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.

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A New Kind of Love

I remember the exact moment that I felt Mr. Jones had filled my heart and soul so deeply that there was no point in continuing fucking the Terminator or anyone else. Mr. Jones made every other man irrelevant with his dick and his heart.

I had spent a transformative weekend with Mr. Jones, being loved, cherished and taken care of in a way that I had never experienced before. Just being together is like a drug. We can curl up together on a sofa or a bed and inhale each other, and caress each other for hours — for days and barely need food, our contentment is so complete.

That weekend I realized how his love, friendship, and emotional support had sparked my dormant creativity. I was full of ideas and strategies for stalled projects and found solutions for problems that I hadn’t been able to figure out. I was stupidly surprised, and on my way home that weekend, I realized that it was Mr. Jones’s unconditional love and support — something I had never experienced – that had sparked my creativity. Love, a supportive environment, and complete acceptance had nurtured my creativity in a way that shocked me. Love, just love made so much possible. I had no idea. My heart turned over, and I cried.

There was no way I would meet the Terminator that week, as planned. Just the thought of it was like “what the hell am I doing?” I have no need or desire to see him — the depth and power of Mr. Jones’s love just canceled everything and everyone else out. I really didn’t want to see Terminator again and didn’t even plan a last meeting.

Of course. I would always remember the Terminator and his…assets. But it couldn’t compare, not even come close to what I have with Mr. Jones. There’s no contest.

But even I couldn’t quite believe I could give up the Cock of the Century so suddenly and completely. I waited. Two, almost three weeks. I was done. Yes, I was sentimental about him, could probably cry about him if  I put some effort into it, but I didn’t want to fuck him or be with him. I was head-over-heels in love, which was the last thing I wanted or expected when all this began. But it’s so sweet and so beautiful.

Image: by Alejandra Quiroz via Unsplash.com CC0

Cocooning

A couple of days after that amazing tryst with the Terminator I was off to spend a couple of days with Mr. Jones. It had been almost a month since we had been able to have a weekend together and we were excited.
We talk and text everyday, sometimes Skype at night and when I have space in my schedule we spend a day together (he’s off work until June), but I always have to run home for my son. We hadn’t spend an entire night together in about a month.

We had all sorts of plans, places to go, drives to take etc. Within minutes of arriving at his place I was undressed (as was he) and we were curled up on the sofa watching movies, and caressing each other, in a state of bliss I’ve never experienced before. When he wrapped his arms around me I actually said, “God, I’m home, I’m home.” It’s like I have no peace until I’m warm and safe (and naked) in his arms.

We lay naked and spooning for a long time, in a state of contentment and bliss so profound it was practically transcendental. All we need or want is to be in each other’s arms, skin to skin. Our languorous arousal was constant but without urgency. We played with each other, satisfied each other and would return to our blissful embrace.  This lasted all weekend. We didn’t get dressed until Monday, when I had to go back home.

After what happened last time with the toy I decided I wouldn’t use it again until we had worked out his issues with it. We would just play without it, and I would have to forgo penetration. It turned out to be the best decision because he was more relaxed, playful and after an amazing session gave me multiple orgasms using just two fingers (yes, he’s talented), then he slipped on a condom and fucked me into a coma. Wonderful. Ironic. Horny.

I really believe that everything happens for a reason, and I think that the reason Terminator and J. are both in my life at the same time is so that I can see clearly for the first time, the difference between a real relationship and…whatever the thing with Terminator is, which is my pattern.

Mr. Jones and I are slowly falling deeply in love, and for the first time I know what that looks like and feels like, and its beautiful. Every day I’m more positive that Terminator and I will end in three months (this year is flying by), without regrets. Well maybe a little regret. But ending it won’t be painful, because I’m giving him up for something wonderful.

Image: original source unknown. I do not own the image or copyright and no infringement is intended.

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