This is my fucking life


sorabji.com: Sex: This is my fucking life
THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016).

By Pussy - Cat on Monday, December 28, 1998 - 12:08 pm:

    It is fucking killing me. Last week I met a man, he just started working at my friend's store, within an hour we were having a quite intense conversation about literature, handsome, smokes, older than me; the kind with clever sideburns that make you want to get in an old Cadillac with him and drive across country. He followed me out of the store and asked me for my number saying he had a girlfriend but really wanted to talk to me again. I thought 'What kind of guy who has a girlfriend asks for another woman's # just so they can be friends?'. He rang me within a day, more good conversation, invited himself to my house the next day. I knew I shouldn't. I try to be good. I try not to be self-destructive. I knew having him over would be a gateway to ... well you know.

    When he arrived I thought, 'well maybe this can be just friendly' and we sat in my kitchen drinking soda and chatting about the forthcoming holiday, but then he kept making signs about how his neck hurt. How could I not rub his neck? It was too easy, too enticing.

    Now we are in the living room and I am rubbing his neck and he is telling me a story about his dog dying, about his friend who just went into AA, about his mother being a nurse, and I lean forward to hear, and at the same time inhale deeply catching the fragrance of the back of his neck, his hair and cigarettes. We sit on the sofa some more, talk some more, he rubs my back, he rubs my feet, his hands are not so much strong as they are soft, as if a current of water was being run strongly over my body and soothing. We sit back at opposite ends of the sofa, he smokes with his right hand and lightly caresses my foot with his left. He tells me that he has thought about kissing me while we were sitting here. I am flushed and feel my pussy begin to drip. If it wasn't so dim in the room, I am sure he would see me blush, giving away how much I would like this to happen even though I know it is wrong, terribly, terribly wrong. I wear a blank expression and we gaze at each other from opposite sides of my sofa in the dim light as he stamps out his 10th cigarette in the one ashtray I own. He says 'I can't read your expression'. I come closer to him and put my hand against his heart and say 'I want to lie here', he opens his arms to accept me and I recline against him, listening to his heart beat, at first quickly and then more slowly. He rubs my back, running my red silk shirt through his hands. I feel safe, quiet, timeless. I stroke the back of his head where his hair meets the collar. I can smell his breath raining down on me from where he is sitting. I move my hand to his face running my fingers over his mouth and he kisses and licks them. I turn his head to kiss me, it is a deep wet kiss tasting of tobacco and salt. Our mouths move together in perfect harmony, licking, nipping, sucking. I straddle his lap and I feel his tongue soft and smooth on my breast. I know I should stop this, but I am already in too deep. He notices my braserre tells me he has a thing for black lingerie, he asks if my panties match my bra. I lie and tell him yes, thinking this will never get far enough for him to ever see. He unbuttons my shirt more and I unhook my bra. His mouth is on my left breast now, deliciously soft but firm, my nipples becoming harder, my pussy becoming wetter and wetter. I know I should stop, this is as far as I should go on a first date, but then he leans over and whispers in my ear 'I want to make you come' he sends a jolt of desire through me. They can do whatever they want to my body, but my mind is too vulnerable to this kind of assault and I can't say no. He undoes my fly and his hand goes directly to the exact place on my cunt where I would masturbate myself. Where I have already masturbated myself thinking of him. He kisses me hard and throughout the seduction our lips don't part. He fingers me with a precision, and I form mental images of him fucking me from behind. I come, I release, I want to fall asleep. He takes his hand out of my pants and sucks my residue off his fingers. I think it is sexy.

    We go to sleep in my bed, I tell him he's not allowed to be naked in my bed. It is too risky. We agree. Running around my house preparing for sleep I am able to distract myself and think that this is normal, but it is not normal. I have only met this man three days ago, now he is in my bed. He seems to think it is odd too, so at least I am not alone. The light goes out and teh pillow talk begins. He asks me how many times I masturbate a day. I tell him it depends, sometimes 3 or 4 times, sometimes not at all. He tells me his fetishes, for stockings, and feet. I tell him I'd like to get a job as a dominatrix so I could kick men's asses all day. He is laying on his side, and although it is dark I can make out that he is looking at me while he is talking, while I have my eyes shut. He tells me he wants to lick me. I am tired but this appeals to me greatly. I ask him to tell me what he will do to me. He tells me how he loves the taste of pussy, how he wants to drink my juices, and how he wants to fuck me with his tongue clit. I somehow manage to write it off in my mind as not being sex since it is only one sided. I say 'You win', he says 'No, you do'. I haven't had decent cunnilingus in years. My last beau never wanted to eat me (one of the many reasons we split up) and the one before did it reluctantly, using a lot of spit so he wouldn't have to taste me which irritated me to the nines. The things you put up with for love. But this isn't love is it? He pushes my legs apart and buries is face deep in my cunt and sucks HARD. My pussy is in ecstasy. His tongue and teeth manipulate me in ways I've never been fucked before and his appetite is relentless. I can feel myself wetting the bed outrageously, shooting my juices out in a flood, I have never been so wet. I hear the sounds of him sucking in and drinking everything I put out - a man who loves his work. I hold off coming as long as I can, and when I do he holds his tongue against my clit so that I squirm all the longer. It is almost too intense.

    I kiss his pussy stained mouth, I tell him it was wonderful, I lie back, we sleep through the night.

    He says he has a girlfriend, but I don't know what that means. If I was his woman I don't think I would stop fucking him long enough for him to meet someone like me. We had phone sex last night, and I think he's coming over to fuck me tonight. How can I be a good girl now?


By TheGoddess on Thursday, December 31, 1998 - 02:48 am:

    **green with envy**


By Your mom on Wednesday, November 27, 2002 - 02:54 pm:

    well if he's that good, how are you supposed to resist, but o the other hand, your a slut, as for the fact that he does have a girlfriend and before doing anything you should always put yourself in the other person's shoes!
    P.S.- salt and tabacco!??????sick!


By J on Friday, November 29, 2002 - 02:16 am:

    I'm doing a sordid snicker over this.Too much information moron.


By God on Monday, July 14, 2003 - 06:07 pm:

    go for it


By Cheeze on Friday, December 12, 2003 - 08:15 pm:

    i wonder if shes still with that guy??? we need to do one of those "where are they now" episodes on sorabji.com


bbs.sorabji.com
 

The Stalking Post: General goddam chit-chat Every 3 seconds: Sex . Can men and women just be friends? . Dreamland . Insomnia . Are you stoned? . What are you eating? I need advice: Can you help? . Reasons to be cheerful . Days and nights . Words . Are there any news? Wishful thinking: Have you ever... . I wish you were... . Why I oughta... Is it art?: This question seems to come up quite often around here. Weeds: Things that, if erased from our cultural memory forever, would be no great loss Surfwatch: Where did you go on the 'net today? What are you listening to?: Worst music you've ever heard . What song or tune is going through your head right now? . Obscure composers . Obscure Jazz, 1890-1950 . Whatever, whenever General Questions: Do you have any regrets? . Who are you? . Where are you? . What are you doing here? . What have you done? . Why did you do it? . What have you failed to do? . What are you wearing? . What do you want? . How do you do? . What do you want to do today? . Are you stupid? Specific Questions: What is the cruelest thing you ever did? . Have you ever been lonely? . Have you ever gone hungry? . Are you pissed off? . When is the last time you had sex? . What does it look like where you are? . What are you afraid of? . Do you love me? . What is your definition of Heaven? . What is your definition of Hell? Movies: Last movie you saw . Worst movie you ever saw . Best movie you ever saw Reading: Best book you've ever read . Worst book you've ever read . Last book you read Drunken ramblings: uiphgy8 hxbjf.bklf ghw789- bncgjkvhnqwb=8[ . Payphones: Payphone Project BBS
 

sorabji.com . torturechamber . px.sorabji.com . receipts . contact