Runaway
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Posted:Feb 25, 2018 1:04 pm
Last Updated:Oct 13, 2019 2:57 pm
4727 Views
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A couple of years ago I ran away from my 'FriendFinder-x' home. It wasn't premeditated nor was it due to peer pressure. I just needed to get away. One day I was here, happily chatting, interacting with all you good people. The next I deleted my profile and fled. Like many out there, I just needed to change things up.
And with the same impulsiveness I decided to come back. No forethought, no longing for the good times, just changing things up again. The nice guys at FriendFinder-x restored my profile and there I was, standing at the front door of my 'FriendFinder-x' home, bags in hand and a nervous smile on my face.
On opening the 'FriendFinder-x' door I remembered how fond of this place I was. Many of those familiar profile pics still here, many of my old friends still active. Wandering down the hallway I cast a quick look into the familiar chat rooms, read the message boards (nothing has changed there!) and idly brushed past hundreds of people all bustling around this fantastic house.
For whatever reason you leave, It's always good to come home.
I found my old bedroom and updated it with a few new items from my travels. It still needs a little work but it's a start. I dreamt that night of all the re-exploring I must do. Searching out old friends and making new ones. When the morning came I found myself ill. Stuck in bed with a cold!
So... I will leave my door ajar and, if you find yourself passing by, pop in and say hello. It's not quite the romantic dinner for two that I had planned, with a bottle or two of wine, scented candles and a sexy new negligee... But a nice chat over a hot lemon is just the sort of pick-me-up we all need from time to time.
So here's to all the good times, past, present and to come 
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Teenage kicks
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Posted:Jan 25, 2016 3:16 pm
Last Updated:Feb 25, 2018 9:36 pm
7965 Views
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I have been trying to write my blog recently but somehow, each time I log in, I get distracted  This time I promise to see it through. I have closed down all the chat windows so now I can concentrate... I am all yours... just you and me... intimately gazing into each others eyes...
Why am I writing? oh yes (almost got myself distracted then )... Today I saw something that made me smile and I instantly thought of all you guys here.
I was sitting in a shopping centre coffee shop just minding my own business, trying to get my damn phone to connect, when I glanced up and saw 2 teenage boys and 2 teenage girls messing around by a passport photo booth. I kept watching, wondering what they were up to. Wondering if they were doing what I did at their age
They weren't  That is, they just threw their school bags around and chased after each other. I smiled, thought of you guys here and started wondering...
What did you do for your kinky kicks as a ?
-- oo O X O oo --
One of the things I remember was going into Woolworths with a girlfriend of mine, finding the photo booth (luckily it was in a quiet section at the back of the shop with all the DIY and paints) and daring each other to have their photo taken flashing our breasts. In the end we both went in and did it together... Of cause, we didn't think it through and ended up having a very anxious few minutes waiting outside the booth ready to catch the risqué photos that were going to pop out of the machine 
-- oo O X O oo --
By the time I had stopped smiling to myself those teenage had gone. No doubt oblivious to the fun they had missed. Or, I suspect, teenagers get there kicks from something else these days
Back then it was fun, risqué and a little kinky...
So, what were your teenage 'kinky' kicks?
By the way... If any of you have found a book in a second hand shop that contained some passport photos of two topless teenage girls grinning like mad... please let me have them back 
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Should I, shoudn't I ?
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Posted:Jan 23, 2015 6:35 am
Last Updated:Nov 10, 2019 3:13 pm
13195 Views
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Recently I have been seriously considering breaking a self-imposed rule and actually meeting up with some of the people from this site. I never intended to physically meet people from this site, I only came here for the chat and out of curiosity. But there are some really, really nice people here and I am becoming curious.
OK, I know that meeting up can be disappointing, but I am not expecting a whirlwind romance, I'm just meeting with friends. We would chat, have a coffee and have sex if things flowed in that direction. It all seems pretty harmless.
OK, I know I have a partner, but I am very discreet. He would not know anything and these meetings would not be a long term affair. Just meeting another friend for coffee. No commitments, no connections, no sad goodbyes or longing for more. I haven't used the term NSA as it sounds so cold and emotionless. These meetings would be filled with emotion but they would simply lack expectations and demands. Just meeting another friend for coffee... and maybe more.
OK, so what is stopping me...
I have a friend who is going through a divorce. We regularly meet for coffee. She is a wonderful person, down to earth, honest, kind and a little insecure. For the past twelve months she has been going through hell. Her husband was seeing a younger woman. He started lying, running up huge debts and has completely changed his character. When I first learned of this I was outraged. With my help I encourage her to find the strength to pack her bags and leave him. Over the year she has found a strength that she never new she had, I am really proud of her. Things are not yet over. He does not want a divorce or to sell the house, the debts are closing in and he has lost his job, but my friend is struggling on, determined to close this chapter and return to some sort of normal life.
OK, so you sill want to know what is stopping me?
As I have already said, when I first learned of his cheating I was outraged. For the last twelve months I was outraged. How could he do this to my beautiful, honest friend. Yesterday I met with her again. I caught up with the latest news, listened to her despair and her hopes. But this time, underneath, I found myself actually feeling sorry for him. Feeling that he was somehow a victim. I felt like this because I was planning to do something similar myself. Planning on cheating. The more I listened to her, the more I looked into her sad eyes, the more I realised that cheating can NEVER be justified.
If you are thinking of cheating, if you are weighing up the pros and cons, my advice is DON'T. If you could see my friend's sad and broken soul you would see how devastating it can be. Breaking up is an awful thing to go though. DON'T DO IT! Even if you think you can get away with it, DON'T DO IT. Getting away with it is not the point. Spend that extra time with your partner, spend that extra money on your partner, make that existing relationship special. I will never forgive you, I will never forgive myself!
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Speed dating...
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Posted:Dec 7, 2014 2:31 pm
Last Updated:Feb 25, 2018 9:37 pm
14441 Views
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I noticed today that I have exactly 365 friends on this site. That's one for every day of the year!
So, how are you all fixed for 2015? Mind if I pop by
Let me just get the map out... err, ok... This should be easy... UK and Europe, that's fine. The Americas, huge but do-able... Africa & India, tricky... Then there's Asia, Australia... 
OK... Does anyone have a plane and a motorbike I can borrow 
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Sorry Paul... but I do feel it now
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Posted:Dec 5, 2014 6:08 am
Last Updated:Aug 27, 2015 1:30 am
14337 Views
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I recently posted a status update quoting the lines 'You do something to me, something deep inside' from a Paul Weller song...
Sorry Paul, I know it was quoted completely out of context, but a little devil inside me could not resist it The words work from both a blunt sexual reference and, more to the point, from the beautiful and haunting feeling that the song delivers.
I find music and lyrics so emotional, but it wasn't always the case.
When I first started secondary school there were lots of the usual cliques, but the biggest one of all was the Mods. You were either a Mod or you weren't. If you were a Mod you were cool, I was not cool. I didn't care for their music. I didn't care for any music.
I was left out of the Mod scene until one boy, and I sadly forget his name, invited me back to his house after school to listen to some records. Now, I came from a nice leafy estate on the edge of town. This boy, one of the 'rougher' boys, came from a house in the centre of town. I remember how unusual it was to walk into town with him, in the opposite direction to where everyone else lived. We had nothing in common.
He lived in a house next to some shops. A house that I had passed many times before, it all felt so strange. He had a key and opened the door, no one was at home. This was even more strange as I did not have a key myself and my mother was always at home to greet me. This was probably the first time I had been in a house without any parents around. We went up the bare wooden stairs to his bedroom. He had records by The Jam all over the floor. I had no records.
We listened to all of these records while sitting on the bed and talking. This was my first experience of how powerful music can be. He was clearly deeply touched by this music and even I started to feel the emotion.
What? Sex?... ok then... We didn't actually have sex. We were both early teens. Back then sex involved snogging, fumbling and exploring the unknown. Now I think about it, exploring the unknown was quite erotic in its own way. The less you know the more fun the learning can be
So, concentrate!... Back to the music... I didn't go away that day feeling that I had seen the light (musically or sexually). That came much later when I left home and moved in with a musician. I sometimes sang when the usual vocalist was not available and it was this singing that turned my head to the beauty and power of music and the lyric.
When you sing a song you get to live it too, and those songs were so emotional I found it really hard to keep myself together. After the performance I would be in a flood of tears, trembling and a nervous wreck... Never again.
So, music really touches me in so many different ways, well beyond any emotion that I have experienced elsewhere. Even sex and relationships does not open up this flood of mixed up feelings inside me like music does.
'You do something to me, something deep inside' - Paul Weller
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Is this love, or vertigo?
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Posted:Feb 18, 2014 3:31 am
Last Updated:Aug 25, 2015 5:48 am
17556 Views
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I go to the gym everyday, usually early in the morning. I have made some good friends in those early sessions. We exercise. chat and often make plans to meet up for a coffee. But I also like to go later in the morning. These later session are great for listening to my music and relaxing my mind, away from my friends.
Early last year, during one of these later gym session, while I was quietly lost in my own thoughts, a young man walked in. I was instantly blown away. I had, what I can only describe as, an overwhelming feeling of vertigo. I could not stop looking at him, yet each time I did I felt as though I was standing right on the edge of a huge drop. The longer I looked at him the further I seemed to lean forward until I had to look away for fear of 'literally' falling down. Having regained my balance and composure I would grab another sneaky look and the whole roller-coaster would start again; vertigo, anxiety, dizziness, hot and sweaty and an overwhelming feeling of clumsiness...
So, is this love?
I, for one, believe that love is something that grows between two people. Love is caring, love is need, love is forgiveness... These things are born out of time and an understanding of each other, but, I'm beginning to wonder, what is love?
--
Just for the record, the young man in question does not attend the gym as regularly as I would like, though I did get to meet him at my niece's 21st birthday party. I get on very well with my niece and with some of her friends. During her 21st birthday party one of our mutual friends turned up with her boyfriend called Steven. Steven was the young man from the gym. I had to use all of my concentration to fight my vertigo this time, knowing that I must not fall. Strangely, seeing him with his young friends, laughing and joking, somehow made him seem ordinary and I felt that I could step back a little from the edge.
I have not seen him at the gym since this party. Only meeting him there will tell me if I am cured of this vertigo or if I am to let myself fall. Maybe then I will have the answer as to what is love.
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A Christmas Wish
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Posted:Dec 7, 2013 2:41 pm
Last Updated:Aug 27, 2015 1:42 am
17413 Views
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Dear Father Christmas,
Please forgive me...
I know It was me who stopped believing, it was me who turned my back on you. I am so very sorry. You did nothing to deserve this. During my childhood, you were a very dear friend. The best friend anyone could have. I beg you, please come back. I will believe in you once more.
I miss that childish excitement of your arrival. We would decorate the house with candles and hang pretty decorations in every corner. A huge tree was placed in the living room, covered with twinkling lights and magical baubles. I would spend hours lying on the floor in front of that tree just staring up at those sparkling decorations, imagining birds and animals leaping from branch to branch with the joy of Christmas in their hearts.
I also remember cold evenings spent in the city. I would hold my mothers gloved hand tightly as we bustled amongst a forest of legs and shopping bags. Watching their reflections on the damp pavements, I would look up excitedly to see the bright, Christmas lights of a shop window. I do not remember how I got home, I just remember being warm and cosy again and dreaming of a volley of shooting stars in the night sky and the jingle of sleigh bells.
I could go on, telling you of the excitement that you gave me. How it built up over days until its climax when you came. But It pains my heart to remember how it was then and how it is now. It saddens me to think that I walked away from all this and from you.
So, I beg you to give me one more chance. I will open my heart to you. I will believe in you once again.
This year I will light those candles. I will decorate that tree and gladden the gentle hearts of those little animals once more. But, above all, I will be thinking of you.
This year, on Christmas eve, I will not be fast asleep. This time, I will wait up for you. Oh, and please don't use the chimney. I shall have a warm and welcoming fire burning for you in the hearth. Just push gently on the door, it will be open. Take off you heavy jacket and your boots, loosen your belt and come and sit beside me on the sofa. You shall have a glass of hot mulled wine and I will massage your tired muscles. The gentle light from the candles and the glow of the fire radiating off my naked body. As you lay yourself down, I will warm your body with mine. My soft flesh pressing against yours, I will kiss your lips then whisper into your ear my Christmas wish. As I feel your strength rising beneath me I can already sense that my wish will be granted.
Merry Christmas 
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Songs of love and of life
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Posted:Jan 5, 2013 8:27 am
Last Updated:Aug 27, 2015 1:39 am
19306 Views
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Here are just some of the song lyrics that, each time I hear them, they literally take my breath away. Sometimes they make me cry, sometimes they make me smile, but mainly they make me cry:
And I need you more than want you,
And I want you for all time.
- Jimmy Webb - Wichita Lineman (Glen Campbell)
She takes just like a woman,
She makes love just like a woman,
And she aches just like a woman,
But she breaks just like a little girl.
- Bob Dylan - Just like a Woman
Oh, baby, baby, it's a wild world,
It's hard to get by just upon a smile.
- Cat Stevens (Yusuf Islam) - Wild world
Without you now I see,
How fragile the world can be,
And I know you've gone away,
But in my heart you'll always stay.
- Katie Melua - I cried for you
So goodnite,
Close your eyes and just sleep tight.
I'll lie awake and watch you dream,
To be sure that all of your dreams are pure.
- Melody Gardot - Goodnite
If such beautiful sentiments make me cry, then I hope to weep evermore...
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Changes
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Posted:Sep 5, 2012 3:40 pm
Last Updated:Jan 16, 2014 1:36 pm
19540 Views
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When I was a I would go on a date to the local cinema. When I was in my 20s I would date at local pubs and clubs. In my 30s it was a restaurant. Now, in my 40s, I am dating at...wait for it... an art gallery. And, in my opinion, the locations and the dates keep getting better.
I guess my objectives have changed. As a I wanted to break free. In my 20s I wanted adventure. My 30s I wanted the finer things in life. Now I want... well, I don't know what I want.
I guess that's the great thing about life in your 40s and over. You don't have that blinkered view any more. Each new experience is greeted with an open mind.
I don't know where life is leading me. I guess I never will.
As for that date at the gallery...
Maybe it was more like an invitation. It was never going to be more than a 48 hour affair. An opportunity to be taken...
One minute I am walking down the shady streets of a hot Mediterranean town and stumbling upon a small local gallery. The next, I find myself being guided around the pictures by the owner and being asked to accompany him to an exhibition the following evening. I met up with him the following day in the cafe next door where we had a bigilla dip and a drink before attending the exhibition. A wonderful evening, good company, a real gentleman.
I think back now to my teenage years when I was dating at the local cinema. How life has changed, how the locations have changed, how the boys have changed!
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Guilt, Poker and the ebbing tide
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Posted:Jan 10, 2012 6:34 am
Last Updated:Aug 27, 2015 1:34 am
20774 Views
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I have been absent from this site for a few months now, lured away by the temptations of on-line gaming. Well, that was one reason. The other was that I wanted to run away from all the people that I had met here. (You will never believe how often I re-wrote that last line. Only when I typed in 'run away' did I realise, myself, the reason for my absence, and I feel ashamed for it.).
But now, at least, I know what the problem was. I am very fond of the people I meet here. I think about them often. But I found that I could no longer spare quality time with them. Each week there would be new people added to the 'special' list. Each one wanting me to please them, to spend time with them. The problem comes when you can no longer spend that time with them. Time that each one deserves. I felt terrible when I had to turn someone down or ignore their messages and emails. I would think about them at night and promise myself they would get special attention the next day. But, the cycle would start all over again. Not enough time... too many people... I felt guilty, so I ran away. I am sorry to those I have let down. I guess you are grown up enough to take it and, probably, did not expect anything else. But even so, if I have caused any hurt then I am truly sorry.
When I left I started on-line gaming. Poker in fact. You log in, you play and you leave. Simple. No ties, no pressure, no demands. I still thought about my friends here and still checked in every so often to take a peek at them but I kept very quite, too embarrassed to even say hello. But the one thing I have learned playing poker is to commit to your hand when the cards are right, and fold when the cards are against you. I figure the time is right to commit my hand here once more.
I will probably sink beneath the surface again but, for now, I am going to dip my toe in the water, splash around and have some fun. If I do drift out on the ebbing tide then please let me drift and please do not take offense. I will always cherish the moments we had, and, you never know, I may always return on the flood.
So, as I ease myself back into the water, I wonder - where will the tide carry me this time.
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Angels...
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Posted:Aug 17, 2011 1:29 am
Last Updated:Nov 10, 2019 3:15 pm
20365 Views
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I awoke with a sense of unease. It was still dark and I could hear rain falling gently against the window. I knew instantly that I was still alive. It did not surprise me. Nothing had gone my way, and, even now, I had failed in ending it all.
As I lay there in bed, my mind empty, not willing to contemplate the day ahead, I began to notice a pale shape emerging from the gloom of the bedroom. A short while later I realised that the sound of rain was more like the sobbing of a . In time, my mind pieced these things together and slowly I began to understand.
Sitting on the floor, in the corner of my bedroom, was an angel.
I did not move. My body turned as cold as ice. So this must be death after all. This is what I had prayed and hoped for. This is what my miserable life had come to. But why was I so scared and afraid. Why these mixed emotions of success and failure. Life did not hold the terrors of uncertainty that awaited me now. Frozen with fear, all I could do was watch. I noticed the angel was a young man. All white from head to toe and with very large and beautiful feathered wings like a swan. He was naked except for a pair of white trousers. His torso was muscular and fit. He sat on the floor in the corner with his feet pulled up and his arms wrapped around his knees. He would have been a perfect vision of beauty except that, on looking closer, he was crying. Sobbing like a baby. His eyes were so sad and bore signs of pain. Tears ran uncontrolled down his cheeks.
'Am I ...' I could not say the word dead, the sound caught in the back of my throat. As I spoke the angel looked up at me with a start. His eyes still full of tears.
'No, you are not dead.' He said. Smiling compassionately but crying.
He held my gaze with his beautifully sad eyes. His presence somehow warmed me. The initial shock was ebbing away and a calm and peaceful aura descended like a blanket. No, you are not dead... No, you are not dead... I felt, for the first time in many months, at peace and at ease.
'Why are you here? Why are you so sad?' I said.
He pause, looked away to gather himself then turned towards me and said. 'I am here to take you away from this life. To collect your soul and to guide it to rest.'
'So... am I... going to die?' I asked hesitantly. As I spoke I felt that familiar feeling of regret and disappointment.
'No. You will not die.' He said as tears ran faster down his cheeks. 'I can't do it. I can't take your soul.' He looked away and started sobbing again. 'I can't end the life of someone whose soul is so beautiful.' He glanced back at me. 'You see, I have looked at your future. I know I should not have looked, but your future, if you live, holds so much promise. You have yet to grow and blossom. You will touch people deeply... You will spread love and happiness...' He faltered in his words. A brief, bright, spark of joy in his eyes died away.
I thought about his words. About a future and happiness. I though about my innocent childhood, and how that had an unquenchable thirst for life. The sense of peace and compassion that the angel gave me filled my heart with hope. No, you are not dead... No, you are not dead...
'So why the tears? Why the sadness?' I asked, not understanding his display of emotion.
'I was sent to take your soul away and I have refused. Now I can't return.' He sobbed.
'Do you mean, you will have to stay here?' I said.
'No, I can't stay. Angels can't live for long in this world. I am dying.'
As he spoke those words I noticed, for the first time, that his beautiful, swan like, wings seemed to weigh heavy on his back. The brilliant white of the feathers did not shine out with the same radiance as before and his beautiful, muscular body was growing tired and weary.
'I will get you some food and drink.' I said as I got myself out of bed. 'I will not watch you die!'
'No food, thank you. But maybe a glass of water.' He said.
I hurried past him and left the bedroom. Just as I was returning with the glass of water a brilliant white flash of light lit up the bedroom in front of me. My heart stopped and the fear returned. Although the light faded a little I knew it's presence did not bode well for my angel. I slowly and hesitantly made my way to the bedroom door. Stopping just outside to peer in.
My angel, still sitting on the floor in the corner, had his head bowed. In front of him stood a tall, elderly angel who radiated such an intense and pulsating bright light that you could not look at him directly.
My angel was speaking in a quiet and respectful manner. '... so I could not take her soul. I know I have done wrong, but, you see... I needed to know.' My angel looked up at the elderly angel. 'She reminds me so much of someone I once knew. Could it be her?'
The elderly angel spoke but I could not hear what he said.
My angel replied, bowing his head again. 'Yes, I understand... I should have helped her, but I didn't notice her pain.' He looked up with a defiant look. 'I will not spend this life sitting back. I must help!' He then added, with a sorrowful tone in his voice. 'Whatever it takes.'
There was a long silence. Maybe the elderly angel was speaking, it was hard to tell. I became weak and overcome with tiredness. I slumped down leaning against the doorframe. I place the glass of water on the floor before it became too heavy to hold. As I sat there, tired and drained of energy I heard a voice. A voice so close it was as if someone was whispering in my ear.
'Your angel will guide you, but not in death. He will guide you in life. All he asks is that you follow him and do not abandon him.' said the voice. Even before the question formed in my mind the voice replied 'You must learn how to see him, how to read the signs.'
I do not remember any more. I fell into a restful and peaceful sleep, the like of which I have not had in a long time. When I awoke I could no longer sense the presence of my angel. I opened the bedroom door and quickly looked into the corner. He was gone.
The sun was now shining brightly through the window. As I stood there a ray of sunlight reflected off an object floating down beside me. I instinctively held out my hand. Gently floating down, and nestling into my palm, was a white feather. So brilliant and radiant.
****
I wanted to add a little postscript to this story, to tell you the extraordinary way it came to mind and the effect that it had. But I think each one of us will have their own personal views. So I will leave that unsaid.
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A story of lust - part 2 - John
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Posted:Jul 6, 2011 1:40 am
Last Updated:Nov 10, 2019 3:14 pm
20852 Views
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It was now my last few days of work experience at the furniture manufacturer and distributors and I was still working in the sales office. I was given the job of sorting out the files in the archive room. Whenever someone brought files here they were just dumped on the floor and every few months someone would take a couple of days to sort them out. It was a job that suited my mood at the time as I would be on my own, undisturbed, and I could contemplate recent events and my future when I left.
I spent the first day all alone in the dusty archive room shuffling files around to make room for the new ones. On the second day I was a little more prepared for the task. Because of the dust I now wore an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I decided I would spend all day here, even if I finished the job early. I liked the solitude and the freedom to let my mind wander. By mid morning I was slowly sorting through the files when I heard the door open and someone come in. I was down the far end of the room behind some racks of dusty files. I shook myself down and walked out from behind the racking. Standing by the door was John. The same boy who I used to see in the sales office in the afternoons. He looked at me a little startled.
'Hello Samantha. I didn't expect to find you here.' He said, a little sheepishly I thought.
'I'm just sorting through the files. It's my last job before I leave.' I replied with a cheery smile.
'Oh.' He said thoughtfully. He then looked at me a little more intently. 'Are you ok? You look a little upset.'
'I'm fine. It's just a bit dusty in here.' I said.
John started to make his way over to me, reading the files as if he was looking for something.
'Miranda says hi by the way.' He said casually, still looking through the files.
I smiled at him again as the fresh thoughts of Miranda filled my mind, but as I thought about his comment my smile vanished. How much did he know about Miranda and me? How well did he know Miranda? I stared right at him.
'She says you're a good friend to be with.' he said nervously as he glanced at me and noticed my intent stare. 'She just said hi, that was all.'
I kept my stare fixed on him but I managed to raise a smiled. I could see he was growing uneasy.
Did John know what happened between Miranda and me in the copy room? With this renewed memory and the possibility of John knowing all the details, I started to feel a little embarrassed, aroused and lustful all at the same time.
I must have been influenced by Miranda because what happened next was totally out of character for me. I moved right up to John, our bodies touching, and pinned him to the racking, just as Miranda had done to me at the photocopier. I did not have the confidence of Miranda however, and I did not know what to do next. With my heart racing it seemed like an eternity stood there but eventually I could feel John running his hand down my back. The trigger had been pressed and instinct took over.
To be more exact, John took over. He ran his hand down my back, inside my t-shirt and unfastened my bra. With his hand now rubbing my bare back and sending warm shivers of delight down my spine I started to kiss and bite his neck. Before long, John had my arms raised as he removed my t-shirt and bra. It was a real liberation standing there in just my jeans, watching Johns reaction to seeing my exposed breasts. I wanted to rip off his shirt in a fit of violent passion, just as it would be in the movies. Instead I hastily unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall to the ground.
As john started to fondle and caress my breasts, holding each one in his hands and feeling the weight and warmth, I started to unbutton his trousers. He had his hands on his prize, I want mine too. I unbuttoned his trousers and unzipped the fly. Without waiting, I slid my hand into his pants and grabbed his hot and hard penis, pulling it up and out of his pants at the same time. On seeing his penis erect I wanted so much to dive down and devour him. Imagining Miranda standing in the doorway, watching, approving and encouraging me, I started to stroke his penis. It was extremely twitchy in my hands. I held it at the base with one hand and with the other I started to gently roll my fingers up and down. Gripping tightly every time I felt a fresh and powerful throb.
My nipples were now hard. John was holding my breasts in his hands and massaging each nipple with his thumbs. I cannot explain the electric feeling I get when my nipples are excited in this way. My brain goes into sensory overload and I tingle all over my body. Waves of ecstasy wash over me leaving me short of breath. My nipples feel like they could explode. John must have taken this as a sign to hurry and he hastily reached down to my jeans and unfastened my button, sliding his hand down inside my tight jeans and panties. I was already dripping wet. His fingers traced a damp route from my clit down between my pussy lips, forcing them apart. As he started to retrace the path back up to my clit his finger slipped straight into my pussy. As he push harder and deeper I was almost lifted off the floor. The palm of his hand brushing up hard against my swollen clit.
With his finger inside me, my grip on his penis intensified. I furiously worked my fingers along his pulsating penis. Using the palm of my hand to get the maximum sensation. Long, deep strokes. Pushing down hard to the base of his penis on each stroke. My other hand on his stomach, steadying myself, stopping me from collapsing with this sudden and intense pleasure. My breasts shaking up and down in time to each stroke of his penis and in rhythm with John's hand massaging my pussy.
I could feel my pussy tighten around Johns finger. My juices starting to well up inside me. My breath short and sharp. As John pushed his palm into my clit I started an orgasm. My legs weakening as the pleasure concentrated deep inside my pussy. My grip on his penis now tighter than ever. My stokes harder but slower than before. I could feel how wet my pussy was. How damp my panties and jeans must be. I started to aid John by rocking my hips forwards and backwards. I could not help squeezing my thighs together, trapping his hand. I could feel my juices pouring out.
As my orgasm subsided and I regained control I returned to Johns penis. Picking up the rhythm again. Massaging along its full length. Feeling every contour and vein with hard but delicate movements. Bending down I kissed the tip of his penis. Using my lips and tongue to excite it. As the powerful throbbing intensified I tightened my grip and tightened my lips around the tip. Slowly pushing my mouth down his shaft. The warm dampness of my mouth engulfing his penis. As the throbbing increased, my tongue flicked faster around his penis. My lips sliding down deeper and tighter. I could sense that John was near to orgasm. With one final lunge I slid my lips tightly down Johns penis. As he reached orgasm, John began moaning with pleasure...
.....
I have never seen Miranda or John since I left the factory. I like to think that they are now a couple as they would suit each other perfectly. Maybe they were a couple even then?
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Behind the mask
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Posted:Jun 4, 2011 1:02 am
Last Updated:Mar 3, 2014 3:01 pm
21104 Views
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As I have been on this site for a few months now, I decided to review my profile. It would seem that things have not turned out as I had planned.
As you can tell from my profile responses, I decided to fashion myself as a cybergirl. My intention was to have fun and to make others feel good, but to never, under any circumstances, reveal my true self. I would always wear the mask of a cybergirl. As a cybergirl I could be all things to everyone. Whatever you desired I would satisfy it. After all, this is cyberspace and anything is possible, you only have to believe. No one would know the true me. My real feelings and emotions were to be kept locked away. How naive I was.
There are some people who have embraced my cyberworld, and I love them for it. There is no reality for them, not wanting to peek behind my cybergirl mask, just simple sexual fantasy and fun. But the vast majority of people wanted to know who the real girl was. At first I found this confusing. I am a cybergirl! I can be whomever you want me to be! But people kept asking 'Who are you', 'I want to know the real you'. As time went on I found the mask was slipping and bits of the real me were starting to show. In hindsight, I guess I could never hold the mask up for long, however hard I tried. But I did not expect to end up quite so exposed.
My first 'exposure' started with this blog. I decided to start blogging in order to reach out to more people. I had no idea what I would write about. By my fifth post I realised I was telling people things about the real me that I have never told anyone in my life, not even my closest friends. My inner secrets and passions are here for all to see. So much for that cybergirl who would keep her real feelings and emotions locked away. Damn her!
My second exposure, and possibly a fatal one for my cybergirl, came about because I found everyone on this site so nice. The frivolous fun is still very much there but I find myself really caring for the people I chat to. Caring for them on a very personal level. My cybergirl would never do this, she is just here for fun, but the real me, the one behind the mask, has been deeply touched by these people. I never expected that to happen. I care so much for the people I chat to that I feel it is rude to hide behind my cybergirl. So, on these occasions, I lay aside my mask and let my true self appear.
So, there you have it. My cybergirl is still alive and kicking, but the mask has slipped.
Should I change my profile and kill off that cybergirl. No, I can not do that. She is a friend now. One who has shown me new and exciting things. She is braver than me and will open doors that I would shy away from. No, my cybergirl will continue her fun and games, but she will relinquish some of her time to the real me.
I have found that real life is certainly a richer and deeper place than cyberspace. It is true that real life has its dark side, but when the sun shines, it is full of emotional rewards that constantly surprise and delight. I never thought that my cybergirl would teach me so much about my real life.
So, a question. Do you prefer a real person, with all their imperfections, troubles and moods, or a cybergirl who will fulfill all of your dreams? I thought, a few months ago, the answer was simple, but now I am not so sure.
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To link to this blog (SamanthaCl) use [blog SamanthaCl] in your messages.
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