Blown

“Mommma….. Mommmaaa….” The voice is small and creaky, searching me out through the dark apartment.

“Here, baby, I’m in here,” I had fallen asleep on the couch. “What’s the matter, Jack? What’s wrong?”

I sit up and hold out my arms. He crawls up and curls his body into them, rubbing his eyes. “MOMma……MOMma……”

“Tell momma what happened, honey…..sshhhh, it’s okay.” I am rocking him back and forth.

“um, um, um, the wind was, um, um, (gasp) um, um, blowing, and, and, and, and, it blowed me. It, it, it, it, (gasp) it, um, blowed me. The tor-NA-do.”

It is 4 AM. He doesn’t go back to sleep til 6.



Thanks a fucking lot, Dorothy.

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t-shirt slut

I celebrated my newfound blogospheric celebrity yesterday and bought my own goddamned vibrator.

My ex is in town 'til Tuesday. He got in this morning and was an hour and a half late picking up the boys.

I was pissed and moody this afternoon when my mother called, "I'm going shopping; would you like to come?"

"No, I can't spend any money. I just bought a new vibrator and that's it til the end of the month. Besides, I'm in a bad mood. I'm going to stay home and clean."

"Oh, come on, let me take you shopping!!"

Now, how can I disappoint her? Mom knows that when boys are stupid, it's time for a little retail therapy.

And lookit what I got!



"i have two boyfriends"


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Vault

Monday, 2 AM


“Hello?”

“Hey, what’re you doing?”

“I’m just lying in bed.”

“Are you sleeping?”

“Not now… What’re you doing?”

“Thinking about how much I want you next to me.”

“Hmmm, well, you came to my place last time, so I guess it’s my turn.”


I put a sweatshirt on over my boxer shorts and camisole, kick my feet into my flipflops and leave my apartment on the top floor of a century-old house. It is April. It’s chilly and already humid. I start my car and slowly back out of the driveway, careful not to kick up gravel and wake my downstairs neighbors.

He lives five minutes from me by car. At 2 AM it is probably more like three minutes. I park in the space behind his Subaru wagon. Walk down the outdoor steps to his basement apartment door. Open it and walk in.

I have done this so many times.

I cross through the living room and into his bedroom, off the kitchen. He is lying propped on his side, waiting for me. I shut the bedroom door behind me.


"Nice Shorts," he comments.

“You woke me up,” I retort, “you get what you get.”

“Come here.”


I walk over to the bed as he sits up, then stands in front of me. I let him touch my face, breathe my hair, kiss my forehead. He takes off my sweatshirt and tosses it onto the floor, running his hands down my neck and over my shoulders, finally bringing the backs of his fingers to my nipples. He brushes them lightly through the fabric of my camisole, kissing my mouth. He is such a good kisser.

He smells like man. I love the raw smell of man. Not overpowering; just enough to remind me of sex and sweat and cum and blood and power.

He turns me on like no one else.

I am breathing deeply... kissing, sighing. My clit is throbbing and I am pressing my thighs together. His cock is hard and making a tent of his boxers.

I want to be naked. I want to fuck.


“Please...”

“No.”


He pinches my nipples as if to illustrate his point and backs me up against the wall, kissing me harder. Takes my hands from his waist and brings them together above my head. Pulls his head back and looks straight at me,


“Keep your arms like that. Don’t bring them down.”


He steps back and drops to his knees. Curls two fingers into the waistband of my boxers and slides them down until they fall to the floor. Parts my labia with one hand while the other slides up under my camisole, fingers splayed. Licks my slit.

I am biting my lip and moaning. My arms are tired from being held straight up. I relax a bit and bend my elbows, keeping my hands clasped and resting on my head. I am tilting my pelvis up to meet his lips.

Tongue and lips become nose (What this boy did to my clit with his nose, I’ll never know, but it was fucking amazing. Maybe that’s why I’ve since been partial to men with large or distinct noses.). He really spends a lot of time licking and sucking and finger fucking. I come. I am getting impatient.


“I really need to suck your cock now.”

“You’re right. But not like last time.”

“I thought you liked it last time.”

“I don’t want it like last time. It was too easy for you.”


I don’t know what to say; the last time was the first time I’d gotten his cock down my throat past my gag reflex and held it there. He has a really big dick. I didn’t think it was so easy.

He stands up, brings his fingers to my lips, letting me suck my cum from them. Takes off my camisole.


“Sit on the edge of the bed.”


He takes a length of rope and ties my wrists together in my lap. With another he binds my ankles, which are crossed on the floor beside the bed. The mattress and box springs are sitting directly on the floor, frameless. The ropes cut into my skin, but aren’t cutting off my circulation. He reaches behind himself and brings a blindfold. Covers my eyes.


“Madeline, can you see anything?”

“No.”

“Are you excited?”

“Yes.”

"Show me your tongue.”


I stick out my tongue, opening my mouth wide. He drops his cock onto it.

I start licking the tip, slicking the shaft, swirling my tongue until his whole cock is wet. He is standing with his cock in my mouth, not touching me with anything else. I am sucking and moving forward and backward with my upper body while bracing myself with my feet.

“Faster. Suck me faster.”

He puts a hand on my head and starts moving it and fucking my face. Forcing his cock into my throat. I am gulping air and relaxing my throat as best as I can. I start to gag. Tears are streaming down my cheeks, but I can’t wipe them away. He pulls out, and puts his foot next to me on the bed.


“Lick my balls.”


I tilt my head and find the right angle for my mouth to suck his balls while he’s jerking himself with one hand and keeping hold of my head with the other. I love pulling a testicle into my mouth and rolling it around like a jawbreaker, twirling it with my tongue.


“Unnh, fuck. FUCK! Suck my cock. Suckmycocksuckmycocksuckmycockgoddammit…”


I am sucking blindly. Loudly. Wetly.

He pulls out and picks me up from behind.


“Lean over the bed.”


I put my bound hands onto the mattress in front of me and he unwraps a condom. My ass is in the air, ankles still bound, legs straight and together, feet on the floor. I feel his cock against my pussy as his thumbs part my lips. He slides in, deep and slow.

I gasp--a long, soft, intense inhalation “huuuuuuhhh!”

A few more strokes like this and he starts pounding me. I have lowered myself onto my forearms and he grabs my hips like handles, pulling me to him, my ass meeting his pelvis with a slap every time he thrusts, hard and fast.

My face is buried in a pillow and I’m taking a bite of it. Animal sounds are coming from inside my body. I know they are mine because they are muffled by the pillow and I can feel their vibrations on my lips. I am arching my back and cumming, slamming myself back as hard as I can. He holds my hips; holds my body as close as he can. Stops fucking me. Our bodies rock back and forth together; the winding down of the roller coaster. Sweat is running in little streams down to the small of my back.

Silence.
Breathing.

He unties my ankles, then my wrists. Kisses them. Takes off the blindfold. Kisses me.

I walk to the bathroom to pee. Standing at the sink washing my hands I look in the mirror. My entire upper body is flushed. I look amazing. I run my wet hands over my face and through my hair. Take a breath. Walk back to the bedroom and through the door,

Straight into a wall: The combined scents of man and woman. Cum and sweat. Blood and power. Sex.

I am nineteen.



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What I Have to Work With

Marcus is leaving at 4 AM. We are hanging out at the hospital overnight while Jack gets his antibiotics. Around 10:30 we decide we could watch Hedwig and the Angry Inch on his laptop.

The week after I returned from my visit to Jefferson in New York, Marcus sent me the Hedwig DVD and soundtrack.

The DVD is at my apartment, a short distance from the hospital. I leave to get it and bring it back. We don't watch the movie that night. Two weeks later, it's still shrink-wrapped on my bookcase. On the way to my place I start thinking about Jefferson and his phone call to me the night before.

Marcus and I had just completed Round 1 of a fuckathon (see Strapped), and were awaiting the bell signifying the start of Round 2. My phone rings.

Jefferson’s ringtone.

Instantly, I sat up and looked over at Marcus.

“It’s Jefferson. He almost never calls me at night.”

“Answer it!”

I lean over and pick up my cell phone.

“Hey, you…”

“Hi, baby. How are you? Am I calling at a bad time?”

“No, not at all! I’m a little surprised to hear from you, but I am glad you called... I miss you!”

“You mean you and Marcus are not having the hottest sex ever?”

I laugh. “Well, not at this moment! We’ve been doing that for a good while, though. Hey, honey, are you alright?”

“I am. I’m tired, and I have been facilitating sex for Belle since this morning, so that’s been taking up much of my time.”

“It was so nice to see you this morning on the webcam. We keep talking about you.”

“It was good to see you. It almost felt like I was there. So, how was your day?”

“Let's see, we went for BBQ. And then chocolate. And then sex toy shopping. And then, Oh- guess what, baby?”

"What, honey?"

“I fucked Marcus with a strap-on!”

He laughs. "Really?! Now that is something I’d like to have seen.”

“It was so hot. So how is the weekend with Belle going?”

“It is all going according to plan. Everything is going well. I’m home now and I just wanted to hear your voice. I’m about to turn in.”

“Okay, well, do you want to talk to Marcus?”

“That’s okay; I’m already in bed. I am so ready for sleep.”

“Alright, darlin’. Get your sleep; I’m sure you’ll need it tomorrow. …Jefferson?”

“Yes, my sweet?”

“I’m glad you called. G’night.”

“’Night, hon.”


This was new territory for me. Jefferson knew about Marcus’s trip west. They had discussed it, he and I had discussed it, Marcus and I had discussed it. We all seemed fine with the whole thing. As long as we were honest with each other.

Marcus and I were having a fun weekend. But Jefferson had called. And sounded a little wistful. So I worried. A little.

On Sunday night I took way longer than I should have in retrieving the movie because I was updating Jefferson by IM while at home. When I return, Marcus is angry and hurt. As Jack sleeps across the room, Marcus and I close the curtain around the extra bed and have The Talk.

Are we sure we want to continue this? What if it’s too hard for one of us? What will it mean if two of us fall in love and one is left feeling like an outsider? I’m Jefferson’s Online Girlfriend and he is Jefferson’s Best Friend, and now I am Marcus's Girlfriend too, and he is one of My Two Boyfriends. Is this all just too much?

It is. Way too much.

I am overwhelmed by the intensity of the weekend and the crisis with Jack. I don’t want to talk about whether our modern love triangle is a good idea. I start to cry.

Faced with hurt and jealousy rising from the remains of a great weekend, feeling grateful to Marcus for his help, feeling guilty about leaving him at the hospital with little Jack, I am sobbing.

I feel like a horrible mother for leaving for as long as I did. A bad girlfriend for being with one boyfriend when I should have been with the other. A terrible person for wanting a simpler life, for wanting to wish away the hard parts: the kids, their father, the too-small apartment, the hospital bills, the things that tie me to this place.

This is hard. I am usually so together. Now, though, I just want to be dependent on someone else. I worry about comparing my feelings for Marcus with my feelings for Jefferson. I could see myself in love with him...with each of them.

It is my own fault. I'm the one who wanted to meet Marcus in the first place. I could have told him I wasn't interested in seeing him alone. There are lots of things I could have said to discourage him. I didn't want to. And now I've hurt him and I don't want to lose this person who is sweet and open and kind and generous because of something dumb I've done and even though it complicates my life I don't want to stop seeing him.

Marcus holds me, kisses my tears. I press my pelvis into his thigh. I am pulling him close, kissing him hard. These are hungry, selfish kisses. When he leaves in an hour I will go back to being the Single Mom of the Staph Infection in Room 2242.

His head is between my legs and I am cumming, quietly, behind the striped curtain.

Thirty minutes later I drive him to meet his shuttle. He hasn't washed his face. He flies back home smelling like my pussy.



Today, Colton asked me how The Boyfriends are.

I tell him that things are good. That I had spoken with each of them after Marcus’s visit and made it clear that I wasn’t going anywhere. They could both have me if they wanted me. And that I am content with this arrangement. As long as we are all honest about our feelings.

The fact is that I don’t want either one to go away. They complement one another. And they are, really, incomparable. Each one appeals to a different part of me, intellectually and emotionally. And physically, well, we’ve been there. We’ll go there again.

None of us is on a relationship schedule; we all have kids, ex-spouses and complicated lives. Which, in some ways, is what makes the whole situation so nice. It’s nice for me not to have to explain why I have to leave a conversation in the middle to deal with some shit concerning my divorce. Or to talk about a Hot Wheels car unceremoniously dropped into the toilet. It’s nice for Marcus to talk about his sex work openly (I love getting his daily reports!), and worry aloud about his kids’ homework. Jefferson can be honest about demands on his time by lovers and life, and deal with children and their mother.

It’s funny; we are all so into each other, but we talk as much about our kids as we do about our mutual attraction and fucking.

It is a nice arrangement. Especially when dealing with the crazy shit in my life right now.


“You know, Colton, it's complicated sometimes. But most of the time it’s like I have the perfect man.”

“Two men is the Perfect Man?”

“For me it might be.”

“Makes sense, doll. You know, I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: You may actually be the Perfect Woman. Frankly, I’m not sure one guy could handle that alone.”



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Fleshbot

Damn!

Today just gets better and better.

Fleshbots who tried linking to the Wobbly assfucking session with Thomas (listed in today's Sexblog Round-Up) got an error page. Here is the correct link.

More kisses.

Listen Up!

Yesterday I got an email from Tim of the Tim and Tony Show Podcast, saying that he is hooked on this blog and wants to recommend it in today's podcast. Wow!

You can link to it here and click to play the May 12 program. It's just a couple of guys drinking and talking about trips to Vegas, homebuying and, um, me.

Warning: The site is not safe for work. (Oh, right, like this one is...)

Kisses.

marcus goes away

Editor's Note: This post was written by Marcus. All of it.



it is sunday morning. i am very aware of this fact, its at the forefront of my mind. i am not ready to leave her later tonight.

“geez, maddie, its crazy, it feels like the time just flew by.”

she looks at me and says, “yeah, there’s so much we havent done”.

i cant tell if she’s joking or not, but it does get me to thinking.

“yeah”, i retort, “you didnt even fist me!”

“do you want me to?” she is still looking at me, now more intensely.

i say, very set, “yes, i do”. i am more sure of this than anything right now.

she goes to wash up, and returns with a latex glove. i, meanwhile, have spread myself on the bed, face down, waiting for her to give me a hand.

she starts gently, which is just what this boy needs. lots of lube- she knows about that from her new york lesson. first one finger, then two, and then three. it is starting to feel quite good, she goes to four fingers, and whoa- five. i’m entering that other place, where theres a bit of pain married to pleasure.

my ass is up in the air. i’ve got my chest pushed down on the bed. i know, from fucking guys who have never been fucked before, that this is the best position to start with for ass virgins. what maddie doesnt know is that i have never been completely fisted before. what maddie also doesnt know is that i am Determined today.

five weeks ago her hand went into my ass deeper than anyone’s had ever been before. it felt great. i was on another planet. but alas, in my mind, it wasnt a complete fisting. to me, being fisted means an entire hand is inside the ass. even better if the forearm can get in there too. this is so hot to me, which is also so strange. for just a year ago i was billing myself as a Top Masseur in my ads. no one could even fuck my ass then.

the word “change” is pressed into a little rock i carry around in my pocket, and change is indeed what is happening to me every day. maddie is one part of this, and she knows the scope of her influence on me. what she doesnt know is how badly i want her influence IN me, now, right now, i am determinnnnnnnnnned, i fuckin’ want it bad, i

“aaaaaaggrrrggg!” i’ve just let out an animal sound, it is inadvertent and from deep within and i am moving closer to the pain part and now pleasure is filing for divorce and everyone around is, uh, affected. but maddie, in a voice that is at once sexy, cool and calm, says “breathe deep. take yoga breaths.”

i know exactly what she means. she said exactly what i needed. i start focusing on my breathing and the pain subsides. pleasure has turned on its foot, it is walking back in, it’s taking its jacket off and rethinking its departure.

but her hand is fucking huge. it is the hand of goliath, and my ass has turned into a woman’s cervix. i cant take it, its not ready for such a thing, i am going to that place where stinkin’ thinkin’ lives and i’m gonna fuck this up, her hand is pushing and ripping and fuckkkkkkkkk its the widest part of her palm, and its killing me, killing me and then i remember to breathe again and she’s continuing and

oh! she’s in me. i am calm again, my whole body is both electrically shocked and recuperating from the shock, at the same time. the feeling is one of complete fullness, and its like she has removed any space inside me, up to my ears. yes, even my head is full. at that moment i suddenly have a thought, “oh god, i hope theres not a lot of shit.” i dont want to gross her out.when its me fisting someone, if i feel a little shit, well the truth is, i dont have a problem with that. not like i’m seeking it out or anything, but i kinda think they invented that line “shit happens” for people who are fisting. having kids certainly helped me get over the shit factor. once in a while, when i’ve found my fingers inside someone’s ass, i have come across a piece of shit that didnt really belong in a hand-in-ass environment, and i’ve just pulled it out, and tossed it on the floor next to the bed. i am a fuckin’ professional; the last thing i want to do is make my clients feel bad. so when shit presents itself to me, i just deal with it. but my shit, to maddie? this is a different story. this is a girl i very much want to impress.

she has done it now. the fleshy part of her hand is inside me, and her wrist is now against my hole. i am yoga breathing, i am yoga breathing, i am yoga breathing, and its good. mmmm it is good. i have just flown to pluto, landed, and spent three weeks there.

but then, all of a sudden, i know... its time. i reach back, and gently pull her hand from my ass. or maybe i say “ok, pull out now, slowly”. fact is, i cant recall what happened next. but now she is out of me, she is washing up, she is somewhere else, and i am laying on the bed. i am on the bed, drugged on my own ass.

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Captain Jack

It is Thursday. Marcus will be arriving shortly after midnight. I have a breakfast date with my friend, Rebecca, then a noon appointment with a client.

We have omelettes and coffee, and spend close to three hours catching her up on the latest developments in my life; namely, my impending divorce and the new men in my life. Rebecca is an amazing woman. She is the person who will sit down next to you and listen to you talk about your life, prompting you with the perfect questions until she has all the information she could ever want. And you feel like you've just completed an amazing journey of self-discovery.

We finish at a quarter to noon, kiss our goodbyes and I jump into the car to drive to my client. About halfway there my phone rings. Daycare.

"Hello?"

"Madeline, it's Beatrice, Jack's teacher."

"What happened?"

"He has a bug bite or something on his knee that looks infected. He's been complaining about it and wanted us to put a BandAid on it. It looks pretty red, and I just wondered what you wanted us to do."

"Okay, I'll be right there to get him."

I call my client to reschedule; he has five children and understands completely. When I arrive at the daycare center, Jack is asleep on his cot and fusses when I pick him up. His knee is a little swollen and there is a tiny pinprick, around which a little redness has formed. He refuses to walk on it.

I take him to my mother's office. One of the doctors looks at the knee and says it looks like he's got something embedded in it, like a piece of gravel. My kid falls so much these days, it could be anything... The doctor suggests warm compresses and plenty of baths to help draw out whatever is causing the infection. She calls in a prescription for antibiotics in case it gets worse.

I take Jack with me to run my last minute errands before Marcus arrives. I have a shitload to do, and now a toddler to care for and entertain. My mother is keeping the kids overnight and through the weekend. I do my best to fold laundry and vacuum, while giving Tylenol and holding warm washcloths to Jack's knee. I pack the weekend bag for the boys to take to my parents' house.

At 5:00 I get Miles from preschool, drive the kids to my mom's office and load them into her car.

Jack gets another long bath and more compresses that night. He is walking on his leg much better the following day. When my mother picks him up from daycare, though, it has gotten worse, and he doesn't want anyone to touch it. We consult with the doctor and start the antibiotics.

I should say that I was with Marcus during the bulk of the weekend. The fact is that my mother is a nurse, and a mother of five. She is eminently capable of handling situations like this, and I trust her judgement. We were in contact the entire weekend about Jack.

We give the antibiotics 36 hours to work, and on Sunday morning, seeing no improvement, consult with my friend Helen, who is a Physician's Assistant. My mother meets us at Helen's house; Marcus and I walk in, and I introduce him to Helen's girlfriend, Susan.

Then I introduce him to Helen.
Then my mother.
My youngest son.

"Huwhoa, Mahcus," Jack flirts.

They are fast friends.

This was not supposed to happen this weekend, and certainly not in this fashion. Even before my weekend Rules were imposed by Jefferson, Marcus and I had discussed the issue of him meeting my kids. While they know that we speak by telephone, and he would love to meet them, neither one of us wanted to enter the realm of preschool questioning: "Are you and Marcus in LOVE? Are you going to get MARRIED?"

And I certainly was not planning to introduce him to my parents, who know that I am seeing both Marcus and Jefferson: "Oh, and what's happening with your fuck buddy Thomas, Maddie??"

Whatever. Plans change. Life takes care of that. And Marcus is excellent in crisis mode.

We take Jack to the ER, as Helen was concerned that the knee joint could be septic and need surgery to drain it, and at the very least, a nasty staph infection which would require serious antibiotics.

As nurses and techs poke and prod little Jack, drawing vials of blood, swabbing the pustule on his knee for a culture and starting an IV line, he is calm and sweet, lying on the gurney and looking around. My mother, Marcus and I are the only ones at the hospital. Then, when I take Jack for X-rays and an ultrasound of his knee, Marcus is alone with my mom.

He says they were having a nice conversation. Then my father showed up.

I have known my father for 33 years. He is smart and funny and sarcastic, and I still have a very hard time talking to him. Poor Marcus was like a suicidal Christian thrown to apathetic lions. He kept trying to engage my dad in conversation, to no avail. The man simply does not talk. Especially in unfamiliar settings like hospitals. Mom came to Marcus's rescue and suggested he go see what was keeping us in Radiology.

Eventually we all return to the ER, and the orthopedic surgeon (another pal of mine) examines Jack and concludes that there is nothing wrong with the joint, but he wants to admit him and give him antibiotics intravenously.

My father leaves to return home, and my mother offers to stay until the evening so Marcus and I can have a few more hours to spend together. We leave Jack in her arms, promising to return with chocolate.

Aural Sex

If sex can’t be adventurous and fun, I’m-a kick it to the curb.

On Sunday morning, Marcus and I wake up early, despite the darkness of my bedroom. I get up, walk towards the door.

“Nice ass, baby. Too bad about those bite marks, though…”
“You are going to get me into trouble! Stop leaving your marks all over me! I have to pee.”
“Not so fast!! I’m coming with you.”

Yesterday Marcus knelt in front of me while I was pissing on the toilet. I had made the mistake of telling him my history of shyness while peeing. It used to take me an hour or better to pee in a cup at the doctor’s office when I was young. Then, when I lived overseas and went camping on a regular basis, it was a good year before I could bring myself to squat in the wilderness by myself; let alone with a buddy. So this bathroom audience thing was odd, to say the least.

We walk to the bathroom and Marcus climbs into the tub.

“Come on.”
“Ugh! No! No Way. It’s one thing for you and Jefferson to piss on me. I cannot do this.”
“Shhh. Yes, you can. If you really have to pee it will come; eventually you will piss on me. It is so hot...trust me.”

I feel really stupid, standing above him, my leg raised, trying to relax and let it come. No luck. I turn on the shower. Still nothing. Eventually, Marcus has to pee, so he stands up next to me and pisses on my belly and tits. I am not incredibly turned on, but I am more relaxed. I keep trying to pee by not thinking about peeing. A few minutes go by and he starts washing my hair and body. I am standing close to him and the warm water, just wishing I could let go. Finally:

“Okay, Marcus, I’m going to pee now.”

He gets down on his knees, and puts my foot up on the edge of the tub. I am holding onto the shower rod and the top edge of the tile for balance, because he is moving around down below. My eyes are closed, and I am pissing on his neck, his back, his head, his face. His mouth.

He stands up, smiling. "That was so worth the wait!"

I am really not getting this; he was so turned on and all I was doing was urinating. I'm happy it finally decided to rain down; I'm just glad I didn't get a UTI, for as long as it took. Seriously, it was probably 45 minutes. That's a long time to wait for anything.

I take my herbal body shampoo and a sponge. I start by shampooing his hair, then soaping his back and chest, reaching around to wash his cock and balls. His dick is hard. I rinse him with the handheld showerhead, and then pass it to him.

“Put this back, would you please? Oh, and back up just a little, toward the faucet.”

I guided him back with my hands on his hips, and then went to my knees.

Now, this is one of my absolute favorite things. Shower blowjobs. Easy to wet my mouth, and I can work up a nice amount of lubrication if I deep throat his cock a couple of good times. Marcus is nice and hard, and lets me work.

I am bracing my hands on the sides of the tub. He sighs.

“God, Maddie. That feels so good.”

I hum my response.

Oh! That’s another thing: Let’s not discount the aural factor: wet blowjobs sound amazing. And the sounds my vocal cords make as I turn my head slightly from side to side, taking his entire cock into my throat and say, “nnnnnnnnnnn,” not only sound hot, but I'll bet the vibrations feel awfully nice.

Marcus gasps and starts fucking my throat. I am sucking and sucking and taking his cock deep until the water starts getting cool. This is a first. I’ve never used up my hot water supply. Ever.

"That was an amazing blowjob...that'll give me fantasies for at least a year."

"Yeah, right, Mister I-Suck-Cock-For-A-Living."

I wash, and jump out so he can finish up.

We have yet to fuck today, and we’ve made breakfast plans. Time is limited, but I’ve promised to show him something I’d mentioned a couple weeks ago. I run to get my Good Vibrations catalogue, to show him a book which I am so excited about: PhotoSex is a collection of gorgeous art photographs of real people having all kinds of sex. When you see the cover art, you’ll know what I mean. It is fucking amazing. Should anyone decide to purchase it for me, I can assure you that great effort will be expended to recreate select photos and post them here.

Marcus nods appreciatively, and then tosses the catalogue aside. He lies on his back and invites me to sit on his outstretched legs, putting my straight legs on his shoulders, facing him. We hold on to each others’ arms and start rocking back and forth until we are doing full spinal rolls on the bed. This is a good warm up for the yoga to come.

He flips me around to the pillows and starts licking and sucking my clit. I am so wet, and moving my hips down on his face.

"More..Put your fingers in my cunt."

Marcus starts fingering me, bringing his two fingers up to my gspot. I have my right hand under my hips. My left goes to my lower abdomen and I start pressing down, feeling his fingers inside me. Take a breath. Release the tension which has built up in my pussy and pelvis. Imagine my pelvic muscles relaxing, the image of a lotus blossom in my head. I cum in waves.

Marcus is finger fucking me. More aural sex. So wet. It sounds really nice. I can't stand knowing that there is so much girl juice on his fingers and I'm getting none. I take hold of his wrist and bring it up to my face, licking myself off his fingers.

"Fuck, Madeline."

He grabs a condom, puts it on and starts fucking. My legs are wrapped around his waist, and I put my arms around his neck. We prepare for the spidey-fuck. He stands down on the floor and lifts me up, arms hooked underneath my thighs. He is throwing his hips and I am bouncing up and down on his cock, laughing.

Then.

I am not sure how this happens, but we stop fucking with his dick inside me. I let go with my hands, and slowly lower my head toward the floor. My legs are still held by his arms, ankles crossed behind him. I reach and place my hands on the floor. So here we are: He standing, um, erect, me in a full backbend and his cock pressing my g spot with every thrust. I wet his balls with my cum, yelling, "Ngaaaw!"

My upstairs neighbor probably didn't appreciate hearing me having quite so much sex at Eight AM on Sunday, but there was nothing I could do. I have done this position off the edge of a bed with my legs on a man's shoulders and my head on the floor, but never have I attempted the Freestanding Inverted Tarantula. My response was untested.


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Honey Ryder: Sushi Girl

It’s 9:45 on Friday, and Marcus calls the sushi restaurant near my house. They serve until 10:30. Excellent.

In the weeks leading up to his visit, I had made only one concrete plan (besides the fucking) for us: Sushi.

I am a born and bred Midwestern girl. I have lived in many different parts of the world, but my sense of trepidation at seafood (let alone uncooked seafood) has never left me. I know next to nothing about sushi; Marcus was going to change that.

We had walked past the restaurant earlier in the day. It met with Marcus's approval. So, after a late afternoon nap in my bed (I on my stomach, he next to me caressing the entire length of my back until I fell asleep to the music of Röyksopp), we got up, showered and dressed.

We are seated; two of the eight total patrons at this late hour. Our waiter was a tall, skinny gay boy with growing-out hair and a face which reminded me of a hawkish Simon le Bon. He was very polite, and appropriately deferent to Marcus, who clearly knew what he was doing.

We ordered sake, and Marcus proceeded to teach me.

“Were you aware that the Japanese are obsessed with James Bond?”
“No, actually, I was not…but I suppose that makes sense, since the first 007 movie was Dr. No. It is my favorite. Ursula Andress…yum.”
“Well, yes, and so in every Sushi bar in every city around the world, you will find a Sean Connery Roll on the menu.”
“Huh! Interesting.”

Here is another thing about Marcus: he has a very good poker face and loves bullshitting me. He is better at it than just about anyone I know.

Marcus starts laughing hysterically, “I can’t believe you bought that! A Sean Connery Roll in Every Sushi Bar?!”

Whatever. He’s going to have to do better than that to get a rise out of me.

“Okay, Madeline. Seriously, tell me what you know about sushi.”
”Seriously, I’ve eaten a California roll in my life. That’s about it, except for some kind of marinated tuna that my brother likes to make.”
“Alright. So…do you have a problem with seafood?”
“Not a huge one, although I really don’t like caviar.”
“Why is that?”
“Too fishy.”
“Um, we may have a problem here…much of sushi is fish, you know.”
“I trust you, Marcus, and I promise to try everything.”

Marcus gets up to see the fish before he decides what to order. I watch him walk confidently to the counter in his leather (!) pants. All of a sudden, there is a fumbling, bumbling, tumbling sound. Marcus has knocked over a container of sea salt, which has remained intact, despite bouncing off the cash register and counter. I am giggling at the table.

Once he has interviewed the sushi chef about the freshness of the tuna and yellowtail, he comes back and orders.


1. Edamame-soybeans cooked in their pods and salted
2. Gyoza-fried pork wontons
3. Age dofu- lightly pan fried tofu topped with fish flakes
4. Unagi- Eel
5. Hamachi- young yellowtail (sashimi)
6. Toro-fatty tuna (sashimi)
7. Uni- sea urchin


I follow Marcus’s lead, sampling some of everything. So fucking good! I thought I might have had to force some things down, but I am really enjoying everything I put into my mouth. When Marcus gets to the Uni he tells me, as he will the next day when we are eating cheesecake, that I may not look at him or speak to him during his Uni Orgasm.

I have a similar reaction to the Uni. It is unbelievable.

We finish most of the food, polish off two pots of hot sake and Marcus has only to glance over in the general direction of our waiter and he is there in a flash. Marcus pays the check and we stand to leave.

“Thank you, Marcus. This was so great. I loved it. And I will come back and not feel like an idiot.”

I kiss him in the middle of the floor. I can’t wait to get home.

I drive back to my apartment. We walk inside and don't bother turning on the lights.

Did someone tell me that Uni is an aphrodesiac?

We are kissing, tugging at jackets and shirts. Marcus gets his leather (!) pants down around his knees. He is not wearing underwear.

"Come here and suck my cock."

I crawl over to him, wetting my mouth as I make my way. I take his hard cock into my mouth the way I usually do; deep and wet, all at once. Almost immediately, I feel uneasy. My stomach is too full for this. Usually I have fairly good control over my gag reflex. Uh-uh. Not this time, kids.

Yes, I have just eaten, and there is probably a rule about sucking cock too close to a large meal; much like swimming. But then I realize that it is something else, too. His cock tastes like new leather. It really tastes funky.

I try to tell Marcus that I need to stop; that it is too much, but his dick has already been down my throat. It is not giving up so easily. He fucks my face, and I try to relax as my gags become closer together.

Enough. I feel the leading edge of my vomit rising in my throat. I pull my head off his cock, stand and quickly walk to the bathroom. Clear my throat several times, rinse my mouth. I never actually vomited, but it was close enough.

I sucked his dick later that night, after we'd watched a movie in bed and I rode him like a cowgirl.

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Strapped

Marcus and I have an evening of sex planned. We shower quickly and begin to assemble the bedroom toys. Marcus takes them out of their boxes, inserts batteries and lays them out in the chair beside my bed:

Our purchases:
My Butt Plug
A Dual Egg Bullet Vibrator
A Ball Gag
A Blown-Glass Dildo and
A Bright Purple Strap-On

From Marcus’s Toy Bag:
A Clitlicker Vibrating Cock Ring
A bag of feathers
Nipple Clamps
A Blindfold and
Marcus’s Special Restraints

Knowing there will be extended assplay tonight, we both take the opportunity to clean our back doors. Marcus gives me an enema; something I really enjoy.

We decide that, since my usual role is submissive, and Marcus is versatile, I should be the top to start.

I step into my new harness, pulling the side straps tight and adjusting the dildo to a comfortable level in the front. It is purple (like so many of my sex toys, interestingly), and exactly the size of Marcus’s cock.

“Fuck, Madeline, that is so hot.”
“Yeah? Really? I want to see.”

I stood on the bed and got a look of myself in profile in my dresser mirror. Goddamn- I was so turned on! I immediately thought of Dacia’s strap-on photos and how hot they are.

In New York, at Jefferson’s place, I had held a dildo and fucked Marcus with it. I was a little nervous about this strap-on thing. What if it slipped while I was fucking? How will I know if it’s the proper angle or the right time to start fucking harder if I have no sensation?

No reason to worry.

Marcus is a professional. He lies down on his back.

I get the restraints and bind his ankles behind his ears. His ass is in the air. I am beginning to feel my inner Domme.

I start by rimming his ass with my tongue, tugging on his balls and pushing them up against his body. He moans as my tongue flicks his ass. This is the best part about topping Marcus; his sounds are so different when he’s getting fucked. I am very turned on.

I lube my fingers and his ass.

As I am warming him up with the fingers of my left hand, my right goes to his balls again. I squeeze them together and suck them into my mouth. With my tongue sucking his balls and my three fingers in his ass, he manages to say, “Okay, I’m ready...I’m ready.”

I remove my fingers and grab the lube. I slick it on his ass and my cock. I press one finger into his hole to guide the dildo in; remembering the angle and following it. My right hand is holding the base of the dildo.

Eureka.

"Ngahhh…ahhhh…awwww, yeahhhh."

I start moving my hips, watching his face and taking direction from his expressions and body. He asks me to fuck him slow and deep; pulls me as close as he can. The entire dildo is inside him and he is gasping as I grind my hips into him. I’ve got the rhythm now; it’s easy and fucking hot.

“Do you like that?” I whisper, looking at him sweetly.
“Unnhh-hunnhh.”
“Me, too.”

I want to fuck him from behind. I take the strap from behind his neck and disconnect it from one of the ankle cuffs. He rolls over and I enter him again, harder this time. He pushes back against me and we fuck until he’s had enough. I am so into this and I hear myself saying, “Fuck, yeah!”

I climb down from the bed and go into the bathroom to wash my dick.

We break for drinks. I walk into the kitchen and pour two bourbons. I’ve seen the equipment in that room; something tells me a stiff drink may be in order.

We touch glasses and drink.

“Madeline, you’d better have another drink now, because who knows when you’ll get your next chance.”

I smile, drink, and feel the cold smoothness trail over my tongue and down my throat.

“Lie in the center of the bed.”

I put my glass on the nightstand and assume my position, watching him. He starts with my wrists, fastening the Velcro cuffs and lashes them to the bedposts. Same with my ankles. I am strapped, spread-eagle, in the center of my bed. I tell him my left wrist and right ankle feel a little numb and he adjusts the straps.

He kneels beside me, securing the blindfold around my head.

“Your safe word for tonight is ‘Baby Back Ribs.’”

I smile and nod, remembering the BBQ and biting my lower lip. He gets off the bed and I hear him leave the room. A couple of minutes later I am aware of him standing beside me. Ice cubes in his drink hit the sides of the glass as he tips it. I hear him swallow.

A feather is tracing my collarbone and traveling over my nipples, then down to my thighs. Repeat. Then there are two feathers, each in a different place, at a faster pace. How many people are in this room?! Sensory overload. I am squeezing my vaginal muscles to get some pressure into the area; I am so close to orgasm.

As quickly as they had appeared, the feathers are gone. Marcus is straddling my chest and I feel his dick against my mouth. I gather my saliva and open my mouth to suck. He starts fucking my face.

“Stop moving your fucking head, bitch.”

I hold my head still and keep steady pressure on his cock with my lips and tongue.

I am panting. More ice clinking, then his lips on mine, streaming bourbon into my mouth.

“Thank you,” I say.
“Say it again.”
“Thank you, Marcus.”
“That’s the last time you’ll say anything until I’m through with you. Open your goddamned mouth.”

I feel the hard rubber of the ball gag behind my teeth. Marcus tightens the strap behind my head.

“You need a new safe word now, Madeline. From now on, if you need me to stop, go ‘uh-uh-uh.’ Let me hear you do that.”

“UH-UH-UH.”
He slips one of the vibrating eggs into my pussy. Just inside. Turns it on.
Christ.

“Is that okay?”
“umm-hmmf.”

“Good. Now shut up and listen, you cunt. Do you know how much I’ve thought about your body in the last month? Wanting to be with you and knowing how far away you are? Do you think that’s fair? Wanting to touch this skin? These tits?”

He grabs a breast in each hand and starts massaging them, hard. He is using them as handles to move my torso. He starts slapping my thighs. He is more forceful this time than he was in New York. And he is much more vocal. The beating and degrading continues until I am cumming in waves. The more he abuses me, the further inside I pull the bullet vibe.

This duality is what does me in. The degradation and beating on their own result in a delicious ecstasy for me. Add a little electronic stimulation to the mix and it’s a powerful cocktail.

I am breathing hard, tears running into my ears, my legs quivering, nipples erect. He takes another swig of bourbon and, holding my cheeks, dribbles it onto the ball gag and it runs into my mouth. I swallow without the use of my tongue.

I feel Marcus pinch one of my nipples between his fingers and slide a nipple clamp on. Repeat on other side. They are connected by a chain which runs across my chest. They are pinching my nipples. Hard. I am moaning--breathing.

He moves down between my legs and starts rubbing my clit. I am seriously fucked with the clamps on my nipples, the egg in my pussy and now his fingers on my clit. He starts pulling on the bullet vibe cord.

"You really pulled this in, didn't you?"

I nod.

"Well, now it's going somewhere else."

He pulls the condom off, throws it down, and lays the egg on my chest, next to the nipple clamp. The vibrations almost send me over the edge.

I hear the sound of another condom wrapper ripping open. Is he finally going to fuck me? Lube on my ass. Finger over my hole. Buttplug.....in.

"Ummmmff!"

Marcus starts eating my pussy. He gets me off a couple of times. Then he unbinds my ankles and starts to fuck me. While I'm wearing the butt plug.

Every time he thrusts his cock into me, I feel his balls hitting the base of the plug, up against my ass. He removes the gag from my mouth. Finally the blindfold comes off. My legs are wrapped around his torso and my arms are still strapped down. He is fucking me. Watching me.

"Sweet baby, there you are. I want to see your face while I fuck you."

He pushes my legs back toward my ears and fucks me deeply. I concentrate on letting go of the muscles around my cervix... I cum and cum. He pushes my legs off to my right and fucks me sideways. While slapping the hell out of my ass. I yelp, but he only hits harder. I train myself to resist responding, even when it's what i think he wants.

He finishes fucking me, and unties my wrists. I am spent; we both are.

Cheesecake Whore

Marcus and I wake up Saturday morning around eleven. My bedroom is darkened by the heavy silk curtain at the window. Of course there is morning fucking (Let’s just establish that, for the posts relating to Marcus’s visit to Madeline, there is a lot of fucking. We are good at it, and I will post the highlights.).

In the days leading up to his visit, I’d been letting Marcus in on some very personal details about my life, one being how strapped for money I’ve been lately.

As I go into the kitchen to make coffee, I tell Marcus he should feel free to check his email on my computer. He helps himself to the keyboard and Pilates ball which serves as my desk chair. He also helps himself to the Polyamory and craigslist links on my Favorites menu.

"Oh, Maddie! This is too perfect. Let’s pimp ourselves out on Craig’s List and make you some money!!! I know you aren’t interested in doing that sort of thing yourself, but hey- I’m a professional! I’d be there with you and we might even find someone who just wants to watch us fuck, or watch me tie you up…whaddya say, girl?"

I am cracking up. I have seen the ads on Craig’s List in my city. It is pathetic compared to other large cities. And so tame. I can’t imagine anyone seriously responding to an ad for that sort of thing. But what the fuck; let’s give it a shot.

"That sounds great! Where do we start?"

"Well, I am going to brush my teeth and when I come back, you should have a fake/not for public viewing advertisement typed out. Get out all your craziness and puns. And then let’s get to work."

I sit down on the ball and begin typing:

“Very hot couple $trapped for cash: We just ate the last can of Chef Boyardee, the car needs gas and we’ve started re-using the Huggies on the baby. Available for any possible combination of partners, or simply for your viewing pleasure. Serious calls only.”

Marcus came back and wrote out an actual ad. We posted photos (neck and down, thanks!), and submitted it. I didn’t think anything would come of it, and I was ultimately correct. But what a strange thing to have following one around all day: The possibility that your phone could ring at any second, and you would have a matter of hours to fulfill someone’s fantasy and make cash money.

We finished the posting and left for lunch. Barbeque, down-home style. We got messy eating ribs and baked beans. The phone rang. Marcus showed me the number.

“Is this a local number, Madeline?”
“Oh, Jesus! Yes!”

He stepped outside the restaurant. I stayed inside and watched as he paced around the parking lot, speaking animatedly.

I finished my drink and walked out to join him at the car. When he had finished the conversation, he began telling me,

“So this guy, John, who has never done anything like this before, is interested in meeting us. He is curious about playing with boys, and might be interested in watching the two of us fuck, or something else. I gave him all the information and he’s going to think about it and call back.”

“Damn,” I thought, “we may be changing our evening sex plans.”

“So what do we do until we hear back?”
“What we always do on our weekends together, Maddie; go sex toy shopping! But first, I want a really good piece of chocolate after those ribs.”

I knew just the place.

We walked into the chocolatier. The young clerk smiled and asked if she could help us. We flirted with her and with each other. We told her we were in town visiting for the weekend. We started picking out truffles. It was a nice variety, but Marcus wasn’t finished.

“I want something else…what else can we get?”

I asked our cute clerk, “Sallie, what is your favorite thing?”

“Well actually,” Sallie began, “My favorite is the chocolate covered cheesecake.”

THE………WHAT?????!!!!

“Where is THAT?!”
“We don’t keep it out here; it’s in the back freezer.”
“Well, go get it, woman!!”

We walk out with a box of assorted chocolates and a large wedge of cheesecake impaled onto a stick, dipped in semi-sweet chocolate and frozen solid. We figure it will stay frozen or close to it while we make our way to the sex shop.

On the way, we give John a call. I am driving, so Marcus talks. He is very professional; very reassuring. He ends the call by telling John “good luck, and take care,” which I thought was just so nice. Turns out that we are just too rich for John's blood. No worries, though. I get my evening of sex as planned.

On to the toy store.

I need a good-sized butt plug; Marcus has his own agenda. We return home with bags of goodies which I proceed to lay out on the living room sofa, arranging them just so. Marcus is in the kitchen, opening drawers. He returns with two dessert forks.

“What are those for??” I ask.
“Um, the cheesecake? Duh!”
“Fuck forks; they’re an insult to foods on sticks everywhere. Would you eat a popsicle with a spoon?!”
“Okay! No forks! Jeez, woman, get off my fucking back!”

He hands me the cheesecake.

“Though, we really should be naked. I mean, it is so decadent, and we like each others’ nakedness, so this follows. Let’s undress.”

We strip and sit cross-legged on the floor, facing each other. I take a bite. My eyes roll back. This is the best fucking cheesecake I have ever tasted. Marcus agrees, and instructs me not to speak during his food orgasm.

After Marcus takes his second bite, things start to happen. The chocolate coating begins to crack and fall, taking with it glumps of cheesecake. They land on my thigh and my chest. The largest falls between Marcus’s legs. I thought for sure it was all over the carpet.

“Maddie, um, it’s not quite on the carpet.”
“Oh, my Goodness!”

I suck the cheesecake off that boy’s cock and balls. He takes a handful, paints my belly, chest, face and pussy with it, and then licks me clean. Fucks me hard.

Remarkably, the carpet is unstained. We take a quick shower and prepare for the evening ahead.

Did I mention that the cheesecake was damn fucking good?

Real Life

Marcus visited me over the weekend.

Stories abound.

Real life, though, has taken me away temporarily from blogging in earnest.

Jack, age 2, was hospitalized Sunday. He's home now, and it was not life-threatening. It is, however, quite draining for both of us. I am nursemaid to my darling little one until he is back full-throttle.

The only thing full-throttle right now is his pissy attitude about being stuck at home. I swear to god he sounds like Linda Blair: "YOU! GET AWAY FROM ME....."

I am going to a non-obligatory meeting this morning just to have a soupcon of normalcy in my life. Hopefully Jack will sleep this afternoon and I will write.

Until then.