Thursday, August 26, 2010

Best Orgasm ever, and How-to give a Mind-Blowing Blowjob

"That... that was the best... the biggest orgasm I've ever had!" Mr R gasped. I lifted my face, slowly letting him slide out of my smiling mouth.
You see, since the dreaded UTI we haven't been able to do much other than one day of lovin'. I suggested I can do other things, but with his proper upbringing, he was lead to believe it was rather demeaning to women (makes sense now why he didn't want me to do that the first time) and that all women hated it. With my last boyfriend--cough, of which we shall not speak--definitely. Hated getting his piss-smelling foot-shaped donk near my mouth. At it's length, it was impossible to gobble correctly anyway and my jaw always got tired.
With Mr R, I give a sexy smile and kind of narrow my eyes as I move down him, kissing down his chest, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. When i get to his belt, i flick my eyes up innocently. "May I?" Guys fucking love this. You know that old saying about smiling? Fake it till you make it? Act like his cock is your one meal of the day, that you can't get enough of its smell, its feel, and its taste.
After I've undone his belt, I usually run my nails back up his chest and kiss him softly on the mouth, not deeply either, just a soft kiss to leave him wanting more.
I run my fingertips under the edge of the waistband of his boxers. I let my hands stroke up and down his figure let I never felt it before.
While his cock is still alive and well in his boxers, I breathe hotly over it, stroking it very gently with my fingers. I do this a few times, even nuzzling it with my nose, glancing up to him so he can see my look of practiced pleasure and anticipation.
down come the shorts and out it springs. I start off grasping it firmly at the base-watch out for hair!--and lick up the shaft vertically, so his cock drags down my bottom lips. I rub the tip over my lips a few times like that, then swirl my tongue out over that tip. (Yeah, ladies--it tastes sometimes like urine. One you attempt to deep throat, you'll have enough saliva to wash it off. Don't worry. ignore the smell and get busy!)
After gently sucking up and down the underside of his penis, DEEP THROAT TIME. I have devised this way of deep throating where I can still breathe just fine during. So you shove it into the back of your throat, where the tip hammers against your pallate. But with the up-and-down motion, shoving in and out (still using your slick hand at the base, mind you), you can sneak in some moments of breath as it slides back out and in again.
when I'm gagging, i just use the extra saliva to get him extra slick. Big deal if you gag, likely you wont throw up if you hold your breath for a few moments, and if you pull him back out, give a big smile up at him, work him with your hand, and focus your lips again on the tip and the shaft.
Mr R is a very serious person who doesn't talk during sex usually, except that one German lesson (so weird), but I like to throw in some dirty talk.
"I love the taste of your cock in my mouth!" "I want you to cum all the way down my throat." "Fill me with your cum" "Oh god I love it!" "I haven't felt this way with anyone... I just can't get enough of your cock!"
This is my usual dialogue, feel free to steal, just spice it up according to his likes and dislikes.
As he's about to shoot (and even if he's not a big talker, you'll know ladies by the extra hardness and mounting girth, also, balls tighten--sweet) I have him on the front of my mouth so I don't necessarily have to swallow. then after the biggest burst is over, I jam him down into my throat again. Well, not really jamming, I'm using some violont adjectives, but you get the idea. If you don't want to swallow, that's fine. Close your throat off until he's done coming, then give his limpening penis a few innocent and tender licks to send it to bed. :)

Mr R was panting and near the verge of passing-out when I was done with him. "I think I saw.... the universe..." he whispered. It was entirely satisfying. And all this coming from a girl who seriously hated the idea of sucking cock. But look at young Jenna Jameson--use her enthusiasm. Pretend. :)

Sunday, August 22, 2010

UTI's and Language lesson during sex

It took a few weeks of working at him before I got into Mr R's pants :) It was rather a backwards situation, I felt like a young boy trying to coax the skirt off a virgin. Whenever we spoke, I couldn't help myself from seeing (and encouraging)innuendo in everything. My drive was going nuts for him!

On an evening when Mr R's roommate was keeping parents at their flat, we took his roommate's car for a drive. Then it began to storm. We were making out like a couple of teenagers at that time, but as I reached for him, Mr R stopped me, because he wanted our first time with each other to be a bit more special than in his roommates smelly car. A little rain would not dissuade my horniness. I convinced him (easy to do). We lowered the driver's seat and I straddled him. Under the beats of torrential rain, echoing through the interior of the car and drowning out the music, we finally fucking did it. No more teasing, no more flirting or graping at each other through our clothes, fuck this waiting shit--in the immortally wise words of Amanda Blank "I'd like you better if you get inside me". The green and purple lightening lit my skin, highlighting my sharp jaw, my breasts, the dip of my waist.
My knees were bruised and I had rug-burns(car burns?) on my legs for a while from the stick shift rubbing my calf, (and it probably wasn't very attractive from his viewpoint, as with the low ceiling I had to keep my head crocked to one side and broken-looking like that girl in the Grudge) but it was worth it. We had steamed it up pretty stereotypically, so while we were busy, the window beside me was open a crack, rain sizzling off my hot skin.

The second time was at his apartment. Roommate was out for the night getting trashed and would probably stumble back at 4 am. At like 5 pm, I arrived at his doorstep with a giant bottle of Beefeater that had been marked down at the corner market (I'm a savvy slut, hey). We chopped some tomatoes and made light omelets, and in a lull in the painfully polite conversation, I was like, "You wanna start drinking?" and he gave me an enthusiastic,
"Sure!"
The only problem with this sexual encounter was, so I know men love dipping it in, like the very first time their cock enters the vagina. Well he reeeeally likes it, so he pulled out alot to slam it back it, also meaning that he hit my ass a million times with it. BAD. Not good ladies--If yr man hits anywhere near your asshole with his dong, have him take off the condom and slap a new one on, or if he's bare, have his wash that shit. INSIST on it. The sex was mediocre, but a couple days afterward, it began to fucking burn when I fucking pee. Burn. Pee. Burning. PAIN. The Internet tells me i have a UTI, blablabal, I'm on different herbal stuff for it (we're Asian, we know our herbs) and if it gets worse I'll go in. But this really put a damper on our "Romantic Saturday."

So I'm not supposed to necessarily have sex with a UTI, as it can make it worse, so I'm riding him in my apartment as I figure that's the only way to be safe that he's not going to pop out and smack against my anus (did pop out, but only smacked my labia). I have a playlist going, dubstep and remixes, and then on comes Swezak's State of Grace--usually not a good fuck-times song, but there is was regardless.
Mr R knows maybe ten languages fluently. His Moroccan father was ... let's say he was very strict and insistent on education.
so the song is reaching it's end, where the spoken German comes on. With his hands on my naked hips holding me down on his pelvis, he stops to comment:
"Ah, see? That's wrong. It's entschieEEden not entschIIIIeden." He tells this to me while he's still inside me.
Despite this ridiculousness, I feign interest. After all, in his eyes, I'm not only after his junk, I'm also an intellectual. "Oh. Really?" I pant the words out, bouncing up and down on his nearly black-coloured penis.
He raises his eyebrows and nods eagerly.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

My first time

Hard to believe, but, you guys... I'm not a virgin.
I know, hold back your shock.

My first boyfriend was a Navajo Native American kid when I was in like 5th grade or something. He gave me some of the arrowheads he got from his grandpa that he didn't like, and would spend hours drawing me predator and those Alien creatures that I wasn't allowed to watch so had no idea what it was.
My next real boyfriend was in highschool, when the religious constriction on our household was beginning to lift due to my mother's soul-searching after a second divorce. This boy was a Chippewa, I think? Yeah, I guess I had a type. He started out slender and funny, but later I saw what I had taken for a soft heart to be someone who pitied themselves, had momma issues, and played WOW for days literal DAYS on end yall. He forgot my birthday the first two years we were together, but we lived far far away from the city then, and it was slim pickins for boyfriends. At that age, we were still more friends than lovers, although he was attracted to me. As he grew lazier and fatter and smoked more pot, my attraction waned. Perfect time to have sex--right?!
After a day of me cleaning his room--food wrappers everywhere, maggots under the bed, god what was I thinking?--i said to him "Well, we might as well have sex," with about as much sad conviction and resignment as I had to the approaching midterms.

I came with an arsenal of spermicide, condoms and other shit that I forgot now. He didn't have to do anything, just get hard. He could always get hard though, that's the one thing I do and don't miss about him. It was a beautiful cock-- after you held his fat out of the way, it was 7 inches and thick as my fucking wrist. Which, I don't know, have you ever seen a half-Vietnamese girl? Uhm, I'm small. Like REALLY small. When I coaxed him onto the bed, it was painful as hell, and he couldn't really get all the way inside.
Strangely enough, only when I had broken up with him did the sex start getting good. We broke up, I started dating this rich but gawd-awfully cluless and idiotic guy with a skinny twisted penis i was forced to slobber on. On the night after the rich guy made me slobber him, I called up the ex and we met on the street. He took me back to his apartment and I gave him the best head of his life. His 7 inches certainly has given me great practice with deep throating. (You have to kind of exhale at the same time as you shove it into your throat. Inhale as you're coming back up. Try this.)
Even as I was still dating rich dude, the ex took me into the inner workings of his University and we would have drunken yet hot sex in a room where threatre kids would gather before performances to practice and say their lines to the wall or whatever stupid shit they did. The room smelt like old dust and stale velvet curtains, musty textbooks and crumbling posterboards, wich covered two walls of the room.

Funny, but the first time didn't stick in my head at all. I dont remmber the details of the room, or what exactly he looked like or what we did or anything. But those three or four times in that theatre room, before asshole ex moved away, that actually follows me a bit. Maybe not so much, because he never made me orgasm.

Our beginning

I have never been with a man that refused a blowjob. Even in the early hours of daylight, when the sun is leaking through the oily clouds of the city outside a club, even the drunkest most exhausted men can get off. By me of course. While the fishnets under my knees get torn on alley garbage, motivated by lust, I aim to please. I'm not one to brag (yes I am) but I'm Jesus Christ of the dick. I will raise even the dead whiskey dick. Religious suppression makes girls go cra-zay in the sack, y'all.

That is until Mr R.

Mr R is a 6'4 half-Moroccan guy I knew vaguely from college. He's a bit older than me and we moved in different social circles, so I never took much notice of him before. Over a holiday weekend, Techno-dude--a skinny guy who got kicked out of Mexico (of all places) for having a violent outburst on a busy street while he was on acid and also wears blue-tinted glasses constantly to hide his lazy eye--invited me to hang out with him and Mr R. I knew Techno-dude from aforementioned college and did NOT know his outburst history at the time of our agreed meeting. So me and Mr R and Techno-dude hung out watching the parade, which with my tendencies, of course turned into a trip through the colourful streets of ticker-tape and streamers and confetti to the liquor store.

The men got scotch, the lady a bottle of gin. We sat in the park away from the parade and talked about music and education and got progressively drunker as the evening settled in purple streaks across the sky, the sinking sun glowing gold off the skyscrapers.
I was at the point of drinking where I offered to show my panties (pink lace, y'all, they were really cute) yet sober enough to know the evening was still too light to do such a thing out in public.
Mr R left to say hi to a friend with a promise to return. Now this wouldn't have been a problem, except he left us standing in a dark field on the edge of town and by now, Techno-dude had downed the ENTIRE bottle of scotch. Techno-dude quickly became Mr Grabby-Hands and I wasn't feeling it. But thanks to my mom I'm Asian so his gangly white ass quickly overpowered me, pulling me down into the field.

His fat tongue tasted like a truck-stop restroom, the kind you'd see on the news because they found a dead hooker curled around the toilet. I avoided rape by playing like I too was into him but was "on my period". Undeterred, he pressed on, shoving my shirt up, kissing down my stomach, literally grabbing my pussy in his ENTIRE hand like it was going to run away or something. I pushed his head away, and he retalliated by grabbing my wrists and slapping them against the ground on either sides of my head, so hard I could hear and feel the reverberation through my ears.
"How about I suck you off?" was my timid offer. Something in my voice (or maybe the voices in Techno-dude's head) made him hesitate. He eased off me, then grabbed onto a nearby chain-link fence to keep from staggering. He blubbered some apologies, and I waved it off as nothing because by now I just wanted to get home and wondered where the hell Mr R was. I smoothed my skirt down and tucked my hair behind my ears, and looked over Techno-dude's head for Mr R's silhouette in the streetlamps. Techno-dude must have figured out what I was doing, because he grabbed me again, roughly, and tried to pull me in to a kiss.
So I ran. In red spiky heels. I ran for a couple of blocks until I was in the middle of the city again, throwing glances over my shoulder as I went, but I don't think Techno-dude came after me.

You know when you run so fast and so hard that you taste copper in your burning throat and you can feel your heart-beat pulse through your temples? It was the only thing I could hear. My heartbeat, loud, pounding with my feet on the pavement, and I didn't hear the car.

Behind me was a loud scream of tires and I glanced back in time to see lights flash in my eyes. Oh great. Just what I need.
But the driver took a swift turn to avoid me, narrowly, and shouted out the window his observations of my ethnicity.

Well my heart was really in loops then. The world was greying in waves. Was it from the shock of what could have just happened or was I that drunk? I lowered my head and tried to steady my breathing. I groped out for the streetlamp and sunk down beside it. I could have died. I could have been raped. I had to pee.

"Kimmy--hey..." came a gentle voice. I felt large hot hands on my shoulders. I looked up through my scattered black hair to see a deeply concerned Mr R. Jesus fucking Christ are his eyes beautiful. He smoothed my hair back and crouched down beside me, inquiring as to my well-being. I muttered something about how I broke one of my heels in my flight, and he looked at it, then picked me up into his arms. Not like guys do that are going ot bang you, tossing you over their shoulder like a caveman (had that plently of times. Loves it), but like a dad does; he scooped me up all tenderly.

After he set me down under the trees, in the shadows I thanked him and hugged him, breathing in the hot scent of his neck. Then I moved to thank him with my mouth. I started to undo his zipper, and although he let me for a moment, he stopped me, gently grasping my hands and holding them. "Kim I don't do that until I feel really safe."
"Okay, let's go to the fountain then!" I suggested, always a good little slut. "The cops wont be around there this time of night."
"No Kim," he explained, quietly, "I mean, feel in a safe relationship with someone. It's nothing against you. I'm sorry. This is just me."
I sat back. I look ugly when I frown, but I was frowning then. Who cared, in the dark he couldn't really see me anyway. "Well then, we need to be in a relationship," I said.
"...Do we?"
"Yes."

Doesn't sound very romantic, does it? But this is how we began.