Lust Highway*

Asphalt, Environment, Grass, Highway

We’re making flirty banter as he’s driving down a highway; I watch one of his smooth hands guide the steering wheel as the other moves gracefully to the knob on his left to change gears.  Looking at his large hands, I suddenly want them all over me – but seeing as how he’s driving, I opt to put my hands on him.  There’s a moderate amount of traffic along the highway, including tall trucks wherein the drivers could see us from their cabs; I ignore this fact and reach my small, pale hand over to unbuckle his belt.

I’ve done this before, so he’s not surprised; rather, he leans his pelvis forward and grins at me.  I unbutton his jeans, pull the zipper down carefully, and pull his stiffening cock out from his pants.  He closes his eyes for a tenth of a second and sighs with barely-parted lips as I start grazing his cock with the tips of my fingers.  Once it gets a bit harder, I lean under his left arm and wrap my lips around his warm flesh, taking him into my mouth and running my tongue around his head.  I eagerly blow him as he struggles to concentrate; when I have to move so he can change gears, I look at him with pleading, lust-filled eyes and tell him how desperately I want him inside of me.

He turns right down the next road; we search for a place where we can pull over, but there is no place.  We’re right outside of a mid-sized town, so it’s all driveways and private field entrances.  We turn around and come back toward the main highway, my hand stroking his shaft.  He asks what I think about just pulling over on the side of the road to make out a bit; sounds good to me, I say.  But I want so much more than that.  I take my panties off under my skirt and grab a condom from the backseat; I ask him what he thinks about fucking me on the car juuuust a little bit.  Before anyone can pass us.  Just a few thrusts, I say.

Within two minutes I’m bent over the bonnet, my red sundress up over my hips, and he’s pushing into my swollen and waiting cunt, jeans mid-thigh – I’m slippery and he eases in, taking his time to tease me even though we don’t have it.  We (surprise!) don’t stop after a few thrusts; the taboo of fucking in public in broad daylight is so arousing that I tighten myself around him and beg him not to stop.  He puts one of his beautiful hands next to me on the car and holds my hip with the other, just like when he was driving – only now, he’s driving himself into me.  We can see cars and trucks flying by fifty meters down the road along the open highway, and I’m gasping with wanting him deeper.  More.  I wonder what the drivers would think if they could glance over and see us.  We don’t want to push our luck, though; after a few minutes he pulls out – neither of us completely satisfied, both of us feeling a temporary relief.

I let my skirt fall and he pulls his pants up and I turn around to kiss him as fully as I can; how often do you get a partner who’s down to fuck in the middle of the day on a car near a busy highway?  I smile and tell him he’s the best; he says I’m swell, and we kiss again, and the love I have for him fills me up.

 

*God I hope there’s a porn with this title.

 

 

Image from Pixabay; credit: Pexels 

 

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Reunited, and it felt So. Good.

I’m not super into giving head.  I have chronic jaw pain; keeping my mouth open for a long time, let alone taking something into my mouth for a long time, can be a pretty painful experience.  I do relish deep throating and giving sultry glances upward before sliding my tongue alongside the length of a hard cock, just… not for a long time.  Almost never enough for the person I’m blowing to come.  And I know, I know: orgasms aren’t the objective of sex (for me, anyway), oral sex feels amazing without coming, I shouldn’t have to grimace through my own pain to give someone else pleasure, etc.  I know.  It’s just – sometimes I really want my loved ones to blow a load in my mouth, you know?

So when The Engineer suggested that he hold off masturbating for a week leading up to our reunion, I was pumped because I could not wait to have him jizz into the back of my throat.

We hadn’t seen each other in two months; it was nearly impossible to keep our hands off each other at the Dublin airport and on our way to our first AirBnB in the middle of the countryside, but we did.  When we arrived, we kept giving each other frustrated glances as the host chatted to us forever about the house and the history of the area, how we met and why we were traveling, etc.  I had his dick in my mouth moments after she drove away; he was sitting on a swing in the backyard and I was on my knees in the grass, holding onto his hips with my hands while sliding my lips down and over his head and along the length of his shaft.  My pleasure is deeply intertwined with my partner’s, so when I felt him grabbing the back of my head and heard him groan, it spurred me to take him deeper; I felt myself get wet as he told me not to stop, and I moaned in gratification when he came into my mouth in spurts just minutes after I’d started teasing his dick.

I was happy – but not as happy as I was when ten minutes later I was lying on my back on a little green hill with his face buried in my vulva.  I had also participated in the Week(ish) Without a Wank, and I came fast and hard, squeezing his head between my thighs and pressing upward into his lapping tongue.

It was a beautiful day, and being outside naked in the fresh country air was the perfect way to start a holiday that would mark the end of long journeys for both of us.  Later in the week, when we told other people the name of the town we’d visited first, they would reply, “Why would you ever go there?  There’s absolutely nothing to do!” And we would just smile and say, “We just wanted to be in the middle of nowhere, you know?”

Besides, we found plenty to do.

 

Signal

Coming back from the bathroom, I tuck a piece of red fabric into the breast pocket of his brand-new suit; it matches his tie perfectly.  It looks like a handkerchief with a small, neat triangle perfectly pointed up toward his face.  He looks down, then quizzically at me as if to say, “From whence did this matching handkerchief come?” And then it dawns on him.  “Are these your knickers?!” he asks.  I smile and slide into a seat next to him, caressing his leg, and whisper into his ear that it’s time to go home.  He raises his hand for the check, and we can’t get out of the restaurant fast enough.

 

I walk up to him in a crowded bar on New Year’s Eve, kiss him on the cheek, and press something into his hand.  “You have pockets, right?” I purr into his ear.  He nods in affirmation.  “Can you hold onto these for me?” I ask, walking away.  I turn my face over my shoulder and look back as he realizes what’s in his hand and, startled, blushes and shoves my panties into his pocket.

 

He slides my panties down and takes them gingerly off my legs, over my heels, in a public park at dusk; when he starts to lick me, I come almost immediately – something that hadn’t happened in over a decade.  He won’t give me my knickers back after I come, instead making me walk to and sit through dinner naked under my white sundress – my cunt swollen and wet most of the night, ready for when we get back to mine.

 

I’m prepping dinner at my kitchen counter; he comes up behind me and wraps his arms around me. I lean back into his lips on my neck and press my ass back against him.  He slides his hands up my skirt to discover that I’m pantiless and takes that as an invitation to turn me around, push my skirt all the way up, pick me up, and fuck me on my kitchen counter (as I’d hoped he would) so we can work up an appetite.

 

For me, going commando is always a step toward some kind of sex – or at least a bomb of a hint that I’m interested in fucking.  I don’t particularly like being nude under my clothes; my thighs start to chafe a bit when I walk, and I find panties soooo comfortable.  But I love when my partners know I am – turning them on turns me on.  Whether it’s a tease at the beginning of the night or a signal at the end of a date that I’m ready to go, dropping my knickers gets both (all?) of us revved up and feisty and wanting more.

 

El Nido

Last post before I depart!  I thought a travel sex story would be fitting.

I’m not someone who loves Valentine’s Day, nor am I one who scorns it.  For me, it just comes and goes like the tides.  There is one Valentine’s Day, however, that is forever etched into my memory, and thinking about that particular day will always make me smile.

Two years ago, I was travelling in the Philippines; I was sitting at a bar my first night on Cebu, and I started talking to the gentleman next to me.  Our conversation flowed so easily that it felt like we’d known each other for years; we skipped the small talk and jumped right into deep conversation about our travels, life philosophies, families.  We laughed and talked for hours, then agreed to meet the next night.  I arrived that night with a huge group and dragged him from the bar to our table… then proceeded to ignore all the people I came with to talk to him.  I felt so drawn to him – to his laugh, his easygoing nature, his penetrating questions and openness (maaayyyybe to his extraordinary body as well).

We met again the following night – same place, same time – and as we were chatting on a porch underneath a full moon, a photographer asked if he could take pictures of us “while we were flirting and the sparks were flying.” Yes, of course, we said, laughing.  As he walked away, I put my hand on Neil’s leg and said, “Just so you know, I am flirting with you.”  He smiled nervously and we continued to talk until I absolutely had to go.  He walked me out; we were both planning on heading to another island around the same time, so I asked him to come north to meet me when he got there.  Sadly, he said, he was heading south, but he’d keep in touch and maybe we could meet up for a day before I left.  I grabbed his hand, leaned into his ear and tipsy-whispered, “No – you need to come up north so I can fuck you.”  He kissed me lightly on the lips and said he’d try to make it.  We said our goodbyes; I didn’t sleep a wink that night thinking about how his strong hands would feel running down the length of my body.

Fast forward a week and a half.  I have just arrived in El Nido; I’m walking back to my hotel, and who should cross my path but the one person I’ve been wanting to see this whole time?  We hug, we laugh, we beam at each other.  He tells me that he was warned not to go south because there was political turbulence, so instead he came north, hoping to run into me.  Looks like the stars aligned!  That night, we had dinner on the beach, the surf literally touching our toes.  We ate freshly-caught fish and drank fifty cent beers by candlelight and talked like children do when they have a secret language.  The wait staff finally had to tell us that we had to leave – they were closing.  We looked behind us to see that they had taken all the other tables and chairs off the beach and we hadn’t even noticed.  I looked him in his clear, blue eyes and asked if he were going to take me home with him some night that week; he asked what I thought about tonight?  I kissed him in response, and we walked uphill to his hotel, me in bare feet.  We got a bit lost along the way – the good kind of lost.

winter-2014-15-196

We spent the next three days going on adventures (sightseeing, kayaking, snorkeling, making out in secret caves), eating amazing food, and fucking like bunnies.  My last day in El Nido happened to be Valentine’s Day.  That morning, I got a massage, bought a dress (a rarity for me), tweezed and shaved my travel body, and told him to come to mine before dinner.  As an avid fan of Dan Savage, I knew it was best to fuck first – so when he arrived, I was only wearing a sarong, which quickly got flung aside.  Even with the air conditioning on, we were soon covered in a slippery layer of sweat, which we’d earned.  We relished every inch of each other’s bodies and slid all over each other in the heat of the tropics until we were starving and exhausted.

winter-2014-15-197

Time does seem to sprint by when you’re enjoying yourself, so I remember the night in flashes: We’re sitting at an Italian restaurant overlooking the ocean, devouring pizza and sipping on cocktails.  We’re dancing at a club, our bodies jumping and bouncing to pop music along with a packed crowd, rum and cokes in hand.  We’re outside, dancing in the ocean to cool off, spinning and dipping.  We’re sitting on an old, overturned, wooden kayak, making out like teenagers.  He’s facing me toward the ocean and putting his arm around me and asking if I’d ever come back to El Nido – and if he were there, I’d be back in a heartbeat.  We’re walking back to his hotel at 3:00 am to fall into a deep sleep in each other’s arms – but not before taking silly pictures with each other on the balcony. We’re waking up at 6:00 am to the sound of church bells, and I have to go.

I’ve had interesting Valentine’s Days before and since, especially while traveling, but I can’t imagine any topping that night – a night that felt perfect.  A night that capped off a magical movie-like travel romance in an idyllic setting.  A night when the stars aligned.

 

Patience

This crazy thing is happening right now, and it’s pretty wonderful: I’m not having sex.

I’ll let that sink in.

I started unexpectedly seeing someone new a few weeks ago; he’s an acquaintance whom I’ve known for years, but have never particularly felt attracted to.  We were sitting in a bar and chatting one night; I mentioned that I was cold, and he took my hands to warm them.  That felt pretty nice, so I just left my hands in his.   A bit later, when I was telling him how lovely that felt, he kissed me out of the blue – which was shocking, as I’ve always considered this guy to be a little shy and socially awkward.  The kissing was pretty nice, too, so I asked him on a date… and then I asked him to spend the night.

He told me that he was happy to stay there, but he didn’t want to compromise his morals.  See – this guy is religious.  Not in a church-on-Christmas kind of way, but in a bible-study-small-town-Baptist-church kind of way.  I’m barely even spiritual, so… it’s interesting.  Making out with him in my bed and not being able to touch his dick was a glorious kind of torture; I was soaking wet all through the night and really relished that heightened state of arousal that I’m so used to curing with release.  This time, it just built and built and built, and I could feel the sexual energy coursing through my body for hours.

That was two weeks ago.

This guy has spent the night at my house three times, and I haven’t seen him naked, and… it’s been kind of amazing.  He asked me to slow dance in my living room and to walk around to look at Christmas lights.  He takes his hat off when he walks in my door.  He went a half mile out of his way a few days ago so he could walk me home, and he kissed me at midnight on New Year’s Eve (the first time in over ten years I’ve been with a date on NYE).  He’s an old-fashioned romantic and I am LOVING THE FUCK OUT OF IT.

We’re not compatible for a million reasons (God is not a fan of my libido, for one), and I’m leaving the country in six weeks – but for right now, being wanted for my company rather than my cunt feels healing, and being with someone who loves slow dancing is even better.

Winter Wonderland

Alex pushed her front door open, the cold air blowing porch snow in around her ankles.  She banged her Docs against the step to knock the packed snow out of her boots and hurried inside; Jen followed close behind her, wrapping her arms around her lover’s waist.  They were flushed from one too many cocktails, from stumbling home over half-shoveled sidewalks, from the conversation they’d had on the way.

It was Jen who’d seen her first.  Who had watched her, gliding like an angel toward a pool table, the yellow bar lights swimming around her closely-cropped honey hair adding to the effect.  She stared at the woman’s shoulders, pulled back in confidence – her smile, gleaming and glorious – the ease with which she pushed the cue stick through her hooked index finger as she bent over the green felt, a bit of cleavage poking out of a tight white button-down shirt.  After a minute of trying to get Jen’s attention and being unsuccessful, Alex had followed her gaze over to the beautiful stranger, now shaking hands with the loser of the game.  She leaned into Jen’s ear and whispered, “She’s a looker, huh?”  Jen, still in her reverie, just replied with an “Mmm.”  Their stare lingered a minute longer before Alex said, “Babe? She’s fine as hell, but now we’re just being creepy.”  That was enough to get Jen to laugh and break the spell.  Jen turned toward Alex, cupped her face, and kissed her full on the lips, trailing a hand down between Alex’s breasts.  “Let’s go home,” she said.

On the walk home, past lit-up duplexes and technically-illegal-but-still-used parking chairs, Jen dropped the question into the snowy silence around them: “So hey, babe.  Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have a threesome?  I mean… just wondered, you know?” Alex smiled.  “You mean with someone like the woman you were just stalking?” she asked.  “Well – yeah,” replied Jen.  “I mean, she was hot, right?  What would you think about bringing someone else in just for a night?  Just to see what it was like?”  “I think that I’d like to think about it,” replied Alex.  “For now, let’s just focus on getting home!”  The wind swirled and howled around them, flinging flurries this way and that.  They quickened their pace.

Once they were in, coats, hats, mittens, and scarves lying on a pile on the couch, Alex turned on her electric fireplace; they put a few blankets and pillows on the floor and lay down in front of it, snuggling close together to get warm.  After a couple of minutes of staring into the electric blaze, Alex brought up their prior conversation.  “So – if we were to have this hypothetical threesome, what would you want it to look like?”  Jen felt her pulse quicken and her cunt warm.  She turned to look at Alex.  “You mean, what would I want to happen?”  “Yeah,” replied Al.  “What would you want to do with her?  With me?  Would you want to watch, or be watched?  How involved would you want her to be?”

“Hypothetically?” Jen asked.  Alex nodded.  “I’d want you to direct the scene.  I’d want to start out with the two of you taking my clothes off, then you telling her what you want to see.”  “And what do I want to see?” Alex asked with a mischievous grin.  “You want to see her warm me up.  You want to see her lap at my nipples until I’m begging to have the rest of my body touched.  You want to see her caress my inner thighs, teasing me until there’s a stream of fluid running down my pussy because I’m so turned on.  You want to see her graze my outer labia, making my heart pound, and then lick my clit just once so I’m trembling all over – and then you kiss her so you can taste me on her tongue.”   

“Like this?” Alex asked, pulling Jen’s leggings and boy shorts down, spreading her legs just enough, and lapping once over the inside of Jen’s labia and up over her clit before kissing her.  She loved the lemondrop taste of Jen’s cunt.  Jen closed her eyes and breathed shallow breaths, letting her body take over.  She continued talking as Alex continued to taste her: “You lick me slowly and steadily until I come in your mouth, and then you tell her that I’m hers to fuck; she leaves on a tank top, her nipples hard underneath it, and puts on a leather-harnessed strap-on.  She puts a pillow under my ass and works her cock inside of me, rhythmically pumping; while she’s doing that, you hover over me, kissing her.  Long kisses.  I struggle to crane my neck up enough to run my tongue along you, but you… won…” Jen gasped, groaned, bucked her hips up to Alex’s waiting mouth, and finished – “’t let me.”  She collapsed, hoarse moans escaping her.  “I can feel the heat of your cunt on my face; I can’t reach it with my mouth, so I slide one finger inside, then two.  I run them along my lips, making them sticky with your juices, and suck them clean.  You stand up while I’m shuddering from being fucked and walk around to the back of her, sliding one hand up the front of her shirt to gently pinch her nipple and massage her vulva with the other hand until she’s too close to coming to keep fucking me.”

“Then what?” Alex asked, now sliding her fingers in and out of Jen’s cunt, curving her hand so that her heel would rub against Jen’s clit.  “I told you -” said Jen, a dreamy smile on her face – “you’re directing the scene.”  Alex leaned in and kissed her before whispering, “But you’re the one with the imagination.  Babe, you have the sexiest brain of any girl I know.”  “Thanks, love,” she replied, pulling in Alex for another kiss.  “Let’s talk more realistically about this when we’re sober; for now, I just want to feel you all over me.” “Done,” said Al, pressing her whole weight into Jen, hot now under the blazing light of the fire.

 

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

 

Inspired by the following lyrics from “Winter Wonderland” (which I know isn’t technically a carol, but it popped into my head!):

Later on, we’ll conspire as we dream by the fire

To face unafraid the plans that we made,

Walking in a winter wonderland

Happy Endings (NSFR)

I

We’re the first ones to arrive at the club; it’s wide open, with tons of couches and tables scattered across a huge, darkly lit room.  There’s a costume closet with a bunch of dresses and shirts and a few toys in it – one small flogger, a long leather paddle, a dildo.  We settle into a “room” adjoining the main area; I’m using quotation marks here because instead of walls, there are just metal bars separating these spaces.  Nowhere to hide.  I was putting off coming here for months because I felt a little shy, but now that I’m here, it feels comfortable.  A little dungeon-y.

Shortly after we open our bottle of Jack and pour ourselves small cocktails (swinger’s clubs in Korea require the purchase of bottle service for entry), we look around more.  I see a large swinging hook hanging from the ceiling; I grab the rope I brought with me and tie myself up to it, asking my playmates to grab that paddle and hit me with it; they gladly oblige.  Soon another couple comes up and asks if they can spank me, too; yes, I say, delighted!  Actually, one of them started fondling me without asking first – a common occurrence at this place.  I had to tell two people (in a language I’m not fluent in) that night to ask before touching.

We’re the first ones to have sex that night; I’m riding him and she’s sitting on his face and she and I are making out, and suddenly I look over to see that everyone in the room is intently staring at us.  It doesn’t bother me because I’m in the sex haze where nothing else matters but my orgasms.  Enjoy, I think, just don’t interrupt me while I’m coming.

II

A beautiful young woman comes over to play at some point while I’m being fucked from behind with a strap-on by the woman I came with (her first time using one!); the owner had whispered to us when we first saw her that she was a lesbian and wanted to play with women.  Whispered it because same-sex play is relatively uncommon in Korean clubs.

She looks like a real doll.  Like a straight man’s fantasy.  Perfect skin, fake breasts on a tiny frame, false eyelashes, long hair.  She’d come with a much older man but wasn’t really playing with him; he followed her everywhere she went, but I didn’t see him interacting with another person until the end of the night, when most people were drunk.

I was already on my hands and knees; she asked my friend if she could play, which got relayed to me; I answered with a resounding yes.  She kneeled behind me and started licking me.  At some point she started rimming me; afraid she would start licking my vulva again afterward, I stopped her (I’d already had to explain to the friend I came with that you can’t do that; she had no idea!) and asked her to lie on her back.  I started sliding my hand up and down her labia, smiling at her, before sliding a finger inside and asking her which spot she preferred I concentrate on.  I eventually worked up to three fingers, pushing into her G-spot with a steady rhythm; I suddenly felt a rush of liquid gushing into my hand.  I looked more closely and saw that the tissues around her urethra were so engorged that it looked like the head of a penis!  I stopped momentarily, a bit shocked, and everyone around me shouted, “No, keep going!”  Soon there was a flood pouring out of her and onto the floor around her, jets of ejaculate flying onto my dress. It. Was. Amazing.  It was my first time seeing a woman ejaculate, and it truly felt like a miracle!  I high fived her as my friends went to grab a sheet to mop everything up.  “Kiss me,” she said in a small voice, and not being one to deny someone so lovely, I leaned in and brushed my lips on hers.  They felt like petals.

III

I start fucking this guy, straddling him, and I keep trying to take his shirt off; he keeps pushing it down.  When I take my dress off to reveal a completely nude Jo, I hear an audible gasp from several people in the room.  I look around, and everyone – even mid-orgy – is wearing a shirt of some kind.  Mostly button-down men’s shirts.  Doesn’t quite seem the place to be modest, I think, but I come from a completely different culture.  What do I know?

IV

Because one of the friends I came with is a marine and there’s a military curfew, we have to stay out ‘til 5:00 AM.  Around 3:30, I feel totally exhausted and just want to go – until a Danish woman and French man come over and sit with us.  They’re coworkers.  Not sure how the lifestyle came up in work conversation!  I tie her up and we take turns spanking her; I take her down and she hops onto her coworker.  It’s so hot it makes my jaw drop – he’s holding her up, his back against a wall, bouncing her on his dick.  I teach the marine how to tie a dragonfly harness; he ties me up, grabs a spreader bar upon my request, and locks my ankles into it.  The Europeans are taking a break, so I look over at the French guy and ask politely if he’ll bend me over and fuck me while I suck the marine’s cock; he gladly does.  It’s hard to get into a rhythm, but I’m having the time of my life being pushed back and forth by two dicks, precariously balanced.  While this is happening, the woman I came with starts spanking me, and the Danish woman whispers in my ear, “You’re such a good English teacher!  You take his cock so well!”  I come in waves, pleasure undulating through my body, satiated with the rapture of having a long-standing desire fulfilled.

I just think: Thank gods for the military curfew.  We eventually clean up and leave at 5:00 to get pho across the street, drained and content and maybe a little sore, looking forward to a long morning of deep sleep.

One Down

Still in a sex haze from a long, giddy night of pot and orgasms that stretched into a morning of devouring all the leftovers in my flat before devouring each other, I lie silent for a minute, listening to the door click behind him as his footsteps run down my stairs outside.  Everything is perfectly still and calm; I can hear birds chirping and see the first rays of sun starting to penetrate the sky.  It’s too early for traffic – and besides, no one would be out on a Sunday morning.  Except him.  Perhaps whistling while he walks; perhaps listening to music.  Definitely thinking about the way I taste.

I reach into my nightstand drawer and pull out a Batman stationery pad, flipping it open to the first page on which I’ve written the beginning of a list:

Double butt plug

Saran wrap fuck

Bound, spread-eagle fuck

Pegging…

The list goes on.  I’d written it after a long conversation we’d had a few weeks prior in which we spent hours talking dirty about the things we wanted to do together.  I had snapped a quick photo of it with my phone, sending it to him as a kind reminder; sure, there were things I had in a mental life-long fucket list of unlikely situations, but he was a rare and beautiful partner: the kind I could suggest any fantasy to, knowing he’d be game.  I wanted to have a special fucket list for us. 

I grab a pen and with a steady hand cross off the phrase “good ol’-fashioned anal” before ripping the sheet of paper out of the pad and neatly folding it into its own envelope.  I write his address on the cover and put it aside for the moment, relishing the memory of sitting on top of him in the dark, his breathing shallow and yearning, as I lowered myself slowly onto his cock. I had slid back up almost immediately for more lube; once that was in place, delightfully messy and slippery, I found it much easier to slip him inside of me.  I could feel every throbbing vein on his cock against my tight muscles; I turned on a wand and sat on him, telling him to hold still while I brought myself to climax.  Once I’d come, my whole body relaxed, and I could start gliding along his cock – back and forth until I felt comfortable.  Until I wanted it deeper.  Until I came again, my whole pelvic floor contracting against him – which is when he lost it, moaning a guttural moan I’d never heard before. One of desperate release drawn out of him like a spirit.

My hunger not quite satisfied, I roll out of bed, throw on some sweats, and settle on grabbing a bagel down the street.  I clip our list onto the mailbox on my way out the door for the mail carrier to pick up the next day and giggle at the thought of her opening it or trying to use the light to see what’s inside.  On the way, I hear dull church bells ring in the distance, and once again I think of him; I hope he’s made it on time.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Be It in the Theatre

The first time I ever saw The Rocky Horror Picture Show in a theatre, I was fifteen years old.  I had watched it on television on Halloween with my family (Thanks, gay uncles!) and just HAD to see it live.  I was hooked.  My bad-influence friend (We all have one, right?) and I put on shoplifted negligees, fishnet stockings, strappy high heels, and heavy makeup, and teetered over to the theatre with her stepfather, who agreed to walk us there to assure the staff that we had parental permission to see the film.

Not that we needed it.  As soon as we hopped into line, the guy playing Eddie sauntered over to us, looked down, and said, “Hey.  You girls virgins?”  “Nope,” we staunchly replied, not wanting to have to participate in the virgin contests that we’d heard about.  We wanted to seem cool. Yeah, sure, we’ve done this before.  No bigs.  Her stepfather almost had a heart attack, which sent us into fits of giggles as we tried to explain to him that Eddie had meant Rocky Horror virgins, not actual virgins.

Image result for rocky horror free use images

As soon as we walked into the magnificent and ornate theatre where the movie was being shown, I felt my heart leap into my chest.  Home, my head said, over and over, and my heart repeated it.  Home.  I’m home.  So many people were walking around the theatre, hugging each other, making tasteless jokes and sexual innuendos, laughing hysterically.  Some people were dressed like the characters, some dressed up in leather and lace, and some folks were just there in jeans and sneakers.  Everyone seemed to fit in – no matter who they were or what they looked like, everyone fit, like a quilt.  I knew it right away: these people were my people.  The first time you find home is electrifying: you can feel all your nerves light up, connecting you to the people and the space around you, and you’re floating and so grounded all at once.

At fifteen, I don’t think I understood every audience participation line and joke that was made that night, but I got most of them, and the next time I went back, I yelled as many as I could remember.  I found audience participation scripts; I joined fan clubs and discussion groups, ecstatic that there were other people who loved dark and bawdy humor as much as I did.  I started going as often as my parents would let me, eventually going almost every weekend.  I participated in born-again virgin contests (Great concept, no?) and costume contests and amateur night.  I got to know some of the cast members, who treated me like a little sister.

The guy who played Frank-N-Furter is forever burned into my brain as the first adult I ever felt pure, unadulterated lust for.  He was all swagger.  There was sizzle in his smile, and he prowled when he walked.  He owned that role and looked So. Fucking. Hot. in that leather jacket and corset I almost couldn’t contain myself.  I ogled him week after week, fantasized about him at night, probably wrote in my diary about how badly I wanted him.

It came as quite a shock when years later at an anniversary show – years after I’d last seen him – he walked up behind me, tapped me with a riding crop, and drawled, “Well – look who’s all grown up.”  I think I faintly squeaked, “You remember me?!” Yes, he assured me – he did.  As an adult looking back now, I think it’s likely he got teased by other cast members for having a teenage fangirl.  I thought my staring was happening on the sly – we always do – and it never is.

I joined a cast in university, then another, before dropping it once I became old enough to go to pubs on Saturday nights.  Rocky Horror and the people I met there helped shape who I am more than I can ever know, I imagine.  I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the end of the film – the song “I’m Going Home” – and how touching and earnest a song it is in the middle this weird, sexual sci-fi and horror parody.  I am going home soon – and for me, part of going home is going back to that theatre and that movie and being thankful that I had a space as a young person where I could embrace and relish being exactly who I was.

As there’s quite an overlap between sex geeks and RHPS fans (and Pagans and Trekkies and Ren Faire people and kinky people…), I know some of you have Rocky Horror memories, too; what was your first experience with it?

Good Sport

“Promise you’ll be a good sport?” asked Gem as she held her boy’s chin in her slender hand and looked down at his radiant eyes.
“Yes, Mistress,” he answered evenly, not moving a muscle.
“You know the rules,” she continued.
“Yes, Mistress,” he replied.

She slid her hand around to the back of his head, feeling his bristly hair barely making it past her fingers and leaned down to whisper in his ear: “Don’t give up too easily.  Have fun, and be a good boy.  And remember: this is not for you.  This is for me.  Your pleasure is my pleasure.  I’m so looking forward to seeing my friends enjoy you the way I do.”

She stood up, and he followed.  She turned to face three of her friends who had been watching the conversation. “Well, ladies,” she said, smiling a Cheshire cat smile and clasping her hands together, “I believe you know the rules, too!  Be kind to my boy and have fun yourselves!  I’ll be watching from up here.”  Her friends broke into their own nervous but eager grins, slung their backpacks over their shoulders, and nodded in assent. She turned back around to face Boy and told him he had a five minute head start.

“Go,” she said.

He started walking out of the room briskly, breaking into a run as he approached the stairs.  They all watched his graceful body sprint onto the lawn from a floor to ceiling bedroom window upstairs.  Soon, he had disappeared into the hedge maze below.  Gem looked at her friends, their smiles belying their anticipation.  He was beautiful and so eager to please.  A few minutes later, they wandered down into the entrance of the maze together, separating shortly thereafter to take different paths.

Susan was the first one to spot him.  He was walking slowly along the ledge, creeping silently.  Like a cat, she tiptoed up behind him and lightly tagged him on the shoulder.  “Looks like I’m first!” she exclaimed with delight.  “What would your trophy be, then?” Boy asked.  “I was thinking about how satisfying the silk of your shirt would feel against my skin –” she said, “but instead I think I’ll have your trousers.  I want to be the first to see the outline of your lovely cock.”

Dutifully, he removed his shoes, then unbuttoned and slipped off his trousers before handing them over.  “Thank you,” he said.  “May I continue?”  “Of course,” she replied, looking him up and down.  He walked off quickly and slipped around the corner while Susan waited patiently.

He’d been carefully avoiding cul-de-sacs the entire time, but now he found himself trapped in one.  No matter – he stopped and could hear nothing but his own shallow breaths.  He was alone, he was sure.  Coming out of the dead end, he felt a hand stop him before he saw the artfully manicured nails on his chest.  Lilia.

“So,” she purred, looking down at his boxer briefs.  “I see someone else got to you first.”  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied.  “What trophy will you have?”  “I’ll take your shirt, darlin’,” she said with joy.  He started unbuttoning; she stopped him.  “No – let me,” she said, continuing to unbutton his soft shirt languidly.  “You have nice shoulders,” she said, running her hands over them briefly.  “Thank you, ma’am,” he replied, his heart racing, now down to his undershirt, briefs, and running shoes.  “May I continue?”  “Sure thing, love,” she said, and swatted his bottom as he made his way down the lane.  Upstairs, Gem laughed as she watched him scurry away.  She could see what he couldn’t: that being so distracted by Lilia’s comments, he wasn’t watching where he was going, and that’s when he ran smack into Susan once again.

“Oh-ho,” she said, “I’ve found you once again!  I’ll have that undershirt if you don’t mind – I think it will look quite nice on me, especially paired with your pants.”  He blushed and removed it, one hand on the chest and one on the back.  He handed it to her, avoiding eye contact.  “Looks like it’s almost time,” she said.  “Be more careful – you don’t have much left.”  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, and he was off.

A solid five minutes had passed; he was hidden in the middle of a hedge, completely convinced that he was invisible from passersby… until he heard a voice whisper into his ear, “Think you’re clever, do you?” as a hand reached in and grazed his hard, smooth stomach.  A warm hand attached to a reassuring voice.  A voice like bells.  Yuna.  She drew him out of the hedge.  “I believe I’m now the proud owner of one pair of black boxer briefs,” she said, smiling at Boy.  He started to slide them down. “Wait,” she said.

She opened her backpack, took out a double duvet, flung it upward with two hands so that it opened onto the ground, and sat down on it, looking at him expectantly.  “Now,” she said.

He once again took off his shoes and slid the briefs over his growing cock and down to his ankles, carefully removing them one leg at a time before handing them to Yuna, who patted the duvet next to her.

“Your turn to watch,” she said.  He sat in the middle of duvet and looked at Yuna as she stood up, his eyes briefly darting to the window above to see if he could catch a glimpse of his Mistress.  He couldn’t, but he could feel her eyes on him.  He could always feel her eyes on him.  Yuna was wearing a simple flowered summer dress, tied in the back; she pinched the strings of the tie between her thumb and forefinger and pulled, her dress falling to her waist, exposing her pert breasts.

She looked down at Boy.  “I want you to take my panties off for me – with your mouth,” she said.  He got up to balance on his knees and lifted her skirt up, and nuzzled his face against the lace of her crotch.  Her breath was barely audible, but deep.  He grabbed the top of her panties with his teeth, sliding them down a few inches, before darting his tongue over her clitoral hood, holding it there momentarily, and drawing it back.  He gripped her panties once again and slid them down to her ankles.

She stepped out of them and eyed him hungrily.  “On your back, please,” she said, getting a condom and cock ring out of her backpack.  He obeyed; she slid the condom down onto his now rigid cock and stretched out the disposable cock ring to place it around the base of his scrotum and the top of his dick before turning both switches on, making everything vibrate.  She blew a small silver whistle she was wearing around her neck before taking it off and flinging it to the ground.  Still wearing her dress, she hitched the skirt up and kneeled above Boy before slowly lowering herself onto his cock, then gently rocking back and forth.  He moaned, imagining his Mistress touching herself, watching from above.

“Don’t enjoy this too much,” Yuna said in staccato, finding it difficult to talk and fuck at the same time.  “The others are on their way.”

Gem, now soaking and wearing only a tank top, looked down to see Yuna straddling Boy while Lilia and Susan approached quickly from either side of the maze.  She mounted a dildo in the window seat and stared, enthralled, her hands pressed to the rapidly steaming glass, thinking: AirBnBs couldn’t possibly get better than this.

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