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…
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Monday, November 10, 2008
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.
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.
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