10 21 09

TMI Tuesday brought to you by Professor Fate, Vixen & Stealth. Encouraging information sharing since 2005.

1. Which ONE do you wish you had more of in bed… romance, experimentation or foreplay?

Romance, for sure. I’ve experimented and that’s fun. Foreplay kinda goes without saying. And sometimes? I’m not interested. But romance? Yeah. I could use some romance.

2. What is your worst habit?
If you look up procrastination in the dictionary, you’ll see my picture, name, address, email address, phone number and social security number.

3. Do you take compliments well?
Generally, speaking, yes. I had to learn how, but I think I do. At least outwardly. Sometimes, I think, “Have you lost your mind? Me? Really?” but mostly, if it’s genuine and not a trite cliché, I can accept the compliment.

4. Do you think more about the past, present or future?
Future, for sure. I think about what will happen, what I want to happen, I make plans for things. You know, stuff like that.

5. Do you feel everyone has a soulmate?
I just wrote a whole blog post on this topic on The Other Blog. I do NOT believe in soulmates as in “this is the only person I am supposed to be with”. On the other hand, I do believe in kindred spirits – people who feel instantly familiar and with whom you have an instant connection. I believe those things happen.

Bonus (as in optional): “Where Would You Wish To Wake Up?”
In bed with a wonderful woman, with her arms around me, feeling comfortable and safe.

MFM: Contest

Microfantasy Monday is brought to you courtesy of Sweltering Celt and, this week, by Scintillectual who threatened me with great bodily harm and the theft of my favorite boots if I didn’t write a damned MFM. It’s late, but whatev.

Truth be told, I am not a sports fan. I do love to watch live sporting events, though. I don’t even care what the sport is, if it’s pro or semi-pro and live, I’ll have a great time.

My friend Shelley is a huge sports fan. She invited me to watch a hockey game with her. Shelley is one of those sort of dykes – she has the biggest television known to mankind and a huge sofa with an equally big ottoman and what amounts to another full kitchen in her basement. For watching sports.

“You know,” Shelley says, almost a drawl, “I know how we could get you more interested in this game.”

I just looked at her, skeptical. Yeah. “You’re going to find a way to make this interesting? Huge men with no teeth slam into each other, get into fights, knock each other over all to get a little piece of what? Plastic? Into a stupid net.”

“Mmm hmm. Interesting. Pick a team. Every time YOUR team gets a goal, you can take off a piece of my clothing. Every time MY team gets a goal, I get to take off a piece of your clothing. I don’t care which team you pick, neither of these teams are my teams.”

“Okay, then, I pick the Red Wings. I’m from Michigan, after all. Besides, they win everything, so I have a better chance of winning this bet.”

“Done.”

We got our drinks, our snacks and snuggled on the couch to watch the game. Shelley tried to teach me about about pucks and sticks, icing and power plays.

The first goal was made. It wasn’t the Red Wings. Damn. Shelley grinned at me. She pulled my sweater over my head and tossed it across the room. The game continued.

The fucking Red Wings let the other team get another goal. We went to commercial. The wicked, wicked look on Shelley’s face made my mouth grow dry and my pussy get wet. She pressed herself against me and kissed me. Her tongue finding its way into my mouth before she kissed her way along my jaw, down my chest, stopping to bite my nipples through my bra. That was a brief pause, though, and she reached the top of my jeans. Her tongue ran along the skin just above my jeans, while she unbuttoned them. She motioned for me to lift my hips and off came the jeans. Also tossed across the room. It was going to take me an hour to find my freaking clothes.

She was right, though. I did get more interested. I started cheering for the Red Wings, cussing at them when they did something so stupid even *I* could tell it wasn’t good.

Then, a miracle happened. The Red Wings scored! The fans at Cobo Hall went nuts and we went to another commercial break. I don’t always play nice. “I want to take off your underwear.” Her eyes twinkled, she started to protest, but then decided against it. She stood, unzipped her jeans and dropped them. I kneeled in front of her, hands on her hips. For a second, I just breathed in the scent of her, the delicious smell of Shelley. I slid my fingers between the waistband of her underwear and her skin, hooked both sides with my fingers and slid them down her legs. I pushed them down, and she kicked them away. I stayed there, with my face *thisclose* to her sweetness, getting ready to … and the game resumed. I pushed Shelley back on the sofa and climbed up to sit beside her. She looked stunned and I just laughed.

Her team got the next score. “I am so glad you wore that bra. I can open the fronthook kind with my teeth.” And she did. With that, she pulled me against her, and we watched the next bit of the game, with me sitting between her legs, with her arms around me.

Of course, her hands didn’t stay on my waist. They moved to my breasts, pulling on my nipples, almost as if it was unconscious. I leaned back against her, I started to squirm. When I turned to kiss her, she stopped me. “Uh uh. There’s still more of the game to watch.” I tried to pay attention, I tried to watch it. I even managed to see some of it. Mostly, I was conscious of her hands.

“YES!” I jumped up and did a little happy dance. The Red Wings had scored! “You are SO losing that jersey, woman!” I stepped up close and tugged it over her head. Of course, we were down to one piece of clothing each, so we had to watch the game, right? To see who would win. It was close but no one was scoring. There I was in my panties, Shelley in her bra.

During commercials, we teased each other. She sucked ice into her mouth and slid the cubes over my stomach, down to my thighs, along the edge of my panties. I raked my nails down her back, bringing my hips up, wanting her mouth. The roar of the crowd brought Shelley back to the game. GodDAMN it.

The Red Wings lost. Oh, but I didn’t. I stood up, I let Shelley remove my purple silk panties and they joined my clothes strewn around the room. Shelley eased me back onto the sofa and knelt in front of me. She knew how wet I was, how little I needed any more foreplay and she didn’t give it to me. Three fingers slid inside of me, her tongue on my clit. It took me about 2 minutes to have my first orgasm, but she didn’t stop. I had two more, in quick succession before I pushed her away, I couldn’t take anymore.

I fell back on the sofa, eyes closed. Shelley sat next to me. I opened one eye and looked at her. “Doesn’t seem fair, does it? Since you won our bet?” She laughed. “I’ve been wanting to taste you, to fuck you since I met you. I win either way.”

We spent the rest of the evening making sure she won in every way.

Butch Daddy Jackie

Y’all can thank Scintillectual for Wicked Wednesdays. Go give her some love!

Working late. On a Friday night. I really have to get a life. One of the other directors, Jackie, tried to get me to meet her and her friends for drinks but I didn’t go. I never go. Last Friday, though, Jackie took matters into her own … hands.

I was alone in the building so I should have heard the door open and the alarm disarmed. I didn’t. So, I was surprised to feel strong hands on my shoulders. I started to turn around but they held me in place. I knew who it was anyway. I’d recognize that cologne anywhere.

Ralph Lauren. The cologne Jackie wears. It drives me crazy when we are in staff meetings. She always sits next to me and I can barely focus.

Her hands began to massage my shoulders. I had no idea I was so tense. She rubbed my shoulders until I relaxed. She spun my chair around. I looked at her, mouth open, shocked. But in a good way.

There, in front of me, seemingly conservative Butch Daddy Jackie was standing, wearing nothing but Harley Davidson boots (and presumably socks) and a strap on. A strap on that made me shiver.

“If you’re going to sit there with your mouth open, you might as well put it to good use.” She kissed me. Oh, God, what a kiss. She kissed me so gently, so warmly. Just lips at first, those sweet, sexy kisses that you know are building up to something good. Then, her tongue found its way into my mouth and the intensity of the kiss went up several notches.

She pulled away from my kiss, kissing and biting my jawline, my neck, my collarbone. Oh, GOD, do I love it when someone bites me in the hollow where the clavicle and shoulder meet. Gentle bites, not so gentle bites. Yum. Kissing me, biting me, while she unbuttoned my shirt, sliding it out of my skirt, unhooking my front hook bra. Her eyes widened just a bit at the bra. It was black, silky, slutty. It doesn’t fit my Good Girl exterior. Both blouse and bra were tossed on the floor.

Jackie bit her way to my breasts. My nipples were so hard, wanting her, waiting for her. She took one into her mouth, sucking gently, but I wanted more. I pulled her head closer but she was having none of that. Clearly, I was not going to be in charge of things. She kissed me again.

And by now, I was delirious. It had been so long since I’d had sex, since I’d felt this tension, since I’d had a butch woman’s touch. I was ready but Jackie wasn’t.

She must have decided that I’d learned my lesson because she returned to my breasts. Pulling on my nipples, tugging them until I arched my back, hoping for just a little more.

Jackie grinned at me.

“LifT your ass.” I obeyed. She pulled my skirt off and tugged my panties down. Getting them over my boots was a slight challenge but she stopped me when I tried to take the boots off off. “Not those. I want you to keep those on.” I kept those on. She smiled at the lace of my thigh highs peeking over the tops of my boots. “Girl, who’d have guessed you had all this on under those clothes?” I laughed.

That’s all I had time for before she picked me up from my chair and sat me on top of the desk. Groaned. I groaned. I was just the perfect height to wrap my legs around her waist and for her dick to slide inside of me.

There I was, wearing only boots and thigh highs, legs wrapped around a hot butch, breath erratic. I wanted her inside of me so goddamned badly. She leaned in and kissed me instead. No more sweet and gentle, this was hot and passionate and full of sex. She kissed me until I couldn’t breathe and then, when I wasn’t expecting it, she slammed inside me.

I arched to meet her, my hips raising to meet hers. She fucked me skillfully, passionately, hard, slow, building, building, building. Then stopping. Good christ. Stopping. How many times did she get me right to the edge of an orgasm and stop? I lost track. I didn’t think I could take it anymore. I begged.

Not so much speech as … a moaning “Jackie, God, baby, don’t stop. Please. Jackie. Make me come. Please.”

“No. I don’t think you’re ready yet.”

“I am!”

“Oh, no. You’re not.”

She pulled nearly out of me and as I frantically tried to raise my hips to prevent that, she pushed them down and held them in place. She stopped moving altogether, cock just at the edge of my pussy, nearly out. “Do you want me to stop?”

“What? NO!”

“Then hold the fuck still.”

I held the fuck still.

She was right, of course. She moved in and out of me slowly this time, almost gently but not quite, building my orgasm gradually, until I was right at the edge.

Then I tumbled over it. My nails scratched down her back, my hips raised against hers, my wetness spilling out over my desk, head thrown back against the window, yelling her name.

She fell against me, holding me, kissing me sweetly on my forehead, my shoulders. I held her close, waiting for my heart to return to normal, waiting to catch my breathe.

I wish I could say I was articulate and together next. I wasn’t. “Um, wow. Thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

At that, I laughed. “I’m pretty certain the pleasure was mine!”

TMI Tuesday 10 13

Working on a story for tomorrow’s Wicked Wednesday.

In the meantime: (edited for clarity given some of the comments I got!)

TMI Tuesday brought to you by Professor Fate, Vixen & Stealth. Encouraging information sharing since 2005.

1. On a scale of 1-10 (10 being the highest), how satisfied are you with your life?
In general, about an 8. There are things that could be better, but I’ll get there. You know, like – I could stop procrastinating about buying actual grown-up furniture.

1a. On a scale of 1-10 (10 being the highest), how satisfied are you with your sex life?
My most recent sexual experience? Uh … 25. In general? Sigh. 2. I don’t actually have one for the most part.

2. What is the easiest way for you to reach orgasm?
Me on top, with a butch wearing a strap on. I have amazingly intense orgasms that way.

3. What are 3 inevitable things about you?
1. I will take far too many things with me on a trip. (really? 2 nights & I took a suitcase & a bag of shoes.)
2. I call lots of people sugar, darling, pumpkin, etc. I almost never call anyone by their actual given name unless we’re in bed.
3. The completely wrong woman will always lust for me.

4. What is your favorite sexual position? (yes you have to narrow it to one)
It depends but I’d say probably the me on top, with a butch wearing a strap on. But it’s hard to choose just one!

4a. What is you least favorite sexual position?
I can’t even come close to having an orgasm standing up.

5. Favorite body part/parts of the opposite (or same) sex?
Ass. I love a butch with an ass.

6. Would you rather have your significant other (this can be a hypothetical SO) have sex with someone else or fall in love with someone else? [You have to pick one.]
Have sex for sure. Especially if I don’t know about it. If I find out about it, chances are good there is going to be a Full Femme Fit in our house but if I don’t know? Go on ahead & fuck someone. But fall in love? Crushing.

7. When you have a “toe-curling” orgasm, do your toes curl up, or down?
I’m too caught up in what everything else in my body is feeling to worry about my freakin’ toes.  I am fully jacking Scintillectual’s answer.

8. Name three words that:
a) get you excited
I saw a movie once where some kids interrupted a couple having sex. The man was saying, “Give me that pussy, baby.” Instantly wet. If someone ever said that to me during sex? I’d flood.

b) make you squirm
It’s more the tone that the words. The one that says, “Oh, girl. You are in so much trouble.”

c) make you laugh
God any number of things!

Bonus (as in optional): What is you most embarrassing sexual moment?
I can’t think of one! I don’t embarrass easily and definitely not about sex. Oh wait … it was sort of a foreplay moment & got me in trouble. Big fat trouble. I was seeing 2 women but only one of them knew that. I sent a fully scandalous text to woman 1 but I meant it for woman 2. Woman 2 was the one who didn’t know. I used Woman 1’s name. Yeah. Oh … and I called someone the wrong name once. Eep. Wrong name, wrong gender, everything. Yeah. That was not too cool.

Wicked Wednesday: Toni

In honor of Scintillectual’s first Wicked Wednesday: here’s the first Woman I’m Not Supposed to Want

“I am going to fuck Alicia tonight, Toni.”

 She looks at me. The look a married woman gives a woman who isn’t her wife but who she wants to fuck.

“But first, I’m going to fuck you.”

That gets her attention.

We’ve gone for a walk in a cemetary. Alicia is a genealogist and has found out that some of her ancestors were buried here. Alicia and Michaela have left us behind, interested in the headstone rubbings and the particular gravesites they are looking for. I know, it’s odd, but Alicia’s a doll so we indulge her. They haven’t even noticed that we aren’t with them. We can barely see them in the distance.

At the first tall headstone, tall enough to hide us from view, I stop Toni and push her against it. Yeah, I’m femme and, yes, I’m bottom. But in this moment? I want her. I want to feel her wetness, hear her breathing get faster, feel her tense because she has to be quiet.

I lean into her and kiss her but I – we- don’t have time for foreplay. Any more, foreplay, I should say. We’ve been having it for days. Teasing phone calls and text messages, emails, tweets. Yeah, we don’t need any more foreplay.

I unbutton her jeans and slide my hand inside them. Thank GOD that she wears her jeans loose and that she isn’t wearing underwear. I want to be more gentle, take more time, build up to this, but really? I can’t.

She’s already wet and I slide my ring and middle fingers into her. She takes in her breath. “You like that?” All she does is nod. Well, nod and move her hips, trying to get me deeper inside of her.

She’s warm and wet, she’s silky and smooth, I want to have more of me inside her. I slide my index finger inside her as well. She spreads her legs a little farther apart, she opens herself up to me, letting me fill her. I want to kiss her but I want something else even more.

I drop the scarf that she made such fun of me for wearing on the ground so that I can kneel on that and not get my jeans wet. Easier to explain away a dirty, wet scarf than wet knees. I drop to my knees in front of her and tug her pants down.

For days, I’ve been wondering what she tastes like. I’ve been imagining what she’d feel like against my face, what she smells like, what sounds she makes when she has an orgasm. Kneeling in front of her, I breathe her in, savoring the musky sweetness of her. But we don’t have a lot of time – and I have been waiting long enough.

As soon as my tongue touches her clit, she moans and staggers slightly. I want her to come and I want her to come quickly, so I don’t tease. I fuck her, my fingers moving in and out of her, matching the rhythm of her hip movements. I press on G spot, tapping almost, while I fuck her. It’s so good, it feels so good.

Intoxicating. I want to forget where we are, forget how little time we have and explore her body properly. This – this is almost worse than not having done it at all. She tastes so good – it’s hard to describe a woman’s taste, isn’t it? Everyone is so different. It’s even harder to describe how she feels inside.

I want her to come for me. I suck her clit into my mouth, I swirl my tongue around it, I make myself do it slowly, even though we are in a hurry. Oh, GOD, I can feel her start to come. She can’t say anything, just in case someone should her but she moans, she grabs my head, she pulls my head closer and I feel the warm wetness gush out of her, her legs give way and she nearly falls. But she doesn’t.

I stand up and kiss her.

I’m a practical girl. I pull baby wipes out of my pocket to wash my face and hers and pop a mint in my mouth.

Once she gathers herself, she pulls her jeans back up and grins at me.

 “You are such trouble,” she says.

 Trouble? Yeah, I am.

Margaret

I have no idea why I took this job.  A private school? Could I care *less* about anything than raising money for spoiled little rich kids? No, not really. However, this job has its advantages. Like I have to go all across the country for visits with parents, which is fun.

I’m headed to meet a parent now.  I don’t know much about this one – her son is new to the school. I hope she’s not the most conservative of parents.  The airline sent my beautiful (and appropriate) Jil Sander suit to Maui without me.  I’m glad I got into Nashville a day early so I could go shopping.  I wound up with the most amazing suit – even though, I must confess, it’s not the most professional thing I’ve ever worn.  But, GOD, it’s gorgeous.  I have a thing for blue clothes so, of course, it’s dark blue. Not quite navy, but a really beautiful blue.  The skirt is longish, but that’s okay, it’s much sexier than any short skirt.  It’s slim fitting, comes nearly to the end of my calves and has a slit up the left side so that I can walk.  Oh, the slit? To mid thigh.  The jacket is sort of 40s style, belted with a peplum and buttons up the front.  It’s the sort you don’t wear with a blouse beneath it.

Here’s a secret for you. I always wear the most slutty of underwear when I have parent visits.  I swear to GOD the mothers all have a committee meeting at the first of the year and decide what that year’s look is.  Straight out of a Talbot’s catalog.  Bor-ing.  Me? I’m all about sexy lingerie.  I’m wearing this one today.

The parents never know that, though.  All they see is my (usually) fairly boringly conservative fundraiser clothes.

I’m meeting this mom – Margaret Brenson. Doesn’t *she* just sound like a priss ass? She’s a tax attorney.  Good Christ, really? I just *know* this is going to be one of my more boring meetings.  Too bad there’s not Mr. Brenson. I could flirt *him* out of much more than the $5,000 I plan to ask her for.

I give the receptionist my name and she tells me to wait. “Ms. Brenson’s assistant will be down to get you shortly.” Nice.  She can’t walk me up herself? This is going to be a treat. I can tell.

The assistant arrives and walks me up to Margaret’s office. As we approach, the door, Margaret ends a phone call and stands up to meet me at the door.

Interesting.

She isn’t the usual mom.  She is a dyke as sure as I am. She’s wearing a black pantsuit, a brown & cream striped shirt and great wingtip-like shoes.  Nice. Blonde short hair, really beautiful eyes. She’s smirking at me. I’m guessing that’s her normal expression, actually.  I introduce myself, she shakes my hand, thanks the assistant.  But her eyes never leave mine.

The assistant leaves the room and closes the door.  Rather than sit behind her desk, Margaret walks over to the sofa in her office and sits there. Which leaves me no choice but to sit next to her. Oh, damn. You know me … I can’t resist a little flirting.  I sit closer to her than I should and cross my legs.  “Thank you for seeing me today, Ms. Brenson. As I told you on the phone, we’re ….” I stop, not because I’ve lost my thought but because Margaret gets up and locks the door.  She comes back and sits even closer to me than she was before. “So, we’re establishing …”

I stop this time because Margaret’s hand is on my thigh. I look at it.  My heart skips and my tummy flutters. I look at her.  She doesn’t say one word. She just kisses me.  It’s not a sweet, gentle kiss. Uh uh.

She kisses me as if she hasn’t been kissed in months, her tongue in my mouth, one hand holding my head, the other on my hip. Fuck. I’m a sucker for the holding my head thing. Then, I have no idea how, I am lying on my back, with Margaret on top of me.  One of her legs between mine, the other beside me.

Kissing is one of my favorite things to do and Margaret? She is very good at it. Her hands are everywhere – my hips, my breasts, everywhere. I can barely breathe.  She stops kissing me. I start to protest but the look she gives me shuts me up.

Oh, God, yes. She’s a top. A fully dominant, straight up top.  I get wet. More accurately, I should say, more wet.

She unbelts, then unbuttons my jacket.  She raises her eyebrow at me when she sees the corset. But, oh, lucky me.  The top doesn’t have straps, so she just pulls it down a bit until my breast are exposed.

She can tell I’m already hot, already wet, already wanting the “more” that generally only comes from lots of foreplay.  She sucks my nipple into her mouth, using her teeth, pulling hard. I moan and arch my body into her. Oh, God, that feels good. Oh, GOD, that feels good. She continues that until I can no longer see straight. I’m pressing my hips against her, I’m moaning, I’m completely beside myself. “Harder,” I moan and she does. Harder. Fuck.

“Oh, God. Please. Baby, please.”

“Please what?” she asks. “Stop?”

“No! I want you to touch me.”

She looks at me as if completely confused. “But I am touching you.”

“No. That’s not what I mean!”

“Can you be more specific, then?”  I have no idea why but, sometimes, when I’m with a woman who can fully top me, I get shy.  Just a little bit reticent.  However, I know that she won’t do what I want unless I tell her specifically what it is.

“I want your fingers inside of me.”  She looks at me.  Nope, that’s not what she wants me to say.  I gather myself.  “My pussy is so wet, Margaret. Please, please, I need you inside of me.”

“Good girl.” She lifts my hips up and slides my underwear off.  Good thing I put the panties on the outside of the goddamned garter.   Without the slightest bit of warning, she is completely filling me, at least 3 of her fingers inside of me.

“Yes, oh, my god, yes!” I am barely capable of coherent thought. This feels so good, was so completely unexpected.  My eyes are closed, my head back, and I feel her move down my body.

When her tongue touches me clit, it feels an electric shock.  She does this perfectly – exactly the way that I like it.  Slow, but not too soft, using her whole tongue, not pointed. Oh, God.  Oh, God.

What I actually say is, “fuck. Yes, Margaret. Oh God. That is so good.”  She plays – she stops to kiss my thighs. She makes me wait and wait until I can’t stand it anymore and then I’m not waiting anymore.

I can feel my orgasm building and I am not ready for it yet. I want this to take longer but I don’t have any choice.  Her tongue on my clit, her fingers filling me, I can’t hold back any more and I come, my juices flooding onto her face, my pussy clenching her fingers, drawing them farther inside of me, my hips raise, pressing against her face, my hands are in her hair, pulling her closer.

And when it’s done, I fall back against the couch and cover my eyes with my arm. I want to laugh or something. Did I really just let a parent fuck me, right in her office? I did. 

Margaret kneels on the floor next to me. I look at her out of the corner of my eyes, arm still across my face. I’m lying there with my jacket open, corset lowered, skirt up around my hips and my panties who knows where.

“How did you know I was a lesbian?” I ask her.

“I didn’t until just now.”

Fucks Like a Girl

I love reading all y’alls Microfantasy Mondays, TMI Tuesdays and seeing your HNTs.  I can’t post them on my *other* blog because various members of my family read that. 

The remedy for that: another new blog.

Welcome to Fucks Like a Girl.