Take-off text

Before MYC would send me a cock pic on Wednesday, he told me, “You can’t keep it…” Fuck. I promised to be a good girl and was rewarded with a close up of his right hand wrapped around that delicious shaft. After a crescendo of dirty texts, he blew a load in his hotel room and I slipped into bed next to my sleeping husband and used my magic bullet to find quiet release.

Thursday night’s text exchange with MYC heated me to a fever pitch, ending with The Husband getting a phenomenal cock sucking, another magic bullet session for me and a fine fuck. Pure collateral damage.

Just as MYC’s plane was taking off for home on Friday afternoon, he texted, “I wish I had an extra 10 minutes,” ostensibly to hook up for a blow job. But he had a dinner to attend and needed to hit the road as soon as he landed.

“Fuck you,” I replied, and followed up with “5?!” and “3?!” Hell, I could rock his world in two minutes.

Alas, no MYC minutes for Kinky. For now…



About midway through Wednesday’s conference call, it occurred to me that my coworker and I occupied the same end of the conference room table where, on Monday, I lay with my legs spread, where MYC conferred upon me his masterful maneuverings.

That day began with a friendly exchange of texts about the weekend, a job I applied for and other benign subjects. At some point, of course, the conversation took a kinky turn. It’s Pavlovian, really. When I see a text notification from him, I get wet.

I advised that I was going to have the office to myself in the late afternoon and he proposed an enticing pursuit.


When he indicated that he was on his way, I quickly removed my bra and panties, positioned myself on the conference room table and queued up some Big Black Cock porn. I let him know that I was rubbing my clit and he asked me not to come. I obliged, knowing that he was going to take care of that for me.

With a series of dings, my phone alerted me of his texts announcing his proximity to my wanting puss: “crossing Fletcher St…parking…on the elevator.”

Hearing him come through the door and lock it is an integral part of the sensual prelude. I quiver in anticipation of what comes next.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” he murmured, as he sat in the chair and satisfied my desire to feel his mouth on my clit and cunt. He has an insatiable capacity for eating pussy and I am beyond happy to help service this need.

After my climax, he stood and pulled out his rock-hard cock. He eased the head into me, pulled out and gently pressed it against my ass. As he repeated these steps, he whispered, “Where do I want to fuck my slut?”

I knew the answer.

After lubricating his cock with my ample juices, he slowly entered my ass. “Relax,” he instructed. I did as he said and welcomed his extraordinary length. As I pinched my nipples and groaned in exquisite pain, he pounded me and exploded in relief.


Tumescent Tuesday


The other day, I was looking for a word that started with T-U to use as an adjective with Tuesday and ran across this gem. It may be my all-time favorite word because it captures the essence of sexual arousal and the language that often leads to it.

Yesterday was certainly a Tumescent Tuesday for yours truly…and also a timid one. MYC and I agreed to meet at my place of business for an after-hours play date, after texting and sexting off and on throughout the day, including a few soapy tit pics from the shower and one clit shot (I had the day off but he was hard at work). He poured us each a bourbon and water and we proceeded into my office. We visited for a few minutes before he announced that he was going to take off all of his clothes, which was certainly OK with me. He instructed me to take my pants off, sit in the chair opposite him, spread my legs and rub my clit, while he sat and watched…stroking his massive, hard cock.

“I wish I could watch you play with yourself while I was getting my cock sucked,” he said. “Maybe if your friend Dawne was here, she could suck me as I watch you.” For a few months, on occasion, her name has been part of our kinky talk. Dawne is a close, single friend of mine who is in the market for fun and I have actually mentioned MYC to her as someone who is a bonafide good time. She has protested the suggestion, but I still bring it up from time to time. My biggest fear is that involving her could negatively affect our close relationship. No amount of fun is worth that, so I am proceeding carefully. But damn, that man has plenty of cock to share and I know she’d enjoy getting to play with it. Sorry to be a Debbie Downer there. Back to the fun…

MYC did NOT proceed carefully when he got on his knees in front of me to do what he does so well. The second his tongue touched me, everything tingled. His fingers glided easily in and out of my soaking twat and once they were sufficiently wet, he slid one into my ass and quickly coaxed me into a tremendous release. It was sheer, unbridled ecstasy seeing him between my legs and letting him masterfully tend to my needs.

“I want your tongue in my mouth,” I begged. He obliged. Tasting my juices while our tongues entwined was remarkably spectacular. I could do that all day, every day. The best part about revisiting this while I write is the dull ache I feel in my pussy and ass…a lingering reminder of yesterday’s fun and a longing for more. Tumescent.

Then, it was his turn in “the chair.” I couldn’t wait to get my hands and mouth on that cock. Honestly, I was overwhelmed with the choices I had available, so I did a little of everything…stroking, licking, sucking, sliding between my tits…so gratifying.

“Take your shirt off,” he said. “I want you to be naked with me.” My eyes betrayed my apprehension. “Look at me,” he said, tenderly. “Everything is good, OK?” I hadn’t had quite enough to drink to allow myself to be exposed so completely…become that vulnerable. But I trust him, so I slipped out of my top.

“Where do you want me to cum because I’m about to blow.” he said. That’s always a loaded question. I can never decide. I want it all…in my mouth, on my tits, in my pussy, in my ass. I want his cum. Period. “Lie down,” he said. I lay on the floor, desperately aching for his cock inside of me. He guided his hot, throbbing flesh between my legs, grabbed two fists full of my hair, pulled my head and arched my neck. With each thrust, his balls slapped into my ass, still sore from his finger. “You fucking, cock-sucking whore,” he whispered into my ear as he filled me. Yes, sir. I am. Tumescent.

Mind Your Ps and Cs

It’s a cool, rainy morning. Isn’t that heavenly, friend? And I am sitting here slightly stoned, savoring every sip of my French vanilla cappuccino from the do-nut shop down the hill from my house. Do you know how many times I tried to spell cappuccino before I finally gave up and Googled it? Too many Ps and Cs.

Speaking of Ps and Cs, that reminds me of pussy and cock. I have a little story for you that revolves around the two.

MYC and I have been texting about my recent encounters with the Hot Attorney and my recent kink drought at home. He wants to know where HA cums (on my face and my tits)…did I get off (no)…etc. And if I’ve gotten relief at home (no). Yesterday morning, just for fun, I slipped into the restroom at work, pulled out my tits, took and pic and sent it to him. He was driving, so the reply I received was, “Ohhhh fyck” and then a “thanxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.” This was quickly followed by a “Wonderful pic…am rock hard.”

I don’t have a crystal ball, but I had a feeling that I was going to get to feel that rock-hard cock that day.

Throughout the day, we texted about this and that…and pussy and cock. As I was leaving work, things got pretty hot, with lots of “fuks,” “fuk u” and “mmmmmmmmmms” dotting the conversation. He had people in his office and I was running short on time before I had to pick up my kids from school. After much deliberation and contemplation, we decided that I would pick him up at his office, go to my house, play, then I would return him to his office.

He got into my ride and I immediately slid my hand over to stroke his cock through his khakis. It was stiff and growing by the second. He groaned and threw his head back as I continued to gingerly stroke his length with my fingertips. “I am going to wear that pussy out,”he whispered. “Please,” I said.

On the short drive to my house, he instructed exactly what he wanted me to do when we arrived: take off my jeans and panties and get my tits out. You know I’ll do anything he tells me to do. Once there, we undressed and he pointed to the sofa, after I licked and sucked his cock for a minute. “Get over there and let me see how wet that pussy is,” he barked. He got on his knees in front of me and stroked my soaking wet lips and clit before burying his face in me. Oh, to feel his mouth and tongue there…and to clasp his head in my hands as he consumed me. Fuck. In a matter of seconds, I came so hard my extremities felt like they were on fire. Fuck, I needed his cock inside of me. I slid down from the sofa onto his cock for only a few seconds before he told me to go get on the bed…on my back, with my head over the edge.

He then stood by head and shoved his hard flesh down my throat. “Take that cock all the way down and your teeth better not touch it or you’re not getting fucked.” I wanted to be fucked, so I did as he said. I could hardly breathe as he fucked my mouth and throat and demanded that I rub my clit. Begging for air, I grabbed his thighs and he stopped thrusting. “Get up and lean over the bed,” he said sternly. “Push those shoulders DOWN and reach back there and stroke my balls.”

When his cock found its way into my hot, soaking pussy, he groaned and grabbed my ass as he slammed his cock as far as it would go. Fuck, it was amazing to have him inside of me. “Fuck me, baby,” I whispered. Grabbing hair, shoulders, ass and hips, he fucked me sooooooooooo good. He growled as he came and filled me with his load. After the climax, he stayed inside of me, slowly going in and out, watching his satisfied cock enter and leave. “Can I lick you clean?” I asked. “Yes,” he said. I turned and kneeled before him, gently licking our juices off his throbbing, glistening cock. “Easy…easy” he whispered. That’s my favorite part, I think…having my mouth and tongue on him after he’s cum, tasting us.

My call


About 9:30 Tuesday night, I was stumbling in the hotel hallway with a glass of wine in one hand and my heels in the other, trying to find the patio so I could smoke (drunk=smoking). One of the hotel staff pointed me in the right direction. During the course of the evening (a reception, banquet and after party wrapping up a two-day convention), I consumed at least one bottle of Cabernet and ate very little. The casino-themed after party was quite entertaining, even though I absolutely suck at Black Jack. It took all of 15 minutes for me to lose everything.

When the dealer swept up my losing cards and last blue chips, I decided it was time to call it a night. On the way out the door, I tapped MYC on the shoulder and told him I was leaving (did I forget to mention he was there?). “Where are you going?” he asked. “My room,” I said. A few steps from the elevator, the urge to smoke hit me and I headed in the general direction of the patio (based on my recent visit to this hotel in May).

Thankfully, no one else was there. I grabbed one of the free-standing outdoor ash receptacles and dragged it over to a chair, where I collapsed and lit my smoke. MYC texted me that he was already in his room and invited me to come see him. “I have to smoke my last two cigarettes NOW,” I responded. Damn, it was close to impossible to type with one hand and smoke with the other, while seriously intoxicated. Half way into cigarette number one, however, I got the hang of it.

As soon as I took the last drag on cigarette number two, I told him I was headed his way and confirmed his room number. When I stepped off the elevator, I had no idea which way to go and I wasn’t wearing my glasses, so I couldn’t see worth a shit! Suddenly, a door opened a few feet away. I walked and stood in the doorway, but no one was there. “Come in,” a familiar voice said, from behind the door.

We sat on the sofa and chatted a little. I was so drunk, that when he asked me questions, I had to sit and think a long time before I could answer with any certainty. And I am sure I was slurring my words. I was a hot mess.

After a few minutes, I reached over and lightly ran my fingertips across the top of his shorts, where I could see his cock beginning to bulge. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuck, Kinky,” he groaned. “Let’s go to the back,” he said and walked toward the bedroom. I gladly followed. He pulled back the duvet and quickly took off his clothes. “Be naked with me,” he appealed. I was so fucking drunk I didn’t think twice about slipping out of my short black dress, bra and panties and joining him on the bed.

“It has been a while since we had a hotel bed,” he noted. Yep. The last time was about four or five years ago, also during a conference. Funny how I can remember that encounter like it was yesterday, but I am kinda fuzzy about this one.

My long necklace fell across his stomach as I lowered my mouth onto his swollen cock. I tried to take all of it, but couldn’t…so I kept trying. Can’t get enough of that cock. True story. Even after seven years, it drives me wild. Seriously mad.

He determined it was his turn to play with me and promptly had his head between my legs, delighting me with his talented tongue and fingers, producing the genesis of much-needed relief. I wanted to taste my pussy with his tongue in my mouth and savor his cock inside of me when I climaxed.

“I know you want me to kiss you,” he said, rather authoritatively and almost teasingly, as he raised above me. “Rub that clit for me,” he demanded and kissed and entered me deeply when I complied. Grabbing the backs of my knees and pushing my legs further apart, he pounded and I stroked…completing our release.

In the hours that followed, we talked, stroked, fooled around a little, touched and even slept. Being in bed with him was beyond serene and he said leaving or staying was “my call.” A little before 1 a.m., I decided it was time for me to take the “walk of shame” back to my room on the other side of the hotel. No contentment was worth being seen by any number of people we both know leaving his room the next morning in the atrium-style building.

I leaned over, kissed his shoulder and said I was leaving. He roused and hugged me goodbye. Collecting my heels from the TV table, I wandered into the atrium, hit the down button on the elevator and somehow made it back to my room.

My dress, legs and heels…hours before the walk of shame.


After an unsuccessful night of trying to sleep, I went downstairs for the “gourmet breakfast buffet” and forced down a little yogurt and granola and half a cup of coffee. Probably still a little drunk, I went back to my room, tried to make myself somewhat presentable and finished packing. Without speaking a word to anyone, I checked out and departed.

The reason I attended the conference was to receive a work-related award, so I decided to take Wednesday as a reward and enjoy myself before driving three hours home. This included visiting an extraordinary art museum and meeting a college friend for lunch. Both helped get my head and feet back on the ground before transitioning back to reality.

As soon as I hit the road after lunch, the phone rang. It was the Hot Attorney. “Hey, I’m at the law school,” he said, with what sounded like a big grin. “Well, I’m three hours away,” I said, sincerely disappointed. Since he “discovered” the adjunct faculty office, he has called me every day (except Tuesday, when he knew I was traveling)! Someone can’t get enough. He was leaving Thursday morning with his family for a mini-vacation and really wanted to see me. We chatted for a while and I promised I would see him when he returned and that it would be worth the wait. That seemed to satisfy him. When the time comes, I am sure he will be satisfied.

When I arrived home, things were tense and stressful with The Husband. He has been in a terrible funk over a job-related situation. It has been difficult for all of us. Often, fucking is one of his coping mechanisms, but that hasn’t been the case this time. Today was shaping up to be another one of distance and disgruntledness. We attended a retirement reception in the afternoon, which, thankfully, brightened his mood. When we got home, I sent the kids to the neighborhood pool. While changing clothes, I periodically walked through the living room, where he was sitting, wearing only my heels. After the last trip, he followed me to the bedroom. I located one of our spanking toys and began tapping his cock through his pants. Before long, I was on the bed, ass high in the air, getting a much-deserved swatting. He was quite dominant and informed me that he had watched spanking porn while I was gone on a girls’ trip last weekend. We took turns turning each others asses nice and pink before he had to fuck me. “Slap my ass,” I groaned. “Call me a ‘fucking whore.'” He obliged and exploded.

I grabbed Juan and went to work on myself. Things weren’t going well, so my mind went through what seemed like a hundred real and imagined images before landing on something that did the trick…a fabricated vision of sharing MYC’s cock with a mutual friend. Success.


Back in the day, when the kids were little, had an early bedtime and slept like rock, The Husband and I could get kinky late at night. Now that we have teenagers, they’re up later than we are and since we live in a small house, I can’t fire up Juan (my beloved Magic Wand) without it sounding like there’s a margarita machine in my bedroom.

The flip side is teenagers are late, dead-to-the-world sleepers, so we often fool around in the early morning, which works pretty well! The only drawback is that it’s always in our room and rather routine/predictable.

Frankly, I think we each spend more time watching porn and masturbating when alone in the house or on business trips. In fact, we usually compare notes after the fact. “I only jacked off twice on that trip…” or “I came three times in 20 minutes with Juan while you all were at soccer the other day.”

Earlier this week, we had to shuffle vehicles and found ourselves at home (alone) during lunch. After about 10 minutes, the realization set in that we could do whatever we wanted. Woo hoo! Standing with my back to him, I pressed my ass into his growing budge and began blindly unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans. He groaned as I got on my knees and began licking and sucking his cock for a very long time.

When I rose, he pushed my shoulders into the kitchen island, grabbed my ass and found his way inside of me. After several hard thrusts, he suggested that we go “break in” the new sofa. “Excellent idea,” I exclaimed. And break it in, we did.

We may have to have lunch at home more often.

Drugstore Cowgirl

Not that I am keeping track of things, but Friday marked one month since my memorable hotel night with MYC, which also happened to be my last encounter with him. What the hell? A whole month?

From time to time, I experience MYC cock withdrawal and seemed to be coming down with a major case of it on Friday. Our text exchange began that morning with run-of-the-mill conversation and slowly took on a kinky tone. I was spending my day off volunteering, taking care of errands before my kids started school and (regretfully) going to work for a little while to wrap up a project. He commended my generous spirit…


He was at his office, but his co-worker was in and out. When late afternoon arrived, I wrapped up things at work and figured heading home was next on the agenda because he had gotten busy working on an email server transition (Friday afternoon is NOT the ideal time for something like that). Before long, however, he told me he was going to “throw in the towel” and leave. It was later than he had originally planned to get his weekend started and he was getting increasingly frustrated at work. Both of our offices were occupied and my kids were at home, but I really wanted to have his cock in my mouth, so I proposed, “Want a parking lot BJ?” “Hmmmmmmmm,” he replied. Mental note: that’s a “yes.”

This will come as no surprise to you, but I have an intimate knowledge of out-of-the-way streets and secluded locations, but not for the reasons you think 😉 I suggested a drugstore parking lot not too far off the beaten path, thinking we could either visit there or go for a drive.

I pulled in and parked along the edge of the lot, along a quiet street. Shortly thereafter, he arrived and I joined him before he backed into the space next to my ride. As luck would have it, a bob truck was parked between us and the primary pedestrian and vehicular traffic area in front of the store.

We chatted for a second before he instructed me to start fingering myself. Gladly, I complied. He asked if he could feel how wet I was and I denied the request—wanting it all to myself. He slid his hand down my shirt and massaged my breast, while whispering encouraging words. Soon, I felt the beginnings of my release and slid my finger in all the way so I could feel the gentle contractions.

After bringing myself back to reality, I turned and told him to lean back his seat, which he did. He immediately unzipped his jeans and presented his amazing throbbing hard cock to me. Ohhhhhh, yessssssss. Come to Momma, baby. Although a parking lot is not the ideal setting for me to perform and perfect my craft, I do enjoy the experience…ass is the air as I lean across and lick, suck and stroke the man in the driver’s seat. “Oh, fuck, baby,” he groaned as I moved my mouth and tongue up and down his shaft.

“You ready? I have a big load for you,” he said. I moaned an almost indiscernible “uh-huh” and nodded my head just in time to feel his cum pulsing into my mouth and down my throat. Fuck, he is delicious.

I don’t always bookend my week with parking lot blow jobs, but when I do, I enjoy the fuck out of it.