Tuesday, February 23, 2010

xxx-not far from plushophilia?

i have been away for a stint, but i am here now. I have got a doosey for you. Be warned, graphic material to ensue. Mom, stop reading now :)

Oh, does anyone know what a desire to have sex in an animal costume is? I know plushophilia is a fetish, but that is to plush toys.

Enjoy the post.

koala and I haven't had much time to hang out lately. With both our schedules being so busy it was difficult. Plus I have been enjoying some serious girl power time with my friends and I have been trying to spend less time with him. Not because I don't like him or his company, I am just trying to establish the friendship side of our relationship. I think tonight friendship took a backseat to horny and yet another blow was struck against my lame yet constant attempts to be a little more wholesome.

Last night, he came over and we watched some movies, had a glass of wine and laughed at him in my easter bunny costume. The costume is a full rabbit suit with feet, hands and mask. The costume was originally worn by the Ex. I cut a hole in the crotch so he could relieve himself as the beer began to ferment his liver. Koala comes out of the back bedroom with with dangle protruding from the slit announcing, "I am the Easter Bunny. I am here to fertilize your eggs." I was filming this with my recently fixed camcorder and laughing subsequently. Koala has a toilet humor mind. It brings me back to the days of high school and locker room humor. Is it just one of those signs that he is so much younger.

As he is peeling off the layers of fuzz and turning into a man again, he begins, "I have an awkward question to ask you."

"oh, no. What is it?"

"Will you take naked pictures of me?"

"For your own reasons or for a project?"

"Well, there is a company that is hiring people for jack off shots."

"The sex industry sells. That is for sure. I can speak for it and say there is money to be made there, and if I can help you make money, why not."

"Can we practice tonight?"

This totally caught me off guard. "Well, I wasn't ready for that but why not." A grilled cheese sandwich and another glass of wine later and I was ready to play Jackie Treehorn.

On my couch, in front of my camera, a boy lays naked at the wait. This is one of the most interesting ways I have ever passed time while hanging out. He begins to stroke and massage his rather lengthy phallus. I watch through the lens and begin to feel a certain familiar shudder in my secret. As he rubs his shaft with short and long strokes and rubs his oddly tiny midget fingers and hands over the head I feel warm, and then hot and finally bothered. I begin to talk dirty to him. I ask him to touch it this way or that, move it here or there for a better camera angle. "You going to make dirty money jerking off for the camera, you little slut."

"MM. yes.

"Yeah you will."

"You know that makes you a little whore, right." That must have been the magic word. I watched as his pace quickened. I heard his breathing become shallow and heavy and through my 3X2 lcd screen I caught the money shot. I needed a cigarette. Bizarre as it was, it was hot. Is that wrong of me?

I asked if wanted to see himself on the TV. We watched his performance together. He noted where he could do better here or there. "Next time I would do this differently. Next time you need to move around some more and get diffferent angles. Do you want to try it again?"

"What? NOw?"


"UM, sure"

He began to disrobe for session number two. I poised myself on the floor next to him. The rejuvenating ability of his cock is amazing. I have NEVER and I mean that NEVER known a man to be "ready" again so quickly. I should be said that when he cums again here, he was ready to go almost instantly following.

Once again, the scene starts off much as it did before. He is working his dick with both hands, one hand, long strokes, short ones. I am giving him direction, "lift it up more, move your left hand out of the frame," and others. All of this is causing a stirring somewhere deep inside me. How I need and want to reach out and touch it. I want to help him along. It must be said that I adore my lips wrapped around a pretty penis. It is just something that I have always liked ever since my first love. Over the years I think I have perfected my technique through practice, observation and reading some interesting titles on the subject. I almost always jump at an opportunity to share my gift with others.

Somewhere along the way, I have taken my shirt off. My leopard bra cupping my once D breasts, but hard work and plenty of exercise have whittled them down to a healthy 36C. I lean close. I rest the silk of the brazier on his thight and slide between his legs. on my knees and my legs spread I ask him to "show me what I am missing" because we are no longer having sex. I ask him to "think about my sweet puss wrapped tightly around his beast, sliding and grinding in on and around you.

He asks me, when I feel like it, to tell him when to cum. He wants to see if on cue he can will himself into orgasm. I follow the movement of his hands, watching the head crown from his palm with each downward stroke. I begin to feel the warm tingle in me grow and I want it. I want to see the creamy goodness he has waiting for me. "NOw. I want you to come for me now."

He begins to stroke with more voracity. Grunts and moans of pleasure slip from his lips.

"Come on, you can do it for me. I want to see it. I want to taste it. Cum for me now." I lower myself closer to the floor and open my waiting mouth below him. "Cum now and I will let you shoot your load on my face and down my throat. NOw. I want it now." In a moment, his hand was on the back of my head and the camera was now in his hand. He forced my mouth deep and hard on him. It made me cough and gag, but I didn't mind. My hands and mouth took over instantly. The camera running, filming him disappear deep into my throat only turned me on more.
For nearly a half hour, I slurped and sucked my way into what I swear must be some sort of record. All my yoga and core training prepared me for this moment. I was a porn star, and I was good. Switching between deep penetration, finger play, tight grip, tongue action and everything else I picked up over the years. I pulled no stops. Just when I thought I was tired and had nothing left, Koala would groan or whimper and it would invigorate me to push. Between my legs dripped with pleasure. I so love the blow job.

And when I worked myself out, he took over once again. I sat between his legs cheering him on, begging for his load. When he was ready, he stood up, grabbed my hair and shoved my face deep into his crotch. I felt the kick of his ejaculate and the warm smoothness of it enter deep in the back of my throat.

A few minutes to quiet the beating of my heart and I spoke, "That was just for fun right. I mean it was like a happy accident and I don't want that all the time. It was just one of those things, right?"

"absolutely. You give amazing head. That was the best I have had in a long time."

"I know. I am going to bed now. I think I might have to get one for myself before bed, but don't get me wrong. I enjoyed that very much. It is the closest I can get to cumming myself"

"Do you want me to come into the bedroom and help you?"

"No, I am just fine. But you can listen if you want. Goodnight."

This morning I woke up late for work, but in such a good mood. Ah. Here is to friends with benefits.

PS Don't worry the tape is safe with me.

Friday, February 5, 2010

They call him the Douche

Here is a funny douche bag story for you all. Boys, let this be a warning. Mind your P's and Q's.

Last Saturday, I met a boy at the bar. He was nice enough. I was hanging out by myself. My girl, Killer Eye was working. I was drinking my usual soda and cranberry with lime. I went down by the fire pits and was enjoying the contrast of the heat from the fire against the cool winter night air. I was people watching and listening. Soon, this man came up to me. He invited me into conversation. I gladly engaged. We talked about my friend Killer Eye, she is a photographer and he is in film. There was nothing so special about him, but whether she yields or refuses, it delights a girl to have been asked. He asked for my number. I gave it and was soon heading home.

Last night, I went out again. There was music. There was soda water, and there was the dude. I felt the need for a square and bummed one from him, calling him by name. He handed me one, "I'm sorry. You will have to refresh me on your name." I reminded him. Now I was laughing in my head. We talk a bit. He asked who I was out with. I told him that I was here to see Killer and listen to music. He replies, "I would like to meet her. She seems like we would have a lot in common." I am cracking up on the inside.

It is clear that he is intoxicated. I just hang out for the ride. Eventually Killer steps outside. I introduce the two briefly. Killer this is Douche. He works on film. Douche, this is Killer. She is a photographer who takes stills for movies.

"Did I tell you I was a videographer?" he queries.

"Don't you remember. I told you about my friend, Killer, too."


I finish my cigarette and head in. I boogie down a bit to the beat the DJ is putting out. Eventually, and pretty early for me on a Thursday, I head home.

Today, talking to Killer, I tell her about Douchey McDouchington. She laughs, "He was trying to get at me at the bar last night. He was saying that he and I should hang out sometime. I told him that I was working. I couldn't hear him and that if he wanted to get at me, he should do so outside of work. Then he asked me about photography. 'Dude! Didn't you hear me. I'm busy.'"

I am laughing out loud now.

A word to the not so wise, don't be a douche. Don't get that drunk. Don't pester the bartender. Don't forget that you were hitting on the bartender's friend if you want to hit on the bartender at a later date.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

All business

I met up with Ex. We met at Starbucks. He was there before me, sipping coffee and eating cookies. I had agonized slightly over what I should wear, how I should look. At first I was going for I don't care in my workout gear. Then I had on a comfortable casual outfit. I finally went for something professional dressy. I am not sure why I felt I needed to look good. Was it more for him or me? I want to believe me. I think I wanted to feel totally confident. Maybe he thought I was going to meet someone after. Maybe he knew I only dressed well to hide my weaknesses.

I slid into the chair across from him at the table, saying hello. I laid my papers on the table, "how are you?"

He began to shuffle through the documents, reading this one, asking me questions about another one. "How is work?"

"Fine. They are getting rid of tenure here probably. I teach an overload this year. I get paid a little more. It makes things easier. Money makes everything easier."

"Business is good," he said lifting his voice a little.

"Are you asking me if business is good for me or telling me about your business?"

"No, my business is good."

"Well, I am glad. I refer people to you all the time." I am so glad to know that the business I helped start, the business I gave more than 2/3 start up capital too is doing well. In a way it pisses me off that he would think that I care, but at the same time I am never going to get my money back if business sucks.

After he sifted through the last paper, I asked, "anything else you need?" He shook his head. "Well, call me when it is all done. I extended my hand, thanks for doing this."

He clasped my hand and said, "yeah," but never looked me in the eye. I stood up and walked out the door. The whole meeting took a little over ten minutes.

After I was a mix of fine and not so fine. I teared up a bit. I texted some friends. I called my mom. Koala told me to come over. We were going to go to the gym, but he suggested a late night hike by granite mountain. I was so game. My spirits lifted instantly.

For two hours we traipsed around the woods with our headlamps on. He taught me how to use a handheld gps. We chugged a few beers. Laughing and a little tipsy, the problems I thought I had were left behind.

I wish I liked Koala in that way. He is a good man. Home again, I texted him, "thanks." I knew he suggested the hike to get my mind off things.

"no worries," was his reply.

I snuggled under the covers, turned on my ac powered friend, gave myself a little treat and then I was out. All stressful days should end this way.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

wheels in motion ...

turning, turning in my head. thoughts tumble around, socks in the dryer. I need to do my laundry.

Ever since I ran into Ex at the bar I have been thinking here and there. At first, the thoughts seemed harmless. Ex would pop into my head and I would replay the scene at the bar. I would smile at how well I handled it all. It was all harmless. Harmless, hmph! The cute hamster seems harmless too until it gnaws through the metal bars of its cage and eats the faces off the kids.

Soon, every time he would pop into my head, I would get just a little less smily. That bar scene didn't seem so much fun anymore. I began to play the reels of fun and adventures and late night Lost sessions. The sadness began to salivate when it recognized the familiar ring of his face, his laugh, his love. I miss the closeness. I don't think we ever get over that.

We are animals, naturally wanting to couple. It is unnatural not to. It is unwise to do so hastily. I don't blame myself for wanting. I have to be honest and say I don't really want him I want a connection.

Tumbling, rumbling, ruminating-the turning of my thoughts moves me to action. The gym. The blog. The kitchen. The damn laundry. I feel better. I stretch. I breathe. I allow all of it to move through me. I have found center for the moment.

Tomorrow I will see him. We have an appointment to discuss business. My knees wobble at the thought. Why do I feel scared? Mine is not to reason why. Mine is but to do or die.

I am marching into a battle. The enemy is fear and suffering. I have my pride. I will give into none. I will be brave and impenetrable. I will be swift and efficient. I won't give the son of a bitch one crumb of my self esteem.

Dude, do you hear trumpets blaring right now or maybe some Beyonce?

Wish me luck.