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We haven't really seen each other in weeks - Martin and me. His wife Rita's been freaking out, saying that he hasn't been paying enough attention to her. I told him he should attend to his marriage, so why does it upset me that he's doing just that? I'm angry that I can't see him regularly. I'm angry that I can't have him every which way. I'm angry that I give a shit about his marriage. I don't know. Maybe I'm in love with him. Anyway, he said he couldn't sleep over at my house this week because Rita is really feeling insecure these days, but he said, "I miss you in a whole lot of ways," (really??) and said he'd like to see me for dinner, anyway.

I dressed carefully, getting ready to see him. I put one outfit in my bag and wore something more conservative to work. But for him, I changed into elegant black slacks, a matching black blazer and a cream colored top that simply opens up when touched. It cascades down the chest in a v-neck, exposing the top half of my breasts, but if you pull open that "v" my tits are fully exposed. It's lovely. I wore a long string of pearls that nestled between my breasts, and I slipped on my black spike-heeled boots.

I met Martin in Long Island City, the Queens neighborhood closest to midtown Manhattan. It's really quite a lovely neighborhood these days, and we went to our favorite little Latin American restaurant La Vuelta and sat in their back garden. We talked relatively inanely about work, the weather, and other mundane matters. As usual, I didn't know what to say. I just know how to fuck him, right? It's strange. It's reminiscent of my teenage years. When I was 16 I fucked this famous rock star. I haven't written about it before in this blog because, and I know this'll sound funny: it's so personal; but it was a tremendously significant experience for me in terms of my sexual development. I vividly remember feeling that I didn't know how to talk to this rockstar, I felt really shy, but I felt more self-confident taking off my clothes and fucking him, so that's what I did. So long ago I was already using my body as a kind of defense mechanism against my feelings. (Could this be true? I'm just free-writing this. Wow. What the fuck?)

Anyway, back to the present. So one thing that somehow disturbed me was that Martin insisted on paying for dinner, and threw a $100 bill down on the table. I said, "Thank you so much," but later, his action came back to haunt me. After the dinner, I knew he'd have to leave pretty soon, so at first I thought, "Why don't we take a walk down to the water?" But then I had another thought, and when I started to mention it, it seemed like he was thinking of it too. I said, "Why don't we go back to your office?" He said, "Yes, I'm sure I left something there by mistake. We could pick it up!" He took my hand and we made our way back to his office building. As we got in the door we made our way past the cleaning crew and into his office. The first thing he wanted to do was repack his backpack so he could leave more quickly. Then he said, "Let's go into the back office. It's nicer there." He took me back into a room we've fucked in before: it's empty except for a few tables/desks of perfect fucking height. It's mostly used for storage, I think. Anyway, he took me in there and immediately turned off the light, but there was some light coming in through a back window that faced an empty courtyard. He pushed one of the desks by the window and invited me to sit on it. It was kind of odd: I didn't really feel like fucking him just then, but I sat down. He started kissing me. He said, "I could just kiss and kiss you." That was ok with me. But then he stripped off his clothes and I allowed my v-neck top to fall open. He was enchanted with the ease of access my shirt provided, and pulled my nipples out above the white lace of my demi-bra. You know, when someone starts sucking on my nipples my pussy gets hot. I can't help it. It was heating up fast, and it felt good. So I started to moan a little, and he rubbed his body up against me. I felt his naked dick rubbing up against my legs. I shifted, and he said, "Where are you going?" I got up on my knees, kneeling on the desk in order to try to rub my pussy closer to his dick, but this didn't work well. It did, however, provide him with better access to my tits, which was ok with me. He kept sucking them, hard. I think he's learned a little something from my friend Maggie: he sucks them even nicer than he did before. She, of course, is the best at sucking my tits. She says it's because she knows to put the whole nipple into her mouth, not just the tip. I don't know what she does, but she sucks them hard and good. So Martin sucked them, and then I bent down and sucked on his dick for a minute, just really, I think, because I like to hear him say, "Oh, God, that feels so good!" I did it for him, I guess. Maybe he could feel my reluctance, but even though he was enjoying it, he pulled me up. He said he wanted to suck on my pussy. So here's the amazing thing: I kick off my pants and panties, I'm leaning back, my ass is on the edge of the desk, my legs, still in my black spike heeled boots, are splayed wide, my tits spilling out of my shirt, out of my bra, and he slides his right hand across my wet cunt, underneath my ass, lubing up my asshole with my own pussy juice. Then he shoves two fingers inside my hot ass, and at the same time he puts his mouth onto my clit. So then he's flicking his tongue up and down my clit and fucking my ass with his fingers, and with his other hand he's pulling, hard, on my nipple. Oh, my God. It's fucking unbelievable. So I press my pussy against his mouth, moaning, squirming onto his face, and that son of a bitch makes me come right there on his mouth, on the desk, in his office! It felt so fucking good, I could barely be mad at him any more. So, so good. And I realized: I just love this! That's all I want to do. But hey, I'm a "fucking female," to quote my favorite movie, Performance, so I still have fucking feelings. So he comes up for air, and says, "You don't have to make me come. It's ok." But I, I don't know, feel obligated? Grateful? But instead of being gracious I say, "Yeah. Why don't you just run back home to your wife??" So mean. But he responds, in a gentle, musing tone: "Yeah. I could go home and jerk off before I go to sleep." He really doesn't mean it sarcastically. He is pondering that.

We check the time. "We have 20 minutes," he says. He means 20 minutes before he has to run to make his train back to the blessed white picket fence suburbs where he lives. So I go ahead and bend down, sucking his hard shaft into my mouth. He says, "Oh my God. It's not gonna take me very long to come!" and he starts thrusting his dick in and out of my mouth. And I do love sucking him, so I make my mouth wetter, and I suck him deep, and inside my mouth I swirl my tongue around the head of his dick, deep throat him again and dig my fingernails into his balls and the base of his dick the way he likes, and his lovely come jerks out of his dick deep in my throat, and I swallow it down, and don't even want to take my mouth off it, it feels so good to suck. But soon I straighten myself up, and he puts his arms around me and holds me for a minute, and we pull on our clothes and stumble out of the office. The maintenance crew are still there, as are some other people from the office, and they notice us leaving and I don't look up, but Martin tells me, "We certainly got some looks!" I guess we did. He'll probably develop quite a reputation around there.

As we go out, Martin says, "I want to buy you something to drink," so I let him buy me an iced tea, and then he kisses me goodbye on the subway steps, saying, "I had a great time. Have a nice night!" And I walk down the steps. And for a minute there, I feel like a whore. I say to myself: what's with the $100 bill and the buying me stuff? I guess it just gives me pause. I take the train and I get home, and, like, minutes later I'm crying. Crying! Crying on the phone to Maggie that I actually give a shit about him. I actually fucking care, and how mad I am at myself for caring. And as tears stream down my face he text messages me saying, "Thank you for an amazing evening." And so, miraculously, I have the cordiality to say: "I'm sorry I said some little mean things. I guess I just miss you and I don't know when/if things will get 'back to normal.' But I loved coming on your mouth." So he responds: "Me, too. Sweet dreams." And I think what that means is "Me too, I don't know when/if things'll get back to normal." And that's it. So I've arranged to be fucking my brains out next weekend, and not with him. Trouble in Paradise. Jealousy rears it's ugly head.

This one isn't about sex. Well, not really. Not entirely. Maybe a little. My heart is under siege. Why have I been in therapy all these years? What's the point? We just have to work these things out on our own anyway.

Martin and his wife Rita have been fighting. She's jealous of me. She thinks he's spending too much time with me and thinking about me too much. She is afraid they don't have fun together anymore. My sister pointed out today that Rita wanted to control how Martin would interact with me, and thought she was, until she found out some of the things he'd been hiding from her. He's really done exactly what he wants to do, but has been placating her, "yes-ing" her. Now she knows just a bit about what we've been doing, but she doesn't know the half of it. She doesn't know that her husband had another guy's dick in his mouth less than a month ago. She doesn't know that her husband was drinking. She doesn't know that he's fucked other girls with me. She doesn't know tons of things.

I feel bad for them. Sometimes I just want them to get along, with the belief that then everything will just continue as it has. Other times I just want to be able to see him whenever we want to see each other, without regard to her timetable. I still cannot get out the "L-word" with him. He knows it. Two days ago we talked for half an hour on the phone, and when we hung up all I could say was, "Here's a kiss." I just want to fuck and fuck him. I just want to kneel down at his feet by my front door in my white knee socks and maryjanes, in my red plaid mini schoolgirl skirt and white blouse, and suck his dick, make him come in my mouth before he goes to work. Is that so much to ask?

Here's the new location of my blog:
http://selinafire.blogspot.com

I'm moving my blog from livejournal so that I can better customize my blog, but I'll continue to post both in livejournal and at the new site for a while, until everyone gets used to the change. So sorry to be leaving my livejournal friends, but you can continue to follow my journey at the new location.

Martin and his wife left for Montreal on my birthday. Martin and I had spent the day before together, as I described in my post before last. So what was I to do the day of? Usually, because my birthday's in August, I never have an "official" party. I usually just have cake and a present or two with my immediate family. This time I wanted it to be different. I wanted a great meal and some really good birthday spankings.

Late afternoon of my birthday day, my friend Derek showed up at my door. He's not into the "sex thing," I guess you could say; he's a pretty vanilla kind of guy. He was going to come over earlier in the day and we were going to play guitar together for a few hours, but guess what? He was late, my "sex friends" were early, and I needed help making dinner. Derek helped. That's right: how do you get the best meal possible on your birthday? You make it, that's what you do. I'm a rather good cook, they tell me. So I made a sumptuous feast with Derek assisting, and I baked a flourless chocolate torte made with ground hazelnuts and apricot jam. It was a thing of beauty. I served it up with whipped cream - you know, the real kind, that you beat? So we ate. I didn't have to lift a finger to clean up! That was a present in itself. We drank lots of wine, and by the time I was ready for my birthday spankings Derek was still there, and Peter - my dear friend Peter - got him to hold the video camera. To be fair, Derek was drunk. I couldn't believe he wanted to stay for this. But maybe he actually wanted to see my practically bare ass getting beat. I have no idea. He seemed to be enjoying himself, and I wasn't about to kick him out. I love him. He's one of my dearest, oldest friends.

Just before dinner I'd changed into my schoolgirl outfit again: the super-short schoolgirl skirt and white top. I wore thong underwear. I thought my outfit would be perfect for my birthday spanks. Derek and Maggie took me into the bedroom, and Maggie had me lie on the bed with my ass up and my legs hanging off the bed. She pulled up my skirt. The idea was that they'd take 47 and divide it by 3, and each of them would get to give me approximately 16 spanks. Maggie began it, spanking me with the open palm of her bare hand. She'd stroke me gently and then smack my ass real hard. They got out the riding crop. She'd alternate hitting me with her open palm and using the riding crop. After 16 spanks I was far from done, but my ass was beginning to get warm. Peter took over. He spanked me even harder. I wanted it hard. I could feel my ass starting to smart. I wanted what they were dishing out. I squirmed against the bed with pleasure. 16 more spanks. It was still far from enough. I knew Derek wouldn't actually take his turn. I even laughed and said, "No, he won't do it. That's ok, though." Maggie and Peter took his turn, but Peter first instructed him how to film what they were doing to me. I don't mind being filmed as long as my face doesn't show. Why should I care? Peter wanted to use it for an art video he's putting together. So Derek became cinematographer of my birthday spanking ritual. Derek saw me get off from spanking. My ass was real red and sore, I still wanted more, but that was it. I pulled down my skirt and stood up, intimating that we were done. Maggie whispered to me that if Derek hadn't been there she would've taken some of the whipped cream off the table, spread it on me, maybe added some ice cream and had some pussy a la mode. I wouldn't have minded. But you know what? Just being spanked was nice, too. It made me nice and wet and hot. Afterward, Peter and Maggie left but Derek didn't want to go home. I guess he was just drunk. I finally had to say: "Hey, either you sleep over or you go home, but I have to go to bed." He must think I'm a super freak. I guess I am. God bless him. He finally left and I lay down on my bed, slipping my fingers under my panties and stroking my hot, wet cunt. Then I took out my Magic Wand vibrator and made myself come. Next year, I wanna get more spanks than how old I am, and I'm going to get a delicious fuck afterward. How's that for a plan? Maybe I won't even have to wait til next year: Maggie and Peter are game anytime. Maybe every day can be my birthday!

My friend Peter is cutting all of his gorgeous long hair off. He's slim, handsome, and has a lovely long cock. His long, straight dark hair has always been an added bonus: it's so soft and so much fun to play with. But he's decided that he's going to transform himself this year, shave off everything and be reborn anew. My friend Maggie wanted us to hold a ritual to facilitate this transformation, so I created one which we enacted a few weeks ago. We gathered at our friends' lovely Brooklyn brownstone. They are a gay couple. We'll call them Ken and Kurt. They're both nudists, and I know them through Peter and through the naked dinners that I attend. They're both slim and tall. Ken has the most gorgeous pre-Raphaelite tatoos I've ever seen: twists of leaves and lilly pads. Wisdom and sensitivity radiates from him. Kurt is kind, strong, clear eyed, and handsome. Their Brooklyn backyard includes a hot tub and a lilly pond: an oasis in the midst of New York madness. For the ritual, set up a chair in the backyard covered with a white cloth. We sprinkled white rose petals along the path leading up to the chair. I led Peter out into the backyard and sat him down, telling him to meditate on what he saw as his goals for the coming year. Then, 10 minutes later, we entered: me, my friend Maggie, Peter's friend Adrianna and Ken and Kurt. We formed a semi-circle infront of him, disrobing and then disrobing him. Maggie began by loosing his hair from it's coated rubber bands. Each of us helped. Then the ritual began in earnest: Peter stood up and each of us came forward in turn to interact with his beautiful, silky, long black hair. We stroked it, kissed it, rubbed up against it (and him). Then, when we each were done, he moved up to each one of us, in turn, and as we stood still, interacted with each of our naked bodies as he saw fit, draping his hair on us, stroking us with his hair and body. Then each of us, in turn, handed him a white rose and toasted him with a silver chalice full of red wine that we passed around, stating what we particularly loved and admired about him. Then he, receiving the chalice, toasted to his goals, hopes and dreams for the coming year. The ritual ended as we all embraced, om-ed, and kissed each other. Then we went inside for a delicious meal of pasta and glasses of wine, curled up on soft couches, talking long into the night.

A week later I met up with Martin. He has this fetish for old fashioned lingerie, as I've written about in previous posts. We met up at this Upper East Side lingerie store called Livi's, but I've never seen a salesperson more uncomfortable. I think she'd never had customers in there before with such obviously prurient interests. Pretty old fashioned, indeed. She'd probably never even had a man in there! We ended up just buying one very simple white garter belt. Since we wanted more of such things, we decided we'd check things out downtown, but first we stopped off and had fabulous Hungarian food at the Andre Bakery on 3rd Avenue and 84th Street. We had their Hortobagy Palascinta, which are crepes filled with Chicken Paprikas. Delicious. Almost as good as I make, but not quite! We topped that off with poppyseed strudel to die for (even though my mother doesn't think it's perfect because the poppyseeds aren't ground the way they should be. For more authentic and perhaps even more delicious poppyseed strudel, get some at the Yorkville Packing House butcher shop/Hungarian grocery on 2nd Ave and 81st Street). Then Martin and I took the subway to the Lower East Side.

Stepping out of the station downtown, we were immersed in what's left and what's new in the Lower East Side: one of the most vital centers of commerce and immigrant life in New York City for the last 100 years. Right where we got off the train we saw a small Essex Street lingerie store, and for less than 30 bucks we got me a black fishnet, crotchless body stocking, some pretty panties and a cute baby t that says: "Ooops, I said the f-word!" on it. (How girly can you get??? A baby t? My dyke halo is slipping. Oh, fuck, it slipped a long time ago, what with all the dick I've been getting. God damn bisexuals! My ex- girlfriend wouldn't recognize me.) Then we discovered this amazing place, the Essex Street Market. It's in a large warehouse space, but it's got little stalls and stores in it that sell produce and handicrafts. There are markets just like that in Eastern Europe - we might as well have been in Budapest! We tasted lots of yummy stuff, and then walked down the street to a lovely piercing shop where Martin wanted to go. His nipples are pierced, and he wanted new jewelry. Martin asked the proprietor if he had an order ready for his wife Rita, who has a clitoral hood piercing. The young man said that Rita'd been in earlier that same day. Although we knew that his wife was also in the City visiting a sick friend, we hadn't anticipated that we'd be in the same neighborhood! We called her to ask if she'd like to meet up, but by then she was back uptown near the hospital where her friend was. So Martin got back down to business: he wanted to pick out new nipple rings. After much debate, he decided to go with my suggestion: small gold rings adorned with amethyst. So beachy, (and so bi, I might add, O thou coming-out-of-the-closet bi's). When the young man behind the counter calculated the cost at over $400 and asked how we'd like to pay, I said, "It'll have to be a gift from his wife, not his girlfriend, although I guess I could go halvsies on it with her." (I think it was becoming clear to the sales clerk that I go halvsies with her on her husband, too). That purchased, Martin then took me to a leather/fetish store a block or so away and bought me a very expensive and very beautiful truly industrial-strength red leather and black lycra garter belt. He bought me black stockings with red seams up the back to match. This is when I feel like a mistress: so pampered, and I get such lovely presents, great sex and don't have to do his dirty laundry. Life is pretty good these days.

The follow-up to Peter's hair ritual happened the next day. Peter had wanted a group of friends to witness the actual cutting off of his hair, and Martin wanted to go, so that's what we did. Maggie met up with us there. Ken and Kurt couldn't make it, but Peter's best friend from high school did, as did some nudists from the all-male nudist group to which Peter also belongs. I dressed in my lovely Dark Garden black corset with the red laces and a red velvet slit skirt, and Martin was dressed only in a sarong. Peter had his nudist friends filming the removal of the hair. He decided not only to cut off his hair but to shave his head, his body hair and his eyebrows. The ritual took place in an empty loft space in Bushwick, Brooklyn. It was Peter in the middle of an almost entirely empty room, but he had a glass window suspended from the ceiling by wire infront of him (to look as if he was shaving infront of a mirror) and there was a large bowl of water set before him on a large, dark wooden table. As Peter shaved, 2 naked friends shot the cutting and shaving on 2 different video cameras, and his clothed high school friend took still shots. Martin, Maggie and I sat on the sidelines, against the wall, watching it all. It was amazing. Peter has such a sexy body, it was totally fascinating and I wanted to touch him. He did let us do so, afterward. We'd brought aloe gel with us for him, and we were allowed to rub it into his head and all over his body when he was done. I rubbed the aloe into his legs and thighs and Maggie and Martin helped to soothe his cock, balls and ass. Then we retired into Peter's apartment across the hall for some wine. My new garter belt was just burning a hole in my bag. I had to try it on infront of all these nice people! I slid off my skirt and buckled it on with Martin's help, because my corset was so nice and tight that I couldn't do it myself. Martin then helped me roll the black, red-seamed stockings up to my thighs and fasten them to the garter belt. I slid on my black spike-heel boots to complete the outfit and then carefully sat down on the couch. Someone fetched me a glass of white wine. Martin wanted to worship my feet. I let him. He sat down on the floor infront of me and slid the heel of my black boot into his mouth, sucking on it and caressing my stockinged leg just above the boot top. I leaned back as best I could to enjoy it. Peter sat across the way from us, watching, getting hard. Soon Maggie came over, and decided she needed to suck on my large nipples, which were peeking out over the top of the corset. I have to admit I got a bit wet as Martin worshipped my feet and Maggie sucked on my nipples. Peter got out his video camera/cell phone and shot some of what we were doing. It looked great, and he could shoot it without getting our faces in the picture. Nice job! Then, with Peter filming, Martin decided he'd like me to sit on his face. He lay down on the floor and I got on top of him so he could suck on my pussy through my red and black lace panties. That, too, came out nicely on video. Afterward, the play continued. My favorite moment was Maggie caressing me, my spike heels in Martin's crotch (which he loves), and Martin's mouth on Peter's dick. You go, baby: Birth that latent bisexuality, Martin. Birth that physical and spiritual transformation, Peter. And my birthday would be at the end of August: I'm due for a rebirthing of my own.

I LOVE fucking him: Mmm-mmm-mmm-Martin. Recently, he's bought me hundreds of dollars worth of gifts: my gorgeous new corset, last week a $175 red leather garter belt, then a DVD and two gorgeous books for my birthday, plus a body stocking, baby tee and black stockings with red seams. I feel so much like a mistress! It's so strange, but it feels great. I get the best of him, the great sex, the presents. His wife doesn't have all the fun that I have. She's jealous and lonely, sometimes. I feel a little sad for her, but I love the fun we have. I love leaving him wanting more of my pussy. I love making him crazy. I love making it so he can't think about anything else but fucking me. Call me a bitch, I don't care. It's just too good to give up.

We met for a pre-birthday birthday lunch for me. I was wearing jeans, light blue flip flops and a macrame wide mesh top that barely hid my white lace demi bra and amply showed off my tits. Our favorite place these days is Bryant Park. We ate at the restaurant there, sharing steak, salad and sweet potato fries. For dessert we had the raspberry sorbet, and an iced chocolate that we dripped ontop of the sorbet. Raspberry - Chocolate heaven! He only had a few hours before he had to get home to his wife. He asked, "What do you want to do for your birthday?" I said, "I want to take you home and for a delicious fuck. I hope that's ok." He said, "Taxi?"

We entered my apartment, and we walked toward the bedroom. I slipped into the bathroom. When I came back, he was naked, lying across my bed. I slipped off my jeans and climbed up next to him. We kissed. Then he shifted position. It'd been so long, he couldn't resist: he got on all fours, showing his ass to me. "Oh, so you want to be fucked?" I asked. "Well, I know it's supposed to be what you want..." He said, apologetically. "That's ok, baby. It looks like you really need it," I reassured him. He reached back, putting his finger in his ass, just to show me how ready he was for me. I knelt behind him, shoving my tongue deep up his ass. I could feel his asshole spasming as I tongue fucked him. He opened right up. "I think I know just what you need," I said, whipping his ass, hard, with my looped-over belt, getting his ass good and red. "Mmmm hummm..." he groaned. Throwing down the belt, I slapped his ass over and over again with my bare hand, the loud smack echoing across the room. Then I leaned over to my dresser and got my biggest dildo out of the lower drawer. It's a big silicon dick and a smaller curved one, linked at the base. I slathered some lube on his asshole, balls and dick and all over the big end of the dildo. As I eased it into his ass, I grabbed the head of his dick. It was leaking pre-cum. He'd pushed his dick and balls back between his legs, under his ass. I gently jerked off his dick with my hand as I fucked his tight asshole with my big dildo. He groaned. It slipped out. I pushed it back in, holding the other end of the dildo like a handle, pushing it in and out, in and out, fucking him deep, jerking off his dick, watching him love it. I fucked him for a long time until, pulling my silicon dick out, I stuck my tongue back in his ass, feeling him squirm and moan, then fucked him again, until I'd had enough. I pulled out the dick, and he turned around. "Good, baby? It's so nice to get fucked, isn't it?" I taunted him. "Yeah..." he moaned, into my mouth, kissing me.

"You want me to fuck you now?" he asked. "No, darling. I want to show you how I feel when I'm fucking your ass," I said, sliding off my white lace thong and shoving its wet crotch into his mouth. Then I got off the bed and took off the net mesh top I'd been wearing, pulled off my bra and said, "I have another surprise for you." I'd managed, finally, to find a red plaid mini schoolgirl skirt that was a perfect fit, so I slipped that on and, braless, buttoned up a little white cotton blouse. I climbed back on the bed and lowered my schoolgirl cunt onto his face. He licked and sucked at the slick juices of my pussy until I got off, and then he told me to climb onto his dick. "Honey, one thing you need to learn is you slouch in your seat in class," he said, in a teacherly manner. "I've got an exercise that can help you sit up straight. If you sit up straight you can get an "A" in my class. You just have to sit down on this, and make sure to keep your back straight!" "Ok, sir, if you think it'll help," I said, and slid my wet pussy down onto his super hard dick. I raised and lowered my hips, sliding up and down on his dick, and then gave him my big titties to suck right through my white schoolgirl blouse. He made wet marks on my blouse. I unbuttoned the blouse and he pulled on my naked nipples, hard. Then he took wooden clothespins I'd left on the bedside table and clipped them onto my nipples, one at a time. I sucked in my breath and moaned -- it felt so hot. He played with me, tugging at the nipples, clipping them with the clothespins, then pulling them off, then snapping them on again. My slick pussy got slicker. I fucked his dick, riding it, moaning loudly. When I climbed off him, he bent me over and picked up a hairbrush. He smacked my ass and pussy with the hairbrush, even smacking my pussy with the hairbrush. I widened my legs to let him punish me. He shoved two fingers into my cunt and fucked me hard and fast, pummelling my g-spot. It felt fantastic. Fuck me for fucking ever, baby. Fuck me with those beautiful fingers. Then he shoved the same fingers into my ass, then widened me to three fingers, then four, getting my ass ready for his dick. He said, "Now, honey, I'm going to fuck your ass, but first I'm going to tie your hands together, so you can pray while I'm fucking you." He took a scarf and tied my hands together. I was on my tummy, lying on the bed, and he pulled my legs together in order to slide his dick between my ass cheeks and ride my ass. "Our Father," I began, "who art in Heaven....", as he slid his dick into my ass, fucking me hard and deep, over and over again.

"I want to suck the come out of your dick," I said, squirming up against him. "Yes, baby, in a minute." He took his dick out of my ass and undid my hands. I kissed him gratefully and slid down to take his dick in my mouth. There is nothing better than sucking dick. I choked on it. I bobbed on it. He fucked my face. I sucked it like his baby girl. I wanted his juice to flood my mouth. He pulled me off for a minute, jerking his dick off furiously. Then, as his come began to boil up from his balls, he had me get back down to sucking the come blasting out of his dick. I got a good drink from my big teacher daddy. Some delicious hot come. Then he lay back and rested, and then he nursed on my nipples and stroked and tickled my hot clit. I came, twisting and turning on his fingers, hungry for more, bucking against him. I knew he had to go home, but it was so good. I'm such a lucky girl.

Sitting in a darkened living room watching The Glass Menangerie, I realize I have built my whole life in reaction to Laura's life. Does Laura ever live beyond the glass menangerie? It is unlikely. It is her brother who flits about the world, unable to loose himself of her shadow, but he can move. She cannot. She lives stifled by society, made voiceless by countless years of male oppression. The weight of centuries of women's oppression presses down on us - its weight presses out a new mold, a new shape: and we will not be Shakespeare's sister.

The other day Ned invited me to join him out at the NJ nude beach. He picked me up from the train in a small NJ town and we went wandering through a small town clamfest. Delicious fried softshell crab. Then we drove out to the beach. He'd brought a backpack and set up a tent to sit on the beach for a few hours. It was pleasant, hanging out in the gay section, surrounded by rather good looking naked men. I swam in NJ's too warm waves. We watched the sunset sweep its rosy fingers across the vast expanse of grey, cloud-scudded sky. Afterward, we found a waterfront seafood place that in no way measures up to Maine, but sat on the dock anyway for an hour, talking. It was a long way home. He offered to drive me, and what could I do but invite him back to my place? But of course. Ned drove the arduous long way home, the long winding way back up the turnpike and through the ever-backed-up Holland tunnel, then all the way up the West Side Highway. Sex was disconnected. Vaginal, w. condom, of course. No foreplay -- he didn't seem to think it was necessary. I realized the difference between a lover of 50 and one in his early 20's. 50 yr olds rock. God bless you, Martin.

Saw Viviane who is helping me migrate my blog to blogspot so I can have more formatting options. She is the hearth goddess Hestia -- she tends the sex blogosphere's home fires.

Had a wonderful afternoon with Donald on a glorious day last week. We walked in midtown West Side sunlight, talking of loves "new-minted" (should I footnote this? It's Plath) and visiting The Little Pie Company. "I went on in Sunlight." (Eliot) I basked in the sunshine of his happiness. May all good things be his.

Sweet, sweet, sweet, O Pan!
Piercing sweet by the river!
Blinding sweet, O great god Pan!
The sun on the hill forgot to die,
And the lilies revived, and the dragon-fly
Came back to dream on the river.

- Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Today is the anniversary of the death of my friend's daughter, at age 20. I am thinking of her, and of blue waves sparkling on the ocean last year, when it was this same day, and the year before, the day she died, and collapsing on the front steps of my apartment building when I heard the news, and the funeral, and the press, and going to the graveyard, and the kids from her college in their military uniforms, and the folded flag, and holding her grandmother's hand, leaving the cemetary, and getting into the big black car. And the endless stream of people coming with food and words, and the endless stream of people coming, and the family without their daughter.

And it was from this young girl that I came to know about blogs and blogging, and about livejournal, and about keeping an online journal, so in some way this all is dedicated to her. Let us live while we are still living. She did. Here's a list of the things she loved or identified with, from her livejournal account:

absinthe, american mcgee's alice, angels, anime, arcane, aromatherapy, ballet, bdsm, bells, bellydancing, bi-polar, blind guardian, bollywood, buddha, buffy the vampire slayer, caitlin r.kiernan, candles, care bears, carebearcollect, castles, cathedrals, cats, celestial, celtic, cheerleading, cherry vanilla ice cream, childhood, cirque du soleil, citrus, crew, crystals, dancing, danny elfman, darkness, darkwave, dashboard confessional, divination, dolls, dragons, dreamcatchers, dreams, edward gorey, elves, emerald rose, empathy, erotica, esoterica, esp, faeries, fairy tales, fantasy, fear, feeling, feminism, fire, flames, flowers, garter belts, ghosts, gnomes, goth, gothic, graphic novels, graveyards, gregorian chant, grimores, grrls, happy bunny, henna, herbs, history, holdingyourbreathfor3minutes, hourglasses, india, insanity, invader zim, jack off jill, jthm, kabbalah, knives, kwan yin, lightning, magic, magick, manga, marine life, mermaids, mirrors, mists of avalon, my little pony, mystery, mythology, nature, neil gaiman, new age, norse, oboes, occult, ophelia, paranormal, peace, philosophy, pirates, pocket watches, poison, poppy z. brite, puppets, rain, reenactments, ribbons, roleplaying, runes, science fiction, seashells, seaweed, shadows, shamanism, shoujo, smoke, snow, spiders, spirit, spirituality, suny maritime, sushi, swords, tall ships, tarot cards, tattoos, tea, terry pratchett, the sandman, tim burton, tori amos, trees, urban legends, victorian culture, waltzing, wax seals, whimsy, whitestone, wicca, wings, zen.

At the bi bare beach bash, a boy named Ned had asked for my number. He was young, slim, handsome. I gave it to him. He called and said he might be coming to the same part of Maine as Maggie and me, around the same time. I said maybe we could hook up. He said, "Are you seeing this as platonic, or are you talking about sex?" I said, "Well, I always think in terms of sex, but who knows? I say show up and we'll see how we feel." "That sounds pretty good," he responded. "I either get some sex with two hot chicks or I get a nice dinner with friends, or both. I'll be up Saturday night." He was.

But it was very late when he got in. Ned said that traffic coming through Connecticut was murder. We'd been expecting him around 8pm, and cell service was almost non-existant where we were. Maggie and I were sleeping. It was, like, 2 in the morning. I let him in, quietly, trying not to wake Maggie up. She was sleeping on a mattress on the floor because her back was hurting. I let him slip into bed with me. He asked me if it was ok to cuddle. I said yes, and he put his arms around me. I could feel his slim, young body pressing against my back. I could feel his dick, hard, but I didn't snuggle against it. I was exhausted. I slept again.

Early in the morning I pulled down the shades and made sure the windows were closed. Our cabin faced the street of the small town where we were staying, and it was right next to the little office of the proprietor. We had to be careful, and quiet. I got back into bed and fell back to slumbering. Ned and Maggie wanted to wake me up. The next I knew, Maggie was sucking one of my nipples, Ned the other. What a lovely arousal. Didn't want it to stop, but had to have a morning pee. Got out of bed, and when I got back, Ned was on top of Maggie, and they were kissing and deep in play. I was no longer the center of attention. That was ok with me. I love to watch bodies move together in lovemaking. They wanted to draw me in. I felt hands on me. I sucked Maggie's tits while Ned was occupied elsewhere. I couldn't tell what he was doing. My eyes were semi-closed. All I know is after a while he wanted to suck my cunt. I told him I had my period. He said he didn't care. I laid a towel underneath his head and straddled his face. He was buried in my pussy. I was afraid of drowning him. I asked him if he was ok. He was very much ok. Maggie got on top of him, straddling his hips. I wanted to give her a condom, so she could fuck his dick. I leaned over and kissed her. He was underneath us. I started to worry about the blood. Those nice blue-checked gingham sheets! That nice proprietor, who'd invited us into his very own kitchen and fed us his very own lobster streudel! I raised my pussy off Ned's face. His chin was glazed in pussy juice and blood. I got off him and wiped him down. I wiped myself down. He wanted more, but I wasn't sure how to give it to him. It was getting late. It was our last day - after 5 days. We had to check out by 11, and it was almost 10. I couldn't find the condoms - they were somewhere, buried in my bag. Ned said he had one, but by then Maggie, too, expressed the need to get ready to leave. We'd arranged that he'd be arriving the night before by 8pm. Too bad. We could've put that extra time to good use. Ah, well. We went out for a lovely breakfast of red rasperry and blueberry pancakes. It ain't sex, but it's pretty damn good -- in Maine, anyway, where they have berries like nowhere else.

"Guess what I brought?"
"What did you bring?" Maggie responded, lazily, lying on the bed in our tiny cabin in a small fishing village in northern Maine. "I brought my lovely double-sided dildo, see?" I held it up to her.
"How nice," she said. It was afternoon and overcast. "Did you bring any lube?"
"Of course," I responded. "Here it is."
"Wow, you're like a girl scout!"
"Yup. that's me. Always prepared. Now lie back. I have work to do."
She lay back and parted her legs. Her fingers went right to her clit.
"You want me to fuck you? Are you ready?"
Uh-huh..." she responded.
"Ok, then."
I lubed up the dildo and put it at the entrance to her pussy. I pressed it against the opening.
"I'm so tight," she said, "It's been too long since I've been fucked."
"Yeah, baby. That's ok. I'm going to fuck you now," I reassured.

Her cunt was getting warmed up. Suddenly the cockhead of the dildo slipped into her. she moaned and bucked her hips against it. I slid it in and out, fucking her steady, hard, deep. "Yeah, that's the way I like it," she whispered, "Nice and slow." "It's so nice fucking you," I said, as I pushed the dildo in and out, watching her cunt suck it in and her hips push up against it. It got me so hot watching her, my pussy started to get wet, too. I love fucking her. She kept stroking her clit. I fucked her faster. "Slow down!" she said. I did, back to the steady, slow rythm. I could feel her orgasm building. "Oh, it feels so good, you fucking me," she gasped. I kept at it, slow and steady. She grabbed my hand and held the dildo deep inside her, I could feel her coming, her pussy throbbing on the smooth silicon dick. "Mmmmm..." she maoned, softly. I slid the slickly wet dildo out of her clenching pussy. "I've got to kiss that clit, since I haven't had a taste today," I said, bending down and taking a long, sucking kiss of her swollen, wet little center of pleasure.

Maggie and I are on our way to northern Maine, on the coast. It's the most beautiful place on Earth, where I would live if I wasn't such a hopeless New Yorker. Getting there, we are staying overnight in Portland. So much aliveness! The freshness and ingenuity of New York has migrated to the smaller cities of America, where artists, musicians, poets, philosophers and dreamers can still afford to live without benefit of a trust fund. In Portland: young people everywhere, hanging out, making music, a boy in a longsleeved pink shirt, pigtails and corduroy jumper dress playing guitar for spare change. We walked by a video/CD store. There, a slim young man blew harp and played guitar to a rapt audience of teenagers. He sang Phil Ochs' "Here's to the State of Mississippi/Richard Nixon" with his own new lyrics. "Here's to the land you've torn out the heart of. George Bush: Find yourself another country to be part of." and: "Here's to the land you've torn out the heart of. Young people: take back the country that you're part of."

We're in bed in a Portland hotel room. Maggie hurts my nipples. She know how to twist and tease them. She sucks on them so hard. My nipples are hard-wired to my clit. She pulls on them, beats them up a bit, then bites and sucks down. It gets slick between my pussy lips. I want her to stop - stop, so I can... oh, my God. Doh't stop. I stroke my clit while she sucks me. I come in three hard jerks on my own fingers. She wants me to teach her how to stroke me just right. I say, "Tickle my clit, Don't press too hard. Just flick. Flick lightly -- just rub lightly from below to above, over my clit, over the tip, and suck on my tits hard like that. That'll make me come." While we are in bed, Martin text messages me: "Where are you?"
Me: "In a hotel room in Portland w Maggie."
Martin: "U Go Girl(s)!"
Me: "Maggie's sucking on my nipples. She says she wishes you were here to suck on her toes..."
Martin: "[I'm] at the gym. You're making my shorts stick out!"
Me: Too bad I can't suck your dick."
Martin: "Daddy loves you."

I love you too, Daddy.

I get down between Maggie's legs and gave her clit a good licking. I lick and kiss and suck on her clit. She comes on my sucking mouth. Such a beautiful cunt; such sweet juice.

I could write about how I went out to "The Hangout", and Martin's friend Ray masturbated in front of us in his lacy women's lingerie. I could write about how I masturbated for Martin and his friend, propped up on a platform, on a bed, spreading my legs so his friend could see the pink of my cunt and jerk off watching me. I could write about how Martin fucked my pussy, and then offered my ass to his friend, but then I wouldn't get to write about what's on my mind. I mean the ups and downs of insecurity, the fear of commitment and the longing for it, all that fucked up shit. Oh, God. I'm just so scared.

Just a fun day in the sun. Peter, Maggie, Laura and I met up to attend the Bare Bi Beach Bash. We took the ferry from 34th Street (East Side). It's expensive ($33 round trip), but picturesque, especially coming home in sunset. It has another Manhattan stop at Wall Street, for those of you serving the devil (brokers, corporate raiders, etc) who want to play hooky sometimes. Dontcha ever call in sick? Just dash down to the East end of Wall Street and hop on the ferry for Sandy Hook, NJ.

Arriving at the beach ferry depot, we boarded a shuttle bus for a ten minute ride to the nude beach. As we walked over to the bi group, we saw Noir, who I haven't seen since I ran into him at the Brooklyn sex club party. He was looking good naked, as usual. We settled in and ate iced fruit, salsa and chips, and hummus, olives and pita, washing it down with cool, iced water. There were folks there from bi groups around the tri-state area, and also some bi-curious folks from my naked dinners group, and some members of the love party underground. Maggie insisted on rubbing her naked nipples against mine as she kissed me. That started the crowd thinking "kissing party." Someone came up with the idea to play Spin-the-Bottle" that would have us kissing multiple partners. We had already formed a massaging chain, so the spun bottle would naturally point to a whole line of us. We all spun, and I especially enjoyed kissing Maggie and Laura. Then we all lay back on the sand and baked in the sun, until the rain came along around 5 o'clock. A bunch of us friends and strangers clustered under a few rain-proof beach umbrellas, talking, laughing and sharing food. It was one of the nicest parts of the day.

As the rain eased, we headed for the shuttle bus and the return home. Peter had me take photos of his naked dick, which he, with his flasher panache, was able to facilitate with alacrity. Go, Peter, you perv. :) They really are lovely shots. I wish I could show them here. We rode back all the way down to Wall Street on the ferry. How lovely is the New York skyline and sailing under the Manhattan and Brooklyn Bridges in sunset!

"Fifty years hence.... Others will enter the gates of the ferry and cross from shore to shore, Others will watch the run of the flood-tide,
Others will see the shipping of Manhattan north and west, and the heights of Brooklyn to the south and east, Others will see the islands large and small;
Fifty years hence, others will see them as they cross, the sun half and hour high,
A hundred years hence, or ever so many hundred years hence, others will see them,
Will enjoy the sunset, the pouring-in of the flood-tide, the falling-back to the sea of the ebb-tide."
- Walt Whitman, "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
SPOILER: Readers beware: This is an incest fantasy I acted out with my lover. Readers upset by such material should avoid this entry.
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In the morning I slid on a tight, white bodysuit girdle - white lycra with shiny white sateen on the front panel and bra cups -- snap crotch, but the girdle part extending over my hips. I woke Martin up, candy cane riding crop in hand to rouse him, but it wasn't necessary. He awoke to my lycra-clad ass. Had to kiss me first and feel the lycra under his fingers. He liked how it pushed up my tits. He cupped them and pulled on my nipples.

We went downstairs and sat on the couch with our tea. I got distracted when he showed his hard dick to me. He got up on the back rest of the couch so I could curl beneath him to suck it . Feed me, baby. He made me drink it. Then he played with my pussy lips. The thin strip of the lycra snap crotch couldn't fully cover them: the tight fabric had slid between them, so Martin slid his fingers there to feel. I was juicy. It gets like that whenever I suck his dick.

He said, "I bet you wanna come, honey."

Ummm hmmm.

So he took me by the hand and led me back upstairs. "First," he said, "I'm going to punish you a little." He took the riding crop that I'd dropped on the bed. He told me to be on my stomach and spread my legs. I did. He said, "You're going to get a little punished, now. It's good for you."

"Ok, Daddy," I said.

"Spread those thights wider..." he used the crop to smack back and forth between my thighs. It hurt.

"Wider for Daddy." He smacked my thighs red. He likes to do that. He even smacked my lycra-clad pussy. It hurt. I jumped a little, but he wouldn't let me close my legs.

"How does it feel over the fabric?" he asked.

"It's good, Daddy. I know you're doing it for my own good."

"Well, no, sweetheart. I'm doing it for my own pleasure. You don't really need it. But Daddy likes to do this to you."

"Oh, Daddy." (smack!) "Anything you want to do to me. I'm your little whore."

"Yes, baby. That's good. Take off the girdle, now, honey. Daddy wants to lick your pussy."

"Yes, Daddy."

I peeled the thing off me. My Daddy lay on top of me, putting his mouth on my hot pussy. He licked me. I nuzzled his cock, my face against his thighs, my nose to his balls. I slurped and licked. Then I just cuddled there as he licked me. The tickle heat started to build. "Oh. Oh. Oh!" Jerk, jerk, jerking out of my body. It flooded his mouth. I rubbed my cunt on his face more. Oh, fuck. So good, so good. "I love it when you come on my face," he rasped. He kissed me with my slick juices on his lips. "Now Daddy's gonna put his dick in for a minute." Daddy did, did, did. Then he pulled out. "I could've come just now, but you have to leave," he said. "You have to go home soon." "I know." I curled up on the big white bed, curled up, my hand over my pussy.

"I'm going to make breakfast while you get ready," he said, getting up. I cleaned up and came down. He'd made fresh mugs of tea, and egg white omlettes with sauteed vegetables and bacon, served with a little french pate. We ate pate du foie gras on crusty french bread topped with slices of bacon. Now that's what I call sinning!

Love: that's the "L" word.

Martin and I finally talked about it. We were in bed, out here, at the beach house. He'd called and left a message on my voicemail during the week that concluded with the words: "Love you." I'd wondered if he'd realized what he'd said. I brought it up, in bed with him, out here, in the bed he normally shares with his wife. He knew full well. He said, "It just slipped out. I know we've been avoiding it, so after I said it I thought maybe I shouldn't have. But your voicemail doesn't say, 'If you would like to re-record your message...'" We laughed. He asked me if it was ok that he'd said that. I said it was ok. I told him it made me scared. He said, "Should I be scared, too?" I said, "No. It's really me being scared because of my own life and my own past. I don't want you to be scared. I'm glad you said it."

After we talked about the "L" word we felt surprisingly unsexual. Awkward. Something had changed, and we didn't quite know how to handle it. I didn't. We spent more time than usual not fucking in this lovely house that we had to ourselves for the week (Martin's wife has gone to visit friends in Manhattan for a few days, and I'm going home after she gets back). But then things deepened.

Last night we watched movies then went upstairs and cuddled up in the dark, in his bed, listening to the crack of thunder, watching forks of lighting light up the sky. I was scared. I am scared. Not of the storm. Of him. Of myself. I don't want to be in love. But maybe I am, God help me. Well, God really does help me. Maybe this is help from God.

Last night. curled up in the darkness, we talked about fantasies. He had me talk about mine, as he stroked me. He said, "Tell Daddy what you really want. You can tell Daddy anything. He'll protect you." Finger-fucking me, stroking my clit as I nuzzled up against his strong chest, he had me talk. "Don't be afraid, honey. It's ok. What do you want to do?" I told him. I told him that I'd like to play with his dick when he's pissing, too. He said, "We can do that. We can do that tomorrow." "I'd like that," I said. "I was also thinking it would be fun to piss on your cunt, on your clit," he told me. I nodded, in the dark, shyly, embarrassed. I had been thinking about that, too. I guess I really am perverted. I came as he talked dirty to me. I love it when he talks dirty. It's my favorite thing. It made me come to think about all that dirty stuff as he stroked me. I came really hard, jerking against his beautiful fingers. Then I sucked his cock in gratitude. It's the deepest I've ever sucked. Even when he came, I didn't pull away, my mouth engulfing his dick and pressed right up against his body. His cock head was rubbing up against my tonsils. I could feel the tart, slight saltiness of his come spurting out and running down my throat. God! I love to milk him.

I don't know when I fell asleep. The next I knew, it was morning, and the birds were chirping again.

It is hard to describe what it is like here. It is totally silent, except for the birds. We are right by the beach, but you don't only hear seagulls, you hear all sorts of birds. There is a bird sanctuary nearby. Also, in two minutes walk we are on the beach, and it is a private beach for only these houses. You can swim every day. The water is bay-warm. There is a wildness out here: "Nature's changing course untrimm'd." Poison ivy ropes this part of the land together, so you have to watch out for it. Tiger lillies dot the roadside. There are tall grasses, and sand dunes. The beach is pebbly. Five minutes walk from here there is a marina where small pleasure craft are docked. Across from it is a very small public beach.

I am in an upstairs bedroom. As I type, I am looking out at the birds flying over the bay. I feel as if I am in a trance.

Martin has just "rocked my world." I told him that - such a cliche. He is away right now, taking a summer class. This afternoon we went onto the beach and swam. Then we wanted somewhere to lay down. I took off my clothes and walked naked into the sand dunes, still wearing my sunglasses. His dick got hard. He took off his swimming trunks and followed me. He called me a mermaid. We found a flat spot in the sand and spread our large towel out. I sat down and took his cock in my hand. With the other hand, I spread my pussy lips and stroked my clit. He stepped back. "Show me," he said. "Show me. I want to see you stroke your pussy." I lay back, the sun beating on my nakeness. I spread my legs and opened my pussy lips wider with one hand. He could see all the pink - the hot, wet pink. I stroked the tip of my clit with my other hand. My clit swelled. He stood a few feet from me. "Oh, baby, that's so nice," he said, stroking his dick. I stuck two fingers deep into my cunt. He watched me as I fucked my fingers in and out of my pussy. They got wet and sticky. I took them out and stuck them in my mouth. I tasted good. I went back to rubbing my clit. He said, "It's like I just came upon you jerking off by yourself. I bet you'd like living out here. You could just go out into the sand dunes every day and masturbate, and maybe some guys would stop and watch you. Would you like that?" He knows I'm an exhibitionist. I'd like that. "And then maybe they could help," he said, kneeling by me, sliding his fingers into my hot cunt. "Mmmmm..." I aknowledged. It felt so good, exposed to him, out in the sunlight, fucking myself, him helping me. "But if they were strangers they'd have to wear a condom," he teased. I smiled. His fingers felt so good.

"I have to pee," he said. "Do you want to hold it?" I nodded. I took his dick in my hand while he peed. When he was just finishing, I knelt down by his side and took it in my mouth. I got a little pee in my mouth. I sucked him dry and sucked him clean. He pulled me up and kissed me. "How did it taste?" he asked. "A little salty," I said. "Yeah, a little salty." He kissed the wetness from my lips. He put his tongue in my mouth. I gave him mine: such soft, hungry kisses.

"Show me your pussy again before we go," he said. I lay back down on the towel. I spread my legs again for him. He watched me for a few minutes, watched me get wetter. He said, "I'm going to have to fuck you for a minute." He got over me. He took off his sunglasses. I looked up into the blue of his eyes. His cock fucked in and out of my pussy. Such a nice fucking. Then he stopped and slid out of me. He watched me stroke myself again. "Please." I said. "Please. Fuck me with your fingers. Could you put two fingers inside me?" He knelt next to me and fucked two fingers into my pussy, good and hard. "Only two fingers?" He asked.

"No. More."

"Ok. How about three?"

"Uh-huh."

"Four?"

"Yeah. Un hmmmmm."

I could feel his fingers rubbing against my g-spot. It felt so good. But the green flies were biting. They bit me, and they bit him on the leg. It bled. He said, "I think we should continue this back at the house. But let's go for a swim first and wash off."

"Ok," I said.

I slipped on some semblance of a bathing suit and we went back out of the dunes, down to the water. We refreshed ourselves with iced tea that he'd brought in bottles. We swam, and then there was a small strip of water above the waterline, left by the receeding tide. We lay in it. He said, "I want to pee on your tits, ok?" "I'd like that," I told him. We were far down the beach, far from any other sign of human life. I sat in the pool of water. He knelt above me, and pissed a stream of piss across my tits. I'd been fantasizing about this. I couldn't believe it was happening. It felt warm and wet. It felt good, real good. It made me hot. "You liked that?" he asked me. "I did. Yes, I did. Does that make me sick? I don't know why I liked it. I guess I'm really crazy." I splashed water on my tits and washed myself off. We lay down next to each other in the cool water. "You're a pervert, you know that?" I told him. "You pissed on my tits, right on the beach. People could've seen us." "There was no one around," he responded. "Besides, isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Sometimes I feel like I'm in some sort of a surreal movie," he said. "I can't believe I have all this. I can't believe it's real."

"It is wonderful. It's amazing."

"I'm glad I found you." He said.

"I'm glad I found you!"

Back at the house, he knew what I wanted, but he made me tell it to him anyway. We climbed upstairs to the hot tub. He sat me on its edge with my feet in the warm water. "What do you want me to do to you?" he asked.

"I want you to finger fuck me like you do, with your fingers rubbing my g-spot, and I don't want you to stop."

"Ok. But first you have to be comfortable." He cushioned my ass with big, soft towels, and then snapped on a black latex glove. "I don't want to hurt you with my nails," he said. I spread my legs wide for him. He lubed up his hand. I leaned back against the window. He fucked his four fingers deeper and deeper into me, fucking me just right, fucking me so it rubbed up against my g-spot, inside my cunt, right behind my clit. His fingers twisted and rocked, fucking against my g-spot. I came and peed and came against his fingers. He slid out. Then he started fucking me again that way. I came again. It was raining out of me. It was female ejaculation. It was hot and warm and amazing. It rocked my motherfucking world. I slid down off the edge of the tub. "That was amazing!" He said. I couldn't speak. I couldn't. I rested my head against the side of the tub. The water surged around me. His face was flushed. His eyes were bright. "Unbelievable. Unbelievable to do that to you! So much fun. I think you're becoming a female ejaculator!" What an angel, angel, angel. My cunt and I were in heaven.

I couldn't speak, but I knew he had to leave soon. He had to make it to the class he was taking on time. Let me..." I stuttered, finding my voice: "Let me wash you." "Yes, you can wash me," he said. Then he sat on the edge of the tub with his feet in the water, and I soaped his dick, his balls, and his thighs. It made a nice, soapy lubricant. "Put one finger in my ass for a minute," he said. I did. I soaped his dick and balls, and that lovely area between his asshole and his balls, the perineum, and fucked my finger into his ass a little. It felt too good. He'd be late if we kept playing. "That's enough! I have to go," he said, "but I want you to wash my face before I go." "With soap?" I asked. "Yes, with soap." He slid back down into the tub, and I soaped up his face. "Can I open my eyes yet?" he asked, in little boy voice. "Not yet," I said, "I have to wash behind your ears first." "Can I open my eyes yet?" he asked again. "Not yet, honey. I have to get the jug to rinse you off. Just one minute." I poured a jug of warm water over his face, and then filled it again and poured it over his head, making sure the soap was all gone. "You can open your eyes now." His eyes fluttered open. "Oh, thank you, Mommy," he said, rubbing up against me, taking one of my big tits into his mouth, sucking on it hard. "What a nice way to thank Mommy!" I said, my cunt spasming. "You're going to make Mommy come just from sucking her titty." "Come? But you're already here, Mommy," he said. He's such a delight. I want to fuck him again, and he has to go to class!

Stepping from the tub he said: "Isn't it incredible? Here we are in our 40's, doing things we've never done before." It is fucking incredible. ...And I've done a few things in my day. I'm such a lucky girl. I am blessed.

I thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and love and wings; and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any - lifted from the no
of all nothing - human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

- e.e. cummings

I love the fireworks, and my nails were painted glitter red and blue. I wore a red top, blue jeans and a long rope of white pearls, and fanned myself with a big red fan. I sat on the rocks by the East River in Dumbo (Brooklyn) watching the day darken into night, watching the lights come up on the Manhattan skyline. I love, more and more, sitting by the water in this City. The New York City waterfront has become a magical, touchable place in recent years, and this is Bloomberg's contribution to the City. I hate a lot of his other policies, but this one is a gift.

Maggie and Peter and I watched the fireworks, the "bombs bursting in air." Then we went out to eat. Peter sat next to me in the restaurant and opposite Maggie. He and I sipped red wine. He put my hand on his hard cock, above his thin boxers. At the same time he stretched his bare feet under the table and rubbed Maggie's pussy through her panties with his toes. Since turn about is fair play, I reached under his boxers and put my hand on his naked dick. Such a nice dick it is, too. He giggled, and held my hand there. Such a nice, long, smooth dick. My pussy got damp, but I knew I wouldn't be fucking him. After a delicious, nouveau asian cuisine dinner, Peter went home and Maggie and I went back to her Brooklyn apartment.

Maggie and I crawled into her downy soft white bed. We touched each other's breasts in the darkness. I sucked on her nipples and she sucked on mine. I slid my body down to let my tongue touch her pussy. I just couldn't get enough. I buried my face in it. I drank her. She was so clean and wet, so well-trimmed, so sleek, and her pussy so generous on my mouth, giving me her juice. I licked, finding her clit, tasting it, letting my tongue dance across her clit, up from her cunt hole to her clit, licking and sucking on her. It seemed like forever. I didn't want to leave her pussy. When I came up for air, my face wet, she gave it back to me: She pushed me back on the pillows and slid her body down. I felt her lips on my cunt. It felt so good, comforting like rain on grateful roses. She's a friend, a lover, and nurturing: her tongue exploring me, I was offering myself to her, for her to sup at my table. I could give her sustinance. She drank me, and then, exhausted, wine in me, I fell asleep, her mouth still nursing at my clit.

Monday morning, July 3rd, we woke up early because the housekeeper was going to come. Rita was sleeping. Martin decided to fuck me with his giant black dildo. He was able to slide it into my pussy. He made me hold it in my cunt and tickled my clit until I came like crazy, gasping and squeezing my cunt on that big, black dick. Then he fucked my cunt, and then he fucked my ass: had me squeeze my butt cheeks together and fucked me until I begged him to come in my ass. He did, moaning “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck!” We rested for a while, and then he got up and went downstairs. I popped in the shower, and when I got out he’d brought up a tray with a nice pot of tea, cups, cream and sugar. We sipped our tea in bed, and then went downstairs, where we sat on the porch and had breakfast while Rita went and got the housekeeper, who was arriving by train from another town. I cleaned up “my room,” and then Martin and I left to do errands, and then eventually take me to the train to go home. Rita would be doing other errands for the day. Leaving, I kissed Rita goodbye, thanking her for a wonderful weekend, and Martin and I drove away from that beautiful beach house.

First, we ran some errands, and then we stopped at a place where Martin likes to buy cigars and porn, and bought Penthouse Letters, Buttman and Taboo magazines. We had over an hour before the next train, so we went to "the Hangout" – Martin’s little love shack that he rents. It’s a basement in an otherwise nondescript row of mini-mall stores. When we got there, he said he had to pee, and so he peed into a bottle the minute we got inside his space, as there are no bathrooms there, nor are there available bathrooms in any convenient location nearby. The place felt damp, and as soon as he turned on all the lights we discovered there'd been a rather bad leak, and the couch was ruined, and there was water drenching the carpet in the big room -- the living room area. The stereo equipment was fine, but we'd have nowhere to sit to watch the porn I’d gotten to watch: Joanna Angel in “Joanna’s Angels”. (The video is great, by the way. We watched some of it earlier in the weekend. I’ll review it in another post.) So we sat in the "Office" part of “the Hangout”, which is, essentially, an adjoining room. I sat at Martin’s desk, looking at his extensive porn magazine collection while he fussed around and went upstairs to see if he could locate the source of the leak and talk to someone. He's going to go back there next week to get it straightened out, but in the meantime, I was looking at tons of his porn magazines. I was tearing out the pictures I thought were hot, so that I could make a scrapbook for him in response to a scrapbook he made for me, addressing the query therein: "What's your kink?"

When he got back, he took off his shirt and sat down across from me. He lit up a cigar. He poured us shot glasses of a lemon liqueur called Limoncello that was strong and really, really good. We knocked a few down. He was sitting on the other side of the table, bare chested, smoking his cigar. I was pretty drunk by then. I couldn't stand just being down there not fucking him, my pussy was hot from looking at all that porn, so I pulled down my jeans, pulled down my panties and said, "I can masturbate for you." He said, "Yeah, you can," in a kind of low, raspy voice. I spread my legs and stretched them out on the table and held my pussy lips open with one hand while the middle finger of my other hand stroked my swollen clit. "You really want me to see it, don't you?" He asked. "Yeah, I want you to see my pussy. I want you to see my hot cunt." I kept stroking and he kept watching. Then I said, "I have to pee." He said, "So do I. You want to go first? I want to watch you." I said, "I want you to watch me." So he gave me a cup and I held it under my pussy to catch the pee, but I couldn't pee in front of him, so he pissed into a bottle, and then he said, "Why don't you crouch down to pee?" So I did, but I still couldn't pee in front of him. So then he snapped a tight, black latex glove on his hand and said, "Ok, we're going to play 'how many fingers can I get inside you?' and then, as I fuck you, it'll stimulate your bladder until you can't hold back anymore, and then, when you're ready to pee, you just go ahead and pee, honey." He put a towel on the table, and had me sit on the edge in front of him, and then he slid first two, then three and then four fingers into my hot cunt. He fucked me with four fingers, so deep, stimulating my g-spot and my bladder, until I could feel the warm piss starting to leak out of me, and I started to pee down over his gloved hand, and he said, "Yeah, that's it, baby." So I kept pissing, over his hand, and then it spurted out and up in the air, and all over everything, and he put his mouth down there and slurped and sucked on my clit while I was peeing, and, he told me, because my head was thrown back and my eyes were closed, he told me I pissed into his mouth, he caught some of it in his mouth, and he loved it, and he drank it; and then he pulled himself up, and he kissed me, and I could feel the wetness of his mouth, and taste myself a little, and taste that it wasn't come, and it was so good, so good. It felt so good: him drinking me in, and he said, "It's all worshipping the goddess, baby. Pussy juice, cum, piss, even when you're bleeding: anything that comes out of a woman's pussy. I love it all."

After his kiss, I sat back down on my chair, and leaning forward, I took his dick in my mouth, licking it, drooling on it, sucking it, drenching it in my saliva, and he said, "Squeeze my balls." I did, and then he said, "No, like this. Betty did it like this, and that's what made me come." He meant last summer, when Betty and Arthur and me and Martin had been fucking together. He showed me what she'd done: she’d cupped her hand and scraped her nails between his asshole and up to and across his balls, so I did it, over and over, stroking my nails between his legs, from his perineum to his balls in a come-hither motion, my other hand encircling his dick. He said, "Use your other hand to dig your nails into the base of my dick." I did, sucking on his cockhead as it bobbed in and out of my mouth, working his perineum and balls the way he asked, until he gave me his come to drink. He fed me. He gave me his juice, his gift, just like I'd given him mine.

I would've said something to him earlier, I would've told him I wanted to do this before, but I was too shy. So he got me drunk. So I broke through some inhibitions. I just needed an opportunity. He gives me opportunities I haven't had. I don't need an excuse. I’m not fixing this. Fuck therapy. This is therapy.

Rita had gone out with friends, met the new Tom, made arrangements for him to come over the following day. Came home real late. We knew she'd come home late because we were up til at least midnight fucking.

We wake up, Martin makes an omelet for us and we eat it on the porch, when Rita comes back from walking she has some of the omelet Rita, who'd gone out to a club the night before, met a man who, like her crush of last summer, happens to be a New York City firefighter. It turns out that his name is Tom - the same name as her previous crush! It turns out she's made arrangements with him, and he's on his way out to their house from Queens and fuck her. I ask: "Should we make ourselves scarce?" Rita says, "Oh, no, you don't have to do that. I told him that my husband knows about what I do, and I told him that if he's gonna have a problem with that then it won't work out." The new Tom apparently responded by saying, "Oh no, that's fine with me!" She'd asked the new Tom if he was married. He's said, "Uh, yeah." Then she asked: "Do you have kids?" He'd said "Yeah..." and then Rita'd asked, "So your wife doesn't really know that you fuck around, right?" "Yeah, I guess not really," he'd responded. So Mark and I prepare to take our beach chairs and towels and beach umbrella and pirate flag and down to the beach, and drive the car down the road. We pass a car just down the road that's stopped, as if lost. Martin says to the nice looking, well build 30 something in the car: "Is your name Tom?" Tom, a muscular firefighter, says, "Yes," and Martin says, pointing: "It's that driveway right over there." He smiles and we pull out and drive down the road.

Martin and I swim, Tom goes indoors and fucks Rita; Rita comes twice, she says, and, she tells me later: "He was real gentle -- real good, He made me come twice!" Martin and I swim for hours; at one point we're sitting on the floating dock. Rita and Tom walk out on the pier. We wave. We're ready to swim back and make nice, but they take off again. Martin and I swim for another hour and a half. When we get back to the house Rita wasn't there, she was out walking, so we went upstairs, had a little sex play, had showers. We went downstairs in robes and Rita was back. As Martin was puttering around the yard, watering the lawn, watering the plants, she told me how good it was with Tom, and we laughed that he hadn't mentioned Martin's directing him into the driveway. Then Rita went out for a walk and Martin and I decided we'd ask her if we could all go out for sushi, which we did. Getting ready for dinner, Rita and I had fun playing dress up, and I gave her two new tops that I'd brought for her to try on. They were perfect, and she loved them! Then we went out for sushi and it was delicious! It was very expensive and Rita treated me. Thank you, Rita, for everything, as always. We came home and I put on my new corset to show Rita. Since Martin and I had split the cost at the Exotic, Erotic Expo, she, in essence, had really bought half of it. She loved it! She said, "I'm so glad you bought that. It's so perfect for you!" I wore it while we watched "Pirates of the Caribbean," which I'd never seen. Rita told Martin to sleep with me and it upset me. I couldn't understand how she'd want him to sleep with me every night in her own house. But I shrugged, and eventually, in our bed in the guest room, I let Martin put his arms around me and we fell asleep.

Martin took me home. If I could only put into words how amazing the sex is sometimes. I can't even believe it.

I prayed for my period before coming out to the beach. I was about a week late, and starting to paint scenarios in my mind about what to do if I were pregnant. Would Martin, Rita and I have a baby? But Thank God those speculations were unnecessary.

By the time we left the beach, I was bleeding heavily. But I was also amazingly horny, what with feeling Jay's nice hard dick rub up against me, and all, and having him and Martin suck on my nipples.

Martin and I'd been talking about DP -- double penetration. That would've been what I would have done if Jay had come over. My pussy was so hot, when we got home, Martin had me kneel ass up on the steps up to his hot tub. I love what he does to me so much, and it proves what a pussy lover he truly is. I was bleeding, and still: he buried his face first in my ass: licking and sucking my asshole, and making me really hot. At the same time, he flicked his finger against my clit. Then he slid his face a little bit closer to lick my cunt.

He took a big towel, put it on his and Rita's bed, and told me to lie back on it. He made me slide my ass down so that it was on the edge of the bed, and he knelt down to keep doing his work. I begged him to fuck me. He went and got a big, pink dildo, and slid it into my hot snatch. I use that word because of the way my pussy sucked and throbbed on that dildo. He kept leaning over to lick and play with my clit, he kept burying his face in my asshole, and I kept wanting him to keep fucking my cunt. He said, "Let's go into your room so that I can fuck you properly." I got up, towels in hand, and stumbled in there. He said, "Get on the bed, face up." He took out his belt, which he'd looped over, and made me spread my legs. First he whipped my tits, gently holding them, then letting the belt come down across first one, and then the other, the leather searing my nipples with a little sting. God, that gets me crazy. Then he whipped my thighs, first one and then the other, always soothingly stroking me and then whipping me, hard, and then soothing me again. Just writing about it gets my pussy dripping. He whipped my cunt: a strong smack with the belt, then cupping it, fingering my clit, then cupping it again, then whipping me again. I felt: "Do anything you want to me. I'm your slave. Beat me. Fuck me. Just don't stop." He bent down and licked and sucked my cunt. I pulled his head closer into me, stroking his curls. "Oh God, baby..." I muttered. "Please, please fuck me." "You want me to fuck you?" he asked. "Please..." I begged. "Ok, I'll fuck you." He gave me the pink dildo again, sliding it into my cunt. "Now I'm going to fuck your ass while that's in your cunt," he said. It was amazing. He was able to slide his dick into my ass, and the dildo was wedged against the very top of his pelvis, so that when he fucked in and out of my ass the dildo also fucked in and out of my cunt. DP! Unbelievable. I was getting fucked by two dicks at the same time with only one guy -- my dearest Martin fucking me so unbelievably well.

Fucking me with his cock in my ass and his big pink dildo in my pussy, Martin made my cunt grab and spasm over the big pink dildo. When he pulled out, and then he went, cleaned up, and fucked my cunt so good, so deep, over and over again. It felt so amazingly good, my legs were spread so wide up in the air that his dick was just angled in so good in my hot, wet, bleeding pussy, I just didn't want him to stop. I wanted him to keep fucking me, but he knew he shouldn’t come inside me. We’d just had a scare about that. I wasn’t going to tempt fate, even if I was bleeding. So I sucked on it like a baby, on his dick like his good little girl. I told him I wanted him to come in my mouth. He fucked my mouth. I let him. His come jerked and spurted down my throat as I swallowed. I love drinking his come. He lay his sweating body down beside mine. I rubbed him down with a towel. He sat up. He said, “Now it’s your turn, isn’t it, honey? Spread your legs for me.” He pulled and sucked on my nipples. He bit them, hard. He said, “I’m not going to stop until you come.” He made me come by pulling, hard, on my big nipples and tickling my clit. The harder he bit, the closer I came to coming, until I came in hot jerks, closing my legs, trapping his hand between my legs so I could feel his warm fingers rubbing against me, keeping me safe.