It’s pretty obvious that I am one naughty girl, with quite a bit of experience under her skirt. I’ve seen and done it all (well, most of it) and lived to tell my tawdry tales, here with you. My goal is to be as detailed as possible, not to leave out any tempting tidbits for you to savor. It goes along with being a bit of an exhibitionist, I want to share it all with you.
Being honest and transparent, there are things I do leave out. Most of what I omit is minor and would not affect the story in any way, shape, or form. To keep it concise, I leave out details that serve only to drag out the story line. Things I consider to be “fluff”. And well…some details…they are funny as hell! I’ve left most of these out of my raucous recollections, because I did not want to detract from the debauchery of my torrid tales. But there are some scenarios that are worth sharing. So I have decided (with some encouragement from my soul sister, Lennon Carlyle) to share the funny shit that’s happened along the way. For those following along at home, these undignified gems will now appear in a new category called, “Real” Sex.
Here goes…“Real” Sex-The Eyes Have It
There was the bodybuilder I met at the gym…Tony. The married one. We had a fling for almost a year. He would often ask me to wear something specific for the evenings we got together. It may be a short skirt. Or maybe thigh highs. Or maybe he would ask me to go commando. One particular evening he asked me to wear a short dress and heels. I complied. I wore a tight, form-fitting black sheath that proudly displayed my assets, with my highest black strappy stilettos. I’d just had my hair cut and it looked fabulous. My full, pouty lips were harlot red. But I couldn’t stop there. I decided to “vamp” it up a bit more by wearing some false eyelashes. These black beauties evolved my look from hot co-ed, to Sex Goddess. I was stunning in my ensemble (sans panties) and walked into his place like I owned the joint.
I could tell he was impressed. He looked me over and then…out of nowhere, he tied my hands behind my back with cable ties. He whispered in my ear, “I am going to fuck you till you can’t walk tomorrow, baby. You knew you were going to get it…coming over here, looking so damn sexy. I am going to give it all to you.” He lifted my dress, spread my legs open and began an evening of decadent pleasure. He had me bent over his leather couch, face down-ass up, as he took control of me and took me over and over. His endurance was unbelievable and the man just kept fucking me. No breaks to change position. No coming up for air. He ravaged me like the slut I was, without mercy. And I loved it. By the time he finally had an orgasm, the back of my dress was up around my shoulders, my hands (still behind my back) were almost numb, my legs were shaking and I was practically balancing on my head on his couch. My newly coiffed hair was a sweaty, sopping mess and it was stuck in long strands, to my face. But nevertheless, I was quite pleased with myself for taking such a pummeling, hands bound, in heels, without ever flinching.
He had been so into the moment that he didn’t realize that I was helplessly suspended like that on his couch. He quickly tended to me and cut the cable ties, freeing my wrists. He pulled me out of that awkward position (I had been unable to move because of how my arms were restrained) and flipped me over to face him. He pulled the hair from my face and then….
In a look of absolute shock and horror…he backed away, as if he was startled by something. I felt my face and realized that in the intensity of our fuck-fest, the eyelashes on my right eye had come off of my eyelid and found themselves stuck to my upper cheek…just under my eye.
I looked like Alex from “A Clockwork Orange”
I peeled them off of my cheek and we laughed our asses off. While we sat there, I went ahead and pulled the other one off because I could sense he was preparing for another round. And no sooner had I removed the lashes…that he removed my dress and it was on again….and again.
And here’s a detail worth sharing…he had me keep the heels on.
By the time I left his place, the once gorgeous Sex Goddess looked like a brunette Cyndi Lauper on crack…hair matted to one side…runny makeup…remnants of eyelash glue on her face. But that’s okay. It was a good night and.after all, as Cyndi says…
Girls Just Wanna Have Fun…
Oh yes, they do.