Ssshhh.. this goes no further than us and every other horny person on the web who's reading right now: today's roundup of some of our favorite recent sex writing eavesdrops on what all those bloggers out there have (not) been keeping secret lately. Crawl between the ears of seemingly normal people to discover the animals and perverts lurking within: in one corner private photo files lead to tryst at a no-tell motel while elsewhere unsuspecting passengers ignore the woman masturbating in the back seat. And some secrets come back to bite us: what happens when the sex worker befriends a client or even falls in love?
"Come sit down," he says and nodding slightly a little bit nervous because it's somehow gotten to be two weeks since I've seen him and I am hoping he's going to want to touch me and to give me a chance to kiss that glorious cock. (Even tho we don't have D/s relationship. I can see the remaining traces of the sub girl inside—I don't often initiate without an invite; I have been conditioned to offer and to ask.)
Then it started getting slightly suggestive. I was being a good boy. I swear! But after a bit. I had to start teasing a little in return. You know like self-defense. Sorta. Anyway so we decided to meet somewhere last Saturday after she got off work. Picked a nice reasonably-quiet bar. I got there and immediately recognized her from her pics. Oh yeah.. pics. Did I mention that by way of teasing me she had sent me links ("private guest passes" in Flickr terminology) to several Flickr photo sets she had that were carefully locked? And for good reason.. these included several strip-tease sets a set from her first orgy (which also proudly pointed out that she herself had organized it) and a set called "not alone" that comprised of pics of her with others (but which did not belong to the orgy set). As George Takei would say. "Oh my."
But the truth is that when I was on the job even with guys I liked even when I was talking about the paper I was working on. I was always dancing around the big lie: that I would be in their apartment for any other reason than the money they were paying me to be there. I projected an image that was me but not-quite-me. I could never be truly myself because a real flesh-and-blood woman wasn't what they wanted. They were paying for a fantasy and well you can't be friends with a fantasy.
Shortly thereafter. I realize that I'm alone in the back seat and that it's dark in the car. Then I catch on to the fact that the music is pretty loud.
That's enough for me and in a trice my pants are undone andIi'm licking my finger. My clit responds gratifyingly quickly and I only have to lick my finger twice before I'm making my own honey.
The smell of my arousal reaches my nostrils and I wonder if the others in the small space can smell me or have any idea what I'm doing. I very nearly hope so.
He touches my head and pulls my face away from his cock knowing that it's getting close. Very close. There's a part of me that doesn't want to stop because I know how happy I'm making him and besides. I like making it a little hard when a man decides to direct my movements. What's the fun in making it easy for them?
"I want to be inside you," he murmurs looking me straight in the eyes. His breathing is heavy his eyes dark in the cold room which is lit by white moonlight.
Related article:
http://fleshbot.com/sex/sex-blogs/sex-blog-roundup-mouths-wide-shut-328637.php
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