Author Archives: Steffani Cameron

The Good Girl's Guide to Giving GREAT Head Pt. 2

celtic-2

When we last left off, I was recapping the wonders of the Creamsicle move. Trusty, classic, and effective. Here are the remaining fave moves of mine. Of course, you can mix’n’match all the moves and shake them up, and you can think outside the box and bring in other techniques. There’s really only one no-no in oral — don’t hurt ’em (unless they’re into that).
So, without further ado, the rest of the Good Girl’s Guide to Giving Great Head.

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Sideways: Wrap your lips around his shaft sideways. If you don’t have an image as to how this works, then try sucking on the side of your thumb. Your lips sit on the top and bottom of the cock, and with your lips tucked around your teeth, you’re going to use jaw pressure to clamp up and down on his cock (firm, but not too hard, so check with your man during the process if it’s not obvious how he’s responding) while you travel outward to the tip, all the while sucking and tonguing him.

Now’s a good time to mention it. Tongues, the most wonderful muscle both sexes share. That’s right, it’s a muscle. Flex it, baby. The more you use it, the stronger it’ll be. It can contribute a lot to a guy’s oral experience, too, expecially when you’re throwing added pressure and sensations into the mix. Be conscious of your tongue and its abilities, and you’ll see results.

Ballsy, Baby: Now and then you have to take his balls in your mouth and tongue them against your palate, being careful with your teeth. Suck and slurp the bad boys, and you’ll get him groaning, especially if you’re tugging on his shaft simultaneously.
Super-Thighs Him: Often, and I mean often, fall away to his inner thighs and bite, nibble, suck, and lick him as your hands keep him entertained, rubbing his prostate, stroking him, or maybe even just clutching his ass hard or teasing it with a finger as you continue devouring everything but his cock.
The Moist Interlude: Now and then to really torture him you can mount him without letting him enter you, just in between all the oral escapades. This is particularly fun when you have him absolutely at your mercy and tied up. The trick is, you have to be wet for him. Quite. Sopping. If you’re doing all of this the right way and you’re watching his reactions, I guarantee you will be, but if necessary, as you’re sucking his cock, start rubbing your clit — make sure you tell him that it has you so hot you’ve got to touch yourself — and then mount him after you’re wet. Grind him gently as you lean in and nibble his neck, his earlobes, his nipples, or kiss him, whatever it is you know gets him hotter. And grind, baby, grind. Just a little.
Apres Moist: Having taunted him, you want to slide your body down his, remembering that you’re wet and while you may or may not enjoy having cum all over you, he almost certainly does since your wetness correlates, in his mind, with how much you want to fuck him. So, as you’re sliding down, so too will evidence of your arousal, how hot you’re getting just while getting him hot. This alone will get his mind into overdrive (especially if he’s blindfolded) never mind the fact that you’re licking, nibbling, and sucking your way down to his cock, which you’re now stroking hard but slow. If you’re really evil, you’ll “accidentally” get his cock hung up on your vagina as you’re sliding down him. Stay there and try to drive him a little harder against you before you dismount, and if you’ve done this, make him wait an agonizing moment as you don’t touch him at all (on purpose, but you don’t have to let him know that — but I would, since I love the tease) as you reposition yourself to resume the oral.
The Taste-Tester: I’ve often dribbled chocolate syrup over a blindfolded lover’s cock and then hungrily licked and sucked it off as messily and greedily as I could before kissing him hard on his mouth with my mouth still tasting of both chocolate and him, so he knows what I’ve done. I’ve had amazing results with this, particularly when in the middle of an epic BJ. It’s one of those intense interludes that immediately heightens, rather than slackens his pleasure. It also gives you a change of pace and a nice taste sensation, plus the sugar rush helps you carry on your epic work. Now, honey works well, too, so long as it’s something you gotta work to get it all off of him, though. Sticky and sweet. Even jelly or jam is interesting, if that’s your kinda thing. The shock of cold might cause him to recoil a little, but your mouth will warm him up and make him grow again.

Props Assignment

A feather, an ice cube, some velvet, a dangling tassle, and other fun little objects can go a long way to surprising him with delight when he’s blindfolded during a BJ. I once had an interesting time wrapping a sheet of cotton batting around a guy’s cock and just lightly dragged it up and down against his rigid shaft. He was blindfolded and absolutely baffled as to what I was doing, but began shuddering with each light surfacing drag of the batting. Use your imagination when you’re looking through cupboards, make a note of things that could play well in the bedroom (or wherever you like to fuck.)
Tease him often with the props between doses of oral delivery.
Don’t forget, any time he might deflate a little, you’re going to ensure you reverse that immediately. Keep him as hard as you can throughout.

Nutshell.

Remember, variety, no one thing for too long. Go from one technique to another and back again repeatedly, and see what that does. Then change up the mix to something completely different — and change speeds, from slow to fast, and pressures, from soft to hard to barely there.
There are a myriad of other little techniques one can use, given that every cock-owner has different fondnesses. Ask him what he loves during oral. Ask him if there’s anything you can do to make him find a happier place. And do that for him. Asking “Do you like that, baby?” can be as much of a turn-on as anything, especially when you really get to the truth of what’s exciting him.

Whew! A Breather?

Never forget the power of your breath. Tired? Of course you are. Oral’s hard work. Take a breather, literally. Hover over his cock, still holding the shaft firmly, and just breathe heavily on his wet, hard tip and shaft as you catch your breath. I’ve actually seen cocks get harder and longer by just breathing on them for a full minute. Gasp, let him see how worn-out you are from servicing him..
Most of the time, this will even bring an added emotional element into the equation when he knows you’re shoring up reserves to go at him again. It’s a strangely powerful moment, just being there, quietly hovering, breathing.
In my experience, how it plays out is that he knows my head is right there… so close, yet so far, and the anticipation is surprisingly powerful — for both he and I. I’ll often faintly trace a fingernail up his length as I tease him with my breath, and it’s astonishingly effective considering the lack of other stimulus.
(Boys, this has worked well on me, too, but I can’t speak for all women. Girls?)

Sticking points.

A lot of fuss gets made over swallowing or facials or what have you. Where do I stand? I have swallowed, and though I’ve often done it, not always, and not even usually. It depends on the taste of his cum and depends on the man in question. Some guys it’s not a problems, others, yes, problem. Facial? Yeah, I could handle it. But I don’t. I find it denigrating, so I just duck away. It would depend on the man and the occasion.
I don’t think chicks should be expected to swallow. If you don’t want to, don’t, and don’t apologize for it. That’s simply your line and it has to be respected. Sucking a guy to the edge if orgasm and finishing him by handjob or by mounting him and finishing the old-fashioned way isn’t copping out.
If he’s really hung up on you swallowing, then tell him to change his diet so his cum’s sweeter. It’s a known fact that vegetarians have better-tasting cum. Beef and other foods drastically affect the taste. Some say parsley will sweeten the pot. But realistically, is he going to go to that extreme? Probably not. Yet he wants you to swallow? Well, will he swallow his own? Like one of my lovely readers says, if a guy expects it of you, he better be willing to do the same.
Like I say, sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. Usually, I don’t. I’ve never, ever had a complaint. Just the opposite. The guy who gasped thanking me for three minutes? Swallowed some, but put the rest all over his body as I sucked, nibbled, and licked my way back up to his face, and he didn’t mind a damned bit.
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All you really need to know about me is I get the job done. Every time. And with these tricks and dedication, so will you.
Have fun, take your time, and remember: Details. The devil’s in the details.

The Good Girl's Guide to Giving GREAT Head Pt. 1

04

I’m a perfectionist. This has served me well in many areas of my life, say, at work or in the kitchen. Or, as it happens, in the bedroom.
I like to think of oral sex as a fine art. I think it’s the most sensual, supposedly selfless thing you can do for a lover.
Now, I say “supposedly selfless,” because who’s kidding who? If you’re already in a good relationship, throwing great oral into the equation makes it sexual utopia. It’s the final touch. Then they owe you. You know as well as I do, you’re keeping score. We all do.
When it comes to oral, I owe everything I’ve learned to Sex Tips for Straight Ladies from a Gay Man. The first time I used all the tips in that book — and let me tell you, when I read, I absorb information like a sponge, my friends — the guy was gasping his thanks for three full minutes afterwards, no exaggeration.
It’s not just knowing the moves, though. That’s half the battle. It’s really all about understanding your lover’s body language. That twitch, that gasp, that shudder, when their thigh muscles tighten or their ass clenches while they inhale sharply… all these little signs will give you clues as to what’s working… and what’s working better.
You don’t have to talk during the process but your lover should always emit little vocal cues when oral’s underway. It’s a roadmap of sorts. I’m fortunate, this is my strong suit. I can read a lover like a Dick-and-Jane book.
By understanding all those little subtle shifts in behaviour, you know when to switch up your technique to get a little added stimulation in, or to pull back so you can prolong the experience without having them blow their load too soon. It’s torturously delightful when the whole process is dragged out for as long as you can make it last.
My record for delivering oral on a guy was spread out well over an hour, and with his reaction and the night that followed it, my time proved to be very well spent. There are some situations that scream for you to dote and linger and take the slow route around. (In my books, that always includes light bondage.)
I’m not afraid to make an entire night about the guy. Or to at least try. I’ve never had a guy let me make it all about him. Half-way through, they’re always so riled they feel compelled to take charge.
And who am I to argue, then? It’s one of the perks of showering your lover with affection — limiting their ability to be involved in the process always heightens the payback. And I do so love payback.
If I wanted to deliver The Perfect Scenic Route Blowjob, it’d take a little scheming. Naturally, he wouldn’t know I had this in mind. Where’s the fun in that?
I would be planning to give loverboy a full-body massage that would slowly turn into bondage. I’d do firm but sensual deep issue work, keeping it fairly innocuous… for a while.
If not already naked midway through the massage, I’d remedy it and undress. Straddling him, sitting on his ass, I’d work my way lower on his back. When through there, I’d have him roll over, and he’d naturally be rock hard by now.*
I’d have a bind or tie of some kind under the pillow, and upon straddling his front, I’d lean in for a kiss, pin his arms playfully over his head, then produce the rope. Of course he’d give his permission (because I only date intelligent men) and I’d then tie his hands up.
Then it’s all about exploring, isn’t it? Kissing, sucking, nibbling from head to toe and back again… but stopping often for long, involved cock teasing.

e-blowjob-gitte-STOR

Where I start with a blowjob is by grabbing the base of the shaft. This isn’t even an option. Need I repeat that? Not an option, sisters. A good firm grasp around the shaft is a great start, but it’s also great to have the testicles involved in this lovely grasp, as well. Cup them, and maybe play with his balls, rolling them in your hand, but don’t overdo it ‘cos you don’t want to get him too riled too early.
This whole process is going to be about giving and denying — taking him to the brink and knowing when to stop so you can stretch that tease to the maximum. If you can prolong it as long as possible, the orgasm (from my experience) is of the earth-shattering, full-body spent kind. (My favourite, personally.)
From that point, baby, it’s all mix’n’match. There’s no real process. Vary it like mad, not sticking with any one technique for longer than a minute or so. If I can see his face and know he’s concentrating with furrowed brows or biting his lip intensely, then I’ll probably prolong that move just a tad since it’s obvious he’s in another place with it. There are no rules… just make it good and make it last.
Among my favourite moves:
The Explorer: Licking hard and slow up from the base of the shaft, over the head, nibbling the tip oh-so-gently before going open-mouth and deep over the whole shaft, closing lips hard over him, sucking hard but teasingly slow all the way up, then making a couple short little slurping passes over the tip. I repeat the whole move a few times in a row, usually producing a couple tortured little shudders at the very least.
The Nibbler: Imagining you’re a dainty little old English lady working her way around a tea biscuit with the littlest of nibbles. You’ll work your way from base to tip ever so delicately nibbling the skin lengthwise, and when you get to the tip, you’ll simply mouth the top of his cock and his glans and toy with him using your tongue and sucking with varying degrees of pressure.

Women, for the love of god, if you can’t nibble without applying any painful pressure, do NOT do it at all! If you’ve never nibbled cock before, go gentle, please! Once you’re into the experience, ask him if he’s comfortable with you proceeding. Not every guy is trusting enough to let a chick teeth him. But he should be. Unless he’s fond of denying himself the most sinful of pleasures.

The Creamsicle: Ah, let’s hear it for the classics. Fondly recall those days of old when you’d grab yourself an orange creamsicle and suck it whole in your mouth, up and down, until it was too weak to last much longer. So too will be your man’s cock if you’re attentive enough with this trusty old standby. If you don’t lay hard tongue pressure against the side of his cock as you suck the length of the shaft, then why don’t you?
Now, the downside of the Creamsicle is that it tends to get him off a little too quickly if you overdo it. I prefer short bursts of Creamsicling (unless I’m winding up my services, and then I give it all I’ve got). I’ll often make sure I’m clutching his shaft hard and tugging in rhythm with my lipservice. This, too, can be problematic when you’re trying to prolong his experience.
PART TWO? I thought you’d never ask.
*By the way, if a guy isn’t hard, putting his soft cock in your mouth and gumming and sucking him tends to drive him wild and gets him hard in a hurry. Always a pleasant surprise if the blowjob begins out of the blue. Try this next time you’re just watching TV. Get down on your knees, open his pants up, and set yourself onto his soft cock. Especially do this if you know there’s some chick he likes in the show or something. Why not indulge his little fantasy, and later, help him indulge yours?

The Fine Art of Massage

For me, one of the most passionate things I can do for a man is a massage, and if he does it right, likewise.
I take massages very, very seriously. A great massage takes you to a different place. Paying for a massage is one thing, but receiving one from a lover fills me with raw desire while setting me on a wave of bliss.

Contours

I’ve been known to deliberately give male friends shitty massages. In fact, I generally try to avoid touching them at all. Keeps shit simple. I’d be in a world of trouble if they knew the truth about me. Seems a little late for that now, though.
I love giving hour-long full-body massages. I love to trade them like favours. It’s a delightfully erotic evening in.
For a woman, I have strong hands. They’re broader across the palm, and my fingers are pretty solid. I can apply a lot of pressure, and the nice thing is, my hands and fingers are perfectly shaped for massage. They’re not sharp and bony, and digging into tissue isn’t invasive.
But you can always adjust your technique if you don’t have the “right” hands. The trick is, when you’re massaging with fingers, to make sure the portion coming in contact is that part under the crease, over your top joint nearest your finger tip. This allows you to use the rounded-yet-flat surface to keep your lover most relaxed.

I need to ask you all a question. Is it just me, or is there a point where fingernails get too long? I don’t let mine grow past my fingertip. Long enough to trace over skin, but short enough not to gouge. Lord knows a man better manicure before he starts giving me an external, nevermind internal. Those little jutting bits on nails can cause an awful lot of pain.

While I'm here, shall I rim you?

I digress. The heel of the palm is the best part of your hand when it comes to massage. Lord, is it ever. And the outer ridge of your thumb, as it extends down towards your wrist. This works the best when you’re squeezing ligaments and muscles on the shoulder tops and neck area, as well as the arms, legs, and the always-yummy ass.
It’s a shame my skills are going to waste, really. I have so much to contribute to mankind. What a sin.
Anyhow, for you, my friends, in anticipation of next weekend’s hijinks, some recipes for massage oils as included in InterCourses: An Aphrodisiacs Cookbook, one of my most prized cookbooks. From Terrace Books, published in 1997. (You think my photography array on here’s yummy? Check out that book. Makes you want seconds.)
But if you haven’t the time to cook up a love potion, I highly recommend “Love Butter” by Auracacia. (The link takes you to a site selling it cheaper than I’ve seen it before.)
It’s solid cocoa butter scented with the essence of ylang-ylang oil, whose properties are that of an aphrodisiac. It’s worked like a charm for me. Definitely a recipient of the Steff Seal of Success. When you put it on skin, it melts, literally like butter in your hand. Not unlike the massage recipient when he/she experiences it. Just enough slippage, just enough friction, the perfect combination for a sensual massage.
The recipes.

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“yummy yummy juicy warm”
to 1 ounce jojoba oil, add:
21 drops sandlewood oil
6 drops of ylang-ylang
5 drops steam-distilled lime

“the heady oil of good feelings”
to 1 ounce jojoba oil, add:
13 drops Frankensence
6 drops patchouli
5 drops steam-distilled lime
“relieve anxiety, restore balance”
to 1 ounce jojoba oil, add:
6 drops geranium
6 drops clary sage
6 drops ylang-ylang
“sultry-sweet aphrodisiac potion”
to 1 ounce jojoba oil, add:
3 drops jasmine
34 drops sandlewood
(as written in the book:)
mixing your own massage is a simple process to follow: simply mix 6 to 8 parts of essential oil for every 1/8th cup (25 ml or 1 fl. oz) of base oil. essential oils are available at health food and natural food stores. vegetable oils work nicely as the base — try almond, avocado, olive, sunflower, hazelnut, or jojoba. mix with your signature concoction of essential oils. store in an airtight container in a cool, dark place.*
*steff’s tip? store it in the fridge. buy yourself one of those little electric plug-in cup warmers for hot beverages at work, and put it bedside. when you’re wanting to heat things up with your lover of choice, fill a small bowl with the oil before the massage, and place it on the warmer. hot oil, hot massage, hot night.

the above recipes from InterCourses by way of the Aromatherapy Catalogue.

on girl love

lesbians7oc

the more i write this blog, the more i think of girl love.
it’s not that i’m attracted to women, because on the larger scale, i’m not. but there are those few people who transcend gender and sexuality. those people with such effusive senses of self that it’s nigh impossible to not get turned on watching them.
every now and then, there’s a chick with the right hair, the right clothes, the right demeanour, and some kinda sexy goin’ on, all combined to a T.
my god, my interest flares. it’s kind of like the perfect alignment of the sexual cosmos. but it would take a lotta woman to get my lovin’.
that said, if i were lured to the pussy side, it’d have to be because of the softness and the contours of a woman’s body. i wouldn’t go for skinny chicks, i don’t think. a little curve would be necessary, but how much curve wouldn’t really matter. anything but the grand flats, if you know what i’m saying.
as a photographer, i know i would be aroused by having a really hot chick naked on my bed. i can’t help it. physicality in front of me just gets me riled. i’d have to seize the opportunity to shoot her, and in so doing, my intrigue would escalate. i’d need to touch, to explore.
i mean, having her just lie there, naked, natural, and at my beck and call? my god. i’m not strong enough to resist that.
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the closest i’ve probably ever come to taking a chick up on the offer was back in the day when i had long hair, up in the yukon.
now, you need to know that my hair is probably among the thickest i’ve ever seen. even thinned out, it tends to be 3-4″ thick when long.
these days, riding a bike and needing to wear a nasty motorcycle helmet daily, i keep it extremely short and punky.
but back then, my hair would get me the most amazing reactions from total strangers. the nicest compliment i’ve ever received, to this day, came from a passer-by on the street.
that day, a man was about 30 or so feet away, walking past to a store, when he caught my eye on a sidewalk cafe, double-took, and crossed over to me.
“excuse me. look, i’m not coming on to you. i’m married, but i just needed to tell you that you have the most beautiful hair i’ve ever seen, and i hope you never cut it. that’s all i wanted to say.” he smiled. “have a great day.”
and he spun around, just like that. never saw him again.
the next most memorable “hair moment,” for me, was in the yukon, in legendary dawson city, when i encountered yukon girl.
i was camping with some friends for a couple nights at a site with no facilities, so i was just cleaning up in a public washroom up there when this chick comes out of a stall. i was smoothing some product in my hair and she saw my face in the mirror. she stepped into my reflection, and said to me, “are you a leo?”
and i laughed, “no.”
so she said, “with that lion’s mane of hair, honey, you oughtta be.”
she growled playfully, and i couldn’t help but grin. i turned to face her. she then proceeded to tell me her campsite number and that she was probably staying behind in her tent that night as her friends were going to the music fest.
she stepped closer, her tits nearly touching mine. “maybe you want to come play.”
i was younger and a little shocked. i’d had chicks come onto me occasionally, but never this brazenly, and never this hot.
today, i’d have gone and played.

7

she was my height, about 5’7, and hot long auburn dreadlocks, but the really nice kind. basically, she was a hot, hot hippy chick.
now, i don’t usually dig hippies ‘cos hygeine’s so big for me, and some of them just take it too fucking far. she, however, had taken it nowhere near far. in fact she never left “fine.”
i was very hot for her, to tell the truth. i was just scared — scared of the experience, scared of my sexuality, scared of what it might mean.
but not anymore. i’ve had few regrets in my life, but passing on that opportunity would be one. i can’t help but imagine sinking my teeth into a piece of that.
are you out there, yukon girl? honey, if opportunity’s knocking, i’m answering.

Bad Ass

Navarro2

Ooh, all those piercings. Makes me wonder if you got royalty, too.
I dunno, I’ve been with some bad boys, but you might just be the baddest yet.
If I get you.
If I do… oh. I don’t even think I can tell you the things I’m thinking of doing.
The passion that emanates from you… I wanna be provoking that. Receiving that. Enjoying that.
When I think of the things you create with those hands, I want to be a part of them, to be under them. To control them, deprive you of them, and then to be at their mercy.
I adore the way you speak… that deep, sexy, measured voice. The way you articulate with passion, the way your sounds jumble together every now and then, thanks to your pierced tongue.
And, oh, do I want a piece of that.
Yeah, I came here looking for inspiration. And in you, it just walked right on in.

momentary distractions


it’s the little transgressions that sometimes bring, for me, the deepest flares of desires. a passing glance, a mistaken brush… hopefully this evokes the mood of exploiting that ever so slightly.

_________

hot, hot heat engulfs those on the bus.
every window cracked, every jacket removed, but still the swelter wears on.
the bus rumbles along the blazing city streets, lurching in and out of stops, constantly upheld by construction crews struggling with upgrades plaguing the town. stagnation is the order of the day and exhaustion seems inescapable, universal.
the redhead in the pink tank top exhales wearily in her outward-facing bus seat and rolls her head around, stretching her neck. looking down, she studies her bare arms. beads of sweat cling to her. she smooths the moist beads along her forearm, then changes songs on her mp3 player.
her legs are damp with sweat, like the rest of her. a warm breeze blows in from the windows, causing her inner thighs to tingle slightly. hoping for more of the same, she half-stands, reverses her crossed legs, and shimmies her floral miniskirt back down before resuming contact with the sticky vinyl seat.
she glances up, still shifting herself, and catches him staring at her. she peers over her light sunglasses at him: sexy, full lips, thick dark hair, dark eyes, olive skin… and a wedding band. she looks at the band and then his eyes.

hand-portrait-1

he keeps her gaze, as if dominating her with his eyes, and twists the ring slowly around his finger, sliding it half off before putting it back in place. he presses his wide strong hands flat against his seersucker pants, letting them slip sideways slightly, each inching slightly lower on his inner thigh, as he lustfully looks her over.
her lips are slightly upturned with interest now. she pushes her sunglasses higher on the bridge of her nose. she subtly runs her tongue over her teeth with her mouth slightly open as she traces a finger under the strap of her tank top down towards her sweaty breast. she looks back to the man across the aisle.
he shifts in his seat, inhaling sharply. he eyes her, biting on his lower lip, his irises as dark as his imagined intentions. with his fingers, he makes repeated strokes along his inner thigh.
breaking their gaze and glancing down, she understands his motions. she knows what those fingers would be doing to her if they were inside her right now. what she would be doing.
she brings a fingertip to her lips and nibbles playfully. her full pink lips encase the tip perfectly. she nibbles her nail and he stares hungrily as she begins to further toy with him, subtly flicking her tongue lightly back and forth over her tip with serpentine skill. all the while, she gazes tauntingly at him.
glancing around, noticing no one seems wise to them, he picks up his leather attache and places it over his lap, where one hand remains resting atop his stiffening member, and he shifts himself awkwardly, having lost himself in the beads of sweat clinging in her cleavage, trickling down, and down…

ga05

he’s fascinated by her pale breasts bouncing with the rough ride of that bus over the unfinished roads. he imagines that this is how she would look riding him — sweating, jiggling, wearied, still wanting, but wasted by the heat.
he looks at her, that desire playing in his mind, when his head dips weakly to the side and drops as he remembers that small matter of his life.
he glances down at his left hand spread flat over the black leather case, the gold ring gleaming on his olive skin. his face clouds in disappointed resolution. he sighs and smiles sadly at her, extending the ring finger and the band, flicking the gold almost derisively with his thumbnail.
she shrugs indifferently and smiles. she mouths the words, “my stop,” as she reaches up and pulls the bell cord.
she stands and smooths her crumpled sweat-dampened miniskirt down her bare thighs. she dips her sunglasses and winks coyly at the man and goes.
the doors close.
the man turns around and stares through the pane, watching the redhead swagger down the sidewalk, as if she even remotely senses the damage she’s done.
he sighs, leans his head back, closes his eyes, and under the attache, he rubs… imagining a different kind of cord in her hands, a different kind of release, a different kind of life.

Damien: Concludes

(To join the party where it starts, read part one here and part two here.)
When we left off, Damien was devouring me with oral. If you don’t want that, don’t read the earlier parts (you silly). We pick up well into his muff-diving ventures, where I’m on the verge of reaching my very happy place.

_________________
clutch your pictures of the pope
pray to god for love and hope

I didn’t care about potential spectators now. All I wanted was to come. Gasping, I let go of him and clutched the counter’s edge as I leaned away from him, spreading my legs the little further they could go. His tongue plunged into me, flicking and darting, as his thumb began feverishly massaging my clit.

19-yulblog-hot

I accidentally bit my lip so hard it bled as my body shook its way to orgasm. Coming, I shuddered violently and collapsed against the wall. He continued sucking and nibbling, which was becoming unbearable now that I was through, so I forced him off of me, pulling his head up and away from my mounds until he was eye-level with me.
Still looking hungry — famished — he gnashed his mouth against mine. Our tongues began fighting with each other as he leaned his still-hard cock against me.

bring the virgin home for luck
bolt the door down, keep it shut

Biting my lip and taunting me, lightly toying with my pubes, he dug into his pocket and produced a condom. He tore the packet open, and before he could proceed, I took it from him.
Gripping his shaft’s base and tugging slowly, but hard, back and forth with my left hand, I used my right hand to slip the condom on his throbbing cock and unrolled it as slowly and deliberately as I could, tugging all the while, until the rubber extended fully.
He kissed me hard as I stroked him a few times more, but then he again pinned my arms behind my back as his cock fumbled its way to my vaginal opening and then, with pressure, slid tightly between my swollen, shivering lips.

i tried hard to mend my wicked ways

We fucked fast and furious, knowing the partygoers lingering across the lawn, seeing them flicker their flashlights on the leaves in the forest, past the greenhouse, the sounds of their shallow, distant laughter contrasting with our slurping, thumping, and the smacking of rapid fucking, all rounded out nicely by our endless gasps and groans.

the damage done
there’s nothing left to save

Neither of us were interested in making this a long, meaningful encounter, and that much was clear as he held my legs up and thrust deep and long into me, over and over and over and over again.

and i tried
and i tried
and i tried
and i tried

I’d never had such a frenzied, semi-public session of sex like that before, being only 20. Judging by Damien’s fevered thrusting, it was a new experience for him, too. I was so riled, so ready to come.

nude (53)

He bit his lip and gutterally groaned, moving his hands around my ass, and pulled me as hard onto his cock as he could, holding me there as long as he could, throbbing hard inside me, as he gyrated his cock ever so slightly. Mere moments of this, and I couldn’t help but orgasm. Gasping, I shuddered violently during that hard, sustained thrust, tremendously weakening his resolve as I collapsed against him.
He groaned and gritted his teeth, slowly pulling his cock out, then forcing it back in, hard. And again. And again.


and i tried

and i tried
and i tried

And I moaned. He thrust hard into me a fourth time, but this time, was rocked with convulsions and crumpled against me, coming almost painfully, groaning, with his neck and face covered in sweat as he gasped for breath, his mouth cupping my neck. “Mm,” he chuckled weakly, now wasted and spent.

clutch your pictures of the pope
just like i told you
pray to god for love and hope
just like i warned you

We stayed there for a few minutes, slumped, still wet, against each other, just getting our breaths back. I noticed the partygoers hadn’t advanced one bit.
“We could’ve taken our time after all.”
Damien looked outside, looked at me, and laughed.
“Mm, god, no. I wouldn’t change a thing. We did just fine,” he sighed, still exhausted.
“Beats the hell out of lame techno, at the very least.”
“Oh, hell, that might even beat the shit out of the Beasties, you know, and they rock. Hard.” He groaned softly, and nibbled my neck, softly singing their anthem. “You gotta fight for your right — to par-tay…”
I chuckled quietly.
With that, we tidied up at a nearby sink to return to the party. We kept the conversation light. Neither of us mentioned seeing each other again.
After that night, we ran in the same circles occasionally, and always shared a knowing smile, but nothing more. As cool as he was, you just knew he couldn’t be a “boyfriend.”
Didn’t matter. Before long, I was back with T. anyways.
T., who never did find out.

bring the virgin home for luck
just like i told you
bolt the door down, keep it shut
just like i warned you

Which is just as well… considering.

anonymous encounters

i awoke from a dream in the dead of night. this on my mind.
* * *

ge05

shared moments in darkness
suggested, stolen
but always squandered.
a refuge
in this detached loneliness,
you’re nothing of permanence
just fleeting
in the stupid immature hopes
something more might be
but in reality
nothing can be, nor will be
as all things end
just beyond that door.

Kissy-Kissy

lm108

Sleep unable to find me, I lie naked under my sheets, a hand across my breasts, the other stretched atop my thigh.
The dim streetlight filters through my cotton bedroom shades and its shadows dancing on my ceiling are all I see.
For I know that when I close my eyes again, you’ll flood back in front of them. Like you always do.
In imaginings of those things soon to happen. Of ecstasy. Of this moment we’ve spoken of for so long, as those miles pulled us apart all that time.

it’s been a long time comin’
it’s been a long time comin’
i’m gonna stab your kissy-kissy mouth

My mind swirls with thoughts of the warm wetness of your mouth. How your kiss will leave me tingling and weak from my torso to my knees. How I’ll weaken in your possessive grasp. How I long to breathe you in and taste you.
And now, mere hours separate us.

it’s been a long time comin’

All those conversations about wanting. Promises made. Events foretold. Fantasies divulged. Talk, that’s all we’ve had.
And all of it to blame on my kissing you on a whim that night, moments before you left. When I broke that boundary between us. You surprised me. Overcome, you forced me against the wall, kissing me as if you were already penetrating me.
That night returns to me so often, stirring desires.

Sexy_B_W_013.sized

So many bitter-sweet memories of arousal. So many moments left satiated by myself, and never you. So many wrongs. So many regrets. So many things to make right.
And yet that night is all I recall.

it’s been
a long time comin’

How hard you felt. The way you pinned my arms to the wall, pressed into me, restraining me. The distant droning as your cab driver laid intermittently on his horn out there in that shadowy cul-de-sac, and despite it, you continuing to probe me intently with your tongue. The sound of your devastatated gulp when finally you knew you had to pull away.
The feeling then, knowing that a plane was to steal you away to London, where a year of university awaited you. Knowing that you were leaving me for that year with nothing but a kiss, a grope, and that feeling of being overpowered against a wall to tide me over.
And now, nothing but a jet over the Atlantic keeps us apart. In less than eight hours, you’ll be in my arms. Now, at the mere thought of you, my heartbeat collides upon itself in a cacophony of expectation and need.

it’s been a long time comin’

And now, nothing but a jet over the Atlantic keeps us apart. In less than eight hours, you’ll be in my arms. Now, at the mere thought of you, my heartbeat collides upon itself in a cacophony of expectation and need.

i’m gonna stab your kissy-kissy heart
04

The need to fuck you, the tease finally done. To have you within me — thrusting, holding, lasting. To finally know if it’s to be everything it was promised to be during those expensive, desperate, by-the-minute sessions spent gasping, wanting, yet denied, on the phone.
I know it will be. I knew it would be when I was pinned against that wall, wanting you as badly then as I do now. As badly as you clearly wanted me. It overwhelms me to think how that desire has since grown, and how forcefully you might take me eight hours from now. And how much I desire you to spend me utterly.
Never have I wanted a man like this, like I want you now.

it’s been a long time comin’

*The lyrics included are from Kissy-Kissy, a dirty blues-rock/punk ballad by a guitar duo fittingly from both sides of the Atlantic called The Kills. Live, this song was one of the most erotic, driving sexual things I have ever, ever witnessed. I felt dirty and abused at the end, and wanted nothing more than to not go home alone. The gentle licking of guitar strings and steady throbbing beat coupled with wistful, pained Velvet Underground-ish vocals tinted with a touch of PJ Harvey gets me hot every single time. The duo endlessly repeats the same lyrics over the five minutes, and it ebbs like the slow rhythmic cadence of two experienced, passionate lovers in no rush to reach their destination.

Shut Up and Screw

I coulda helped you with that

[Ed. Note: It’s three years later and my thoughts on sounds during sex have drastically changed. Sure, I lapse into silence, but I consider sound a very important way of letting a lover know what’s working and what could use some work.]
I’ve been very heavy on the description in the Saga of J., but seemingly light on the dialogue. So, let me explain.
During sex, when I’m not using my mouth for pleasure, I keep it shut.
My enjoying of the silence stretches back to “the day.” When I was in my teens, my first lover lived with his mom, since he was my age. We were together for the better part of 7 years, on “breaks” often, hence the Saga of J. and other tasty delights (patience), but when we were together, the sex was the reason, aside from both of us being intelligent lit-types, of course.
Sex fascinated us and encapsulated our relationship. We’d have sex multiple times, never just once. I remember endless nights with five go-rounds. But, that said, geography was a bitch, and our encounters often needed creativity and discipline.
There were only two-and-a-half places we could count on for sex: my car, his place, and when the cosmos aligned ever so magically, though obviously infrequently, my bedroom at home.
The catch with his place, the most convenient of our options?
It was a loft bedroom with three-foot walls, and no door. The stairs led directly into his room. Their creakiness was a godsend, as nothing else would signal an impending intruder.
The culprit? His mom, this super-petite woman, 4’8” high, and weighed about a buck. She moved with the grace of a faerie. Meaning: We could never hear the bitch.
God, it was difficult. There we were, feircely sexual, exploring each other at our every opportunity, and no private place to do it in. Sex had to be absolutely silent.
But the silence had its uses.
The best attribute of his bedroom was just outside the sliding glass door, where he had access to the entire rooftop of his apartment building — strangely, he had the only access, except the always-locked utility door.
Sometimes, we’d pull his mattress out that glass door and onto the roof of the building, where we’d fuck under the stars during the spring and summer. We’d enjoy keeping it quiet since we’d hear the city bustling past below, during the act.
But we never spoke, we never urged the other on. Silence was as much a part of the game of sex as lube was. It helped us tremendously when we discovered what a turn-on sex in public places could be, but that’s another tale for another time.

getting naked

Anything we said was said by our eyes or our actions or a select group of barely audible utterances. Such as: a shuddering gasp, stifled groan, a quick intake of breath, muffled moan, or exhaling sharply.
They’re all seemingly small and inconsequential sounds, but I assure you, they are well beyond communicative.
There isn’t a lover in the world who shouldn’t be able deduce what a shuddering gasp is trying to reveal.
The thing is, though, that when you have only a few perfectly concise sounds you emit in otherwise-silent sex, it’s very, very clear what’s working. But when you’re largely silent, the sex act itself becomes intensely focused on both the body language and the looks that should ultimately say it all, that should mean both players are utterly involved.
The memo I got said that was kind of the idea. Unfortunately, the memo apparently wasn’t widely distributed, since screamers abound.
In my humble opinion, noisy sex kills intensity. Instead, this potentially incredible moment becomes overplayed and insincere, almost a charicature of itself.
I’d far rather have a guy moaning under his breath or gasping and exhaling when I stop to tenderly nibble his shaft’s loose folds of skin in between base-to-tip licks than grunting, “Yeah, baby. Oh. Oh, yeah… God!”
Put a fucking cork in it, buddy. I’m working here. A little respect. Close your eyes. Focus on what it is I’m doing, and concentrate on nothing else. If I can hear you, you’re not in the moment, and I’m wasting my time and skills. Simple.
It’s obvious that a lot of lovers lack either experience or sincerity, and as a result, they overcompensate and let their voices do their talking when their bodies can’t.
Not in my bed. My lovers have always, to a man, converted to my way of thinking in the sack, if they didn’t arrive ready-molded.
Also, they have a very, very clear idea of what I like, and what I am like, before we even hit the bed, because I believe in talking about it before I do it. What I want to do, what I will do, what I want, more than anything, for them to do to me.
It’s not a lecture, it’s a very erotic conversation with examples and fantasies interplaying with handy instructions. And it goes both ways, I assure you. I love to learn about what my lover wants of me, and I try to ensure he receives it.
Naturally, after our conversations, before we even go bump in the night, they realize I’m going to be a very quiet partner, but that the sounds I do make can be taken at face value. And when a “stifled groan” means I’m sinking my teeth dramatically into their shoulder to quiet myself down, as I gutterally groan against their skin, I’m guessing they grasp 2+2.
Without a doubt, they discover within a few encounters exactly how communicative little talking can be, and how intense.
(*In response to comments about the photos: Those who’ve followed from my other blog know me to be an avid photog. Thus, you should know– none of these photos were taken by yours truly, but rather, have all been blatantly stolen from brilliant people who’ve mistakenly let a corrupt bitch like me gain access to their intellectual property on the web.
And for that, I thank them.)