Sometimes I feel so inspired to post but just have nothing to say. I should work on that.
What I like lately is how little time it takes me to come. I'd heard that the 30s were rockin' years for women, but always only sort of half believed it. Until it happened, that is.
Sometimes I wonder whether it's a function of actual physical changes, or simply one of being more comfortable with one's self -- less inhibited and more in tune with what feels best where.
A new battery in the pocket rocket is always a boon, and the left side of my clitoris is always the best place for it. No matter how many times I use it, it's always best in the same place. It never gets old, and it always leaves me primed for more. And having learned to grit my teeth and power on into the next wave continues to bring orgasm after delightful orgasm. Now I just need to come up with a name for that new position.
Oh, and don't stop holding me down. That's hot. And that playlist. More Pavlovian music for me. Next time one of those songs comes on while we're in a store, find a way to slip your hand down my pants and see just how wet I am for you.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Basking
3:52 AM. Reflecting is more fun than going to sleep.
Yes, I took you. That's how I intended it to be. From planting you face down on the bed, to feeling your cum under my feet as I walked across the carpet.
You're going to get busted for the bite mark on the back of your neck. That's kinda fun.
Those who consider it impossible to love fucking the same woman for 20 years are wrong. Fact is, they just don't have the right woman.
I do.
Yes, I took you. That's how I intended it to be. From planting you face down on the bed, to feeling your cum under my feet as I walked across the carpet.
You're going to get busted for the bite mark on the back of your neck. That's kinda fun.
Those who consider it impossible to love fucking the same woman for 20 years are wrong. Fact is, they just don't have the right woman.
I do.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Eveready...
Time: 3:30 AM, Sunday morning, after 2 movies
Place: Bathroom
Peter: "I can't believe it's 3:30 and we didn't even have sex"
Randi:"I assume you mean yet"
Place: Bathroom
Peter: "I can't believe it's 3:30 and we didn't even have sex"
Randi:"I assume you mean yet"
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
The Edge of Wetness
Holy Hell.
Honestly. I know I'm a squirter, but I didn't know that I could generate THAT much liquid. Seriously.
Also, how the fuck is it that you can make so fucking hot after all these years? I mean, isn't that supposed to wear off at some point? At least cool down? It's not supposed to keep increasing like this, is it? Not that I'm complaining. Damn. Far from it.
Pass the water, please. I think I'm dehydrated now.
Honestly. I know I'm a squirter, but I didn't know that I could generate THAT much liquid. Seriously.
Also, how the fuck is it that you can make so fucking hot after all these years? I mean, isn't that supposed to wear off at some point? At least cool down? It's not supposed to keep increasing like this, is it? Not that I'm complaining. Damn. Far from it.
Pass the water, please. I think I'm dehydrated now.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Yum!
How can people have sex without making noise? This is what I'd like to know. I mean, really. How? Childbirth without noise is painful and repressed. Sex without noise is, at the very least, repressed. Noise frees you - lets you soar. So your throat gets a little sore, but damn, how can you have any fun if you're trying to hold it all in?
Also, I'd like to say how lovely it is to start and end the day with a good shag. Yum.
Thank God the neighbors have dogs. Great cover noise.
And now it is the time for writing smut. Thank you. ^_^
Also, I'd like to say how lovely it is to start and end the day with a good shag. Yum.
Thank God the neighbors have dogs. Great cover noise.
And now it is the time for writing smut. Thank you. ^_^
Friday, August 03, 2007
Selkie Continued
She rises from the pool
Dripping
Gleaming in the moonlight
Shakes crystal sparks of water
Carelessly from her hair
Then casts aside a shadow
Sits and lets the gentle breeze
Caress her
Enfold her in its loving embrace
The unseen watcher
Clenches his fingers
Holds his breath as she arches her back
Offering her breasts to the silver fingers of moonlight
Slips a hand down beteen her legs
And begins a slow
Langorous teasing
Rivulets of saltwater stream
Unnoticed
Down his face
As time freezes
For just a moment
And when it starts again
He is already halfway to her
Moving like water
Over the slick
Treacherous rock
She opens her eyes
And he sees no surprise
Only expectation
As if she'd known
Or planned it
All along
And then he's upon her
Grasping her hair
Pressing her to him
His mouth on hers
The saltiness of the sea
Mingling with the sweetness of their kiss
He tears his shirt
Casts it aside
To join that shadow
That lies now
Crumpled
On the rock
Her hands slide up his back
Carressing nippled skin
And taut muscle
To entwine in the dripping
Black curls of his hair
When he enters her
The sea surrounds them
The stars attend them
A sprinkling of diamonds
Across the black velvet sky
Slowly at first
So agonisingly slowly
As if there were all the time
In the world
And then
In a rising rythm
To match the hiss and swoosh of each wave
And with a growing fierceness
That rivals the pounding of the surf
He thrusts
Her body arching to meet his
Like the curl of a wave
Her cries like that of the sea birds
In an orgy of discovery
And then he stiffens
Arches into her
As the perfect wave
Engulfs them both
The warm salt foam
Uniting them
Binding them
When they rise
She offers him
Repentant
The shadow of his selkie skin
But he shakes his head
Draws her to him
Kisses the salt spray from her breast
Her greatest hold on him
Goes far deeper than that
Dripping
Gleaming in the moonlight
Shakes crystal sparks of water
Carelessly from her hair
Then casts aside a shadow
Sits and lets the gentle breeze
Caress her
Enfold her in its loving embrace
The unseen watcher
Clenches his fingers
Holds his breath as she arches her back
Offering her breasts to the silver fingers of moonlight
Slips a hand down beteen her legs
And begins a slow
Langorous teasing
Rivulets of saltwater stream
Unnoticed
Down his face
As time freezes
For just a moment
And when it starts again
He is already halfway to her
Moving like water
Over the slick
Treacherous rock
She opens her eyes
And he sees no surprise
Only expectation
As if she'd known
Or planned it
All along
And then he's upon her
Grasping her hair
Pressing her to him
His mouth on hers
The saltiness of the sea
Mingling with the sweetness of their kiss
He tears his shirt
Casts it aside
To join that shadow
That lies now
Crumpled
On the rock
Her hands slide up his back
Carressing nippled skin
And taut muscle
To entwine in the dripping
Black curls of his hair
When he enters her
The sea surrounds them
The stars attend them
A sprinkling of diamonds
Across the black velvet sky
Slowly at first
So agonisingly slowly
As if there were all the time
In the world
And then
In a rising rythm
To match the hiss and swoosh of each wave
And with a growing fierceness
That rivals the pounding of the surf
He thrusts
Her body arching to meet his
Like the curl of a wave
Her cries like that of the sea birds
In an orgy of discovery
And then he stiffens
Arches into her
As the perfect wave
Engulfs them both
The warm salt foam
Uniting them
Binding them
When they rise
She offers him
Repentant
The shadow of his selkie skin
But he shakes his head
Draws her to him
Kisses the salt spray from her breast
Her greatest hold on him
Goes far deeper than that
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Pwned
What's a girl to do when her kids have commandeered BOTH copies of the new Harry Potter book? I think we all know the answer to that one.
It's chilly for July and when we climbed into bed, my arms were covered in goosebumps. I had a hunch things might warm up quickly though. Especially with a new battery in the pocket rocket.
It's funny how much difference a new battery can make.
Peter's mouth was hot on me while I buzzed, and I found story fragments and little self-made movie vignettes flashing through my head as my clit swelled to bursting. I came very close to orgasm several times, but with that knowledge that I sometimes get that it's going to be too intense -- painful even, if I don't back off and change things up a little. Pater's wandering hand found my nipples, stroking them lightly, making them stand out rock hard and tingly until I found just the right balance and that amazing wave lifted me up high, higher and higher until I fell over the edge and everything crashed down around me, over me, through me.
It's right at that point that the hair trigger comes into play. I know I've mentioned it before, but I think it's important, so I'm mentioning it again. It's right here that I find things so damn intense that I never used to cross that threshold. But now I know that if I power through, I'll come again in seconds, almost always with a hot gush of fluid. And again. And again.
It's funny how this works, because sometimes each orgasm is distinct, and at other times, it's like one incredibly long orgasm with more intense peaks all along the way.
Eventually, it was Peter's turn. I licked him a bit, sucked him, straddled him, and lowered myself onto his hard cock. Heaven. I had the urge to grab the buzzer again and came instantly. It seemed that every time I moved on him, I was in danger of coming again. I say danger, but it's not like I was trying to avoid having orgasms. And so I did. Again and again. The song in our "cover music" inspired some little hip circles, which Peter found entertaining.
But what was even better was when we swapped spots, and I lay on my back with Peter above me, parting me once again, and lacing his fingers through mine, pinning my hands to the bed above my head. There's something about being overpowered like this -- owned -- that is incredibly titillating. A little hard thrusting and I thought I'd burst. So fucking good.
Maybe it's become Pavlovian (it certainly involves plenty of moisture) but every time Peter withdraws after coming, I come again. Just as the ridge of his cock brushes past my G-spot it starts, and he's learned to slide up over my clit as soon as he's out, prompting more gushing. I certainly wasn't dehydrated. Though I may be now. ^_^
Could someone turn on the fan please?
It's chilly for July and when we climbed into bed, my arms were covered in goosebumps. I had a hunch things might warm up quickly though. Especially with a new battery in the pocket rocket.
It's funny how much difference a new battery can make.
Peter's mouth was hot on me while I buzzed, and I found story fragments and little self-made movie vignettes flashing through my head as my clit swelled to bursting. I came very close to orgasm several times, but with that knowledge that I sometimes get that it's going to be too intense -- painful even, if I don't back off and change things up a little. Pater's wandering hand found my nipples, stroking them lightly, making them stand out rock hard and tingly until I found just the right balance and that amazing wave lifted me up high, higher and higher until I fell over the edge and everything crashed down around me, over me, through me.
It's right at that point that the hair trigger comes into play. I know I've mentioned it before, but I think it's important, so I'm mentioning it again. It's right here that I find things so damn intense that I never used to cross that threshold. But now I know that if I power through, I'll come again in seconds, almost always with a hot gush of fluid. And again. And again.
It's funny how this works, because sometimes each orgasm is distinct, and at other times, it's like one incredibly long orgasm with more intense peaks all along the way.
Eventually, it was Peter's turn. I licked him a bit, sucked him, straddled him, and lowered myself onto his hard cock. Heaven. I had the urge to grab the buzzer again and came instantly. It seemed that every time I moved on him, I was in danger of coming again. I say danger, but it's not like I was trying to avoid having orgasms. And so I did. Again and again. The song in our "cover music" inspired some little hip circles, which Peter found entertaining.
But what was even better was when we swapped spots, and I lay on my back with Peter above me, parting me once again, and lacing his fingers through mine, pinning my hands to the bed above my head. There's something about being overpowered like this -- owned -- that is incredibly titillating. A little hard thrusting and I thought I'd burst. So fucking good.
Maybe it's become Pavlovian (it certainly involves plenty of moisture) but every time Peter withdraws after coming, I come again. Just as the ridge of his cock brushes past my G-spot it starts, and he's learned to slide up over my clit as soon as he's out, prompting more gushing. I certainly wasn't dehydrated. Though I may be now. ^_^
Could someone turn on the fan please?
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Selkie
She rises from the pool
Dripping
Gleaming in the moonlight
Shakes crystal sparks of water
Carelessly from her hair
Then casts aside a shadow
Sits and lets the gentle breeze
Caress her
Enfold her in its loving embrace
The unseen watcher
Clenches his fingers
Holds his breath as she arches her back
Offering her breasts to the silver fingers of moonlight
Slips a hand down beteen her legs
And begins a slow
Langorous teasing
(cont. . .)
Dripping
Gleaming in the moonlight
Shakes crystal sparks of water
Carelessly from her hair
Then casts aside a shadow
Sits and lets the gentle breeze
Caress her
Enfold her in its loving embrace
The unseen watcher
Clenches his fingers
Holds his breath as she arches her back
Offering her breasts to the silver fingers of moonlight
Slips a hand down beteen her legs
And begins a slow
Langorous teasing
(cont. . .)
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Creative Juices
"Fuckbunny Mode"
It made me laugh when you said I was in "Fuckbunny Mode." ^_^
I think it helps my writing. And my writing helps FBMode. Kind of a pleasantly vicious cycle. AND I had a major breakthrough in my novel. Even though it's not a smut book. Wowza. Cool!
I have to say, that tracing of my slippery slit with your thumb or finger -- just a hint of penetration -- yeah that was a Good Thing. :)
When I sucked you clean afterward, I could taste my own tanginess on you.
I guess it really gets the juices flowing
It made me laugh when you said I was in "Fuckbunny Mode." ^_^
I think it helps my writing. And my writing helps FBMode. Kind of a pleasantly vicious cycle. AND I had a major breakthrough in my novel. Even though it's not a smut book. Wowza. Cool!
I have to say, that tracing of my slippery slit with your thumb or finger -- just a hint of penetration -- yeah that was a Good Thing. :)
When I sucked you clean afterward, I could taste my own tanginess on you.
I guess it really gets the juices flowing
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Chance Meeting
So far from the proverbial
Gaze across a crowded room
Instead, she was lying
Mud-besmirched
In the garden
Fascinated by a tiny spider
The miniature
Intricate lace of its handiwork
Stretched between two rhododendrons
And he
He was simply passing through on his way to the manor
Part of a hunting party
Scheduled to meet with her brother
12 pm sharp
But her skirt
Rucked up so casually above her calves
Smooth, pale flesh so carelessly exposed
Gave him pause
And her neck
So gracefully inclined in her fascination
Made him halt
Stop dead
And stare
And if he slipped a hand up under that skirt
And if she gasped, but wriggled down upon it anyway
Eyes shut tight in
What -- Shyness? Pleasure?
And if he turned her over
Pushed her skirt high up
Those long
Smooth legs
And entered her
With just a hint of urgency
And if she pressed down hard upon his stiffness
Taking him deep inside herself
Feeling him move within her
Pressing back against each eager thrust
Well who could blame them?
Gaze across a crowded room
Instead, she was lying
Mud-besmirched
In the garden
Fascinated by a tiny spider
The miniature
Intricate lace of its handiwork
Stretched between two rhododendrons
And he
He was simply passing through on his way to the manor
Part of a hunting party
Scheduled to meet with her brother
12 pm sharp
But her skirt
Rucked up so casually above her calves
Smooth, pale flesh so carelessly exposed
Gave him pause
And her neck
So gracefully inclined in her fascination
Made him halt
Stop dead
And stare
And if he slipped a hand up under that skirt
And if she gasped, but wriggled down upon it anyway
Eyes shut tight in
What -- Shyness? Pleasure?
And if he turned her over
Pushed her skirt high up
Those long
Smooth legs
And entered her
With just a hint of urgency
And if she pressed down hard upon his stiffness
Taking him deep inside herself
Feeling him move within her
Pressing back against each eager thrust
Well who could blame them?
Monday, July 16, 2007
2 Rounds
Peter and I decided to go for 2 last night. I have to say that THAT was fun. I lost track of exactly how much fun I had. And Peter said that Round 2 was quite "different." Interesting.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Summer's Afternoon
Her hair is loose
Long down her bare, bare back
Her sun-kissed skin still warm from those golden rays
Though stripes of shadow have crept in
Stroking her with their cool fingers
He cannot help the catch in his breath
When she shifts
And the side of one breast peeks out at him
Impudent
Inviting
Begging his touch
She looks up into his eyes
Sees the dark intensity there
Smiles
Then bites her lip
Turns her head
And rests it again on her arms
But her skin prickles with gooseflesh
Under the caress of his gaze.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Thawing Out
It's fucking cold here. Again. Being all horned up yet again, I needed Peter to warm me a bit with a snuggle before we got down to business.
How can it feel so fresh every time after 20 years of scrogging, I ask you? I mean, really.
Peter sat with his back against the headboard and I leant up against him with that glorious pocket rocket in my right hand. The coconut oil is still my favourite for glide factor, and the buzzing is just so damn good. Lying there in Peter's arms, against his warm chest, I really began to thaw out. I could feel twin points of heat blooming on my cheeks, and my clit was swelling pretty seriously in response to the vibe. Michael Buble was crooning in the background, followed by a hot song from The Thomas Crown Affair - some of my favourite sex music.
It felt like I had 3 or four mini orgasms before the big one hit, which was, of course, followed by several others once that hair trigger was activated. Yumm. Just fucking yummmm.
I slid down off of Peter, turning over to take him into my mouth, already hot and stiff. Unable to resist, I straddled him and rode him, moving my hips to get him on just the right spot inside of me. I was plenty hot now, and peeled off my tank top so he could stroke and grab my breasts and rub my nipples. I couldn't help the juices that started flowing then, but I didn't want to anyway. I don't know how many times I came. I can never keep track when there are so many. I switched back and forth between teasing little bobs that brushed my G-spot against his ridge, and hard, downward slams that drove him deep up into me. Fuck.
When I had finally spent myself (if that's the right term for a chick) he flipped me over. It's good that I'm flexible, because he lifted my legs, and folded me in half so that my knees were at my ears and my ankles up over my head. What an angle. As he drove into me, I came again. And again.
It never gets old. It's always fucking wonderful.
How can it feel so fresh every time after 20 years of scrogging, I ask you? I mean, really.
Peter sat with his back against the headboard and I leant up against him with that glorious pocket rocket in my right hand. The coconut oil is still my favourite for glide factor, and the buzzing is just so damn good. Lying there in Peter's arms, against his warm chest, I really began to thaw out. I could feel twin points of heat blooming on my cheeks, and my clit was swelling pretty seriously in response to the vibe. Michael Buble was crooning in the background, followed by a hot song from The Thomas Crown Affair - some of my favourite sex music.
It felt like I had 3 or four mini orgasms before the big one hit, which was, of course, followed by several others once that hair trigger was activated. Yumm. Just fucking yummmm.
I slid down off of Peter, turning over to take him into my mouth, already hot and stiff. Unable to resist, I straddled him and rode him, moving my hips to get him on just the right spot inside of me. I was plenty hot now, and peeled off my tank top so he could stroke and grab my breasts and rub my nipples. I couldn't help the juices that started flowing then, but I didn't want to anyway. I don't know how many times I came. I can never keep track when there are so many. I switched back and forth between teasing little bobs that brushed my G-spot against his ridge, and hard, downward slams that drove him deep up into me. Fuck.
When I had finally spent myself (if that's the right term for a chick) he flipped me over. It's good that I'm flexible, because he lifted my legs, and folded me in half so that my knees were at my ears and my ankles up over my head. What an angle. As he drove into me, I came again. And again.
It never gets old. It's always fucking wonderful.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Back in the Saddle Again
Yummy!
Peter got home tonight and we celebrated in full Randi/Peter style. It's a little cool here these nights (blissfully so - but I'm very hot-blooded and easily chilled) so Peter warmed me up a little with the full naked body press. Somehow this became the full naked body neck-nuzzling tit-sucking press, and progressed downward to the tummy-trail-nuzzle and the clit-lick.
I thought it might be appropriate to start with an orgasm for each day Peter had been gone, but after those 4, I just didn't feel like stopping. It's a testament of how dehydrated I am that I didn't squirt when I felt what is always accompanied by squirting. It's a testament to Peter's skill, when I later managed to produce squirts anyway.
OK, so every now and then I wax instructional, and this is one of those times. I discovered today the titillation factor involved when someone else tells you you're hot, that they were checking you out, etc. Seriously. I mean, Peter says this, too, and I believe he's sincere, but it's possible, is it not, that he's the only one who is attracted to my quirky self. I mean, it's not like I've ever been hit up for a phone # or anything. Well, by someone I didn't know. ^_^
I know some of this could be a product of my lucking out as massively as I have and meeting Peter before I was really "on the scene" so to speak. Maybe having multiple dates, boyfriends (and rejections) would have endowed me with more self-confidence in this area. Or maybe not.
What I do know, is that finding out that someone thinks you're hot is a massive turn-on.
So, back to the sex. Peter did plenty of expert licking while I basked and soaked it up. I know I got very, VERY creamy. Finally it was buzzer time, and OMG, there is just something about that thing. It never gets old. Never. So, yeah, after the first 4 orgasms, there were more, because why not? And then we moved to the Sky Chair, which is just divine.
I licked and sucked Peter's delicious cock for a bit, but not too much, since it had been four days for him as well (as far as I know ^_^ ) and then I had to have him inside me. I buzzed my clit with Peter inside me and came several more times. I felt a little selfish, but Peter was having fun, too, so I had a few more.
After I switched off the buzzer, Peter let me dicktate the pace. I held onto his hips and moved myself back and forth on his cock, so that his heavenly ridge rubbed me in just the right place. And then the juices started flowing. More orgasms. I don't really know how many, and then Peter was leaning in and kissing me and thrusting hard, hard, harder. Another orgasm as Peter came inside of me, and even more when he withdrew and slid his cock around on my clit, entered me again, and rubbed me yet again.
Yes, it was a religious experience.
Holy fuck.
Peter got home tonight and we celebrated in full Randi/Peter style. It's a little cool here these nights (blissfully so - but I'm very hot-blooded and easily chilled) so Peter warmed me up a little with the full naked body press. Somehow this became the full naked body neck-nuzzling tit-sucking press, and progressed downward to the tummy-trail-nuzzle and the clit-lick.
I thought it might be appropriate to start with an orgasm for each day Peter had been gone, but after those 4, I just didn't feel like stopping. It's a testament of how dehydrated I am that I didn't squirt when I felt what is always accompanied by squirting. It's a testament to Peter's skill, when I later managed to produce squirts anyway.
OK, so every now and then I wax instructional, and this is one of those times. I discovered today the titillation factor involved when someone else tells you you're hot, that they were checking you out, etc. Seriously. I mean, Peter says this, too, and I believe he's sincere, but it's possible, is it not, that he's the only one who is attracted to my quirky self. I mean, it's not like I've ever been hit up for a phone # or anything. Well, by someone I didn't know. ^_^
I know some of this could be a product of my lucking out as massively as I have and meeting Peter before I was really "on the scene" so to speak. Maybe having multiple dates, boyfriends (and rejections) would have endowed me with more self-confidence in this area. Or maybe not.
What I do know, is that finding out that someone thinks you're hot is a massive turn-on.
So, back to the sex. Peter did plenty of expert licking while I basked and soaked it up. I know I got very, VERY creamy. Finally it was buzzer time, and OMG, there is just something about that thing. It never gets old. Never. So, yeah, after the first 4 orgasms, there were more, because why not? And then we moved to the Sky Chair, which is just divine.
I licked and sucked Peter's delicious cock for a bit, but not too much, since it had been four days for him as well (as far as I know ^_^ ) and then I had to have him inside me. I buzzed my clit with Peter inside me and came several more times. I felt a little selfish, but Peter was having fun, too, so I had a few more.
After I switched off the buzzer, Peter let me dicktate the pace. I held onto his hips and moved myself back and forth on his cock, so that his heavenly ridge rubbed me in just the right place. And then the juices started flowing. More orgasms. I don't really know how many, and then Peter was leaning in and kissing me and thrusting hard, hard, harder. Another orgasm as Peter came inside of me, and even more when he withdrew and slid his cock around on my clit, entered me again, and rubbed me yet again.
Yes, it was a religious experience.
Holy fuck.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Argh!
This is my secret blog. Yeah, I have a daily life blog with a different name, and guess what? When I brought this blog into the 21st century today, it attached it to my other blogs and changed my name from Randi to the other name. Ack!
I think I've got things fixed up now by removing my other persona from the author list and making myself the admin. And then I had to hack out the line of code that says who posted each post, because it had changed all my Randi posts to the other author name. WTF?
I think I have it squared away now.
We'll see if I can post more often.
I think I've got things fixed up now by removing my other persona from the author list and making myself the admin. And then I had to hack out the line of code that says who posted each post, because it had changed all my Randi posts to the other author name. WTF?
I think I have it squared away now.
We'll see if I can post more often.
Like a Fucking River in Flood
I'm fucking glowing.
I find it so fucking hot that after 17 years of marriage, we are still on our fucking honeymoon.
I still crave your hard cock splitting me open (OMG I am so wet for you) thrusting into me, fucking banging me, filling me.
I'm a little shocked at how much liquid I can produce as you pump me. It's like you turn on my tap or something. Smoke, Baby; Smoke, Baby. Or maybe Float, Baby; Float Baby.
I've been too busy glowing after sex to post for quite a while. But no more. I must let you know the extent of my appreciation. I feel so well reamed, so filled up, so thoroughly fucked I can't stop grinning. I'm wet all over. I had to mop up my legs with a towewl when you'd finished with me, and the one under me was soaked. My tank top is drenched with my come on one side. I know you're basted in my juices, too. I can't believe how many times you made me come even after you were finished. Fuck, it was good. I can't even do it justice yet, I'm so busy glowing. Float, Baby; Float, baby. . .
I find it so fucking hot that after 17 years of marriage, we are still on our fucking honeymoon.
I still crave your hard cock splitting me open (OMG I am so wet for you) thrusting into me, fucking banging me, filling me.
I'm a little shocked at how much liquid I can produce as you pump me. It's like you turn on my tap or something. Smoke, Baby; Smoke, Baby. Or maybe Float, Baby; Float Baby.
I've been too busy glowing after sex to post for quite a while. But no more. I must let you know the extent of my appreciation. I feel so well reamed, so filled up, so thoroughly fucked I can't stop grinning. I'm wet all over. I had to mop up my legs with a towewl when you'd finished with me, and the one under me was soaked. My tank top is drenched with my come on one side. I know you're basted in my juices, too. I can't believe how many times you made me come even after you were finished. Fuck, it was good. I can't even do it justice yet, I'm so busy glowing. Float, Baby; Float, baby. . .
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Depraved?
Randi isn't easily impressed. She's been there, done that. In fact, she's also done that, that, and, yes, in fact, THAT. Oh, and she really enjoys *that*! But I did it. I raised her eyebrows.
So we're having a submission party. She's putting on a show for me, and having a really good time. She's already come a couple of times. Now, if you're an attentive reader, you'll know that she's a squirter. I don't mean a little dribble here or there. I mean, if she's bent over, and we're over a hard floor (her favorite, she prefers everything hard), and she really lets go, her cum hits the floor and splashes up my shins as far as my knees. That's for real, not blog-xageration. Anyway, back to the fun...
She's on the bed, legs spread wide, using the pocket rocket on her clit, with that look on her face - intense concentration, eyes squeezed shut really tight, mouth just starting to open up. Her legs start to tense out longer. Her pussy rises up - higher, higher - the buzzer slightly changing tone as she presses it harder and harder against her swelling clit - I'm hard as a rock watching the show. I threw down the last of my wine just as her orgasm began to surge. As she started making a happy noise, I reached down and held my wine glass to catch what I'm sure is going to be a big, wet, hot, gush of her come. It was huge - I can hear it rocket out with a hissing noise - it hits the wine glass, spinning around the circular globe. I caught as much as I could, as the bed was below her, affecting my ability to tip the glass. I actually managed to keep most of it in the glass. I probably caught about 3/4 of a shotglass total. Some ran down on the towel, some shot up my arm, but I got most of it in the glass. She had felt me touch the cool glass to her pussy, so she knew something was going on. Her eyes widened as she saw the volume of fluid in the glass. Since she's never had the big shots hit her face, or belly, or rocket into her mouth, she didn't have a good feel for the volume. Sure, she's seen the big puddles afterward, or seen it all over me, but there it was, on display, obviously fresh from the orgasm that was still sending tremors through her body. I held the glass up to the light, admiring the contents. Almost completely clear, just the faintest tint of color. Holding the stem of the glass, I rotated the glass back and forth, then swirled the glass to coat the sides. For anyone that might be curious, her come has no legs at all - it just runs right back down the glass. So I held the glass between us, turning it in the light, and, keeping direct eye contact with her, brought it to my lips and drank it. I savored the slightly tart, slightly sharp, extremely exotic flavor. It has virtually no odor or color at all, but there is a fairly strong flavor. Maintaining eye contact, I made sure I had gotten every drop out - the clear glass really helped the effect - and told her that it was delicious.
She looked a little shocked. "That", she said, "was depraved." At this comment, I felt a smugness that I rarely feel. "Yes it was", I said - "Do you have a problem with that?" "No, I just thought you should know" she responded.
Depravity. Maybe that's my super power.
So we're having a submission party. She's putting on a show for me, and having a really good time. She's already come a couple of times. Now, if you're an attentive reader, you'll know that she's a squirter. I don't mean a little dribble here or there. I mean, if she's bent over, and we're over a hard floor (her favorite, she prefers everything hard), and she really lets go, her cum hits the floor and splashes up my shins as far as my knees. That's for real, not blog-xageration. Anyway, back to the fun...
She's on the bed, legs spread wide, using the pocket rocket on her clit, with that look on her face - intense concentration, eyes squeezed shut really tight, mouth just starting to open up. Her legs start to tense out longer. Her pussy rises up - higher, higher - the buzzer slightly changing tone as she presses it harder and harder against her swelling clit - I'm hard as a rock watching the show. I threw down the last of my wine just as her orgasm began to surge. As she started making a happy noise, I reached down and held my wine glass to catch what I'm sure is going to be a big, wet, hot, gush of her come. It was huge - I can hear it rocket out with a hissing noise - it hits the wine glass, spinning around the circular globe. I caught as much as I could, as the bed was below her, affecting my ability to tip the glass. I actually managed to keep most of it in the glass. I probably caught about 3/4 of a shotglass total. Some ran down on the towel, some shot up my arm, but I got most of it in the glass. She had felt me touch the cool glass to her pussy, so she knew something was going on. Her eyes widened as she saw the volume of fluid in the glass. Since she's never had the big shots hit her face, or belly, or rocket into her mouth, she didn't have a good feel for the volume. Sure, she's seen the big puddles afterward, or seen it all over me, but there it was, on display, obviously fresh from the orgasm that was still sending tremors through her body. I held the glass up to the light, admiring the contents. Almost completely clear, just the faintest tint of color. Holding the stem of the glass, I rotated the glass back and forth, then swirled the glass to coat the sides. For anyone that might be curious, her come has no legs at all - it just runs right back down the glass. So I held the glass between us, turning it in the light, and, keeping direct eye contact with her, brought it to my lips and drank it. I savored the slightly tart, slightly sharp, extremely exotic flavor. It has virtually no odor or color at all, but there is a fairly strong flavor. Maintaining eye contact, I made sure I had gotten every drop out - the clear glass really helped the effect - and told her that it was delicious.
She looked a little shocked. "That", she said, "was depraved." At this comment, I felt a smugness that I rarely feel. "Yes it was", I said - "Do you have a problem with that?" "No, I just thought you should know" she responded.
Depravity. Maybe that's my super power.
Friday, January 05, 2007
Fucking Wet
Oh. My. God!
2 nights ago it was, what, a string of 15 orgasms? This from the chick who never thought she'd be multi-orgasmic. Ha! I guess the 30s really are the magic number. For me anyway. But tonight. After a few big Os with the pocket rocket it was time to have you inside of me. You were so hard and tasted so good. When you bent me over the edge of the bed and started driving into me, I can't describe how amazing it was.
You must have felt the hot squirts you kept triggering. I had to hold onto something for dear life. I wanted to scream in ecstasy, but kept remembering how we'd been caught a few weeks ago, and managed to keep it somewhat muffled.
Somehow I found a handle on the edge of the mattress and gripped it hard, pulling against it as you drove into me. It was the only thing that kept me from soaring up to the ceiling in my orgasmic rapture. When you came, it was so powerful I was gasping, and then, to ice the fucking cake you pulled out and rubbed your hot, wet cock on my clit and I couldn't do anything but let go in a big way. Fuck! I think we're going to need a new carpet in here.
2 nights ago it was, what, a string of 15 orgasms? This from the chick who never thought she'd be multi-orgasmic. Ha! I guess the 30s really are the magic number. For me anyway. But tonight. After a few big Os with the pocket rocket it was time to have you inside of me. You were so hard and tasted so good. When you bent me over the edge of the bed and started driving into me, I can't describe how amazing it was.
You must have felt the hot squirts you kept triggering. I had to hold onto something for dear life. I wanted to scream in ecstasy, but kept remembering how we'd been caught a few weeks ago, and managed to keep it somewhat muffled.
Somehow I found a handle on the edge of the mattress and gripped it hard, pulling against it as you drove into me. It was the only thing that kept me from soaring up to the ceiling in my orgasmic rapture. When you came, it was so powerful I was gasping, and then, to ice the fucking cake you pulled out and rubbed your hot, wet cock on my clit and I couldn't do anything but let go in a big way. Fuck! I think we're going to need a new carpet in here.
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