Saturday, May 29, 2010


A message from my friend Chrissie Bentley ...


Publisher: to be announced
Editor: Chrissie Bentley
Deadline: August 1st 2010
Payment: A share of the royalties (min of 7%, plus a copy of the e-book upon publication)

Do you remember the first time?

The Cocksucking Chronicles is a new, in-progress, collection of over one hundred essays, memories and stories, contributed by some of the most talented writers of modern erotica, discussing and describing their first ever experience of fellatio.

Male and female authors alike are invited to delve into their most sacred memories and tell the world all about it.

Were you scared or elated? Were you scared you would come, or worried that he wouldn’t? Was it what you expected, or as great as you hoped? Were you glad it was over, or gagging for a replay?

And what did your partner think?

Contributions should ideally be between 200 and 1,000 words in length, but longer or shorter is fine, if the story demands it. Prose is preferred, but poetry will be accepted if it really steams. What’s important, whatever you write, is that you put the reader in the moment. I’m looking for honesty, emotion and heat. I want to taste the meat and feel the tongue.

Heterosexual encounters only. Also, please establish early into the tale that all characters are over the age of eighteen (even if they weren’t in “real life”). Thanks. Also, no pedophilia and underage sex, bestiality, necriphelia, golden showers and scat play, nonconsensual or rape... If in doubt, please query.

Please visit for a few examples of what I’m looking for.

Please paste your contribution into your e-mail, and send to Please include your name and the word CHRONICLES in the subject line.

Rights: Editor requests first electronic and first print rights. If the book does not go into print, first print rights will be returned to the authors. Authors retain rights to each story; the editor retains rights to the anthology.

All authors will be expected to do as much as they can to help promote and market the work. The more we sell, the more we make. Thanks and I look forward to hearing from you!

You Don't Know Me But...

Popular question #257. Have you ever set your verses to music? I haven’t, but I’d love that to happen… a few people have pointed out to me that some of my verses really do have a traditional song structure – verse chorus middle eight etc. Unfortunately, I don’t really have a musical bone in my body, so far as composing a melody goes, But if anyone out there does, and wants to give it a go, I’d love to hear what you come up with!

I don’t want to get all Ann Landers on you
But I just heard your other half talking
It seems that there’s trouble in paradise
And you should act if you don’t want him walking
He knows that you love him and he’s got no complaints
About most of his love life with you
But I know that he’s really unhappy
Because there’s one thing that you won’t do

Chorus (sing along, girls!):
You won’t put him in your mouth – oooeee
You won’t kiss it with your lips – whoo-oooo
And the thought that he might cum all over your tongue
Is enough to make you throw up, ain’t that true?

Why not? Does it strike you as nasty?
Do you think you’re demeaned in his eyes?
Do you think that he’ll call you “cocksucker?”
Relax! You might be surprised
Are you worried the taste might be funky?
So were half of the foods you first tried
Just coat him with oils or mint condoms
Don’t give up, take time to decide

Are you worried he’ll go weird and crazy?
Pin you down, fill your throat, call you whore?
Just tell him to lie without moving
And give you some time to explore
He’ll know it’s a sign you still want him
Remind him where his heart belongs
He’ll be loving you even more deeply
And he won’t sing some strange girl this song

Chorus (sing along guys!)
She won’t put me in her mouth – oooeee
She won’t kiss it with her lips – whoo-oooo
And the thought that I might cum all over her tongue
Is enough to make her throw up, ain’t that true?

Don’t worry about trying to fit him
You don’t have to suck till you bleed
Just shower the shaft with soft kisses
You can take all the time that you need
You don’t have to try and deep throat him
You can just use your hand at the end
A few minutes will make him so happy
Just show him you’re willing to bend
Don’t think of yourself as cocksucking
Or those other foul words you may hear
You’re not some old slut giving blowjobs
You’re making love with the man you hold dear

You’re giving him your secret kisses
To show him how much you love him
And regardless of if you go further
I look forward to hearing you sing

Chorus (all together now!)
I just put him in my mouth – oooeee
I just kissed him with my lips – whoo-oooo
I’m still not too keen on tasting his cream
But I know he sure loves what I do!

Friday, May 28, 2010


by Chrissie Bentley

Maybe it was the wine talking; perhaps it was the way the shadows fell. But, from where I was lying, watching, it was the sort of prick you only read about in the most literary erotic anthologies… you know, the ones where the writer is so concerned with convincing the world that she’s a poet (“on that dark and stormy night, his penis arose like a rosebud breaking forth, its unblinking eye proudly pledging to flood my sex with foamy lust”) that the only person who could get truly turned on would be her English professor. The rest of us simply look on in abject horror. Read too many stories like that, and it could put you off sex for life. And reading.

But Peter had one of those cocks that could make you go all poetic; that really did leave you rummaging in the back of your mind for something to say that was not a mere gasp, followed by an intake of breath and a “mmmmmm” of approval. Something that wasn’t “yummy.” Except it was yummy and the only problem was, it was over there, I was over here, and there was 20 years of non-romantic, non-sexual, and not even mildly flirtatious friendship standing between us.

And you can read the rest of Back To Nature, together with a clutch of other wonderful stories, in SCREAMING ORGASM, the latest volume in Xcite Books‘ COCKTALES series of erotic anthologies.

Tearing Down The Walls Charlotte Stein
Back to Nature Chrissie Bentley
Dreams Do Come True Beverly Langland
Oh Boys! Giselle Renard
Cream of the Crop Elizabeth Coldwell
Off the Clock A.M. Hartnett
Phantom Lover Eva Hore
Scream in Silence Heidi Champa

Thursday, May 27, 2010


Exciting news - my anthology "The First Time & 59 Other Magical Minutes" is now available for purchase on Kindle.

The electronic edition is exactly the same as the printed version, but it costs just $1.99.

Buy your copy HERE

Saturday, May 22, 2010

Friday, May 21, 2010

Yet Another Interview!

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.


Thursday, May 20, 2010

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Cherry Vanilla

I don't know how many of you have heard the name Cherry Vanilla, but for those of you who haven't, she's an actress, author, poet and performer who started out in the world of Andy Warhol in the early 1970s, worked with David Bowie during the years when he was good (early 70s again), had a punk band in London, and is now about to publish her autobiography.

I've loved her ever since I found a pile of old issues of "Penthouse" at a used books store a few years ago, and stumbled upon a short story she wrote back in 1974 or 1975. The few lines of biography intrigued me so I started googling and I was completely hooked.

You can find out more at her website here. And there's some wonderful stories to be found in the book "Your Pretty Face Is Going To Hell" by Dave Thompson.

And here's my most recent discovery, a photograph of Cherry in all her beauty, taken back in 1971, while she was starring in the Warhol play "Pork."


This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.


Monday, May 17, 2010


This wonderful book collects the seven hottest adventures for the Rocky Mountains' raunchiest couple, Cousin Tom and Cousin Rosie.

Includes "Cousin Tom's First Blowjob," Cousin Tom's Revenge," "Cousin Tom's Motorbike," "Cousin Tom Slips Behind," "Cousin Tom and the Sisters of Mercy," "Cousin Tom's Lucky Day" and "Cousin Tom and the Gymnast."

Click here to purchase, or go to


Sunday, May 16, 2010

Mayhem Models

There's a lot of erotic photography floating around the net... lol I put some of it there myself. But this isn't just a hot shot. It might be the most beautiful erotic photo in the world.... Visit Mayhem Models for more!


Friday, May 14, 2010

New interview

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

The Most Embarrassing Thing That Ever Happened

I pushed Mark back on the couch, my mouth still glued to his, and allowed my hands to wander at will across his body – we both knew where they would end up, of course, because we both knew where we needed them to be. But the tease was fun, the sense of expectation that lies at the edge of the experience; and once I’d found his belt buckle, then an entire new dance could begin, as I slowly unclasped and unbuttoned his pants, and his stiff cock twitched into my fist.

I was laughing now as I gently stroked him, feeling the warm, full flesh so thick in my grip, and when one hand clasped the top of my head, gently pushing me down his body, I only resisted enough to taunt him further. I wanted this as much as he did, and maybe even more. We’d been together three months and we’d still not slept together – not “properly,” as some people might say. Maybe I wasn’t ready, maybe I wasn’t sure I wanted him to be “my first.” Or maybe, I’d found something else to do that seemed a lot more exciting.

He liked to have his cock sucked hard. So I would start out gently. He loved that first moment as my lips closed around it. So I’d draw it out by only using my tongue. He liked to shut his eyes, so I’d fix them with mine and defy him to close them. It wasn’t a war but it was a battle all the same, and when I knew he was on the very edge of coming, I’d make sure to keep him there for a little while longer. Then I’d gulp down as much of the first blast as possible, while holding the rest in my mouth to be dribbled, down his shaft if I wanted to, or into his mouth if I felt like that – he was mine at moments like this, and I could… and did… do whatever I wanted.

And then we’d lie back on the couch, and make jokes about things that we knew couldn’t harm us. Like – “that was a lot more comfortable than when we did it in your car”; or, “what time did you say your free period ended?” And the big one, because this was the first time we’d ever slipped out of class and back to my house, “oh God, could you imagine if my folks came home and caught us like this?”

Mark laughed, I roared, and then we froze as a voice floated in from the kitchen.

“Yes, imagine. Mark – I think you’d better be getting back to college. And Jennifer? I think you and I need to have a little chat.”

It was my mom.

Cards on the table. Yes, I’m eighteen, and I still live at home. What of it? The community college is three blocks away – what, you expect me to be renting my own apartment on the money I make at the gas station at night? And we couldn’t go to Mark’s, because his mother works from home. Whereas mine…. Mine are both meant to have jobs downtown, and be out of the house from eight-thirty till six. Which means the place should be empty at a quarter-to-two.

Mark pulled a face, and I slipped him a guilty grin. “I wonder if she saw anything,” he asked, and I had to suppress a giggle. “Probably not, it was all in my mouth.” But I knew what he meant and I braced myself for the storm. Because it’s true. You cannot imagine your parents having a sex life; can’t imagine them ever having had one. My mom would no more blow my father than – eeugh, stop it. I don’t even want to think about that.

Mark let himself out, and I trailed obediently into the kitchen.

“I guess you saw…”

“Yes, I saw.”

“I’m sorry. We should have gone upstairs, I suppose. But we thought you’d be out and…” I was half expecting some kind of lecture about sucking cock where my dad eats his dinner; about showing some respect while I was living in the house; about all those things that you try not to think about when you’re that age, but which dance at the back of your guilty conscience anyway. Instead, she gave me that look… you know the one… that all mothers keep in reserve, for that moment when you’ve disappointed them beyond all hope of redemption, that tears at your heartstrings and makes you feel like utter shit. The one that says “you lied to me.”

“Not even a week ago, Jennifer.” I knew exactly what she was talking about. We’d been having one of those mom-daughter chats, and she’d asked if I needed to go on the pill. I told her no, because I wasn’t sleeping with anyone. And she smiled and hugged me and didn’t say another word, but I knew that the fact I still had my virginity was the greatest gift I could have given her. She hadn’t said a word about anything else!

“Mom. I was telling the truth. I’m a virgin.”

“Jenny, you were…”

“I know. And that’s all I was doing. That’s all I’ve ever done.”

She looked at me, and I’m still not certain whether it was astonishment or admiration that flickered across her face for the moment it took her to regain her equilibrium.


“Yes. Honestly. In fact it’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.” And it all came out then, all those mother-daughter chats that I’d really wanted to have, but which you simply cannot bring yourself to broach with anyone apart from maybe a friend in class – and even then it’s all giggles and embarrassment and jokes. “It’s something I love doing. I like the way it feels, I like the way it tastes, I like the way he reacts…”

“Okay, okay.” Despite herself, mom was smiling now. “And… at the end? What happens at the end?” I caught her eyes flicker towards the couch where she’d caught us, as if trying to spot the huge puddle of cum that was surely congealing on the fabric.

“Mom. Remember when I came to you that day after school and asked why all the boys thought my name was so funny? And you told me they were just being stupid and I should ignore them?”

She nodded. I was still a kid then… how much of a kid, you can probably gauge from the fact I even needed to ask that question.

“Well, I found out. And after I found out, then I wanted to try it. And, once I tried it…”

She made a face, but it wasn’t the look of disgust I expected, or even one of shock. It was the face of a middle-aged woman who had just thought of a brilliant, filthy, joke, and wasn’t certain whether she could bring herself to say it aloud. “So you live up to the family name, then?”


“It’s a good job our last name’s not Spitz, then,” she spluttered. And then she dropped the bombshell. “But I do remember your father and my wedding reception, when we were dancing, and the first time he asked how it felt to be Sarah Swallows…”

Oh God, no. I sank my face in my hands. “Mom, please, I don’t need to know this…”

She was laughing even louder now. “and I told him I’d let him know when I had. He couldn’t get me up to the bridal suite fast enough.”

Google-ing Myself

I have a confession to make. I love Google-ing myself... because I never know what I'll find. It's amazing what the two words "jenny swallows" will bring up. But this one is definitely one of the greatest!

Jennifer swallows old guys sperm brought to you by PornHub'>!!!

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Three New Anthologies

Great news for all fans of author Chrissie Bentley - she has not one, not two, but three new stories included in the first three volumes of Cocktales, the latest collections from Xcite Books. And not only Chrissie, there's also stories from Rachel Kramer Bussel, Elizabeth Coldwell, Giselle Renarde and Mags O’Conor, among others - a total of twenty-five stories in three volumes, with more to come later in the series. And take a look at those covers, as well!

I've only read Chrissie's stories so far... the road head classic "Bumpy Roads are Best"; the beach bonanza "Catch of the Day" and one of my all-time favorites, "There's A Cure For Almost Everything," a hospital tale that also includes the best incentive I've ever heard for a guy to give up smoking. Plus, if you want to taste before you buy, Xcite are also offering a free story from Sex on the Beach to everyone who visits their website... and yes, it's "Catch of the Day."

So... well, who cares what time it really is, it's cocktail hour somewhere in the world. So pour yourself a stiff one, and settle down with a hot author for a while. I know I'm going to.


I Love This Site!

Buried away in my blog list to the right, you may not even have noticed it. But once you're done here, give yourself a treat and stop by A Sexual Exhibitionist...

Why? Because here's a tiny sample of what you'll find when you get there....

When I take a cock past my throat muscles I know it sends him into total bliss and things always get a little more intense when I allow him to fuck my mouth. It frees up my hands to play with myself. Sometimes, if I'm not using one of my toys, I'll slide my finger up my pussy and masturbate while I give him head. When I get all revved up it's hard to slow me down, and I am more than happy to try to take a cock just as deep as I can. I really get into sucking on a cock and I love making a man cum. Mmm…..the feeling and taste of a guys thick meat throbbing inside my mouth as my tongue gets busy all over its shaft and tip is enough to get me wet. I love to drink cum and I love the taste of cum. I always notice how a cock will swell and pump inside my mouth as he shoots his heavy load. I'll keep it there as it throbs and continue sucking out every drop. I have no problem eagerly swallowing everything he can give. I love it when I'm tasting cum inside my mouth...Yummy! I explode with passion and I just want more. So many times I have immediately jumped off of a cock to suck it and lap up the few remaining drops of cum as I squeeze it out of the tip of his dick. I’m very talented and experienced in the ways of sucking. I feel it's the most powerful thing a woman can do for a man.

And the most powerful thing that a man can do for a woman!

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

I Kiss

I kiss your sweet lips
And breathe in your scent

I kiss your sweet breasts
And dream of your soul

I caress your soft flesh
And our hearts fuse as one

And then I kneel and I know your true beauty.


Freedom is in safe hands. And they can dance as well!


When I Grow Up

“When I grow up,” I once told my journal, “I want to be a hooker.”

I was a slow starter in the sex stakes. I realized very early on that a name like mine was worth its weight in gold when it came to attracting boys’ attention… that it was the nomenclatural equivalent of a pair of big tits. But I also knew that I wasn’t interested in boys. I wanted men and, quite frankly, I didn’t have a clue about how to get one. I certainly wasn’t going to start walking up to strangers and introducing myself, although, in my fantasies, I did it all the time – “hi,” I’d say. “I’m Jenny Swallows, and I do.” And I was fairly certain that I would. Swallow, that is. But I didn’t know for sure because I’d never had the chance.

So, I decided to become a hooker.

Looking back, I hadn’t really thought it through. How much would I charge? How would I find clients? And how would I weed out the icky guys, so that all my clients were the same handsome studs that gyrated through my imaginings? I didn’t know, so I didn’t worry about it. All that mattered to me was what happened once all that was taken care of…. And it went something like this.

He was usually tall, blonde and occasionally English. A businessman in town for a few days, and he’d got my name from a friend. We’d meet in the lobby of his hotel, a swish joint in Abilene, and he’d wine and dine me at the best restaurant in town. Then a cab back to the hotel, an elevator up to his suite, and that’s where it would start, with me dropping to my knees before him, and resting my cheek against the erection that our earlier conversation… as I outlined everything he would get for his money… would have set in motion.

He’d be torn between desire and embarrassment – what if the lift should stop, and someone should come in? “Well,” I’d reply, as I unzipped his pants, “they’d see what a handsome prick you have.” And it would be handsome, well-shaped and uncut, llong and thick but not so far that I wouldn’t be able to fit it in my mouth. I remembered watching a porn film once, where the guy was so huge that the girl could barely get the tip in her mouth without dislocating her jaw. I wanted to suck the whole thing.

“Not here,” he’d gasp.

“Well, where?” I’d reply, as I licked his shaft from balls to bell end, then ran my tongue around the crest.

“We’re almost at my floor.”

“I’m almost at the top,” I’d say, and I’d give his helmet a long, deep kiss. But he was right, we were almost at his floor, so I’d zip him back up and then patiently wait while he found his door key and let us into his suite. Candlelit, with champagne already on ice – you see, I told you I hadn’t thought any of this through properly. But it was my dream, so there it was, champagne and candles and a pair of pants that vanished the moment we got into the bedroom, and now there was nothing to stop me.

I push him back on the bed, his legs hanging over the edge for me to kneel between, my elbows resting on his thighs as his cock rises unaided towards me. I clutch it with two fingers, gently move it towards my mouth, and then I begin to suck.

And suck and suck and suck, until he is so close to coming that his entire body is in ecstatic spasm. Then I pause and wait for the moment to pass, allow him to gain control once again. And then I start once more.

I rarely wore a wrist watch, and there was no clock that I could see. So I don’t know how long it lasts for. But whatever he paid me, he’d get a minute for each dollar, and believe me, I wasn’t cheap. A two hour blowjob? Three hours? Four? I didn’t mind, and neither would he and when, at the end, I finally did let him come, it was like placing my mouth over the end of a hosepipe and then turning the water faucet on full. Except it wouldn’t be water, it was honey and liquor and candy and joy, and every drop tasted better than the one before.

And he’s paying me? Unbelievable!

I’d stay the night, or what was left of it regardless, and maybe we’d fuck or he’d eat me or whatever. But I’d have got what I came for, and the rest was just a bonus. Fuck, the cash was just a bonus. But I’d never heard of hookers who gave it out for free, so I didn’t let it bother me. Plus, it was better than working.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010


Monday, May 10, 2010

Typical Guys

We’ve already established that some girls will, some girls won’t. And isn’t it fun to pretend to be the other one!

Promise me that you won’t cum in my mouth
Swear you’ll pull out in a hurry
Or shout out a warning when you feel the end dawning
It’s more fun if I don’t have to worry
I’ll start out real slow, tip my tongue in the hole
Trace it across all of your nerve-ends
I’ll blow on your moist skin, I’ll suck both your balls in
And let my teeth graze on your bell-end

I’ll suck on the pass where your balls meet your ass
I’ll give every pore my attention
I’ll lick up the vein – then I’ll do it again
There’s just one thing that I need to mention
Promise me that you won’t cum in my mouth
You might think it’s fun, but it isn’t
I know I won’t like it… one day I might try it
But right now I’d rather you didn’t

I’ll tug your skin tight, I’ll gnaw and I’ll bite
I’ll run my tongue over your glans
I’ll spit on the tip to make it feel slick
While I massage your balls with one hand
Then when I start to suck and your hips start to buck
I’ll take you so deep down within
When your pre-come starts flowing, I’ll just keep on going
But one thing before I begin

Promise me that you won’t cum in my mouth
Just pull out, and I really don’t care
If it splashes my face, you can shoot any place
I just don’t want you doing it there
Oh, your cock’s so delicious, it’s like all my Christmases
Wrapped up in one hard, sexy man
Fill my throat with your meat, push my head down to greet
It, and fuck my face hard as you can

Your balls whip my chin, there’s eight inches in
I greedily suck in my cheeks
You’re fucking my windpipe! (At least, that’s what it feels like)
And now you’re in there, you’re in there for keeps
Just promise me that you won’t cum in my mouth
I don’t want to swallow your ick
My friend said it’s nasty (she did it once, at a party)
The thought of it makes me feel sick

Your hips pump me fast, can’t believe that you’ve last-
ed this long! Are we welded together?
My head’s almost bursting with the force of your thrusting
And your cock’s feeling harder than ever!
Then I hear your voice crying! You whip out – cum’s flying
Slaps my cheek and chin, drips on my tits.
I can’t believe that you did that!
You just pulled out and jerked back!

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Computers Have An "Off" Button For A Reason

Some girls swallow...

“And some don’t.” I don’t think I’d ever seen Cassie look more flustered; we’d been sitting here for an hour, talking over everything that had happened with Brian, and still she was caught halfway between tears and temper, and the more I tried to reason with her, the more frustrated she became.

For the I-don-t-know-how-many times, I tried to reassure her. “He’s a guy. They like making lists. That’s why they’re so boring about baseball, they don’t talk about the game, they talk about the statistics. And that’s all this is.”

She looked at me as though I was simple or something, clenched her teeth and hissed through tight lips,












“Come. That’s not statistics, that’s a sickness.”

I couldn’t resist a smile. “What the swallowing? Or the list?”

“Either. Both. Yes, I’m sure some girls have done it with him, but I’m not one of them and I don’t really care for him comparing me with them.” She unfolded the offending piece of paper again, and stared at it. Reading it upside down, I silently smirked at how methodical it was. Twenty-one names, three columns. It’s amazing what you can do with a computer spreadsheet – and amazing how stupid a guy must be, to leave such a thing on the family machine, where anyone could… and did… stumble across it.

Kay. She Fucked, but neither Sucked nor Swallowed. Wendy did all three, Stephanie and Les did the first two, Heather went the whole hog once, Michelle was intercourse alone. And so on up to the present day, with 20 Fuckers, 17 Suckers, 1 who Sucked but didn’t Fuck – and just five who gulped it down enough to have their names highlighted in red. Cassie wasn’t one of them.

“And what is it with the highlighting?” Cassie obviously read my mind. “Is he going to be off hunting them down on Myspace next, to ask if they want to rekindle old glories?”

“I doubt that very much. How old is he now, 40-something? He’s probably just feeling old and going back over his memories… some people get out the photo album, some people take out old love letters. Brian takes out old sex partners. But it doesn’t mean any more or less.”

“Well, it does to me.” The temper was flaring again. “And I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I am going to pay him back for this. Somehow. Someday.”

“If you ask me, the best way you can get him back is to forget you ever saw it, then make sure that the next time he’s on the computer, he’s highlighting your name as well. It’ll take you ten minutes, but if this is anything to go by, he’ll still be thinking about it for the next 20-odd years.”

She looked at me curiously. “And how, exactly, does that pay him back?”

“It doesn’t. But it might remind him that his sex life hasn’t already peaked, and that the future can hold as many surprises as the past. Besides, if you really haven’t ever tried it…” (she pulled a face) … “you ought to just once. You never know, it might give you something else to look forward to, as well.”

Saturday, May 8, 2010

I woke up...

A posting on my friend Cockseed's site a coupe of days ago reminds me of something that happened a few years ago. I was visiting friends, an old college girlfriend and her husband; we'd had a late night drinking and laughing, and when they pointed me towards the room I'd be staying in, I could barely keep my eyes open.

I don't know how long I'd been asleep but I came awake very suddenly, to find...

I still don't know what I found. Luke, the husband, was in my room, but busying himself at a bookshelf; he turned when I sat up and apologized frantically for disturbing me - he was trying to find something by the light of the hallway, his watch I think it was, and he seemed genuinely horrified that he'd bothered me.

My mind believed him.

But my mouth wasn't so sure, because the only thing I'd have sworn to at that moment was, I was awoken by the taste. not even the force or the sensation, of cock on my lips, gently pushing them apart...

He was wearing shorts, and his back was to me. I couldn't see much for the shadows that he stood in, and he was only a minute or two more before apologizing again, saying goodnight and leaving. And, of course, nothing was said the following day.

But as I drifted back to sleep, I knew what I tasted and I knew that I wished I hadn't woken up for a few moments more. Because I'd love to know what he'd have done next....

Saturday, May 1, 2010

Hard Again

An ode to a certain guy’s powers of rejuvenation!

I can’t believe you’re hard again
Why can’t you be like other men?
And sleep the whole night through without a sigh?
I wonder if – and what? - you’re dreaming
You’re asleep, but something’s scheming
And it feels just like a rock against my thigh

I can’t believe you’re hard again
We’d fucked three times by half-past-ten
I really thought you’d be out for the night
But you’re burning hot and pushing at
The backdoor to my bushy twat
And I’m really far too tired to try to fight

I can’t believe you’re hard again
Trying to force my legs open
But baby, please, my pussy’s kinda sore
You fucked me like an express train
I don’t think I could cum again
But I really hate to leave you needing more

I reach down my hand, feel the heat of your glans
As it rises to nuzzle my fingers
I raise them to sniff and my heart gives a kick
Your pre-come is slick, your scent lingers
Now I’m scraping your balls with my fingernails, all
Of them tracing sweet lines in your flesh
Can I push back the covers without being discovered?
It’s time for a different caress

It’s dark but I know where I need to go
I’ve been here so often before
But each time feels like new, and I wonder if you
Know how much I enjoy what’s in store?
I don’t want to wake you; I kiss you then take you
Into my mouth just a bit
Then I start to suck while my tongue gently bucks
On your sensitive flesh of your dick

You give a soft murmur, you feel even firmer
I feel your pulse throb on my gums
Now you’re all the way back and my lips scrape your sack
And I can’t even wriggle my tongue
But I know it can’t last, your breathing gets fast-
er; I glance up as you open your eyes
You sit up to speak – and then hit your peak
And collapse back on the bed with a sigh

Your cock’s madly jerking – hey, keep still! I’m working!
For a second, it grows even harder
But there isn’t much spilling, cos your flesh may be willing
But we’ve already emptied the larder
I wipe at your glans with the back of my hand
Then lick up the droplets of goo
“Why didn’t you wait until I woke up?” you ask
“Hey, I didn’t start! It was you.”

I can’t believe you’re soft again
You can’t rely on any man
They shoot their load and then they fade away
You’re soft and sticky on my thigh
I watch the minutes crawling by
You’d better get it up again today