t walk it,” he responds.

He leads me into the place, where they obviously knew him because very quickly we get a table in a quiet corner, a bottle of wine, and a pitcher of water on the table and waiter promising to return for our order in a moment. Impressed, I turn to him and ask, “Do you own this place or something?”

 He laughs and pours me a glass of wine. “No, the owners are friends of mine.” As if on cue, a platter of shrimp in oil and garlic is placed in front of us and a small plate is placed in front of each of us. It smells so good I feel faint. I hear the waiter say something about steak. Whatever. Food. We fall on it like ravenous dogs. We don’t say a word until the platter is empty and we’re mopping up the sauce with hunks of bread. We look up and start laughing.

“Well, that was classy. You can’t take me anywhere.” I sit back, wipe the corners of my mouth with my napkin and fold my hands in front of me, pretending to be dignified.

“Yeah we both went at it, so to speak,” he jokes.

“Oh no, did you just make a sexual reference?” I laughed. “I’m shocked. Shocked.”

“Actually, you looked beautiful eating,” he said. “You eat like you fuck — you savor every second, you taste every bite.”

I blushed. I didn’t know what to say. I took a sip of wine.

“Are you embarrassed?” he asks, amused. Really?

“I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

He moves closer to me, refills my wine glass and whispers “How are you feeling?

“I thought we would kill each other…but now I’m feeling much better. You?”

“Me too.”

“I need to tell you…” I started. “I need to stop seeing you. I know this is the worst time to say this, but –”

“You already said everything with that look on your face. I know you’re walking out on me.”  There was no hurt or accusation in his voice; he sounded completely neutral.

“What look?”

“When you saw how I set up the tub, the candles, you looked like you wanted to run.”

“No, no that’s not —”

“Flattering by the way,” he said ruefully.

If you missed it, that’s the notoriously contained Terminator, having feelings. Quel surprise.

“It’s not that I don’t want to be with you,” I explained. “It’s just that I’m in a relationship now, and I care about him.  I can’t keep lying, it’s not right and he deserves my full attention.”

“I thought that was over,” he said.

“We had a fight. We’ll reconcile. We just need some time.” I realized this as I said it. J and I would, and did reconcile.

He was silent, head lowered, listening.

“We’ve already talked about how a relationship between us isn’t possible, right?

“I can’t do it right now,” he responded.

“And ordinarily I would be fine with the way things are, but…”

“I hope it works out for you, I do,” he said. “I want to you to be happy. But I’ll miss you like hell.”

“Me too,” I said.

“Can you stay for the weekend?” he asked. “So we can bring down the rafters and so I can do some of the things I’ve been thinking about.”

“Like what?”
Why did I ask this? I know perfectly well what he wants to do. Or I have a very good idea.

He doesn’t answer, but the look he gives me floods my entire body with heat. I actually feel moist between my legs.

We look at each other for a long moment, and he touches my hair. “I want to have you to myself,” he says softly.

“And I want total control over you.”

Image: Photo Lovers in a Small Café Near the Place d’Italie by Brassai, ©Réunion des Musées Nationaux, Paris
untitled
Buy Me a Coffee at ko-fi.com
error: Content is protected !!