The Real Deal

An assurance, dear readers, that all of the stories you read on this blog are true, and that the photos are of the actual person or people who fucked me at the time, and usually of the event as well - there is an occasional exception, such as the Nick story recently - this situation, in the dark on a beach track did not allow any candid snaps, but the pic is of the man himself).

MM is a voyeur who loves erotic photography, and his camera (still and HD video) is always on hand when we play. We have some amazing photo albums, with titles such as "JJ and Her Boys", and a slightly briefer one called "JJ and Her Girls".

Truth in journalism. Enjoy....

Almost a Zipless Fuck

It happened about 2 years ago. A mind-blowing experience that was the classic knee-trembler - but not because I was being fucked against a wall. A true quickie.
Nick was a young (too young - 27yo) bottle shop worker, surfie and trainee fireman. Despite my protests, MM had cajoled me into meeting him one evening, so we ducked into the local bottle shop where he worked for a quick recon. He was certainly young, but he was also tall, good looking, slim (see above) and American! A good combo really.
We had a chat, he seemed to like me, but we left without making any plans to meet.
Next day, the first of a series of text messages arrived, each one getting hotter and more urgent as the days went by. I was still very reluctant, as my rule was, and is, I don’t fuck anyone anyone under 30 years old. Young guys are prone to be unreliable, shoot off at the mouth to their mates, clumsy (or insanely shy), unsophisticated, inexperienced, and just plain.....naive.
The text messages went on and on. We either ignored them or sent back a non-committal reply. About 2 weeks after meeting Nick, one evening (I think I must have been ovulating), he caught me at a weak moment. The first text message read:
“How about we meet at the beach for a quick one...”
Next: “ I want to hold the cheeks of your bum in my hands, spread them apart and lick your arse...”
And again: “Just tell me where you want to meet and I’ll be there...”
And then: “Go on, you know you want to...”
And so on.
After a few more rounds of attempted brush-offs by us, my raging hormones and MM’s urging got the better of me. By the time I relented, I was secretly, as only a woman can be, wet with anticipation. The thought of a quickie at the beach with a young spunk was pretty fucking exciting.
My ‘mature’ side rationalised that it would be a one-off, and we would never see Nick again. A quick exciting fuck, tidy up, and we go on with our evening.
So we rang him, organised a meeting place, made a rather lame excuse to our house guest at the time about delivering some stuff to a friend, and left for the dunes. We parked at a nearby beach-side carpark, and waited. Not long. The moon was filtering soft light through the trees, and assisted by the borrowed light of the streetlights nearby, we could see as Nick got out of his car, that he had only a pair of board shorts on. No shirt, no shoes.. but with a rather large bulge in his boardies. Omigod....
My knees were actually trembling, in fact my whole body was shaking with excitement and expectation of an experience that I had not even known that I might fantasise about!
I had dressed in a soft cotton top (good for tit access), with a short loose skirt, no knickers of course - ready for breeding! MM pulled out our picnic blanket and we headed off along the track to the beach. I couldn’t wait until we actually got to the beach, so I suggested we simply put the rug down on the track. Nick, of course, was very agreeable. He was obviously as horny as hell.
Now I always like to kiss a guy before I fuck him, so I gave Nick a long, slow pash on the lips, tasting the excitement in his mouth. I wanted to stretch it out beyond a 2 minute affair, so I took my time preparing him and getting him more excited with my tongue playing with his mouth. His erection was dancing on my stomach and playing on my mind.
With my back to him, I knelt down on the blanket, and MM raised my skirt, offering me to Nick. There was just enough moonlight for MM to get a good look at the scenario (he’s such a tragic voyeur), but not enough for Nick to actually see my dark star. He started, as he promised he would, by gripping my cheeks, spreading them slowly apart, and flicking his tongue around my arsehole, and with admirable dexterity, levering his pants off at the same time. His cock emerged, already swathed in a condom...obviously a trained boy scout - ‘be prepared’.
By the time he actually managed to get naked, cunt juice was running down the inside of my thighs. I was still trembling, but now I was trembling with the urgency to have him inside me. He entered me in one smooth swift stroke. I could feel his cock so well. It was not very thick, but long, pushing against my cervix as he thrust in and out. Long, slow thrusts. Not bad for a young guy. He fucked me like a dog for several minutes. It was so good to feel his primal need inside me. He fucked me beautifully, sensuously, until he came in a muffled explosion of desire. We stayed motionless, sweaty, for a couple more minutes until he gradually withdrew.
We got dressed (or in my case rearranged my clothes), folded the blanket, and headed back to the carpark.
I gave him a goodbye kiss, and we went home.
Never saw him again. As expected......
No matter, it was an experience I would recommend to any horny woman. Absolutely hot, and I will treasure that experience for the rest of my life.
MM and I still get horny on the memory of that brief interlude. Priceless.

Drinking from the Furry Cup

When is Good-looking TOO Good-looking?

MM had been emailing and texting Tom for months. We had put off meeting him a number of times because of our relentless social life, lack of opportunity, and a desire by me to reduce our lifestyle activities a bit. Eventually, a few weeks ago, we met Tom for a drink at a local bar. He was astoundingly good-looking . I mean film star good-looking. He was Hollywood-tall-dark-and-handsome. Tom Cruise looks with height (he is also an ex-helicopter pilot - my own Top Gun?).

Ten years younger than me, but Tom assured me he preferred older women.

Too good looking for me? Yes, but maybe not in the way you think.

Last tuesday night we invited Tom for a conjugal visit. We wined him, dined him, we all stripped off for the spa. Naked, he was magnificent: tall, great body, honed and buffed on a diet of squash, tennis, surfing and water skiing. By the time we submerged in the spa I had gotten over my awe at this dream man, and I was happy to fuck him.

Tom left the spa and frolicked in our pool at one stage, and well after he had returned to the spa, he still hadn’t made a move on me (despite MM’s urging).

Post-spa, it was getting late, we had to work the next day, and Tom was still not showing any signs of getting hot and heavy with me. I had by this stage developed a slight sore throat and headache ( a precursor to 2 days in bed to follow) so my enthusiasm for vigorous sex had diminished somewhat. Tom was dilly-dallying, undecided whether to make a move or not (he also had to work the next day).

Eventually he got dressed and left promising to come back soon to fuck me. I was thinking later, this guy is so handsome that, by his own admission, he never actually has to make the first move on a girl. So perhaps that’s what happened. He was simply waiting for me to make the first move, and I had silently resolved not to do that! Impasse...

He was in unfamiliar territory, having to chase the girl.

Or maybe he really didn’t fancy me after all?

In any event, we await another visit. Or a cancellation. I’m not concerned either way.

But it would be mighty fine to fuck this gorgeous man.

To be continued.....

Me and My Vagina

This Irish joke will no doubt offend a number of people:

“ When Paddy wakes he gets out of bed, showers, and gets ready for work. he finds his wife in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. She takes one look at him and says:
‘Mary mother of God Paddy, you look TERRIBLE!’. Paddy says:
‘But I feel great, I feel wonderful - I don’t understand’
Somewhat disturbed by this reaction, Paddy heads off to work, and when he boards the train, his old mate Sean is sitting down reading his newspaper, looks up, glances at Paddy, makes a face and says:
‘Jaysus Paddy what have yer done to yerself - you look TERRIBLE!’
‘But’, Paddy says, ‘I feel great! I really feel great’
Arriving at his office, his secretary greets him at the door, takes one look at him and says:
‘Oh my dear god Paddy what have you been doing. You look absolutely TERRIBLE! There must be something wrong with you. I’m going to make an appointment for you with your doctor, you can’t go ‘round looking like that!’
Later Paddy is ushered into his doctor’s surgery, the doctor takes one look at him and says:
‘Good Lord Paddy, come here and sit down...you look TERRIBLE!’
Paddy says: ‘I know doc everyone keeps telling me that I look terrible, but I feel GREAT. What on earth d’you think’s wrong with me?’

The doc replies: ‘I don’t know. I’ve never come across this condition before. I’ll have to look it up.’
So he takes an enormous reference book called The Irish Thesaurus of Symptoms and Remedies off the shelf and leafs through it rapidly:
‘Let’s see - ‘feels great, looks terrible’...’feels great, looks terrible’...feels...feels...ah! here we are: ‘feels great, looks terrible’ ........... you’re a VAGINA!’”

As politically incorrect as this joke is, it expresses how I feel about my pussy at times. I know we’re supposed to worship our vaginas as friends but the relationship between me and my cunt has always been ambivalent at best.
It’s not that I don’t get a lot of joy out of my divine fulcrum. I regularly, absent-mindedly, dreamily, fiddle with it - I stroke the lips, twirl the hairs, tickle myself, occasionally rub my clit (just a little, mind) - especially when I am half-dressed or naked. I play with it in bed, in front of the television and the computer, lying in the sun, even at breakfast, to amuse myself, sometimes to amuse MM. I have never been a committed masturbator, and even the most plaintive of pleas from MM doesn’t drive me to this most ancient of pastimes. Self-pleasuring doesn’t come naturally with me because it doesn’t actually lead to much self-pleasure. No orgasm.....

At times during my cycle I become aware of my own sex odour. A musky smell that drifts lazily into my nostrils and invariably makes me aware of how horny I am. It only lasts a couple of days, and MM has to be vigilant to catch those moments, either for his own indulgence, or for the opportunity to introduce another man for my pleasure. It’s a delicate act of timing.
I have never regarded my bearded clam as being pretty or even handsome. All my adult life I had been acutely embarrassed about what I call ‘my flappy bits’. My inside cunt lips protruded grotesquely, menacingly, darkly, crudely, beyond their enclosure, and as MM and I became more active in the swinging lifestyle, I became more aware that I didn’t want to present these swollen labia to my new lovers each time.

I am now going to admit something that only 2 or 3 people in the world know: I’ve had a partial labiaplasty - removal of my inner lips. The before and after shots are shown above.

I don’t know about you, but I know what I prefer.
I can now unselfconsciously spread my legs lasciviously and provocatively for any man like the magnificent tart that I am.

About that word: ‘cunt’. I love it and loathe it.
It’s MM’s favourite word - he claims the word ‘cunt’ expresses completely the magic of my vagina: all the warmth, the wetness, the delicious smell, the unique taste, the amazing texture, and incalculable pleasure he gets out of my pussy. He loves to use the word when we’re fucking - it’s such a forbidden word, and being so, to use it is to ‘talk dirty’. Again the tart in me understands and deeply synchronises with this attitude. The loathing part probably comes from 2 places: first the catholic revulsion towards bad language, and second, when I’m feeling loving and soft rather than hot and passionate, it’s not a good or appropriate word. Overall though, it’s naughty and passionate, forbidden and sooooo hot to call a cunt a cunt. I know nothing will stop MM from using it, at the right times and the wrong times.