Boy meets girl. Girl pays boy for sex. Boy fucks girl stupid. Girl pisses on boy. Boy pisses on girl. Girl rims boy and jakes him off. Boy fucks girl's arse. Girl fucks boy's arse with a strap-on. Girl licks strap-on clean. Boy shits on girl's hand. Girl eats boy's shit. Girl sucks off boy with shitty mouth. Boy pisses in girl's mouth. Girl drinks boy's pee.
It's an old old story, I know, and one which I wish I had the time to tell properly. But Dan has made me an offer (again) to partner him on special assignments, and I've accepted (provisionally ... I'll see if it is too much to cope with, I hope not, should be fun).
Wednesday lunchtime: Rob the History Teacher has been hassling me to spend some time with him, which is nice, in an overly attentive kind of way.
Had a long chat with Kate on the phone last night, sorting out some family issues and catching up: she quizzed me all about Laura and Tess and Rob and Rita, I quizzed her about Dan, with whom she had a heavy session on Monday (hey, where's the gory detail Kate?).
Laura's been very snuggly with me this last week, which has just been lovely. I think I've slept with Laura more often than I've slept with Anthony over the past few months. Not, you understand, that this is all one long incestuous lezzathon. Sure, sometimes with do "comfort" each other, and sometimes we actively make love. But usually, normally, we just lay together, naked, and chat and hug, kiss and cuddle. Naturally, we've been talking about last week.
Laura is quite overwhelmed. I'd like to teacher her, but you know how it is with people you're sooooo close to. I couldn't even teach her to drive a car, let alone how to explore her dominant side. I've suggested she pop in on Lindsey when she goes to see Tess this weekend. She and Laura have had a paid for session, and now that Laura is "out" - OK, "semi-out" as a Domina (Junior grade), they might want to talk about their experiences together. Just thought it might be good to talk to someone neutral, yet who has know Laura since she was a little girl.
On a different tack, here's a pointless way to boost your online time and so fear you're becoming addicted. Net Addiction Tests. I only scored 28 on the Internet Addition test ... yeah, surprised me too. But of course, am completely addicted to cybersex and need counselling, but who doesn't.
Poor Laura's spent most of the week working on Macbeth (you know, the Scottish Play, not some S&M character) for an assignment. My Mum has been helping out a lot. So I haven't seen much of her, and she hasn't seen anything of Tess.
Actually, I haven't seem much of anybody really - Jack's doing his football and judo and playing with his friends. Anthony is on nights. Cheryl and her daughter Ellis from next-door are on holiday. Rita is with her gran. Rose is at a Show Jumping tournament. And Rob the History Teacher is doing that Divorced Dad Holiday - thing with his two daughters and son and has kept me away from all that.
Ho-hum. Back to school tomorrow for the long slog to Christmas. And in the meantime, looks like I'll have to copy Kate and join the legion of women who have a friend in a penis-shaped piece of plastic that goes whizzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Rey, asstr-mirror.org's administrator, notified me that they are changing over to a new (faster) ISP next weekend, so expect some service outage ... the site will be down during the move. asstr-mirror.org is a FREE service to you and to me. I contribute by writing this blog and my site for FREE. I really appreciate the FREEDOM asstr-mirror.org gives me to publish my work uncensored. But it does cost MONEY for you to be able to ENJOY this. So, if you'd like to show your appreciation to ME and to asstr-mirror.org, then you could make a donation to keep this erotic space going.
OK, now I really regret not coming over this half-term since you too are having much more fun than me. My boyz have been sick all this week - first one, then the other - so it's been coping mode. Even had to cancel my appointment with my escort, Dan - though hopefully this Monday will be good for us both. Thank God for sex toys and nasty videos. Of course, you know what children are like - if you have a toy, they have to have one too. The littlest uses it as a hammer, the older one as a magic wand - how very right he is!
Got my little girl back. Nice to have her around. I haven't asked and she has said what she's been up to over at Tess's, but I'm sure she will when she wants to. We've been very comfortable together. A new fridge-freezer arrived and she helped me clean it and stock it, and as we did so, she quizzed me about puto - the slave I used to have. So I'm sure she is, as puto would have said, "processing" things (West Coast Americans, hey! Speaking English ... but only just). So it was nice to something ordinary (yes, we did have rubber gloves on, but no, I don't really think you can construct those as erotic).
OK, so if your a mega-experienced bitchin Mistress or a Master of the Universe beat 'em, smack 'em and keep 'em hungry for more merchant, then, obviously, you'll spot I haven't got a clue what I'm doing with Tess. Aside, of course, from a bit of fun. So it's Miss Laura, Day 4, and the big questions: what is it all about, how can you take yourself seriously, and what is the right thing to do?
Mum has suggested I should use it as an opportunity to explore people and personalities in the extreme, and so gain understanding. Which sounds like homework.
Kate has suggested I lose myself in the violent physicality of it, and enjoy the surge of power. Which sounds like bullying.
Mum's old slave, puto, has mailed me, but I haven't had a chance to read his long mail yet (I've just got back from Tess's). Except the start included, "You Go GIRL", which sounded like the future!
Which is all fab. But I'm still winging it. At least Tess doesn't seem bothered. But it might be she's just so happy not to have freaked me, that she doesn't mind anything, really. Well, actually, she did mind being sent to Mum, but then ... tough! It amused me!
Well I haven't seen Laura much since the weekend. She's gone over to Manchester to Tess's place. She's back tomorrow so I should get some gossip (and she needs to do some studying, she's got her mock exams in December and we're all helping her: Granny with Macbeth. Sister Sarah with music. And me with Maths of course. One advantage of having some slaves around is the house is spick-and-span.
I've taken Rita back home this morning. So I'm feeling a bit laa laa. It's not normal for me to have time on my hands. Call me Miss Geeky, but I've been playing on the computer most of the day. Yes, I know I should be getting on with the site redesign, but hey, it's my half-term holiday. I'm allowed to relax a bit.
Bugger me! I really can't remember what "happily ever after" ideas I had for Tess meeting my Mum. I think I just guessed that since I love my Mum and I love Tess, they'd, you know, kind of like each other. I was a bit gutted when Mum clearly didn't like Tess at all.
Oh My God! I thought, it's going to go all door slamming and "when you live in my house you live under my rules" kind of time.
Not that we ever do that, despite Auntie Kate teasingly trying to encourage me to be a little less nice and a little more drama queenish. But I could see a row coming. Especially after that little slag Rita turned up. She is so drippy. I don't know why Mum enjoys having her scamp about like a little puppy after her - unless it's just that. She's not exactly a great conversationalist. I know, I tried, when I sent Tess out to talk to Mum alone.
So I thought the whole thing was going to turn seriously crappy. Especially after Mum and Tess had their chat. Tess helped me make dinner, and was even more edgy than before.
So it was a release after dinner to go to my room and be alone together. Only Tess did that, "I think we must talk" thing. I hate that. It's never about nice things when people say that. And I knew what she was going to say: she chatted to Mum and Mum had said she didn't approve of the relationship during this important exam year of my life and it would be better if it ended, and Tess, of course, had agreed ... being in some small part the responsible teacher . And so I was being dumped ... not that I jump to conclusions or anything.
So when she said, "I'm not what I seem. I haven't been completely honest with you Laura", I was fairly wrong footed.
"I want you to be something I think you could be, something I'd love you to be. But something I fear you're not, and would be disgusted at me for wanting." (Don't you hate it when people talk in sentences with no subject).
So I'm like all keyed up with anger about being dumped that has no outlet, plus frustrated at Miss Riddle not getting to any point. And she's like, prattling on about "... this is hard for me ..." blah blah and finally I shout, "WHAT! ... What is it ... just tell me, what is it" (actually I sounded a bit more squeaker and petulant less forceful, but it's not practiced thing for me).
"Do you know what a Masochist is Laura?"
Oh please. I'm fifteen, not twelve!
So then Tess goes into this big who-ha about how she has always found the greatest satisfaction through service to others, how she recognises that her spirit is unworthy of true pleasure unless it is achieved through enduring pain and humiliation (blah blah psycho-babble). And how she was drawn to me but my innate strength (blah blah flattery). But she feared revealing her fantasy of our relation would destroy our actual relationship (blah blah waffle). But my Mum confronting her with her own lie has given her the power to talk openly to me, whatever the outcome.
Now I'm all messed about now - I'm angry with Mum for interfering. I'm angry with Tess for being weird and spineless. I'm angry with me for looking at Tess through my own rosy-spectacles and not as she actually is. And here she is, asking me to play a dominating role in our relationship. Easy.
I slapped Tess so hard with the flat of my hand across her yabbering mouth that I knocked her off the chair. Ouch!
Memo to self: use a bat or something ... slapping really stings. Tess is like major surprised to find herself on the floor with a slightly cut lip and saying, "... we need a safe word and work out ..."
"NO safe words. You trust me or you get out, now!" (Ohhhhh, I'm so hardcore :-)
Actually, I've only done a little of this sort of thing. Mum and I had a couple of sessions where she topped me, but being submissive wasn't really me.
I let some of my professional clients spank me, for a fee, but I did prefer being the Top.
So I ran a few domination sessions, but it was pretty difficult taking myself seriously standing in high-heels on some middle-aged chaps chest telling him he's filth. But they liked it.
The best sessions were the three I had with Lindsey before she got pregnant. She enjoys switch play and wrestling and some tittie torture. But of course, there's a world of difference between a couple of hours mucking about pretending, and actually living the S&M life.
Anyhow, Tess was grovellingly impressed, and prostrated herself at my feet, pledging undying fidelity to me.
And we sort of stayed there, a bit awkwardly. The trouble with being Dommie is the strain of having to take the lead all the time, the strain of having the ideas, of being in command.
Perhaps I'm doing it wrong, or maybe I'm just making it up as I'm going along. So I know it sounds a bit lame. But all I could think to do first off was stand on her. With one foot pressing on the back of her head, and the other in the small of her back, I found the "oooof" noises she made oddly entertaining. I felt a bit like being back in Biology class, about to dissect a frog, but wondering which bit to cut off first.
In the end, I quite suddenly felt weary - as if drained of emotion, my body had slipped into recovery mode and needed nothing more erotic than a good lie down.
I told Tess to get me drink, and while she was away, I emptied the spare blankets from the blanket box at the base of my bed. I sipped on my drink while allowing Tess the honour of licking my pussy. She honoured me for nearly two hours. It was quite funny, her tongue was so numb she couldn't really speak properly at the end. I could of punished her for it - but she'd made me too mellow to bother. So instead I told her to get into the blanket box. I closed the lid and I watched some TV instead.
About four hours later I woke up. I'd dozed off. It was the middle of the night. I closed the curtains, turned on the light and started to get ready for bed properly as I was still in my clothes. I heard a small scuffle.
Oh God Tess! Oooops. I opened the oak lid of the blanket box and told her with as much measured indifference as I could to get out. She was terribly stiff from being bent double. I was at a bit of a loose at what to do. And then a nasty corner of my brain said, "I want to thank my mother for bringing us to this point. Go to her and offer yourself for her amusement. And once she is done with you, tell her that you were a gift from me". Well how Dommie is that then! Tess did not look like a happy bunny. But with a brave "Thank you Miss" she went off.
I have to say, I couldn't sleep for chuckling to myself with amusement, wondering what Mum would make of it all. Since Tess didn't come straight back I knew something was going on.
I must confess, I did think about sneaking upstairs and having a peak through Mum's bedroom door - but that is too uncool. So I just lay there, slowly playing with myself, but not bringing myself off, waiting. After an age she came down stairs. I let her into my bed next to me. I could smell the piss on her which really turned me on. I guided her hand into my pussy, and while she sucked at my nipple, I let her play with me. I came again. Deeply. Contentedly.
So I figured, turning my back on Tess to go to sleep, perhaps this new relationship might be fun. Hard work, obviously, but interesting and fun.
I'm a bisexual (pansexual?) teacher with a taste for teenage girls, she's a lesbian teacher with a taste for teenage girls. So you'd think we'd have a lot in common. But of course, just because we're related in depravity, doesn't mean we related in anything else.
Of course, I talked to Laura about how she wanted to handle "Queen" Tess on her "meet the parents" day - well, parent - Anthony was going to be out. Laura was keen not to dwell on all the skeletons in our family cupboard. She'd positioned herself as an ordinary girl exploring her sexuality (true enough) - leaving out the strange family she comes from. She'd also worked hard to reassure Tess that her Mum would be cool with her having a lesbian affair with an older woman.
Of course, Laura had worked quite hard on my feelings too. Imploring me to behave (what could she mean?) Underlining how important this was to her (hmmmmm). Threatening how ghastly she'd be if I "screwed this up" (oh, I'm scared). But I have to have to confess, I had my issues with Tess.
I really really struggle to believe that Laura is her first piece of teenage pussy she's had. I really really don't want Laura getting all silly and lovely over someone in her vital exam year. I really really wanted Laura to fall for someone with better prospects than a much older lezzie teacher. But, issues aside, it's best to be accepting in these circumstances - Laura's growing up, finding her own way in the romantic / erotic world, and if she's happy - I'm zipping it.
As soon as I met Tess: her open round face, her folksy Irish lilt, her "hello boys" large chest - I knew I didn't like her. There was something about the way she carried herself, something about the way she was trying to flatter me that was not quite right. Which bugged me, because I knew what the answer was - this woman wasn't good enough for my little girl. I just couldn't put my finger on what the question was.
Anyhow, soon after Tess turned up, Rita came. Oh, didn't I mention I'd invited my little bit of pussy too. Dear oh dear, Laura was not amused, Tess was confused, and Rita was a bit bemused at the frosty reception. But I didn't want to play gooseberry to Laura and Tess being all lovely dovy. OK, so it was a BIG signal to Tess that I knew what sort of games she was playing 'cos I played them too.
We had drinks. Laura sat very close to Tess. Rita sat very close to me. We chatted. I got up to change the load in the washing machine. Tess got up to "give me a hand". In the utility room, she blurted out that she wouldn't hurt Laura, that she loved Laura, that Laura was like a Goddess to her.
I wore my doubtful face set to max. I just couldn't see what was going on here. It was like Tess was asking my permission to fuck my daughter. And then, duh! duh! duh! I got it. I'd been so busy thinking about me and Laura and our secrets, I'd forgotten to think about Tess and her secrets. And from the way she was fearfully quivering in front me, it was suddenly blindingly obvious.
"Have you told Laura ..." I paused before plunging "... that you want her to hurt you, you want her to humiliate you, you want her to dominate you?"
Tess blanched. "OH God no. Oh no, no" she stumbled, "I didn't want to frighten her. I thought she'd be disgusted. I ..." her voice trailled away, sullen.
"I don't think I would like my daughter to get involved with anyone who was deceiving her." I stared pointedly at Tess till her she dragged her ashamed eyes to meet mine. "Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes" She said, sheepishly.
It is, I'm afraid to say, one of the more common teacher personality disorders. People who spend their working lives lion-taming over eager kids into behaving themselves well enough to be teachable, often personally desire to be dominated themselves. The higher up the profession you go, the more common you find this - Heads being the worst.
I finished with the laundry and felt soooooooooooooooo much better ignoring her. Now I understood. Tess was weak, not strong. Laura was strong, not a simpering teenie crush girl. That seemed so much better. Now Laura could discard Tess whenever she fancied - she wasn't the dependent one.
For a moment I thought of forcing Tess to kneel before me, pulling down my knickers and pissing in her face - just to underline who the boss' boss was. But it didn't seem necessary. (OK, I didn't need to go).
After dinner. Laura and Tess retired to Laura's room. They had a lot to talk about. I took Rita upstairs to my bedroom feeling quite light-hearted. We had a bath first. I was feeling very relaxed, very pleased with myself. I don't think I'd ever seen Rita look so grown-up before. We prepared a scented candle lit bath together. I stripped my little princess, and using only my tongue, brought her to a swift soft climax. It was going to be more fun than I'd hoped.
She held my head into her pussy with her small hands, and taking a moment to recover, did a small pee in my face. It was beautiful. Warm teenage pee running into my mouth, down my chin, onto the floor. When she'd finished, I bent down, and licked the floor clean. I stripped and we got into the bath.
Rita washed me, masturbated me, hugged and loved me, masturbated me again, and gently trimmed my pussy with a razor. I washed her in return, did her nails (which is more fun than it sounds when you're both very soapy), cut her fringe and basically pampered everything worth pampering. I was going to give her an enema too, but felt too lazy for anything so messy.
In bed we drank tea and eat chocolate biscuits in between mashing our pussies together and impaling ourselves on each end of my double-headed dong (what an excellent toy).
I was asleep ... or rather I wasn't anymore. Someone was in the room. I fumbled the side light on. Tess stood frozen, wearing only a tee-shirt, the soft fuzz of her brown bushy pubes showing in the harsh light. "Sorry I didn't mean ..."
"What is it?"
"Oh, nothing, I ... I ... "
"It's OK" I pulled back the duvet to invite her into my bed. She cupped her hands over her mouth when she saw Rita: The gag ball (with dribble leaking out of her mouth). The hands tired behind the back. The small nipple clamps. The legs forced open with the spreader bar.
Tess gasped in surprise. Rita blinked helplessly in the light. Tess gingerly climbed on to the bed on all fours. I got up and picked up the strap-on belt off the floor. I firmly pushed her face into Rita's small cunt, whispered with a few long dark lashes of pubes. She licked my little lover as I forced my way into her fat pussy.
No one had actually said anything really. It was all a bit surreal at 2am. I fucked my daughter's lover slowly but firmly, enjoying the feeling of the double ended dildo being inside me as I pushed it inside her. I reached down and grabbed Tess' hanging D-cups, pinching them and pulling at them. Tess moaned and winced with discomfort and shots of pain, but kept her head down. I picked up the nearest thing to beat her with - a large 10 inch bendy silicone dildo Rita had worked into me earlier. I beat Tess's back and arse with it. She was already scared with red lashes across her back. Laura? I beat her harder with it. It sort of thudded against her chest-cage and slapped against her buttocks. She loved it. She climaxed.
I dragged her off Rita, pulled the strap-on off my hips, and sat on her round milky Irish face, forcing my pussy on to her mouth. She licked me. I lent over the top of Tess and placed my mouth over Rita's spit wet pussy, and licked her. Rita shivered with excitement, till her whole body was shaking with orgasmic pleasure as my worked her poor swollen clit. My own stiff clit danced under Tess's strong pointy tongue. I wanted to pee. I wanted to climax. I wanted to do both, but couldn't at the same time. I climaxed first, sliding my cunt all round Tess's slobbering face.
Panting, I raised myself to my knees, and looking down into her wild eyes, I pissed lightly in her face. I wanted to do more, but I didn't want to make my own bed wet. She didn't react like this was the first time she'd been pissed on.
I got off her and told her to get out. She rose unsteadily, wiped her face with the her tee-shirt. As I got back into bed, she bowed at me in that exaggerated Japanese way, and said, "With my Mistress' compliments".
I smiled. Laura has some style and an excellent sense of the perverse! I blame the parents.
I was shopping (it happens) - what with it being a lovely autumn day - dragging my bags and boyz into the back of a taxi and for the first time in a while, I felt really rather hot: black boots, black leather trousers, studded black belt, a deep round-neck white vest with my little cleavage showing, black lacey cardigan to show off my long blonde hair cascading down my back. I felt good. Trim. You know, that feeling when your body feels all sexy and you've done nothing, felt nothing, seen nothing to get it's motor running - but your body is just so pleased with itself it feels all horny? OK, maybe it's just me. But hey, I'm sure I'm not the only hot bitch who's masturbated discreetly in the back of New York taxi, dreamily watching nothing in particular as we snail up Fifth Avenue.
Well, I never did really expect you to take my advice, Em darling. Still, I guess I get the delayed pleasure of saying "I told you so" later on - I hope not.
I've been off guys since last week's beating. Robert's been a brick, really supportive. He sacked Carl, and he and a couple of his mates had a "free and frank exchange" with Carl in the office car park. Remarkable how expressive baseball bats can be. Even Dan - the escort I used the other week, and who has been trying to coax me back into a bit of part-time work - was really nice. I'm minded not to take up his flattering offer, because of the boring practicalities of it: child care and all. Mornings are my best time, but you don't get much business till lunch time. Still, I've booked another session with him next Monday - kind of popping my toe back in the water.
Dragged a reluctant Rita to her home, when she'd much rather have stayed with me.
Dragged a reluctant Laura into helping blitz the house.
Dragged a reluctant Jack into the bath to amuse me while I got all buffed up.
Popped into down to what is increasing becoming our local pub (giving Laura a lift to see her friend, Jenny).
Rob the History Teacher popped up (well, I did phone him) like a super keen little terrier, and Rob, Robert, Laura, Jenny and Frank (Jenny's dad - the landlord) had a nice flirty chat. Then home and to bed with Laura. Which was all really nice, sexy without sex, so feel top-notch this morning.
Well who's a popular gal? Rob wanted lunch with me, with my pussy being the chief delicacy on the menu (I couldn't, too much marking). Rita wants to see me after school. And Lindsey's left a message to get in touch on my phone.
Trouble is, I've got to get the house cleaned up for Queen Tess coming this weekend. Being seen as a slut is one thing, being a slob another.
Oh yes, very comical: hung over and with the first blush of period pain, what fun. Feel as sexy as a lump of lard, but Rob has been sniffing about me for another taste of what he enjoyed over the weekend. Of course, he's been considerate, but you can tell its only because he feels he ought to be, not because it comes naturally ... it's a guy thing.
Been over at Tess's place. Though to keep Mum happy I took my homework (which didn't seem very fair - how many Films have the romantic leads breakaway from torrid pussy-licking action to write about blooming Macbeth!) and I also had to promise that Tess would come here next week for a meet the parents meal (oh, how I'm looking forward to that!).
Anyhow, on the upside, I also studied Tess's beautiful pussy, compared and contrasted her full heavy boobies, and swatted up on extensive slow kissing techniques. And we went for a bop and a curry, and I met a couple of her more dykey chums down the pub: Kat (trying to hard to make Katherine sound interesting) and her bitch Alison (a very ugly woman) ... actually, I quite liked them. And there is something exciting about being four lesbian girls having a giggle in a regular straight pub. Sort of makes you feel special, knowing your life has dimensions the straight women don't have, and the straight guys would love to watch.
Oh, and Mum has been very comically hung-over, on a diet of pain-killers and ice cream. And who do you think has to fetch-and-carry for Madam in her declined state? Well, Jack, actually.
I'm a bit drunk. ANd I'm posting this from Rob's computer. So don't know if it will work. But I would just like to say - spunk rocks!!!!!
I'm covered in the shit and it's just fucking top-notch fab super great yum. Not very deep, I know, but the bleeding obvious is still worth shouting about. SPUNK SPUNK SPUNK!!! I lvoe it!
I took my mouth off Rob's swollen cock for a moment, and asked him again (this time without something in my mouth), to show me his stash of porn. Again he denied having any (oh pleeeeeeease! I may be blonde, but ...)
I had a sip of gin to cool my mouth. "What more?" I teased. "God Yes". "Then show me."
We played this game for a while. It's gratifying what a guy will do if you promise to suck his cock off nicely. It seems are Rob is quite a nasty chap if his collection of German videos is anything to go by (you Germans, you are SO kinky). Still, he didn't show me his computer. Wonder what would come up if I searched on JPEG and MPEG?
Since you wont take my advice on not carrying on with that Rob teacher guy, Emily, here at least are my top tips for minimising making a fool of yourself:
1. Don't pretend not to know him at school. People can always tell when a couple have a guilty secret and are putting it on. Be his blatant best buddy, and when tongues wag, poo-poo them for misunderstanding that you're just chums.
2. Don't take risks at school. You don't want to be accused of unprofessional behaviour.
3. Remember, he's the lucky one.
4. Be yourself ... slutty little bitch that you are ... from day one. Don't pander to his limitations.
5. Don't try and be too clever (I know what you're like, Em). you can't have it all, so have whatever it is you most fancy.
When I got home, Laura was being very titillating - literally - she wouldn't put her tits away. She padded round the house complaining she had nothing to wear, giving her brother and father erections she had no particular intention of satisfying.
Then she half got dressed, but ironed her top with her heavy C-cups still out. And then even when she had her top on, it didn't leave much to the imagination behind it's black mesh - and actually made her sexier.
So when the taxi came to take her to Jenny's dad's pup for the night, it was me that got pulled down to the living room floor when I had marking to do. As hungry Daddy pulled my panties down, and inserted himself gently but firmly into my still tender pussy. And a cheeky son dropped his trousers and dangled his cock into his Mummy's mouth.
Anthony took my legs up and over my head, handing them to Jack, who held my legs up by my ankles as he watched his daddy fuck pump me. I quickly came as the evil bitch sucking my son's increasingly manly 4" cock. Anthony withdrew from me in the last minute, and jacked himself off over my face - his cum splashing over our son's cock, and dribbling down into my mouth.
Laura came back later, saying she'd had a much better time than us boring lot staying in ...
You could use lots of words, but I think "torrid" is the mot du jour, or perhaps, Mad as Fish.
Well, you know, new lovers – more juices flowing than sense.
Rob and I zoom off into the country side in our cars. Park-up at the back of a local beauty spot. The weather is quite lovely for October. I invite Rob into the backseat of my BMW (having already had the sense to put my knickers in my handbag before I left school).
Rob is quite clumsy and almost shy - I don't think it ever occurred to him how much I wanted him (typical man, so wrapped up in his own passions). He is startled, shocked, delighted and hard to find my knickerless pussy.
I tell him between gobfuls of kisses how I've dreamed of him, how I've played with myself in women's toilet, lusting that he'd come in and take me. He takes me. He's well over excited and so powerful with me. It hurts, but it's a good hurt that has me screaming a climax with both lungs full right by his ear. He shoots into me like some crazy guy. Our first, five minute fuck.
Rob rolls a small joint and I wipe cum off the leather seats.
I go out on to the grass, lift my shirk to my waist, and have a piss.
It turns out to be long one, and very long one. Rob is impressed. He rubs his cock back to hardness watching my torrid piss creating a small stream through the earth. I'm impressed with myself, and try to remember what I'd been drinking!
He gets out of the car. We're both a bit hyper and giggly. I fall back and sit in my own piss puddle. We laugh. Rob stands over my and I reach up and take his cock in my mouth. Fuck, he's a big man, no wonder he hurt my poor little pussy.
I run my throat as far down as can, holding his shaft with one hand to help cover his whole cock - nursing his heavy balls with my other hand, till I run a slender finger up his arse and start to gently probe his anus.
He likes that. He likes that a real lot. He stands solid as I work his cock over hard, real hard. He grunts and groans but I'm kneeling there for maybe fifteen minutes, maybe more, sucking and licking and dragging my teeth over his swollen cock. He rests his firm hands lightly on the back of my head, guiding my face further and further down his cock.
Rob's groans are nearly cries, he wants to ejaculate in my mouth so much. My chin is thick with spit that has been dragged out of my mouth. Suddenly my head is clamped to Rob's groin with his fat cock jamming into my throat.
Rob shoots his load with an animal grunt. I choke on the cock and the cum downing my mouth. I pill my face off his face involuntarily, and cough up long strands of ticklish cum from the back of my throat. With the heartlessness of the consumed with greed, Rob pushes his cock back into my mouth, and continues ejaculating stringy beads of cum. I pull back his foreskin, lick him good, and swallow.
What I meant to talk about, before my sense of humour was attacked by knob-head emails, was lunch with Rob yesterday.
He deployed all his very best flirt chat-up lines, plus trying to get me tipsy (which isn't very helpful when I've got to lion-tame Year 10 (14-15) bottom-set maths in the afternoon, so all their naughtiness just made me giggle).
So perhaps it was the white wine, or perhaps it was the my steely resolve not to fanny-about all term flirting before we got to first-base at the Christmas party, but as we were leaving, I took hold of him and brought him into me, to press against my body ... and dreamily gazed into his lovely eyes, waiting for him to kiss me.
We kissed with the same strength that you gasp for air during a gas attack. We kissed with bruising lips. And as we kissed, something bold and hard pressed against my tummy.
Dragging ourselves back to school was, of course, a major downer. But at least we're an item. At least we're got to first base. At least we're hot for each other.
Now to put the rest of the plan into action ... duh! ... what plan? I'll talk to Kate, she's got lots of recent experience about what not to do, poor lamb.
OK, so this email is fairly typical of the sort of dispiriting communication I get from men that just makes me think about jacking it all in, because you lot just don't deserve me (pout pout), I quote, in full:
YOU MUST MUST MUST PROOFREAD AND CORRECT AND PROOFREAD AGAIN UNTIL ALL ERRORS ARE GONE, IT DOES LET DOWN YOUR WORK SO BADLY; LIKE READING 'PLUP' FOR 'PULP', SEVERAL TIMES.
LIKE 'SIMPTON' FOR 'SYMPTOM' AND MANY MANY MORE INSTANCES, IT REALLY DOES MATTER MORE THAN YOU THINK. REALLY.
Notice the lack of manners (how about "Hello Emily"). Note the MAD-SHOUTY-CRACKERS use of uppercase. Note the lack of any simple compliment (Your stories are jolly good, but ...). Note the absence of example where he's done better, where he's done as much for the erotic literature community ... for free. Note the lack of offer to help (no one, in publishing, proofs their own work - you can't, it's just impossible). He doesn't even tell me where these proofreading abominations are, so I have to search thorough over a hundred thousand words of erotic text to find things he's already found, but can't be bothered to tell me. And of course, note how he's completely lost the plot: what would prefer - more dirty stories with errors, or fewer stories that are "perfect". Exactly. It really does not matter more than you think. Really.
PS: In the interests of balance, today's crop of emails also brought up a charming letter from a flemish chap, and I'll be replying to that when I've recovered my bounce; a one liner email (are you real?) which I won't be replying to; and a virus.
PPS: Oh, and for a dyslexic, I don't think I do too bad.
You'd think an educated sophisticated prosperous Afro-American guy wouldn't have issues screwing with a white woman, especially a non-American woman. And you'd be pretty right.
Carl fucks me cos I rock his boat. It helps a little that I'm this beautiful long blonde white chick - sure, there's a wry smile when he thinks about that. It helps he's making his boss's wife grunt and grind like a fuck animal every time he enters me - sure, that wipes a cheesy grins across his face.
I allow him those indulgences because he amuses me, arouses me, celebrates me. I feel good when I'm with him.
But, while I didn't want to piss on his proverbial parade, I really really did think he ought to know that Robert knew that he was carrying on with me. Perhaps it was predictable that it would weird him out: so often guys want their cakes (control) and to eat it (pussy) without any of those annoying complications (independent-minded women).
He didn't take it well. He was shocked I could be so honest with my husband (he is my soul-mate, what do you expect). He was angry that I'd embarrassed him (I was, apparently, "fucking with him" ... but that's what I thought he was doing to me and Robert).
He slapped me in the face in a way which wasn't erotic (I slapped him the face in a way which left claw marks). He threw me out of the hotel room. He didn't take it well at all. Perhaps I expect men to be too open-minded?
So I'm feeling pretty bruised - physically and emotionally. Ii guess it's my own fault for dating men too close to me (Jurgen at the old apartment and Carl at Robert's work). I think i'll stick with male prostitutes for a little while - they give you actually what it says on the label.
Laura's account of Monday night wasn't completely documentary level accurate, but never mind. It was lovely to see Lindsey and her boys. My! How they're growing up fast. You don't see it in your own boy, of course. And poor Lindsey, waddling about in that late pregnancy way, never quite getting comfortable with a large basketball stuffed up her jumper. Though she does look fantastic on it.
Took Rita to a pub after school yesterday (Laura's friend Jenny's dad's pub). She really liked that. Somehow made her look even younger, her sitting there in such an adult environment, sipping a coke.
I banged on about her not working the streets anymore. She was non-committal. I didn't want to sour the moment. So I moved on.
Having lunch with Rob the History teacher today. Wonder if he'll make his move. Probably not, it's still a bit early in my "courtship", but you never now. I might just throw myself at him. He is rather hunky.
Lindsey and her boys came round for tea. Mum gets all flirty when Lindsey's around. They have this real hot bitch thing going on together, and they just get so out of control. So Lindsey was trying to get her eldest boy, Dylan to come on to Mum, and Mum was encouraging Jack to go with Lindsey.
Well, Jack, being the pervy little brother, was completely in heaven - he has the thing about pregnant women and Lindsey is now HUGE. She's not a very tall woman, I'm a good few inches taller, and she's just all belly and tits. She let me and Jack feel the baby kick inside ... very lovely in a sort of weird way ... but nice weird.
So Jack gets his pants down and is trying to get his cock into Lindsey, and she's trying to calm him down so he doesn't hurt her by accident.
But Dylan isn't so keen on Mum. I think he'd rather go with me. But I won't cause he's only a kid. But I have to be a bit tactful, 'cos I don't want to disappoint Mum. So I tell Dylan it's my period, which it isn't, but it works.
So he goes upstairs with Mum, and Lindsey says in the living room with Jack, so I take Finbar, Lindsey's little one, and go to the TV room. We play a couple of games on the Playstation, and then Dylan comes in and tells Finbar to go and see Mum upstairs, and I'm thinking, what a dirty little cow my Mum is.
After a while longer, Mum and Finbar come in, and she says they both did very well - which I thought was bit cheeky. But suddenly from the context I realise Mum's been helping them with their maths, not helping them get her jollies. Did I feel a twit or what. So it is possible to live in too sexy house.
Only afterwards, Jack boasted about how he fucked Lindsey, and Mum's asked me to be with her tonight ... so perhaps not.
Good things about the new apartment: it's in the best school district, it's only half a block from central park (I love the peace of the conservatory gardens), no Jurgen trying to doorstep me (memo to self: don't carry on with someone in the same apartment block, duh), different set of perverts spying on me from the apartments opposite (haven't clocked them yet, but you just know they are there). Bad things: it's more expensive, of course.
Well, I'm going to try and step back into a pleasant routine: pampering this morning (nails, hair, full hollywood waxing - ouch!, facial (the cosmetic kind), sauna ... all the bits), followed by lunch with Carl.
Then do the school run and the groceries. Sort out a sitter, make the boyz there tea and then decide where Robert and I are going eat tonight ... preferably with some hardcore sex action from one or both of my men (well, moving isn't an erotic event).
I'm also toying with seeing Dan the escort again ... paid for sex was so nice, and I'm still basking in the flattery of being asked to work with him. I don't think I'll take up the offer ... busy Mum and all that, but still there's a part of me that would find it fascinating. I'll have to talk to Robert about it.
Have had a fabulous weekend with my girlfriend, Tess. I've decided it's official, now, and I've been calling her "my girlfriend" all day, though she keeps on turning pink every time I use the word.
"I'm too old for you" she mutters with a sly guilty smile.
I've twisted her to come over here next week, meet Mum and Dad and all that stuff. I'm not really looking forward to it, but it's got to be done. Once Mum has met Tess I know she'll be much more comfortable about our "relationship". (Yeah, I'm using that word too, drives Tess nuts, "We don't have a 'relationship', I just fancy the pants off you". I know she's just kidding).
Anyhow, not much to report for the weekend. We pretty much stayed in bed, eating peanut butter toast, eating each other's pussies, drinking tea or peach schnapps, sleeping after sex, waking and having more sex. The furthest we ventured was to the fridge ... oh, except Tess went to the off-licence to stock up on more booze, milk and chocolate bars. You can do some very pleasant things with chocolate bars. Very pleasant ... and yummy.
Apparently there was some sort of football match on yesterday, in which our lads had every one worried, but done good in the end. So the pub was packed with over excited men who'd just experienced something dangerously close to feelings, so they were drunk on emotion and drunk on drink. A heady brew for boys not used to it. And an infectious one.
Despite feeling a bit under-par, my own spirits lifted with the increase of spirits inside my own body. The stripper also jollied things along a bit too - Anthony only takes me the classiest of places.
The stripper was actually a former pupil of mine, and I struggled to remember her name (as her stage name was different ... no one in real life is called Valerie the Vixen ... in case you were wondering).
She mingled with the crowd after her show, nude, titties-a-wobbling, talking to various girls. As she approached me she recognised me and squealed "Miss" and I grinned and in the nick of time said, "hello Max" (phew). Turned out she was recruiting for a charity wet-tee-shirt competition later that night.
Well, I was feeling pretty fine by then, so I trooped back stage with five other girls. I knew I wouldn't win, as only one other woman was in her thirties, and I had the smallest titties. But hey, it was going to be a laugh. We stripped down to our knickers and put on the (ripped) tee-shirts they gave us.
The first girl did OK, a pretty C cupped thing who danced around as Max wet her top, and then she went topless - which got the crowd going.
"THIS WOMAN USED TO BE MY TEACHER!!!!" Max screamed as I came on, planting a big fat kiss on my lips.
Not sure if the teacher bit helped, but the sub-lezzie thing caused an uproar. Max tipped a couple of jugs of water over my jiggling jugs, before I whipped my top off and played up to the cheering crowd. Playing with my titties, tugging on my nipples, giggling about, and pushing my A-cups into Max's D-cups. The boys loved that. For the finale, I turned my back, bent right over, and pulled by thong out from between by arse cheeks, pulling it right down to my ankles. I wiggled my bare arse a bit, stood up, turned round, flashed my cunt, and kicked my knickers into the crowd, before scampering off - high as a kite.
It was intense walking back into the bar, dressed, afterwards.
Up sides: total adulation and respect from every pair of male eyes; didn't have to buy a drink for the rest of the evening; and when we got home - Anthony, booze not withstanding, was so buffed up by the whole thing, he shagged me for Ingerland for all he was worth ... and he was worth quite a bit, as he pulled out at the last minute and ejaculated over my titties and tummy.
Down side: those were a really nice pair of knickers and I never got them back; some bimbo with DDs won; and, strangely, my head hurts a bit is morning. Oh, and one of the school governors was in the pub, but I don't think he'll complain :)
Bored of being a sickly drudge, so I'm going to spend as much time as I can over at my mum's place. At least there I get mothered.
I haven't got the oomph to do the stuff with Laura that I'd planned to. She's a growing girl, and needs a new sports bra and some new knickers. So she's gone off to spend the night with this Tess girlfriend of hers, smiling.
Well, I'm back online. Sort of settled in to the new apartment. Took the boyz to central park to stop them playing with boxes while Robert tried to find homes for stuff.
Sat on a bench and watched the boyz run off their sugar-rush, till I noticed I was being watched by a bloke behind some blushes. He was sort of giggling. I was sat with my legs open and my short skirt pulled up to just below my panties ... catching the last rays of the autumn sun on my bear legs, and obviously also catching the local perverts.
Nice to see perverts in up-market Manhattan are just as much pond life as in the mid districts.
It's meant to be a training day at school, but I caught a sniffle ... ever noticed there's no newsgroups for guys with a soiled tissue fetish? ... so I'm not at my best, and have decided to stay home, watch daytime TV (Kilory had men whose wives had died suddenly, surprisingly gripping), wash the kitchen floor, do some laundry, prepare some A-level lessons, masturbate repeatedly whenever boredom threatens to overwhelm. The usual ho-hum stuff you do when life's had the shine knocked off it.
Apologised to Tess for being a bit selfish last weekend. She was cool about it. I want to go this weekend but Mum wants me to stay home - go do some shopping together, do my homework, blah blah. We'll see.
Went to a party last night, and this boy, Simon, wouldn't leave me alone. He was really bugging me. So in the end I relented and let him take me out to his car. Big mistake. He snogged like a vacuum cleaner and messed over my skirt and top. I won't be so soft again! No means No.
One of my regular correspondents was surprised at the reference to Rita's prostitution. He'd assumed that the reference to Rita's prostitution work in the stories was "just" fiction. Here's my reply, which I thought the rest of you might be interested in:
I don't know why your surprised. Perhaps it's knowing someone who knows someone who does it, is surprising. Or perhaps I take it too much for granted!
It's not as if all our major cities don't have regular supplies of child prostitutes. Rita's a bit on the young end of the scale, but not excessively so. They have to come from somewhere. Many come from foster homes and Child Care Homes, but a fair number come form ordinary families. Rita's family is fairly dysfunctional, but still would be classed as "ordinary". There doesn't seem to be any point reporting Rita's case, as it would only split her up from her loving mother and put her in a Care Home, which is exactly the sort of environment she'd be like to carry on working.
I've been trying to persuade her to adopt safer working practices, a bit like my Laura. Work the hotels as an escort. Have a chaperone. Avoid the streets. Avoid the druggie pimps.
Her Mum wants her to do that too, but Rita is a little resistant. It's about self-image I guess. Laura feels sexy and classy and glamorous, and so feels right when she's all dressed up and going to a swank hotel for an expensive outcall. Rita feels grubby and dirty and nasty, and the street experience of getting into strange men's cars and sucking them off for a pathetic amount of money feels right to her.
Mostly she does oral and hand-jobs. So from that point of view it's a less intimate form of sex than Laura performs. Which, I suspect, is the other reason she doesn't feel comfortable following Laura's style - she doesn't like sex with men that much. I'm not sure if that's just because her body isn't mature enough to enjoy penetrative sex, or because women have been consistently nicer to her, or she lacks a strong father figure to teach her the attractiveness of men, or because she's a lesbian. At twelve it's way to early to clear about such things.
The trump-card up Rita's Mum and my sleeves is the risk of violence. But so far, no punter has knocked her about or raped her ... or at least none have tried hard enough before Rita weaseled her way out of harms way. Kids assume an air of invincibility, which no matter how obvious the theoretical risk, remains a distant theory to them ... till it happens. But obviously I'm hoping she wont have to have a hard knock before she follows her Emily's advice.
In the end, it's about trying to teach Rita that she has choices ... even though she feels forced to do it to support her family, she still has choices.
Had a good chat and cuddle with Rita. Resolved a few things, like the difference between pervy sex with someone you feel for, and someone who's paid you money. Tried to suggest that her working-girl activities, though bringing in much needed money for her family, would get in the way of stuff, like school, and forming loving relationships, and growing up too fast. Obviously with Laura's past activities I can't go on about this sort of thing, but the difference between a 12 year old and a 14 is a massive one. Still, the main thing is, she understands a bit better that though it is difficult for us to be together, she is still special to me.
Had lunch with Rob the new history teacher yesterday. Teacher lunches are not long or glam affairs. It's not like being some New York dolly being whisked off to some swank hotel for an afternoon of muscular depravity. More a sandwich and a juice in the pub across the road from the school. Never mind, heaven is where you make it. Well, OK, it wasn't heaven, but it was fascinating.
Question: Your a boy pervert, and you'd like to chat up someone you think/hope might be a girl pervert without blowing your chances / being reported to the authorities. I gather this is one of the central existential questions of being a man (since most of you seem to be pretty pervy).
Answer: Bloody carefully. I had the distinct impression I was being danced around. Rob was flattering. Rob was funny. Rob was naughty and risque. Rob was Mr Sub-text. He gave the distinct impression that he knew about kinky sex, that he knew about teenage sex, that he knew a lot; but never actually said so. Of course, I was supportive, but equally guarded. So, all good signs for a beautiful sick friendship to flourish ... and just for once, I'm thinking before I leap.
Well it wasn't quite from heaven to hell, but it was from bliss to very ordinary. It was probably my fault. I acted all a bit spoilt really. I went over on Friday night knowing I'd have to come back early on Saturday to go see Nan and Granddaddy.
So I wanted it to be perfect and I wanted it in a hurry and I wanted it to be as good as last weekend. But Tess was suffering with a sniffle and her period just starting. I told her I didn't licking mensal blood, but she wasn't impressed.
I think the right thing to say was, "oh dear, why don't you lay down on the sofa and I'll fetch and carry for you", instead of thinking about my desires. But instead I was all huffy with everyone all weekend. The best sex was only from stuffing my fingers in my own pussy. And even then Jack spoilt that moment by banging on the toilet door, saying he had to go and Nan was asking where I'd got to.
So then I had to listen to Nan's ye olde remedies for constipation, while Mummy smirked at me. And then she declares she's been suffering a bit too and disappears into the loo for twenty minutes while I have to talk to my batty old Nan alone, and Mum comes back with a bit of a smirk, declaring she's "much better" and winks at me.