Ladies Night Friday Night

Last night I decided to meet up with some girlfriends, old ones and even a new one.Even though I am new to blogging I have already made 2 friends and decided to invite them both out for a little ladies night. One friend is another blogger I've been reading all week and commenting at, and the other one might be considered my enemy in that we are both trying to attract the same man's attention, even though we both have boyfriends. I will call the blogging friend Cindy and the competitor Liz.

I also invited 3 of my girlfriends out that I usually hang out with. We agreed to meet at a bar I go to regularly in downtown Chicago at 9. Liz and I also invited the man that has made us both frustrated, angry and letdown, but he ended up deciding to do his own thing with his guy friends. It was like a battle of the sexes, miles apart from each other. Liz made it to the bar first and I drove with 2 of my girlfriends (Susie and Martina). We were all dressed up and ready to dance if we decided to leave the sports bar and go to a club.

I recognized Liz right away and she recognized me. We both hugged and then laughed at the same time. I think she was thinking the same thing I was (I can kill this girl right now if I wanted to). I had butterflies because the common man's description of her was wrong. She isn't just pretty she's unbelievably beautiful. I am dark skinned and tall and lanky, she is light skinned and short and feminine. Her dress looked great, and I asked her if it was the same dress she wore when her and her boyfriend decided to hang out with the guy she cheated with a few weeks ago. It was.

She grabbed my arm and we talked. She asked if I had seen HIM lately and I said no, but that we've been talking over text messages and sometimes over the phone late at night. She said she was jealous, that he didn't call her ever. I admitted he didn't call me either and that I called him. She laughed at me and said she didn't think of that and would try it. I became extremely jealous inside, knowing that I would be hurt if she found a way to get his attention again. It is funny to think that two beautiful women in a bar, both with gorgeous boyfriends (she showed me his picture on her phone) are competing against a man who is not our type and not interested in us as anything other than a friend.

My other friends showed up and introductions were made. Susie wanted to know how I know Liz, and she said through a mutual friend. They know all my friends so I added "from work." No one knows I write this blog and I want to keep it that way. We all started with a round of Jaeger shots and then beers. Liz's thin waist made me think she drank diet cola and rum, not beer. I'm jealous of her for sure. I asked her where her boyfriend was (he is out of town) and she asked about mine. Paulo, my boyfriend of 7 years, was gone for 5 days. He works for a not-for-profit but he is also a model for a very large department store catalog doing men's suits. He's beautiful, and a few times a year he goes on a photo shoot. This left me alone this weekend, but her as well.

She asked me if I was going to meet our mutual crush this weekend, and I said he turned me down. She said she was planning on seeing if he wanted to go shopping tomorrow on Saturday, and again my stomach turned. I have a man and I am jealous of a woman's desire for a man I don't even know. It's crazy.

I should say here that I've called him 3 times in 2 weeks. The first time I called, it was only to talk and to try to get more information out of him. I was surprised when he actually talked about himself, which he never does. His voice is so soft and sexy and deep, and I needed some action so I took care of myself while he talked about his family and friends. I tried to hold my mouth closed when I finished but I didn't do a good job, and he knew. He asked me what I did and I told him. He asked if I needed help with it, and I said I am embarassed about it, but he changed his attitude and started saying things over the phone I needed to hear. I started playing my own fiddle again, and his voice caressed my entire body over the phone. He told me to be more vocal and I did since Paulo wasn't staying at my place. I finished again in just minutes.

After I was done I asked if he wanted to take care of himself but he said no. I couldn't believe it. I don't do phone sex because it's boring. Why bother when you can get the real sex? But he wouldn't give it to me. I told him on the first phone call that he could come over. He refused. The second phone call I called just for this reason. Again I finished strong, and he refused to do anything himself. He also refused to come over. Third call, same thing. It is making me crazy. I am glad that Liz didn't call him yet because I want that voice and that understanding for me.

So the four of us start griping about our boyfriends. All us girls have serious guys, and we're all having problems in the bedroom. Susie's boyfriend was making huge dollars as a mortgage broker last year but lost his job and went through all his little savings. He's losing his condo and already lost his car. She wants to dump him but feels it would peg her as a gold digger. Martina i beautiful and has a fiance but she's cheating on him with a guy we all know. She said the sex is terrible with both, but at least she has sex with her side guy. Her fiance is stressed all the time, yells, goes out and drinks and comes home and sleeps. She said he can't get erections anymore and he's only 26. It's sad and it's scary!

Liz's boyfriend looks and acts like a big brother type. He's handsome and sounds fun but he hasn't had much experience and isn't good at learning things. Liz admitted to me when my friends went to get another round of drinks that she fantasizes about our mutual crush when she is with her guy. I told her I did to. I didn't tell her that when I do, I get so wet that it helps Paulo finish much faster. 5 minutes instead of 10 minutes and he thinks it's because of him. I feel bad but not guilty. I told Liz that neither of us has a chance, and she agreed. We agreed to try to figure out how to convince our boyfriends to be better lovers. Who knows if you can at this age!

We laugh about it, and then she asks me some very personal questions about the one night stand that I had.

Would I do it again?
I'm planning on it.
Was he really the best?
He was far and away.
Did I find him attractive when I first met him?
Not on the outside but something moved me.
Is he a guy I could date?
No. I'm superficial and it's a problem.
What did I think about what he wrote about a new girl on his blog?
I hate her so much.
Will I ever tell Paulo?
No.
Will I tell anyone else?
Only when they find my diary when I'm 80!
Would I consider tempting him with both of us?
...

That last question threw me off completely. Since my night of passion in November I have had fantasies I've never had before. I write in my diary ideas I never thought of before. I go to a porn search engine and look for new things to try I'd never considered before. I've been with a girl once when I was a teenager and it was boring. We laughed all the time and neither of us got off or even tried to get off. It was just kissing and touching and laughing.

But now I think I would. I got very nervous looking at Liz. She's pretty and has a body I find very attractive. I know she reads this now so I am really red faced admitting it. Yes, yes I would try to trick the guy into sleeping with me again by tempting him with two women. He said he's done it before, but I don't know enough about him to know if that would turn him on. But I'm more nervous and excited. Would I have to touch her? Would she touch me? How would we all fit? Do you change condoms between women?

He wrote about his two greatest fantasies with women he sleeps with: finishing on their face and taking pictures of it. He doesn't ever ask, some girls just ask him to do it. How they know to do this doesn't make sense to me? It sounds so gross but when I watch the porn videos (amateurs usually) it looks like a lot of girls like it. I think about it all the time with him, but never with Paulo. If Paulo asked I'd punch him in the stomach and go home. Would this man finish on both of us and take a photo of us together if we asked?

It's so hard for me to write this because this is NOT ME. Not a single bone in my body wants this sort of stuff but I think about it all day and all night. Liz admitted she thinks about it constantly to. She said something important, maybe we like him because it is obvious he doesn't want us. Guys want me. I hear it all the time from them. Liz said the same that she gets hit on everywhere she goes. This man of ours didn't do that to either of us. He's nothing special to look at and he just took us somewhere new.

Liz saw my embarassment and held my hand and said I shouldn't be embarassed. She'd never done anything like that either. She knew. I shook off my fears and my head and laughed and said we're both insane. We're at a bar where every guy is looking at us and our group. Men have come up already to talk, attractive men, strong and tall and beautiful. We all shot them down. We have boyfriends. It is nice to see them ogling us. And yet we both want the same guy who doesn't ogle us and doesn't tell us we're hot or pretty or sexy. It makes us both crazy and insane and not ourselves.

Liz still saw my nervousness and changed the topic. We decided to text message him and see if he wanted to come out. My friend Susie took a camera phone photo of me and her looking hot, and we sent it to him. He replied: You guys match, did you plan it? He didn't decline or accept our invitation to the bar. As we got drunker we sent another message from her phone that invited him to come to my place after he's done and we could both be there to hang out. His reply I'm going to bed early, sorry. He didn't say maybe another time. We both got angry at him and then laughed. It's like high school but worse. This man is Satan, tempting us without us understanding how or why.

My friends were wondering why Liz and I were so chummy. We both explained that we had a common enemy, but left it at that. We laughed and my friends were looking confused.

As it got closer to 2am, people started leaving. My friend Susie asked for a ride. Liz said she would cab it home but I offered her a ride. She hugged me and said either we'll both get over it or we'll both find a way to get back to where we want to be. I almost cried because I pray that I can stop thinking about that night in November. I pray that I can stop being so jealous. I also pray that maybe he will take me up on my offer to bring another woman to bed to satisfy him and only him.

If that happens, I will want blood. I don't want to read his blog anymore because he's passing up the best thing he can have. I would let him do things to me other women scoff at. Things even I scoff at when asked. I would beg him to do these things to me. I need them from him to feel like a woman who is threatened and pleasured by a man.

I don't know what will happen, but today I hope I don't think about it anymore. The boyfriend is gone, and I have laundry to do and groceries to get. Maybe that will help put my mind on reality.

It must be spring fever

The last 2 weeks of my life I've felt the sexiest I've ever felt. I want sex, all the time. I mean all the time.

I've been with a lot of men for my age (41), but most were when I was much younger. From 16 to 18 I slept with about 30 guys (one per month). I went to a preppy private high school with lots of horny and wealthy Catholics. We had only a few things to do. Drugs (not my thing), sex (fun but didn't do much for me) or study. Studying came easy, so I had a lot of time on my hands.

I'm not happy about being this horny. My girlfriends don't talk sex at all, but from what I can gather, they're all mostly fine with just laying there while their boyfriends or husbands finish. Like it's a job.

I don't want that job. I've been fantasizing repeatedly about having things done to me that I never fantasized before. I ache on the inside. It's affecting my sleep.

Nothing satisfies me, not eating or shopping or masturbating. I need to be filled by a man but I won't cheat again on my boyfriend who I love so much. What do I do? Where do I turn?

I thought about seeing if my boyfriend really wants to do a threesome with another woman. I always said no, but now I might be willing. He always wants to do me in the rear (never had it) but I think about it constantly when I am alone. I doubt it would be that good. I want him to finish on my face and my body, something that normally disgusts me. I want to be with him and another guy, but he'd never do that. I want to touch another woman (I did it once in high school and was bored) and have her touch me.

I'm embarassed at these thoughts, but writing them makes me want them more and more.

Burned in my mind and burned in my body

This is the fourth part of my written diary I copied as my introduction to why I am writing this blog. If you haven't read it all, you can read the first three parts here. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3. Thank you for reading it.

He pointed at the table next to the bed where the condoms were. When I opened them I was partially unimpressed that he buys the larger condoms. Usually guys who buy them do so to feel bigger or better or brag. Then I thought about him in my hand and realized maybe he needs them. I've used the brand before (black box forgot the name) with other guys and they usually slide off too easily. Paulo has a nice package, maybe an inch longer but quite a bit skinnier. When I told Mr. B about it many months later, he jokingly called it a pencil. It works fine, though and most guys I've dated were about the same size and width as Paulo.

I grabbed one and Mr. B told me to grab a few. He already had one very forceful orgasm, so I shot him a smile but he looked serious. I grabbed 2. I returned to the bed and put him in my mouth but he didn't need it and pushed me away. I put the condoms on the bed and he just stared at me. He didn't budge. I hate putting on condoms, it's the man's job, but I did so. I think he did it because he wanted me to feel how hard I made him. I slid the condom on and it was a tight fit but it got in there. Then I laid down on the bed and felt so turned on that I started to touch myself again, even though I had already two orgasms. I was very wet and again the thought that I was going to cheat all the way on Paulo didn't cross my mind at all. I wanted this man in me. When he laid on top of me between my legs, I whispered to him that the first thought in my head after we were finally introduced was exactly that. He smiled, and then he pushed my hand away from what I was doing.

He took a step back that really confused me, I thought he was going to be a jerk and admire his catch, but then he grabbed my hips fast and pulled me almost off the bed and stepped forward, hard. Without a single problem, he entered me and tore at me. I was fully naturally lubricated and his thickness did cause me a tinge of pain but it was over when I realized he was inside me. He filled me completely. I've been with bigger men but none filled me so perfectly. Maybe natural lube does a better job at coverage than the artificial flavored stuff, but whatever it was I felt nothing but passion and pleasure. I know I screamed for God at that moment, and I think I begged him to make love to me when he stopped once inside me. He was watching my face and I saw him through a new set of eyes. He was gorgeous, the most beautiful man I have ever seen between my legs. But he didn't move. Did he orgasm so fast?

I don't usually talk dirty, my mom raised me well, but he then told me to talk dirty to him. I normally wouldn't do it but I needed him to move his hips. He had his hands on my shoulders and was forcing me down on him so I couldn't do it myself. So my lips opened and I followed his command. Immediately he thrust out of me all the way and right back in. The urge of that miniature almost orgasm happened immediately. He demanded that I talk even dirtier as he paused again, and I listened to his command completely, repeating it word for word. He pulled out even further and slammed harder into me. The tingles of pleasure didn't stop, even when he paused. Slowly he continued, not with speed but with more and more pressure. It was like a freight train going up a steep hill, chugging harder and harder but moving slower and slower. He stopped asking me to talk dirty but I was getting screwed here so I kept swearing at him and demanding that he fill me. A few words I said are words I've barely said ever in my life, words that revolt me when others say them.

Time past without me noticing. He lives close to a highway and and airport and I didn't notice any of that noise. His thrusts were amazing, filling me completely but not hitting anything sensitive. It didn't hurt at all, and I kept feeling this urge to orgasm again which would be impossible. I know he was turned on by how vulgar my words were, and he finally shut me up by putting his lips on mine. I never get kissed when having sex, most guys just stare at my body, have an orgasm, and go to sleep. This man was making love to me. I don't know him at all, I have no idea who he is because he kept so quiet letting me talk. I don't love this man and can't but I love what he was doing to me. He's ignored every part of my body that men focus on, and used me as a woman. I would say that he treated me like a daughter at first, then a mother later, then a girlfriend on his couch, then a wife on his back, then a whore when I put my mouth on him, then a virgin when he entered, then a slut when he started pumping. Now I am a woman wrapped up in a man. Not his woman, not my man, just a woman and a man in union.

I tried to wriggle out a bit but he had me pinned down. His elbow were on my shoulders and his hands were in my hair, pulling and tugging with his thrust. His tongue was gently in my mouth and all over my face and head. I couldn't move at all. He's a small man but he completely had me powerless. I've never felt so helpless and yet so amazed and sexy before. Like I said, I was a woman with a man. I have no idea how long he was thrusting into me, but I know I was close to an orgasm more than once. He says it was for 45 minutes, but I have no idea. If there was a room around me, I wasn't aware of it.

His thrusts slowed down but became so forceful that I begged him to orgasm. I wanted him there even if I was so close. He finally did on my command, and I could actually feel his pulses inside of me. For a split second, I had the joy of knowing he emptied himself inside of me but when he pulled out I noticed the condom wasn't torn. I've never had a man orgasm inside of me, but he could tonight if he wanted to. He pulled out but as he walked back he grabbed my legs and pulled me off the bed. My arms were free and I tried to grab at something but I fell feet first to the floor. He grabbed my hair very hard and forced me down to my knees.

He carefully removed the condom and was still slightly hard. He walked within inches of my face, put his strong hands on my jawbone and used his thumb to force open my mouth. What was he going to do, put it in my mouth again? He did, and I let him. He didn't stop and it went straight back to my throat without a gag. It was softer and not very thick at this stage, but he slowly moved his hairy belly against my face without moving out much and I felt it filling my throat. I gagged hard and coughed him out and as I wiped my lips I saw he was already putting another condom on. Immediately I was soaked again. This man is going to enter me again I thought. I needed him to.

He pulled me off my knees that hurt on his tile floor. I was standing a few inches taller than him but his eyes seemed to be above mine. Did he just grow 6 inches (I mean in height)? He turned me around and bent me over the bed. At first I was a little scared that he was going to put it where I wouldn't let any man put it before. Then I thought about it and secretly wanted him to. Paulo's been asking to do it for years but I keep saying no due to my Catholic upbringing, but here is a man I would accept there without asking or prodding.

He spread my legs and got to his knees and ran his tongue from as far forward as he could to slowly backward. His tongue ran past my butt to my tailbone, giving me a jolt I hadn't felt before. He's going there, and I'm going to let him. I asked him if he wanted to take the condom off and he said he didn't, that he never does it bareback. I was afraid it would hurt, but knew he would be just gentle enough to make me want him there, just hard enough that I would know who was in control. His tongue went back down the same way it came and I felt another jolt of pleasure inside and out.

Then he stood up, spread my legs and my butt cheeks, and inside he went. Not where I was fearing and wanting, but right back to where he was before. I shuddered in joy and exhaled in sadness. What kind of a whore did I turn into? What if he brought 15 of his friends in to take me against my will? Would I let them? This is not me, this is some part of every woman that is coming out of me. My friends and I don't talk about these feeling, this passion, these unknown needs getting fulfilled. If I introduce him to my friends, they won't believe me. He's so manly and confident, but his quietness is not obviously sexy. All I see is sex, though, when I think about him.

He was inside me, hard as ever, thrusting strongly into my firm butt giving him little padding. He was louder this time, as was I. The position was good, but not perfect since he'd need to be a little longer in the package to work inside me as he did with me on my back. The feeling was completely different, he was hitting something else. I don't believe in the G-spot talk, but whatever he was hitting felt amazing.

We didn't do it for very long when he told me he was close and asked if he should wait for me. I was about to tell him to go ahead when he started attacking my internally with great force. I heard wet noises and felt his breath on my back and neck as he pounded into me. All of a sudden, the situation left my mind as I was overcome with my third and impossible orgasm. I shuddered over and over again and begged him to finish, and he did when I asked. He kept at it, slowing down as I slowed down. Breathing harder as I breathed harder. I fell to the bed and he fell on my back. Our hearts were pounding in near unison.

He rolled me over, took the condom off and put himself in my mouth again. He was still a little rigid, unbelievable. Who is this guy, a porn star? He never told me his job, but if he told me he did porn I'd believe him. He pulled out and asked me if I wanted more. Again I was feeling myself tingle and get wet, but I don't think I could go for four orgasms in one night, not even in one week. I told him I never had three before, and even getting to two never happened. I've faked two just like I fake one with Paulo if he finishes too fast. I put my hand on his package, but he pulled it away. He kissed me and I tasted myself on him, something I didn't like in the past. But this man kissed me and I accepted.

He held me until I fell asleep for a short while. The sun was out when my eyes closed, and when they opened it was coming into the window fully. He was sitting there reading when I woke up. I asked him what time it was, and he said 11. Oh no! Paulo will be crazy mad, I never sleep past 8 and if I don't answer his texts he gets a little worried. Jealousy like that is fine with me. I check my phone and he hasn't texted, and now I get worried. Did he just do what I just did? Still, I feel no guilt. I just received the greatest gift a woman can get. I now have a higher bar of pleasure to measure guys with, should Paulo and I not do what my mother commands and get married.

A few minutes later, that text comes in. Paulo is at his place (phew!) and wants to get together. I look at Mr. B and he smiles and nods and mouths the words "Go!" I tell Paulo I need to shower and hang up, making plans in 3 hours. I thank Mr. B over and over, holding his man's hairy chest against my face, more tears making them wet. Paulo loves me but has never made love to me. This was the one thing missing. I start thinking about asking him if it'll happen again, almost begging him to call me when he needs me, but he says he understands that it is a one time thing. My face saddens, but he's right. Getting caught would end things for sure and would blow up my family against me. You just don't do this if you are a woman.

I get dressed and he calls a cab. He's no longer my lover, he is just a man I met at a bar. He looks at me not as a woman now, but as someone he hasn't seen in ages. I feel turned on just writing this, thinking about how he's returned to his calm and happy self. The cab honks just moments later, and I resist the urge to jump back in his arms. Sanity returns to me, my boyfriend is waiting and I need to shower and put these clothes in the wash so they don't smell of sweat and sex and fluids. We hug, and he sees me out.

The last thing I mouth to him is another thank you, and he smiles and walks away as the cab pulls away. I don't see him or hear from him or talk to him for months, but he leaves me with a website where he promises to tell the word the story of what happened. My stomach tightens but he promised me no names would be used. I didn't visit the site until he returned to Chicago many months later, almost half a year since I saw him last.

I still think of that night. I still dream of being taken by a man and being made to be his woman. Sometimes I see men in bars or at work or at stores who remind me of Mr. B, and I wonder if they can do to me what he did. I flirt with him, seeing him once at a bar in the city. A few times late at night I called him and asked if he was interested in coming over. He said of course, but he couldn't do it. One night Paulo and him hung out for a few hours, and Paulo told me what a surprise he is to other women who at first don't see anything special and then see everything special, but he denies them and walks out the door alone.

Will I have him again? Just once, just to make sure I am not daydreaming. We talk through the phone, sometimes when Paulo leaves after we had sex and I need release. He talks me through that release with a voice of power and knowledge, but he refuses to come over to finish things for me. That's OK because he is the man and he understands and even my feminist side agrees with him. But some day, maybe sooner maybe later, I will be able to put my questioning to rest.

Am I dreaming? I don't think so.

The man in this story is Chicagosane who runs his own blog. He uses words that are a bit more colorful and even vulgar so it isn't safe for work or family computers. His version of events is close to mine and can be read at this link here. I hope you learned enough yourself as a woman to seek out such an experience just once. Would I tell my grown daughter should I have one? Probably not verbally, but I would leave my journal from that month out for her to accidentally find.

I'm spent but I'm supposed to go meet my boyfriend tonight. I love him very much, and I'm trying to coax him into being a better lover. Oh how I wish this wasn't me sometimes so I could send him the link to the original story and see if he understood. He's younger, and he has time. I love him with all my heart and want so much to give him all my body. It's the last step before our commitment is complete. I will never cheat on him with another man ever again.

Thank you again for reading, I will write more about my life regularly.

Not the man for me but the lover I needed

This is the third blog post about my first story. I am new to this so bear with me while I learn what I am doing. I am going to try to link to the first part of my story right here. I hope it works. It worked, yes! Here is the second part of my story in case you missed it.

I am looking up at his dark eyes and features and wondering how I ended up here. This is not me, but I am not worried. He smiles and frowns at the same time and when I feel my face twist in fear that he will reject me, he falls into me and his lips are on mine. His arms aren't big but he is stronger much stronger than he looks and he scoops under me to hold me. We kiss forever. I don't know if I can ever remember a man kissing me like this. I usually like a little bit of foreplay but I don't even get that and this is beyond words. (Even though I am typing this from my hand written diary I remember it so clearly and it enters my fantasy even 6 months later.) If he just wanted to take off my clothes and have sex with me right away, I would be ready. With Paulo, I am crazy attracted to him but still we use lube just to keep things smooth. I wonder if Mr. B has condoms and lube and I wonder if I'll even need it. (I feel weird writing out of my diary and I hope I am not being too dirty).

He kisses me so good and puts his mouth everywhere where it was missing before. He kisses my cheeks and lips and my chin. He bites my cheekbone and does something to my neck by my ear that gives me goosebumps (as a Spanish woman I have a little tiny bit of body hair). He never touches me inappropriately, and I was worried it would be just kissing. Every time I try to grind on him or get him between my legs he pushes me away, holds me closer and kisses me more. It was driving me crazy.

Finally when he takes one of his regular steps back to admire my face and smile at me (which drove me crazy, is he done???) I am able to remove my dress. I was wearing thin capris under it because of the cold and I decided to remove those as well. He doesn't even look at my body, his arms go back to my touching my back while his face is pressed up against mine. I can smell myself in the air and feel a little embarassed and gross wondering if he thinks I am a slut or a whore or an easy lay. Not once yet did the fact that I want to have sex with a man other than Paulo cross my mind. He keeps kissing me, and his hands are on my hips and my stomach and my shoulders and on my hands, driving me crazy. When he pulled one hand from my hips, it glanced me where I needed him to touch me and I almost had an orgasm from the first touch. I know I shuddered. I know I had a tear roll down my face, not in sadness but in frustration.

Then his hands were on my knees and even near my ankles (how he reached I don't know), This man was going to tease me, so I tried to sneak my hand so I could touch myself and release this urge I haven't had before this strongly. He brutally knocked my hand away and every time I tried, he used more force to stop me. I hated Mr. B, I wanted to kick him in the head and just finish so badly. Every time I opened my eyes, he had this look of understanding. He KNEW I needed this. He wasn't going further though and it was driving me crazy. Again he is not my type. I prefer a strong man who pushes my boundaries, not a weak man who doesn't want to touch me. And yet here I was and I wanted this man. Maybe with the others I should use boy but I know he hates that comparison. I have been with men of all ages but none treating me like this. As I peak at his face, he becomes sexier and sexier to me. He is teasing me and he is in full control but I know I am the one driving the machine. I don't know how to explain it maybe like driving a big truck but having someone remotely controlling it without your knowledge?

I finally blurt it out when his hand glances me over my underwear again. I ask him if he will make love to me. I never say make love, I am usually a lot more graphic in bed, but those words came out. I look at his face with a sadness and he sternly says yes. He tells me to take his clothes off and I get them off in just a few moments. I am soaking and there is a spot on his beautiful soft dark green sheets. While he removes his socks, I take off my panties and I am naked but completely comfortable. I finally get to look at his package and I was surprised. A man this confident and in control should have something gigantic. His was average but pretty thick. I don't really have a preference, but big guys hurt me a lot because it is always fast and furious and over.

I looked at it like a thing of beauty. It stood tall and looked amazing with the light from his kitchen coming in a little bit. Paulo doesn't like oral sex but I didn't even ask Mr. B. I put it in my mouth and gagged a few times as it grew even thicker than before. I have big Spanish female hands (no Seinfeld jokes, please!) and I couldn't touch my pointing finger to my thumb. Still, I tried harder to get it all into my mouth and I could tell it made him happy. I gagged so many times but tried to hide it by exhaling before I went down again. He was watching me with that penetrating look. I wanted to please him even if it means he wouldn't be able to touch me. It is in thanks somewhat but also I wanted to see him pleased. I felt released when I finished my talk, my 6 hour long talk. I took his hand from my shoulder and put it on my hair and tried to make him grab my hair.

He understood and immediately grabbed tight. I've never been raped or assaulted before but what he did to me was more aggressive than anyone else. He pulled and pushed at my hair, forcing himself into and out of my throat, slow but hard enough to keep me from the possibility of gagging. I almost had an orgasm again just from the brutality of his anger in my mouth and down my throat. His hips didn't thrust at all, it was all force of his really strong hands and arms. I work out and even lift weights but Mr. B would pin me and do what he wanted to do to me and there is no way I could fight him. He has such skinny arms but his strength must come from within.

After 10 minutes of him forcing my face to his stomach, he told me he was getting close. I'm not sure if that was a warning, but I didn't push away. I'm not sure if he would have let me as his hands pushed me harder but slower until he finished in my mouth. There was so much of it that I gagged at each shot, and then he pulled my hair with such force away from him that I actually let out a little scream of pleasurable pain. I looked up at him and his eyes were closed but his face was peaceful and serene. It scared me to death to see him so calm. It made me hope that he would find a way to get up again and show me that this quiet, soft and confident man can be a tiger in bed.

I licked my lips and was surprised to find some of him on my upper lip and near the crack of my mouth. Most of it went down my throat, but I finished what was there and must have given him a surprise look. He asked me what was wrong and I told him that I don't mind swallowing but it is usually pretty gross. He tasted like raspberries or blackberries or banana or something sweet. He explained that he eats well and it makes a difference. I haven't given a blow job to a man since before Paulo, but I remember the terrible taste of asparagus and mushrooms. This was not what I was tasting now.

I still had him in my hand and was gently rubbing him. He never really went soft, but he was hard again in just a few minutes maybe less. He was just as thick as before but his head was even thicker and it worried me how it went in my throat. It wasn't the biggest I've seen maybe not even close but it scared me because it looked so pretty and now it looks like he'll tear into me without care. I asked him if he wanted more, and before he could answer he grabbed my shoulder and flipped me in some bizarre manner that forced my face and my breasts and my stomach to the bed flat. He was fast and strong and I didn't expect it. I think I screamed, maybe a little in fear that he was going to take me without protection. I almost felt like Mr. B was going to rape me, but that wouldn't be possible because I wanted him inside me. I never felt that way about a man before, never so scared and yet so willing.

He put his hands on my body again, and again ignored all the best parts. I didn't know if he was just not that familiar with a woman's body or if he was a master in control of a slave, but I know I begged him with simple words like Please and More. He touched me in a way I haven't been touched before or since. His hands are amazing. I felt like a piano being played at a symphony. He spent forever on my back and my head and my shoulders and arms. He spread my legs and kissed me from head to toe and back over and over. I was pushing myself into the bed to try to get some relief. I know the low-key but obviously very expensive sheets were probably ruined.

I was begging, crying for him to take me. He didn't. He never touched me inappropriately. If he would have mounted me face down without a condom, I don't think I would have fought back. I was exhilirated but worn out from his teasing. I begged to the point of crying real tears. That was when he turned me over from my hips and spread my legs.

He put his face towards me and I felt his breath below and his tongue as it barely touched me. Actually I didn't feel his tongue but I heard it, he was that soft. I heard him moan a little at my taste, which made my face flush in embarassment. Paulo doesn't go down on me often, and when he does it's pretty much a few minutes of sort-of pain sort-of pleasure. Mr. B knew my body after just a few hours of touching it. I don't think he was pleasing me for those hours, I think he was learning me. Not once yet had he touched me inappropriately, which made me even hotter for him.

I couldn't take it anymore and I was made that he ripped my hair out so harshly and sexily (is that a word?). I grabbed his long mane of hair and pulled him into me, not fearing his light beard hurting me. He tried to hold back but I pushed my hips into him to make contact. If there is such a thing as a miniature almost orgasm, I had one for sure. My body shook and shuddered and I felt a tear down my face. I was about to beg him, even talk dirty, to get him to touch me like that again. Before I could, he did. A million ice cubes went from mid-section to my limbs followed by a million candles burning through me. We disagree on how long it took me, but I had an orgasm in moments, not minutes. I had no words I was breathing so hard, my heart was racing. I've had good orgasm before (usually on my own) and this one may tie for the best. His face was down there still, and I was afraid he'd fall asleep. We both finished, so I figured I was safe now from this man who could do anything to me. I mean anything, anywhere, safe or dangerous, with or without my approval.

Then he touched me again. I shouted no, asked him not to. I can't have more than one orgasm without hours of rest. I usually just snuggle and fall asleep on the rare occasion that I get one from Paulo (usually by starting myself and then finishing with him in me). He didn't stop but I barely felt what he was doing. Just 30 seconds into whatever magic he was playing with his tongue my body cramped up. My stomach hurt, my back hurt, my neck hurt. I felt paralyzed. A few seconds later I had another orgasm, even bigger than the first. That one was my best, ever. I screamed loud (I am not a screamer) and called his name. Maybe I blacked out, maybe I didn't. I couldn't breathe it was so intense. Tears fell from my eyes for sure. As I came down, he was right next to me without me noticing he had moved. He used his small but strong arms to pull me closer to him, to hold me. Why don't guys do this properly? If a man had held me after sex, it was only to touch my breasts or butt or whatever. He just held me tight.

He held me while I cried my tears and intermittently kept thanking me. He said nothing, he just held. I can't understand it even today. My body is nice from all the work I do with it, and he ignored it to hold me. I looked at he still was erect, but he didn't try anything. He told me to close my eyes and rest, to fall asleep. Part of me wanted to, but part of me knew I still needed more even if it would hurt. Sex after an orgasm isn't easy because I get dry right away. I checked and the opposite was true. It was as if there were 50 of me in there, all raining out.

I touched him again and felt his girth in my hands. It felt amazing. I'm tall on the outside but small on the inside and most guys can't go too deep without really hurting me and banging into things. I did a fast measure with my hands and I think he is almost exactly the length of my favorite vibrator. As I touched him, he moaned again but he said it wasn't necessary. He said he would go to bed fully satisfied. No chance. I asked him if he had condoms. It was the first time since my virginity was lost that I didn't ask for lube.

My hands hurt but I will try to finish this tonight. I'm exhausted and riled up just reading it again.

A man who listens?

This is a continuation of my previous blog post. Please read that one first! I don't know how to link, if you know please leave a comment and help me :) :)

Now that I know who he is, I am a little bit uncomfortable about all that I said to the bartender with him listening. But he is a good listener, something my friends are not. Even if he tells Paulo, maybe Paulo will make a change for the better. I have nothing to lose. I pull my chair up closer to him and let it all come out. Hours and hours and hours of me talking, him listening, barely saying anything in response and never interrupting me. We drink, I talk, he listens. His face is on my face and he never once checks me out. It is frustrating, but sexy. His face shows a sadness and an understanding that I don't get from anyone else, not even my mother.

I checked my phone that was sitting on the bar a few times but Paulo never even said he was safe or where he was. I trust him because I have my own set of spies who are always out and he has never strayed or even done anything I would get jealous over. He loves his guys and calls them his brothers. Before I know it the time has passed quickly and the bartender girl calls for last call, meaning the last round of drinks can be bought. It is almost 2 in the morning on a night before a workday. I should get home. Still no text or call from Paulo. Typical.

Mr. B as I will call him (he calls himself Chicagosane but I don't like it) says he is going to go home, but he helps me stand off the stool and even puts my jacket on me. Still he hasn't looked at me as anything other than a sister. I was sure he was gay at this point. Who else would be so interested in a sob story from a woman who shouldn't have one like this? We both walk outside together, and I bum a cigarette from him. I wait for the cab and he waits with me, saying he doesn't think it is smart for me to be out on the street alone. It's cold out being November, so I look for a cab since walking in heels in the snow is a stupid idea. We wait 25 minutes, still talking and me getting colder. Mr. B interrupts and offers a ride home. He has been drinking, but he is sober as can be. I finally get a text from Paulo who says he's going out and will probably stay at a friend's house.

He then questions why I want a cab if I live so close. I tell him I appreciate him listening to me and it is hard for me to find such good listeners. I figure we can talk more in his car. He walks me to a car that I can't remember, but it was nothing special. He helps me in and we drive off towards my place. He asks me if I am hungry (I was) or thirsty (I was) and if I wanted to stop some place before I went home. I could eat and I could drink, but I needed to finish airing my dirty laundry out. It's almost 3am, and the bars will be closing in less than an hour, so he offers to take me to a bar out of Chicago but still very close. I guess they're open later, as crazy as that sounds.

We drive, his firm hands on the wheels and his eyes focused on the road. We arrived just short of 3:30 in the morning and sit at a bar that looks very shady but is nice and friendly. I talk more, he listens more. He starts to ask me questions every time I feel like I've just about run out of things to say. He keeps helping me spill my guts out and is an amazing listener. I know I said that a lot but it is true. The way his eyes stare into mine is like he is not listening but reading me. It is a little scary but his eyes respond instead of his mouth. When I talk to Paulo he interrupts me all the time. When I talk to my girlfriends they laugh it all off. When I talk to my mother she brings up marriage.

Before I know it, the bar is closing. I was so engrossed in talking that I missed them call out last call. I don't even remember if I drank alcohol, but he had a few and stumbled a little bit when he stood up. It was cute, but I was worried because he was driving. He mentioned getting a cab for me and one for him, but I'm a good safe driver so I offered to drop him off at his place. He lives almost a straight shot from this bar, wherever it was. We get there in no time. He tells me he will pay for a cab ride home which is very gentlemanly of a man who isn't going to get any. I agree and feel safe plus I really had to pee!! Dirty bars aren't my thing.

I walk into his place and am surprised that his apartment is so small with almost no belongings. He has pictures of friends and family, lots and lots of books, a nice old cat and very little else. He's so professional that I think he's probably hiding his wealth but I never asked. I don't think I asked him anything actually. I ask him to use his bathroom, and when I go I find myself wetter than I think I ever have been. How can a woman get this turned on by a man who is not her type, who hasn't tried any moves or given compliments or touched me or said anything gross or funny? I was wretching my life out and now I'm horny? I think not. I wipe up as best as I can (I know that's gross, but true) and go back out. Mr. B is seated on a plain beige couch and there is a huge comfy chair to the side of it, brown. His design style is minimalistic (I do fashion) but I love how it all flows in an apartment that is smaller than my bathroom it seems.

I'm sober and like a little alcohol to loosen me up, plus I'm cabbing home and have almost nothing there. Paulo and his brothers and guys drink everything I have and never replace it. I ask if I can look at his wine selection and open a bottle, and he just smiles and nods. I can definitely feel my area down there get moist now at his mannerisms, but I still don't understand why. He is just not my type in any way! I look at his bottles and bottles of wine, most of them dusty and old. My grandfather worked wine country in Spain, and I know good wine having grown up on it. Mr. B has some unbelievable wines, many costing ten times what I usually buy at the Jewel near me. I pick one that I know is great, show it to him, and he just nods again.

I have problems opening the wine but Mr. B doesn't offer to help. Instead, he tells me to keep talking, not to focus on the bottle opener because that makes it harder. I start talking again and the cork pops out, spilling a little on his floor. I go to get a paper towel but he says to leave it, which I ignore and clean up anyway. I open his trash can and it is empty. This guy is a bachelor? He has to have a girlfriend. The place is clean but not compulsively clean. It is organized but not obsessively neat. I grab two wine glasses and sit down on his couch, forcing him to move over. I see his eyes go to the chair, but I say nothing.

The more I talk, the hornier I am getting. He doesn't say anything, he just listens, and focuses on my eyes like he knows more than I do about what I'm going to say. He licks his lips as if to reply, but never does, which really turns me on. I don't think he's seen my body yet, I know he hasn't looked at anything but my eyes. He doesn't look at the clock or his cell phone or anything else. It is unnerving. As I keep talking, I also want to touch him, just to see if that fills me enough to not desire him so much. My hand started on his elbow, and he didn't pull it away. As we drink, I move closer and my hand moves lower to his torso and his hip and finally his thigh. I get close enough that he puts his hand on my hip not with force but with enough pressure to keep me from getting closer.

It's almost 6 in the morning and my head was clearing up fast. Wine doesn't have a big effect on me. He was looking tired but still focused on my story. Before I knew it, I fell into his arms and kissed him. He is the first man I kissed other than Paulo in almost 7 years. His kiss was amazing, I could feel my thighs warm up with need and desire. Stupid Paulo never texted again, probably drunk and asleep on some guy's couch who knows where. I need Paulo so bad, but if I let him take me, it would be over in 5 minutes, 10 minutes at the most. I'd have to wait until he fell asleep, go to the bathroom and do my best to finish myself. Many times I don't even get that far, falling asleep frustrated.

So here I am kissing HIM. I never kiss a guy first, they have to be confident enough to kiss me. He knows Paulo well enough (they're not great friends, just bar people) so I think he is probably feeling a little guilt. I know he's drunk, and I am taking advantage of him, but I don't care. I don't feel any guilt. I don't care what happens, I want to feel someone inside of me that understands me. It is just sex, not love, not an affair, just a one time throw-away. I want to sleep with him not to thank him, but to see if he understands me enough that he won't be like the 40 other guys I've slept with in my life who all lasted about 15 minutes at the most. Mr. B doesn't look like much, maybe Al Pacino or Robert Dinero. He has a crooked face (is that spelled right?) and he stands taller than his height would tell you. He exudes confidence without being a douchery kind of bar guy.

We continue to kiss, me attacking him, his arms gently on my hips or on my back or arms. He never grabs my butt or my breasts. He holds me close and then pushes me away and then does it over and over at random. I am getting frustrated because I don't know his plan. We kiss for what feels like hours, so I grab him by the hand and lead him to his large bed. It smells great in his room and he has fresh cut flowers on the window sill, a picture of three older women (mom? aunt?) on his dresser and some younger girl (sister? cousin?) next to it. He sits on his bed and watches me as I lay down right next to him with him sitting looking over me. He looks huge, taller than Paulo, stronger than Nicholas the weight lifter I dated. If he only kisses me and sends me on my way, I don't know what I will do.

I will write more, I have to make a sandwich!

The man who kicked this whole story off

Please bear with me as I have no idea how to do anything fancy like linking or making italics. Maybe I'll learn soon.

I never thought about blogging. Ever. I don't really read blogs until the past week. It all started on Black Wednesday last year. My boyfriend (who we will nickname Paulo to keep names consistent with the person who came up with them) and I have been together 6 years, almost 7. I love him dearly and he's so amazing to me. He's handsome, strong, earns good money doing good things. He's crazy about me, too. Everything is perfect, except in the bedroom.

We were supposed to meet up to have a sexy outing, which I had hoped would get him more interested in working harder in the bedroom. I dressed up in a brand new, expensive dress and had my best friend Mona do my hair. I think I looked hotter than any time in the past 3 years. Before I went out, he sent me a text message that he was going to go out with the guys but I could meet them at this bar a few blocks from our apartment.

I was sad, right away, because it is obvious that he is oblivious to my needs in the bedroom. I'm a young, attractive and very sexual woman. He's gorgeous, all my friends beg to know how our sex life is, but I don't kiss and tell. There isn't much to tell. So I decide to go out anyway, have a few drinks, come home, and maybe sneak my vibrator out of its hiding place. Paulo hated when I bought it, and I told him I threw it away.

I walked in the cold to the bar, getting there just as more of his friends arrived. I tried to give him a hug but he just smacked my ass and said find a seat, which I did. Sitting next to me was a dashing man who was so focused on his drink that he didn't notice me come in and sit down. I always turn heads, and I like knowing that I do. This guy didn't even glance at me, which instantly made me curious.

I ordered my drink, and listened in on the conversation between Mr. Possibly Gay and the bartender. They were talking about the girl bartender's horrible sex life. My drink went down fast, loosening me up just as Paulo decided to leave. He said he didn't know when he'd be back and to get home safely. Nice loving boyfriend. (He is very nice when he's not drinking with his macho friends).

I butted myself into the conversation and basically tried to get some compassion from the female bartender. She was pretty, but sometimes women don't want to listen to me complain because some are jealous of my looks, my boyfriend, my job. If only they knew how I felt inside, how much I needed Paulo to take me and show me his love through sex, too.

Now the bartender and I are swapping stories, and Mr. Casual Attitude is just listening, nodding his head, but making eye contact with whoever is talking. It is starting to drive me nuts. Finally we finish our conversation, and I decide to just talk to him, to try to see if he's gay, or if there is finally a man in a bar with a drink who isn't interested in me. I don't want to come off as anything special, but it is nice to be noticed.

Before I can say a word, he looks at my face closer. He looks at my nose, my mouth, my ears, my hair. He never looks at my breasts, which are practically hanging out of my tight new dress. He never looks even below my chin, probably another first. Who is this man? Then he asks me my name. I tell him just as I realize who I think he is. I ask him, and he confirms it.

We both smile. I never met him (he says we did, once), but Paulo has pictures on his Facebook of the two together. How I didn't notice him is odd, I have a good memory for faces. I think it is that he is not photogenic, so he looks different in real life. Before he says anything, all I can think of is that I want this man inside of me. I fight off that thought immediately, wondering how it happened. He's nothing compared to Paulo. He's a lot shorter than me, even. But I look, and all I can think of is that this is a man, and that this man understands exactly what I am going through.

I will write more later, this is hard!

An introduction to me

My name isn't Celine, but it's very, very close. It was given to me by another blogger who asked me to write about my life, too. I guess that he doesn't use real names on his site, for which I am thankful. I hope to write about my life, my relationship with my almost perfect boyfriend of 7 years, my job and the ups and downs of the daily grind. I like to go out with my girls and my boys, travel to Spain where half my family is from, visit with my folks in the suburbs of Chicago, and cook Spanish and Mexican food.

I do have a secret, something I will write more about if I think of anything more. Last year, for the first time ever, I cheated on him. I couldn't ever imagine doing it, but I did. And I don't regret it. There won't be any other guys, but I think about the one time I did it often and wonder if I'm wrong for thinking about it or even doing it, or if it was something I needed and might need again soon.

This is my first time blogging, I apologize if I did anything wrong.