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| Blogs > Moving_Furniture > Sexy Scribbling |
Red on the Head Means Fire in the Bed (Pt.1)
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Red on the Head Means Fire in the Bed (Pt.1) “Crimson Cum Queens: Anal Edition” Eh, not really in the mood for anal, I thought as I kept thumbing through the box of DVDs marked 69% off. The local porn shop hlongs R’Us was going out of business and having its final sale. Out of pure nostalgia I had wandered inside. This was where, as a pimpled , I worked up the guts to buy my first porno magazine. Now the “Thanks for Cumming for 25 ! Now Everything Must GO!” sale had left the store half empty. The remaining DVDs were piled into boxes in the middle of the store. The successive titles of “Ginger Snatch,” “Burning Bushes” and “Fire Crotch Cuties” Vols. 1-5 made it clear I had found the Redhead section. As I passed over “Little Red Rides the Hood" I heard the bell ring as the door opened and the sound of heels entered the store. I had just given up on redheads and was looking for the box with the Blonde DVDs as a woman passed by. I glanced up and could not look back down. There you were. Your red hair gleamed magiy as you walked past in a tight red dress that hugged your petite body, barely covering your ass. I couldn’t but stare as you sauntered onward in your red heels with a confidence that was as bewitching as your swaying hips. And those legs. My god. You stopped and turned around. My heart skipped a beat. You were older than I would have guessed. It only made you sexier. I had always fantasized about being with a true woman—some experienced and knowledgeable, who could teach me what girls my age had yet to learn. We caught eyes for the first time and I’ll always wonder if you saw my growing excitement in the second before I shyly dropped my gaze back down to the DVDs. You headed to the book section, the only place in the store still fully stocked. I moved back to the box with the redhead DVDs. I began to flip through them with a new found inspiration. “Gingers Do it Better” looked okay. So did “Red Rocket Cum Blast.” But n of them featured a woman that captured the excitement I felt when I saw you. Finally, I came across “All Natural Cougars: Redhead Edition.” It wasn’t perfect but it was the best I was going to do. With a sense of impending disappointment I looked up to see how far redheaded pornstars fell from their ideal form. But suddenly you were g. I turned around hoping to find you. And there you were. Right there, unfortunately. You had already made your purchase and were on your way to the door as I crashed into you. Both of our belongings fell to the ground. “Oh my God I’m sorry!” I’m mortified, and not only because I just introduced myself with an elbow to the face. On the ground, right in front of my feet, lies the “All Natural Cougars: Redhead Edition.” The slogan “Horny for Redheaded Cougars?” stood out like never before or after. Embarrassed, I swooped down to pick it up. I reach out to you but pause. On the ground, right in front of your feet, lies the book “How to Catch a Cub: A Cougar’s Guide to Hot Sex with Younger Men.” Now you were embarrassed as you rushed down to pick up the book. Both of us stood up at once, and after an awkward smile you hurried out of the store and onto the street, leaving just me in the shop. “That must have been fucking embarrassing.” Well, me and the shop owner, who broke the long silence. I bought my DVD and just thought about how I would never see you again. Fate, however, makes its own plans. The following day I saw you at Subway. When you ordered your favorite sandwich I wondered if it was a sign: A 6 inch sausage with Italian buns, because, as you intelligently argued when they asked if you wanted to make it a footlong: “Nope. 6 inches of sausage is all I need. Well, the best would be exactly 6.4 inches, but I can only hope for that type of perfection. 12 inches gets all the “footlong” glory but really it’s just excessive and fills me up until it hurts. For like, days.” Excellent point. Then, the following day it was you who saw me at the weekly farmer’s market. I was over at a stall selling fresh clams. But I wasn’t satisfied. “Sorry, these clams aren’t mature enough for me.” I said after getting a sample taste. “You should see me when I get a nice mature clam, though. I’ll get my lips and tongue all up in there. Even my fingers. I eat it all out—sucking, licking, whatever it takes. It’s a mess.” Then, as is fate was d ing games, the next day my car broke down on the side of the road and I had to walk a mile to the nearest home. Your home. Inside you were having a boring afternoon on a boring day during a boring weekend. You didn’t have much to do other than lounge in bed and finally crack open the “How to Catch a Cub” book you bought at hlongs R’Us. The first chapter was “Step 1: Set Your Trap.” Like their older counterparts, you read, younger men are sueptible to what the author ed “Really wanting to fuck. All the time.” Use this to your advantage. You read on. “Effective lures include your breasts, vagina…” By the time you finished the first chapter you were feeling a little horny, but your restless mind wouldn't leave you al. You had been lusting for a younger guy to shake up your sex life but so far you've experienced only frustration. Traps, you sneered. God how you wish it was that easy, as if a young guy would just walk in wanting to fuck me. You decided to just take a shower and drain all of it from your mind. But you can’t. Sex was on your mind. As you heard the crack of the shower starting, you thought about it. As you took off your clothes, you thought about it. As you shivered from the touch of cool water on your naked skin, you thought about it. How you wanted it. How you needed it. As the water turned hotter so too did the warmth between your legs. Your fingertips drifted around over your skin and you felt the goosebumps rising. You closed your eyes and gave your mind and body over to fantasy, of a younger man. With gentle strokes you started to pleasure yourself. The strokes turned firmer and faster. You started to rub. Faster. Your breath began to stagger as it became wholly devoted to whatever direction pleasure gave. Faster. An echoing chorus of your moans soon filled the shower stall. Your legs weakened and your fingerprints slashed through the whiteness of the steam fogged glass as you tried to steady yourself. You were getting closer. Faster- |
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