V and I

With V, it was immediately sexual. I like when men are like that. When they make it completely obvious that they want to fuck you. Some project maniacally, some get drunk and fall all over you and some will give you 'the fuck look'. But V had his own way. He would insinuate it and then hold your gaze till your legs felt like jelly.

We were on a project together. It was our second day on the job. The cabin we ended up having to share was a large one with one two large desks on opposite ends of the room. Somewhere in the center of the room was a low window which I opened whenever I wanted to smoke. Now the window was so low that if i wanted to rest my elbows on the sill (which I always want to), it meant my back arched and my ass would tantalizingly stick out in the room inside. Of course, I didn't realise that until V brought it to my attention. V was at his desk, typing out a rather deary letter that I had just finished giving him pointers for. As I smoked I heard his voice.

"I wouldnt do that if I were you"

I looked at him wondering what he meant. His eyes were fixed on mine. He never looked elsewhere.

"Have you heard the drunk party story?" he asked

I looked at him completely lost.

"A woman was leaning over the balcony at this party where everyone was really drunk. They were so drunk that they all started to get pretty naughty. Suddenly a man came behind this woman, lifted her skirt and fucked her there and then. Unfortunately, when the woman came, she came so hard, that she lost balance and fell to her death 13 floors below" he narrated completely staightfaced, while I regained composure and said slowly " Umm why are you telling me this?"

"I'm telling you this" V said getting up and walking stately over to me, until he was practically breathing on my face "because I want you to be very aware of when I take you one of these days, so that you dont fall over... I wouldnt like that" he said, his eyes smiling as he lightly kissed my cheek.

Know your Bug better

As a sex blogger (something I’ve apparently declared for myself on the second post!), I’m attempting to be truthful. To write about my true feelings towards sex and men and women as unabashedly as is possible.

I find it important to say though that I am not constantly sexually active. I am single and I live in India. Nouveau India if you must. I work, I party, I socialize and think about sex every four seconds. (that’s Cosmo’s new stat by the by). I crave and ache, sometimes for sex, sometimes simply for intimacy. Sometimes I get it. Sometimes I don’t.

This blog was a long time coming (sorry couldnt resist this pun, but promise no more!), being a first time blogger, it took months of deliberation, but has happened quite simply in the span of about ten minutes, new fake id and all.

Rather like sex itself you’ll see. The anticipation that makes you excitedly nervous, but once you’re in it, it feels like the most natural progression in the world…

Unhand that cock now ye wench!

When your single and sexually active and in a city that is mildly promiscuous (if there ever was an oxymoron, then this is it, this is it, this is it), your bound to have seen as many shapes and sizes of cocks that would sum up a generic sample. Long, short, stubby, always flaccid, always hard, semi soft, semi hard.

Along the way, you also spend much time thinking about the size of men’s cocks in a very mathematical sort of way. You can make out by the man’s build, weight and unfailingly – size of his palms and thickness of his fingers, how big or small or thin or thick his cock might be. And we women are never off the mark. Unless he is huge of course. Huge cocks are always a surprise and can belong to any sized man. That’s the funny thing. Its like god pulled out a few hundred names from the great big cock lottery and randomly named them as ‘those that shall always be served or ‘serviced’ rather’.

I remember S’s cock so well. Mostly because we simply never found a place to fuck, so inevitably, the car, or the crowded parking lot, or below his desk during lunchtime found me with his cock deep in my mouth, licking, kissing, sucking wildly, gagging, but never stopping. I could never get enough of him. S may have been just about an inch or two taller than me, which meant he was a really short man, but his cock made up for everything twice over. It was faultless. 9 ½ inches of pristine tumescence, pink, circumcised, perfect.

S was always apologetic everytime I gave him head, because he thought I wasn’t getting off. He never understood when I told him that I loved his cock so much, that sucking it was more fulfilling than actual sex. Or maybe it was that S was such a great recipient. Saying just the right things, stroking my head lovingly instead of holding it like a pneumatic drill like most other men and moaning so achingly it made me drip onto my thighs. He was the first time I’d ever heard a man come, actually listened to it. The soft guttural cry as he shuddered and exploded into my mouth. I swallowed it whole.