Textgirl

I just wrote another fragment of porn and posted it elsewhere. I'd put it here, but what's the point?

The one thing I want in this world right now is to pin someone's wrists and lean in, kissing him, only touching at wrists and mouth, alternating light and hard pressure, tongue flicking, all passion and control.

I want to straddle him, to open his pants and pull out his hard cock, to rub the head in little circles around my aching clit and feel him strain upward, to feel him want me as I slide his cock along the slickness and heat.

I want to ride him until I come, to squeeze and rock and grind out every last spark of orgasm within me, to make him scream and growl and whimper. To taste his groans as my muscles flutter around him.

...

I guess I'll just go read some more porn.

I had a coffee date with a perfectly nice dude. No chemistry whatsoever. He was apparently pretty smitten. Called at way-too-early-o'clock this morning to tell me how fabulous I am.

...sigh.

Tried to drum up some interest with some long-distance fuckmuffins last night. Except they'd rather chat on the phone and go to bed, respectively.

Tried the Hitachi again for a while today. Disturbing new trend - I cry when I come lately. So *that's* fun. I suppose it's just as well nobody wants to make me come.

I answered a Cragslist ad today. Sheer desperation. I've gotten into trouble with such things before - platonic lunch-dates turning into emo-stricken star-crossed love affairs. I'm not letting this even *approach* that territory.

Never getting laid again. Nope.

I've been pretty out of sorts lately, which has of course translated into feeling completely unfuckable and repulsive. I don't deal well with rejection, and I've had a lot of rejection to deal with in the last month.

being who I am, my response is apparently to seek out someone local who will worship the ground I walk on. Or multiple someones. There's a few people who seriously have the screaming thigh-sweats for me, but they're all far far away. And the Ibis loves me, but I know that I don't turn him on the way I would like to and probably never will. I desperately need the ego boost.

Thus I fish around on various dating and sex sites. Maybe I'll strike gold, or maybe I'll be so utterly horrified by the general quality of men out there that I quit looking entirely.

In the meantime, the stupid Hitachi and I will bond. *kicks Hitachi*

Or, it could mean that I had less sex and more emo bullshit than planned.

Which is not to say that I didn't have *any* sex. But there was a lot less than I wanted, which is almost always the case. bah. I didn't even get to use any of the toys I brought, or implement my plan for the unbelievably hot cam scene with the unbelievably hot mail-order bride of my butt-slut friend.

And the local chew toy is a non-starter. So that's not happening.

And although I reconnected with an old flame, he's waaaaaaaay too confused to fuck. I LOVE YOU! DON'T TOUCH ME! WANNA GO SOMEWHERE? YOU'RE FUCKING UP MY LIFE AGAIN! COME BACK! C'MERE C'MERE C'MERE GO AWAY! ...sigh.

Everyone I could be having extramarital sex with lives 1500 miles away.

Oh well.

I have a bite-mark on my shoulder, a cute new local boy to maul, and a possible long-distance relationship with a GIRL. Who actually likes girls.

Holy shit!

Plus the Ibis and I had some lovely, primal, angst-dispelling sex before I left.

And the new boy (shit he needs a nickname) likes buttplay. A LOT. Tons.

I'm so goddamn excited. This undoubtedly means I'm going to get hit by a bus or something.

Well, maybe not. But I am going on a long, multi-state road trip. And I will definitely be getting laid on at least two of the stops. Possibly three.

Stop one: girl crush. She flirts a lot. I would like to drag her into a dark corner by her hair and cut her clothes off. No idea whether she's actually interested. *sigh* But it's fun to think about.

Stop two: A guy I've been flirting with for AGES. We'll call him the March Hare, as I am hoping he will feature prominently in stories to come. This is a definite unless he gets hit by a bus or I get twat rabies or something. Also a couple - last time I saw them I beat the wife's ass purple in front of three guys and then we all had non-swappy sex in the same room, which was quite nice. (I also got to see two very attractive men going down on one another, from about two feet away. I lay on the bed kicking my feet in the air and watching interestedly. It's something I've wanted to see for *ages* and I was very happy.) Anyway, I digress - there's a good chance there will be some sort of play with this couple. Glee!

Stop three: Another couple. I have a standing date with the wife. I've planned an elaborate scene, which I'll probably ask the husband to webcast to a few close personal friends. There's a good chance I'll be fucking the husband in the ass in some fashion while I am there as well. It's good to be the queen! There's also a cute genderfluid boy I'd like to put through his paces, but that might have to wait depending on distribution of time.

I do not believe I have any plans for the trip home. This is probably just as well, since if my plans go as hoped I'll probably be wearing an ice pack on my pussy.

Wish me luck!

I've been in a serious state of arousal for the last few days.

Luckily for me things picked up quite a bit last night!

When I came home I experimented a bit with the new Hitachi Magic Wand the Ibis bought me. It's way too strong for me, so I've been trying to figure out a way to use it without peeling myself out of the ceiling fan afterward. Through my underwear, legs together, it's *still* too much. Damn thing. I mean, I came, but it wasn't much fun.

The Ibis came in a while later and took pity on me, using his extremely talented hands to make me come so hard and so often that I drenched the bed. I put a towel down in the lake afterward and it soaked through. Jesus. This was pretty selfless on his part, since I have a cold and am not at my most appealing.

Afterward I ended up chatting - and camming a little, and talking on the phone - with a close personal friend we'll call the Alpaca. This is always a lot of fun, even when there's no sex involved. But despite cam failures and dropped calls, there was sex involved. I like listening to him.

Then I cammed a while with Don Corleone this morning. He was telling me about his weekend threesome with his wife and another extremely hot friend, and got all overcome with emotion. Since he's a giant camwhore and loves to be watched, I watched him jerk off rather explosively. I'm usually happy to oblige his exhibitionism and this was no exception.

I'm hoping the rest of the weekend lives up to the previous 24 hours!

"This isn't really my kind of concert," you shout as I drag you through the crowd, sliding between the close-packed bodies and liberally distributing jabs of my pointy elbows where needed.

"I know. Thanks for humoring me," I yell back. You can't really hear me, since you have earplugs in. We've reached the edge of where the pit is most likely to form. We stop and settle ourselves.

The lights dim. Immediately the scent of smoke rises all around us, and suddenly the crowd is double its previous density.

The band comes onstage and the thunder of percussion begins to vibrate my chest cavity. The crowd gets even thicker. We're pressed upon on all sides; I'm flattened between you and some guy's burly back. I am glad I wore boots with heels - otherwise I'd never see a damn thing. I lean slightly forward to avoid dry-humping the poor guy in front of me.

Your arm snakes around my waist to hold me in place and I lean harder against you, swaying in place because it's all the dancing I can do. The crowd rocks back and forth to the beat that hums through me.

As I roll my hips I realize that my stance has planted my ass firmly against your crotch. Without looking I can tell that you're enjoying this, since there's a long hard presence pressing against me.

I arch my back just a little more and continue to roll my hips, but now there's a purpose to it. Your hands slide down to my hips and your fingers dig in. I squirm.

The crowd is bouncing and swaying as the mosh pit presses to one side and then the other. Your left hand slides up and cups my breast, thumb roughly brushing the nipple. I reach down and flip up the back of my extremely short skirt, leaving your increasingly hard cock pressed against my ass with only the most cursory of panties in the way.

You growl in my ear. I can't hear it, but i can feel your breath and feel your voice vibrating in your throat. I reach behind me and curl my fingers backward into your waistband. The backs of my knuckles touch hot skin.

You bite me. I groan. No one notices. The band plays like the end of the world. The lights flash and glimmer without illuminating anything. The crowd around us surges in time like the sea. I can't reach your cock like this, so I pull until the top button of your jeans pops, then unzip your fly backward. Now it's just your shorts and my panties. the whole hot length of your cock tucks along the groove of my ass, sliding against the glossy fabric.

You pinch my nipple, your other hand clutching my waist. I grind back against you, one forearm braced against the guy in front of me to keep a space between his hips and mine. I can feel how wet I am, how hard you are. You throb, trapped between your stomach and the firm curve of my ass.

The pit surges and my angle changes, and you thrust against me straight on and nearly drive my soaked panties completely into me. I feel the contact all the way through me and I lose my breath completely.

Your hand slides down to brush my panties aside and slide one finger delicately around and under and in. I squeeze reflexively. I'm so fucking wet. You add another finger and I moan. No one notices. No one hears.

I yank my panties out of the way and suddenly feel something nudging against me. It is not your finger. I am startled and delighted and overwhelmed and I raise up onto my toes as you set your cock into position and glide into me, all the way in, one smooth deep hard thrust all the way to the hilt. I can't breathe, can't move as your arms wrap around me tightly and you rock hard into me to the movement of the crowd around us. My skin prickles, the bass vibrates through me, and you're rocking into me and into me and I reach my hands up like everyone else and scream as I come, clamping down around you and feeling you throb, feeling you come as you shove into me so hard you nearly lift me off my toes and shove me against the burly guy.

We stay like that a few moments, buoyed and buffeted by the crowd, until you slip out of me and resume decorum.

When the band finishes their final encore, and we turn to leave, Burly Guy catches my eye, grins, and winks at me. I give him a thumbs up.

As we get out into the fresh air, you remove your earplugs and smirk at me. "Pretty good show," you say. "When's the next one?"

I smack you lightly in the arm.

I miss buttplay. I haven't played with an ass since... um... when was I in Boston last? May? That was a pegging-fest anyway. I like using my hands. Black latex gloves are your friend.

Sigh. When I started this thing back up I'd hoped things would be more exciting around here. I mean, yeah, there have been fetish parties and clothespins and beating the bejesus out of folks with the Rope, and there's been phone sex and vanilla married sex and the Joy of Webcam, but... maybe I'm just never satisfied.

Or maybe I should get off my ass and into someone else's.