“Real” Sex

“Real” Sex-Burning Love

Fall 1992.

I lived in off-campus apartments with 3 other roommates.  There was the exhibitionist bartender, Mary.  She walked about the apartment naked.  She rarely ate and had a different man in her life every week.  There was Jen, originally from Minnesota-‘don’t cha know’ who kept to herself.  And there was Maura.  She was from Jersey with jet black dyed hair and the attitude to match it.  And there was me…the straight-A student with a naughty side that overshadowed anything they were capable of doing.

Late that summer a new student moved across the hall from us.  His name was Levi (pronounced Levee, NOT Lee-vI).  He had just moved to the states from the Bahamas.  His skin was the color of honey.  Hair a sun-kissed blond.  And his eyes were a translucent hazel.  He had a strong British accent, with a twang from the islands.  He came from old money and drove a brand new white Jaguar.  He caused quite a stir among the girls at the apartment complex.  Dashing good looks.  Cool name.  Great accent.  Beautiful car.  Everyone was after him.  But he was aloof.  He paid them little attention.

One day we showed up at the apartment laundry center at the same time.  We talked as we washed our clothes.  He was quite smart and charming  I could certainly see why everyone was taken with him.  I found myself attracted to him, but wondered if he was “bad” enough for me.  We didn’t speak again for several days, when he approached me in the parking lot.

“Doing any laundry tonight?” he asked.

“Not tonight.  Think I’ll do it tomorrow.” I replied.

He grinned.  “Good.  Then you’re free this evening?”

I felt a flutter in my belly.  Was this price charming asking me out?  I decided to play it cool.

“That depends.  If you’re asking me to do your laundry, then no.  I am not free…I am quite expensive.”  I smirked.

I could tell he was impressed with my witty response.  He said, “No.  I wasn’t thinking of doing laundry…”

I decided to play along…so I asked.  “What were you planning on doing then, Levi?”

He looked me dead in the eye and said, “I was hoping to do YOU.”

Talk about direct and to the point.  Out there in the parking lot, he basically asked to shag me.  I loved it.  I do love a man with large balls…the balls to say what’s on his dirty, twisted mind  Maybe this pretty boy was bad enough for me.

I felt myself blush.  I struggled for a biting response, but I was so shocked by his brazen proposal, that I had nothing.  And before I could respond.  He said, “So it’s on then.  I’ll see you at 8:00.  My place.  The roommates are gone tonight.  It’s just you and me.  Oh…and wear those lacy black panties you were folding at the laundry the other day.  I’ve been thinking about them since I saw them.”

Now I really had nothing.  How do you even respond to that?

I managed to mutter, “Okay.  See you then.”  And we both went on our way.  I closed the door behind me and sighed….did that just really happen?  What the hell do I wear (besides the black, slutty panties?) He made me nervous.  Very nervous.  I was accustomed to being the most experienced.  The most confident. And here he was…outranking me.

To help cope with the tinge of anxiety, my bartender roomie, Mary, decided I needed a drink…just to take the edge off.  She made me some concoction that loosened me up as I got ready for my rendezvous across the hall.  I wore a sheer black shirt and cut off denim shorts.  I know…not date worthy, but we were staying in.  The shorts made my legs look fabulous.  My hair was fierce and I felt sexy as I knocked on his door.

I simply was not prepared for what I saw when he answered.  He was shirtless.  I was speechless.  He complimented me on my ensemble as he ushered me into the apartment.

“Have a seat.  What do you want to drink?’ he asked.

I had already had more than my limit, but before I could stop myself, I said, “Surprise me, Levi.”

I heard the cork pop and realized he had opened a bottle of champagne.  Oh crap…champagne?  Really?  Champagne had a very sexual affect on me.  I knew I’d be bent over his couch after two sips.

He brought out some glasses and poured us both a glass.  He toasted, “to laundry”

I don’t remember how we transitioned into the fuck fest we had.  He was very knowledgeable and aggressive.  He flipped, spread and rammed me as he pleased.  After he came several times, he said, “I need to recharge.  Dance for me while I stroke my cock.”

How sexy.  This man had some serious chops.  I loved the opportunity to dance for him.  We found some music on the stereo and he lit a couple of large pillar candles on the table.  He then gave me some instructions.

“The candlelight is so sexy.  I want you to take your time.  I want to see every inch of your body.  Spread those legs and let me see that glorious pussy that I am going to keep fucking.  Don’t stop dancing till I tell you.”

I was still a bit tipsy, as we finished off the bottle of champagne.  I started my “routine” on the floor.  Carefully choosing my moves.  I crawled to his feet, flipped to my back and opened my thighs for him to see.  I lifted my ass off the carpet and did a sexy grind for him as I touched my clit.  He loved it. I loved watching him watch me, while he stroked his hardening cock.

I rolled back over on all fours and crawled closer to him, allowing my breasts to spill onto his lap, grazing his cock.  He loved it.  Now the challenge was to get back on my feet, gracefully.  So I dipped down to shift my balance before standing and threw my ass in the air to keep it sexy.

Little did I know, the candle was close to the edge of the table.  My sexy sashay caused the flame from the candle to come in direct contact with my right ass cheek.

I was burned.  The flame scorched my exposed ass.  I was too shocked to mutter a sound.  I couldn’t believe it was happening.  But then the pain was too much.  I cried out.

He realized what had happened and immediately took me into the bathroom for a closer look.  It was a significant burn.  He made a decision.

“Get some clothes on.  I am driving you to the ER.  NOW.”

I quickly dressed, placing a homemade bandage on my burn, and got into his car.  He took me into the ER, helped me check in and left soon after they got me into a room.  He had class very early the next morning.

Can you even imagine my embarrassment?  How do you explain such things to an ER nurse?  There were questions like, “can you tell me what you were doing when it happened…followed by, did your clothes burn into your skin…followed by…so there were NO clothes that burned to your skin?  I finally just looked at the young RN and said, “look…I was doing a dance for my date and got too close to the candle.  I had been drinking champagne and my judgement was off.”  She smiled and said, “we see all kinds of things in here.  No worries…we will get you patched up.”  I managed to get some treatment and went home around 4:00 that morning.  Maura picked me up, in her bathrobe…with a towel on her head.  Seriously…no shame in her game.  Levi came over to check on me that morning before his 7:10 class.

“How are you, Joan of Arc?”  I was groggy from the champagne and pain medicine.  And I am sure I looked horrible.  But I managed to pull myself together.

“I’m okay.  Just sore.”

“I bet you are.  That was a nasty burn.  I am so sorry that happened to you.”  he said.  “Next time, we will make sure the candles are up a bit higher, because I want to see the rest of that dance.”  And he kissed me on the forehead and ventured on to class.

I was out of commission for a few days.  I made up a story about a more appropriate injury for my friends and family.  Only Maura and Levi knew the truth.  He moved to a house later that month.  Seems his parents bought him a nice 4-bedroom next to campus.  And I didn’t see him at school often.  He was more focused on living the dream, than attending class.  I heard he moved back to the islands sometime in 1993.

So, that was my stint with prince charming.  All in all it was a fun time.

I still have a small scar on my ass cheek.  It was always a topic of conversation with subsequent suitors.  I usually told them It was an injury from my childhood caused by getting too close to a space heater.  I did tell a few of them the truth…which was typically followed by, “i want a dance, too. ”

And I always obliged their request.

But with NO candles.


“Real” Sex-The Eyes Have It

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.

heels in bed

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.