bad girls

Sand and Surf (Part 1)

Summer 1988

Daytona Beach, Florida.  Summer had just begun and I found myself on vacation with my best friend, Wendy and her family. Her mother had just remarried and the only way she could really go on a “honeymoon” was to take the kids along. So there we were: her mom, new stepdad, little sister, older sister, Wendy and me, all crammed into their new minivan (which looked like a lunchbox on wheels). We ventured down from Georgia to the Florida coast in record time.

Once there, her mother “excused” us to go see the sights.  She also excused her sisters to grab some food. I think she wanted some alone time with her new hubby. Wendy and I put on our bikinis and raced down to the ocean to check out the scene. There were people everywhere. We grabbed some chairs and secured a spot in the sand while we took it all in.

Although it was late in the afternoon, we managed to get a head start on our tans. Please note, Southern girls, (especially back then) were all about their tans. It was a sign of status. It was something you “worked” on. It was something to be achieved. And we were well on our way. In fact, I got a bit too much sun and my shoulders were pink. We headed back to the room to get showered and changed for dinner.

Her family was so different from mine. With my folks, we always had a big production over dinner. Where we were going…how far away it was…who was driving…when we were leaving…and it went on and on. With her family, her stepdad gave us each $20 and told us to grab whatever we wanted.

And we were off again.

This may sound cheesy, no…not “may” sound, it will sound cheesy, but stay with me. Wendy and I looked so much alike that people regularly mistook us for twins. So we often dressed alike, which always drew second glances…exactly what we wanted.  We were almost identical except she was slightly taller and her eyes were a true blue. But I had the C-cups and fuller lips. Dressed in red tanks and white shorts, we hit the strip in search of some fun.

We were approached by so many different guys. Some of them our age, some of them older, some of them MUCH older. They flocked around us. I think most men have some type of deep-seeded twin fantasy. And we loved the adoration. 

There was a pair of young men that seemed to hold our attention longer than the others. They were dental students on vacation from somewhere up north. Aaron was very blonde, with an angular face and dark eyes. He was quiet and pensive. He reminded me of Sting. I could tell there was a darkness underneath his introverted surface, so I gravitated more towards him. His friend’s name was Jeremy. He was muscular, loud and raucous, just how Wendy liked her men. 

We grabbed some food at a local diner and then set out for a nightly stroll on the beach. Wendy and Jeremy walked ahead of us. They were drinking beer and laughing. They chased each other in the water and played around like kids. It was their version of foreplay. Aaron and I hung back a bit. We were in the middle of a long chat about physics (no lie). I was turned on by his intellect. I enjoyed his awkwardness. I knew he had potential to be a lot of fun. The ones who are wound the tightest, usually are. We decided to sit down on an abandoned blanket on the beach and continue our conversation.

“Wendy and Jeremy seem to be having a lot of fun,” he said, motioning over to where they were. Wendy was on Jeremy’s shoulders while he ran into the waves.  He would pretend to throw her into the water and she would squeal for him to stop. They were having a ball. “Are you sure you want to hang out with me? I know I am bit boring compared to him.”

I smiled at him, “No. I am right where I want to be, Aaron. I enjoy these deep conversations.”

He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. I laid back on the blanket and looked up at the sky. It was truly magical to see the stars like that. I was trying to decipher the constellations, when I felt his mouth on mine.

His kiss was choppy and nervous. He seemed unsure of himself, which made him even more awkward. I reached up and touched his cheek, pushing the hair away from his eyes. He stopped and looked at me. Stared at me, like he’d never felt that type of touch. Then he leaned in to kiss me again, but this time, it was good.

Soon he was on top of me. Right there…on the beach, just like in “From Here to Eternity” but we were far away from the water’s edge.  In fact, we moved back a bit, behind a dune for privacy.  We undressed each other without hesitation, with no worry about our location.  It was pure passion. The kind you have with someone you’ve just met, that you know you’ll never see again. It’s liberating.

I felt him enter me. I could tell he was not as experienced as me, but that was okay. I was accustomed to being the teacher. I guided the rhythm and pushed my hips to meet his. It was so incredibly hot, being out there on the beach and the risk of being caught fueled my fire. I pulled him into my body and flipped positions on him. Being on top gave me even more control. He loved it. He’d never had a woman on top before. He was enamored with my soft, full breasts and teased them relentlessly. He came within minutes of me mounting him. His loud growl could be heard halfway down the shore.

We got ourselves dressed and caught up with Wendy and Jeremy. Both of them were drunk, soaked from the ocean and spent from their little tryst on an empty lounge chair. Aaron and Jeremy walked us back to our hotel and bid us goodnight. It was 3:00 in the morning. Wendy’s parents were sound asleep. We managed to slip into bed unnoticed.

That morning, her mother woke us up early for breakfast. I rolled out of bed, sore and tired. I shuffled to the bathroom and felt like I was on FIRE.  No, not from a sunburn. That would have been far less painful. Sand had migrated into my nether regions during my little jaunt on the beach. Yikes! But that’s what you get when you play in the sandbox, right? 

All of that on the first night of the vacation. There were six more days to stir up trouble…and we made sure we did. beach blanket-1

(Photo credit: Pinterest)  

On the Job Training

He was in his mid twenties.  Fresh out of college and ready to save the world.  He’d just finished his Masters degree in Social Work and he was on a mission. We already had a full time social worker, so he settled for a job in activities…just to get his foot in the door in healthcare.  His name was Mike.

Initially, I wasn’t attracted to him at all.  Keep in mind, Greg and I were still seeing each other on occasion, and I had no intentions of juggling more than what I already had…the one at home and the one at work. But Mike was such a nice guy…clean cut…well-dressed…punctual…polite.  He was great with the patients, although he was lacking in variety.  They did the same activities over and over.  Other than the repetition, he was doing a good job.

One evening, I was working late trying to catch up with my documentation.  He happened to be there also.  We spoke in the hall and I noticed him walking by my office a few times. I could tell he wanted to say something, but didn’t.  The next time I saw him walk by, I looked up and said, “Hey Mike!  How late are you working tonight?”

He seemed relieved that I’d spoken first.  He walked in my office, almost nervous, and said,”I don’t know.  I am waiting on my roommate to pick me up and he’s late.  I can’t get him on the phone. So I may be stuck here for a long time.”

I sincerely felt bad for him.  He was from another state, so he had no family here.  All he had were his co-workers and roommates.  I’d heard him say the he was saving up to get a new car, as his was beyond repair.  I thought…why not?  “Mike, let me give you a ride home tonight.  There’s no need for you to wait around all night.  I will be ready in about 15 minutes.  Does that work for you?”

He perked up, “Yes Ma’am.  That’s great!  Thank you!”

I was a little perplexed that he’d referred to me as “ma’am” but I was older than him, so I let it go without much thought.  When it was time to leave, he met my outside by my SUV.  He stood at the driver’s side and opened my door for me, which was a surprising nice touch.  As I drove him home, he asked if we could stop by a gas station.  I thought he needed something, but instead he walked inside and paid for gas for me.  I thought…WOW…this kid was raised right!

We pulled up to his place around 8:00.  He thanked me for the ride and walked inside.  When I arrived at work the next day, there was a cup of coffee on my desk, with a note, “Thanks for the ride, Ms. Tessa.  Enjoy your coffee”  What a sweetheart!  Then Greg walked into my office and said, “where did you get coffee?”

I smiled and said, “Mike got it for me. I gave him a ride home last night.”

I could tell he was not pleased. He smirked, “Yeah, he’s had eyes for you since he got here. Watch those young ones.  They are trouble.” And with that he walked out, heading to the morning meeting.  Whoa…I had no idea he was the jealous type.  I kind of liked it.

I arrived at the morning meeting a bit late (as always) and there were no other chairs  left for me to sit down. Dammit! It’s no fun standing in there for 30 minutes, trying to balance coffee and a notepad.  But before I could blink, Mike got up from his seat and motioned for me to take his seat.  I was reluctant at first, but I gave in.  My stilettos were high and my motivation was low…so it was a welcomed seat.  I could feel Greg’s eyes watching and I knew he was not happy.  But he liked standing up, so he didn’t have a seat to offer me.

After the meeting, I walked into my office and began my day.  It was super busy and before I knew it, it was lunchtime. I went to the break room to retrieve my lunch and Mike was in there, eating his sandwich.  I planned to eat in my office, but he pulled out a chair beside him and I felt obligated to join him  “How has your day been, Ms. Tessa?” he asked.

“It’s been busy, so your coffee hit the spot this morning.  Thank you. That was sweet of you.”  I caught him blushing as he said, “You’re welcome, Ms. Tessa”

I had to say it…”You do realize that I am only about five years older than you, don’t you?  You don’t have to call me Ms. or ma’am.  It’s sweet, but not necessary.”

He blushed again…poor thing. “I’m sorry.  I just wanted you to know how much I respect you.”

And then I saw it…what Greg was referring to…the boy had a crush on me.  Bless his heart.  “Mike, you are such a kind soul.  I appreciate your intention.  By the way, how’s the car search going?”

“It’s going.  Only have to save another few paychecks to put the money down I need.” And I made an executive decision.  This young man was trying so hard…trying to make it on his own, that I needed to help him.

“Let me know if you ever need a ride.  I am glad to do what I can to help you.” and with that, I walked out.

A few days later, Mike stopped by my office.  “Is there any way you could give me a ride today?”  I was happy to help him.  When 5:00 arrived, he was at my office, ready to go.  I was bringing home a stack of files and before I could pick them up, he had them. It felt like he was carrying my books after school.  We got to the car and once again, he opened my door.  I took him home a few times over the next few weeks.

This infuriated Greg.  We were growing apart before all of this, but his attitude towards Mike pushed me further away.  We’d been seeing each other for over a year and we were approaching an impasse. We’d gone as far as we could go in our situation, and it was time to slowly back away.  So we decided to be friends…without benefits.

And Mike and I became closer.  He was such a sweet and charming young man, that the thought of crossing the line, never crossed my mind. But one day, as I drove him home he put his hand on mine as we approached his apartment.

“Tessa, I really like you in a way that I probably shouldn’t.  And if you are not interested, I will never mention it again. But if you are, I’d love for you to come inside and let me show you how much I care for you.”

Speechless, I didn’t know what to say.  I didn’t know what to do. I knew I would blow his young mind and then I’d have a ‘stage 5 clinger’ on my hands. But I was intrigued.  It took serious balls to say what he did and it made me wonder if he didn’t have some swagger hidden underneath that college boy demeanor.

So I threw the car in park and leaned over to kiss him. That would tell me what I needed to know. And it left me breathless, wanting more.  He walked over to my side of the car, opened the door, took my hand and led me into his apartment.  His roommate was working 2nd shift, so we were alone.

Clothes began coming off in the doorway. He was a passionate kisser and seemed very experienced at removing a bra…Hmmm, maybe he has some chops.  Then he backed me up to the kitchen counter and pulled my panties down.  He knelt in front of me, lifting me by the legs with his shoulders, propping me up on the counter.  He spread me open and tasted my wetness as if I were a delicacy.  His tongue was long and adept and he knew how to drive me to the edge.  He made me cum right there in his kitchen.

He walked me to his room, laying me down on his bed.  “I cannot wait to feel inside you.  I have wanted you from the time we met.”  He positioned himself on top of me, opening my legs with his hips.  Looking into my eyes he pushed himself inside.  He let out a long moan. Grasping my hips he pushed deeper, making me scream. We developed a hypnotic rhythm as our bodies fused together.  He took my hands in his and we stared in each others eyes as we climaxed.  It was intensely hot and I wanted more.

For weeks we carried on like that.  After work.  Before work.  At lunch.  The sex was hot and exciting.  In his youthful form, he was able to rebound in a matter of minutes.  So we fucked.  A lot.  We became consumed by our addiction to each other.  On the flip side, I was becoming more and more successful at work.  My new little tryst proved to be energizing for me.  I was number one in the company for three months in a row.  I attribute it to being happy and sated.  Even Greg noticed a change in me…but thankfully, he never figured out that Mike was the cause of it.  I was flourishing!  I made sure all of my work was done in a timely manner, so I could leave at 4:30 and have time to get my brains fucked out before going home.  

Mike didn’t fare so well. He was stuck in a perpetual love hangover.  He fell head over heels in love with me and didn’t focus on his work.  I tried to help him in any way I could. I even stopped seeing him for a while trying to rid him of the distraction, but he was too far gone.  The poor guy was lovesick.  Literally.  He gave up on his job and became obsessed with us.  I told him the rules from the beginning, no falling in love…but he allowed himself to fall hard.

Soon after, I was promoted to a regional position that required I travel all the time.  I later found out that Mike was let go. He wasn’t showing up for work. He was missing activities. He was a total mess.  He is the reason for the old adage…“don’t put your meat where you make your bread.” Some people cannot handle it.

About 7 years ago, I saw him at a workshop.  He landed a great job in social services, helping foster children…perfect for what he wanted.  He was engaged to one of his co-workers (imagine that) and he looked happy.  I was genuinely tickled to see him.  We hugged and reminisced for a few, and then went our separate ways.  I keep up with how he’s doing through a mutual friend, but we’ve not talked since.  I am glad he is doing well.

Looks like all that on-the-job-training served him well.  Bless his heart!   

hungry

(Photo credit, Pinterest)

 

 

Is It a Crime?

The year was 1986.

I was quite the social butterfly that summer.  I’d made many new friends in my neighborhood and we were always sleeping over at each other’s houses.  I had finally started to like the area, when I found out we were moving from upstate South Carolina, back to Georgia.  Needless to say, I was not happy.  But there was nothing I could do about it, so I partied like it was 1999, in 1986.  I knew my time was limited, so I threw caution to the wind (not that I ever held it in my hand) and made the most of every single minute there!

As I’ve shared, there were many young men in my “harem” at that time…the good boys, the bad boys…the preppy boys….the ones too old for me…the pretty boys, and of course, the preacher’s son.  I felt it was high time for me to try my hand at the dangerous boys.  I knew exactly who I wanted, but had no clue as to how or when I could make it happen.

His name was Anastasios.  His parents owned the only Greek restaurant in town.  Tasso (as he preferred to be called) was about 19 years old and worked in his parent’s restaurant, among other things.  I say this because he owned a brand new top of the line black Mercedes Benz.  You don’t make that kind of cash, working as a waiter. His parents drove a beat up station wagon.  No, there was more to his story that meets the eye.  I suspected he was selling drugs, but could never confirm it.  The cloud of suspicion was just enough to wet my whistle and I wanted this Hellenic bad boy.

I talked one of my new friends into having lunch with me at the restaurant. She hated Greek food, but tagged along to help me with my plan.  He was not our waiter, but I got his attention with one of my sultry looks from across the room.  He grinned and took our table from his sister who was waiting on us.  We’d not placed our food order when he sauntered over to our table.

“Hello, I’m Tasso.  What you two girls hungry for?” he said, with a mischievous grin.

That was all the encouragement I needed…I replied with, “I am hungry.  Very hungry.  Just don’t know what it is that I have a taste for” and I licked my lips.

He retorted, “Oh, I think you do.  I think you know exactly what you want” and he stared me in the eyes.  It scared the shit out of me.  I was accustomed to being the aggressor.  Maybe I was biting off more that I could swallow, before I tasted my first bite.

I stuttered my order of souvlaki and spanakopita and shyly looked down at my hands.  His directness was sexy and scary at the same time.  He knelt down to meet my gaze.  “What else can I get for you, Tessa?”

He knows my name?  How does he know my name?  I was flustered, but regained my composure, as I perceived his knowledge of who I was…as a victory in this tête–à–tête we were having.

I looked into his obsidian eyes, smiled and said, “I think you know, Tasso”

My poor friend.  She was just there as my wingman, and she was in the middle of all of this. But she took it like a champ and choked down her feta like a good friend would.  The food came out and as I was eating, Tasso handed me a note.

“I want to see you.  Meet me tonight.  I can have my driver pick you up.”

His driver?  WHAT?  Why would a 19 year old waiter have a driver for his brand new Mercedes?  The intrigue was building with each exchange.

I wrote him back with two words, “When? Where?”

He knelt down beside me and said, “We will come get you at your house.  Where do you live?”

I giggled.  Like my parents were going to let their young teenage daughter ride off into the sunset with Zorba and his driver.  “I will have to meet you somewhere besides my house.  Strict parents, you know.”

He nodded.  And then he whispered in my ear.  “You probably need to let loose, if you’ve got strict parents, huh?  I know just what you need.”

We made arrangements for him to pick me up at 9:30 at my friend Erica’s house.  She lived several houses down and I wouldn’t be seen by my parents, or curious neighbors.  I made up a story about a slumber party, packed a bag and headed to Erica’s.  I called my mom when I got there and told her I would walk home in the morning.  She didn’t suspect a thing.  Erica’s parents were potheads, so they had no clue who was at the house, who left the house or who came into the house.  They were usually stoned.

9:30 arrived and I saw the headlights pull into the driveway.  An older Greek man stepped out of the driver’s seat and opened the door to the backseat, as if he were a limo driver.  He said nothing, just nodded to me.  I got in the back, sitting next to Tasso, who looked delicious.  He had on a white jacket, linen pants and a pale blue shirt.  Very Miami Vice (which was popular).Very sexy.

He held my hand as the driver took us to the destination.  I had no idea where we were going and that was exciting.  The whole thing was exciting.  Tasso was quiet, but said something in Greek to the driver.  He put on some music and Tasso leaned over and smelled my hair. “You smell good”

“Thank you, so do you.” I said

“What is Tasso going to do with such a sweet young lady?” he said to himself.  His thick Greek accent was oozing with sex and I was ready to see what happened next.  The driver turned onto a road with a boat dock.  Parked the car in a secluded area and stepped out, facing away from the car.

“It’s just us now.  Tell me what you’re hungry for.”and he leaned over and kissed me.  “Tasso wants you.  He wants to show how hungry he is for you.”

Af first, I was put off with how he referred to himself in third person, but it was his language barrier.  It made him different.  Added to the intrigue.

He kissed me like no one else has, before or after him. He was so passionate, so in the moment.  Before I knew it my clothes were in the front seat and he was still fully dressed. He picked up my hips, pulled my thighs apart, tasting me at first, then devouring me.  He was relentless in his quest. He held me there for such a long time, that I was drenched in sweat and delirious from the pleasure.  I was experienced in sex, but had never had ANYONE pleasure me like that. He would come up from his meal to ask me if I wanted more.  I didn’t know how to respond.  I wanted more, but could I take more?

I managed to mutter, “Yes” and he kept on.  He treated me as if I were a 7 course meal.  I was thirsty and spent and we’d not even had sex yet.  He tapped on the steamed window..His driver came to the door and Tasso said something in Greek.  The driver opened the trunk and handed Tasso a glass bottle.

“This is a Greek drink.  You will like it.” he handed it to me after he sipped it.  It tasted like licorice and I did like it.  In fact, I drank too much too fast and felt like I was floating. I faded in and out for a few minutes as Tasso carried on with his dinner.  I came back down to reality and noticed that he was completely undressed.  He took my hand and guided it to his hard cock, showing me how he wanted me to stroke it.  I did exactly as he showed me and then I took him in my mouth.  I was so uninhibited by the drink (I later found out was called ouzo)  that I took him deep.  I returned the favor in a big way.

He was so aroused by my performance that he could no longer hold back.  He turned me to face the side window and fucked me like a god. He flipped me on my back and devoured me again before he continued fucking me some more.  All the while, he said dirty things.  He described how I felt to him, growling as he plunged into my sex.  He talked about how I tasted and how he wanted more of me..how he wanted me to pass out from the pleasure he gave me….how he wanted my lips on his wet cock before he finished fucking me…I had never been talked to like that before and I loved it.  He was indeed that bad boy I craved.

We stayed in that spot for another couple of hours, while his driver waited outside. He had retrieved a chair from the trunk and sat a few feet from the front of the car.  His presence no longer bothered me.  We had the windows down and I didn’t care if anyone heard me moan or scream or beg for more.  It was too good for me to stop.

That was the only time we were together.  After our marathon of an evening, his driver took us to the restaurant.  It was dark and empty.  Tasso fixed us a snack and playing over the speakers was “An Evening with Sade”.  The radio station would play an entire album late at night and call it “An Evening with….” That was the first time I heard, “Is it Crime” and I smiled to myself…knowing what we’d done bordered on criminal…knowing whatever he did to afford his luxury lifestyle was criminal…knowing that my web of lies to get out for the evening was criminal.  I was such a bad girl.

I got back to Erica’s house around 4:00 am.  I was exhausted and sore.  The next day I awoke to find bite marks all over my body.  We had feasted on each other and left evidence to prove it. I didn’t care.  I would find a way to cover my tracks.  I always did.

A few years ago, while working for hospice, I had the opportunity to pass through my old town in the upstate. His family’s Greek restaurant had been replaced by some franchised chain.  There was no trace of Tasso.  And even though it was one night, I will never forget my evening with him.

tasso

 (Photo credit, Pinterest)

Wonderland

elevator

My descent into the downward spiral of the rabbit hole was exhilarating.  I peeled off the mask I’d been wearing for seven years, finally recognizing my reflection in the looking glass.  It was me.  I had returned.  The darkness around me was a familiar place of refuge and I felt alive.

Greg continued his massage of my shoulders, slowly easing his hands towards my soft breasts.  He was gentle in his touch and I longed to kiss him again  Time was passing quickly and we couldn’t stay behind closed doors alone for much longer.  Someone was bound to notice and there would be talk.

Greg turned me around to face him.  “We should continue this later.  We don’t want to create any suspicion around here.”

I nodded in agreement.  He quietly unlocked the door and placed a chair under the vent he’d inspected.  “When you open the door, I will be on the chair pretending to diagnose your issue with the vent.  That should ward off any talk.”

He stood on the chair and as I moved towards the door. I noticed the bulge of his crisp khaki pants.  I paused as I walked by him, taking a moment to look up in his eyes seductively.  I casually opened the door and slid out of the office unnoticed by anyone.  He pretended to work with the vent for a few more minutes before leaving.

When I returned to my office, there was a note in my desk:

You name the time, and I will make time. Come see me in my office before you leave.  

Hmmm…Instructions.  I liked the tone of this note.  Around 4:50, I visited his office.  He was busy working on several projects, but welcomed me in.

“What are your plans for Friday night?’ he asked.

“I don’t really have any.  He is working nights and my son is staying over at a friend’s house.”

“Okay.  Could you stay out for a few hours?” he asked.

My face felt flushed.  It just dawned on me that I was about to dive in this pool.  I was about to plan this tryst with him.  I felt nervous at the thought of being intimate with someone new.  I’d brainwashed myself into monogamy and I began feel a slight moral dilemma.

“Is this too much, too soon Tess?” he asked.  I guess he could read my face.  He could see that I was struggling with making definite plans.

“No, it’s not.  I want this.  It’s not too soon…in fact it’s a bit late.  And yes, I can safely stay out until midnight”

He pondered his next comment.  “I am thinking we should meet at the Sheraton around 8:00.  I will get the room.  Just promise me this, if you change your mind, you will tell me and I will promise to do the same for you.”

I nodded in approval, “I don’t think I will back out, Greg. I don’t think Friday can get here fast enough for me.”

He grinned.  My LAWD the man was sexy.  It was only Tuesday.  How could I hold out until Friday?

The week moved on at its normal pace.  I was super-busy and so was he.  We would exchange niceties in the halls and spoke in morning meeting.  We both understood that we needed to WAIT for Friday.  We understood the intense heat between us and knew if we found ourselves alone for any amount of time that we would go too far.  That couldn’t happen at work.

Friday arrived and I felt like backing out.  I didn’t have a change of heart, but I was nervous about our encounter.  I somehow pushed through the day.  When the evening arrived, I took my time getting ready.  My son was with friends.  My husband at work.  And I had the house to myself.  I took a long, hot shower.  I made sure my skin was perfectly smooth.  I prepared myself as if I were going out on a first date.

I had just received a cell phone for work a few days prior.  Greg already had one and that’s how we communicated.  He called me around 7:30 to give me the room number.My heart jumped when the phone rang.  I knew it was him calling with the location.  His voice was deep and sexy, “Hello, Tess.  I am here.  The room is perfect, come on when you’re ready.  It’s room 719”

I did some last minute preparations and headed out. It took about 10 minutes to get to the hotel.  I arrived and the door to the room was ajar.  I knocked lightly as I opened it.  The lights were out and there were candles lit.  I looked down and noticed a trail of clothes on the floor.  Shoes. Socks. Pants. Shirt.  I followed the trail and saw him standing at the end.  He had on nothing but black boxers and that devilish smile.

I walked towards him and he pulled me close.  My face rested on his warm, toned chest.  He smelled divine. His skin was smooth and I rested my head on his heart as he stroked my hair. He pulled my face to face his.  His eyes smiled as he looked into mine. He planted a kiss on me that made me swoon.  I literally felt weak in the knees.

He pulled me close again, as he began removing my clothes.  Piece by piece.  He turned me around, with my back to him, as he unzipped my little black dress.  He carefully slid it over my head, leaving me there in my (matching) ivory and black lace bra and panties. He ran his hands over my back and carefully unfastened my bra.  He slowly pulled it away from my body as my breasts spilled out. He turned me to face him again as he looked at my body.  He kissed me as he guided me towards the crisp white bed.

“Lay down and get comfortable.” he instructed.  He sat next to me and massaged my body, circling my breasts, softly rubbing my legs, tickling my abdomen as he stroked it like a feather.  He kissed me as he touched the place between my legs.  I was still wearing my panties and he teased me by tracing the edges of the elastic with his fingertips.  I wanted him to rip them off and fuck me sore.  I wanted him to unleash what I’d held onto for seven years.  I wanted him badly.

He stood up and pulled my panties off.  They were moist from my arousal.  He dropped to his knees and buried his face in my thighs, exploring my slit with his tongue.  I whimpered and moaned in delight.  He slid a finger into my slippery place as he probed for the sweet spot.  Once he found it, I came immediately.  He stood up and I sat up, dropping to my knees on the floor, taking in all of his length in one movement.  He almost lost his balance as he felt for the bed under him.

I worshipped his ample cock.  I licked the shaft slowly, deliberately circling the head with my tongue before taking it deep.  I sucked softly and then aggressively, like the greedy slut I was.  I teased him by only taking in the tip and then taking it as far as it would go down my throat.  I don’t think he’d ever received anything like that.  He was so hard.  As much as I wanted to swallow his load, I also wanted to feel him deep within me.

I stood up and he pulled me on top of him.  His cock was slick with my saliva and it easily slid inside me.  I moved my body down onto his, feeling how he filled me.  I started to grind and buck, taking his cock deeper with each stroke.  I found myself going faster and faster, overcome with pleasure as we headed to orgasm.  We came together and I fell onto the bed beside him.  We both just lay there…in awe of what had just transpired.

“You okay, Tess?” he asked.  He was slightly out of breath.  I replied, “I am better than I have been in forever.”

He pulled me onto his chest and brushed the hair out of my face.  Looking at me, he said, “That was amazing.  I want more of you.  I want to have you as many times as I can tonight, you feel so good.”  I was speechless, as I was still recovering from the high.  But I found myself morphing back into the naughty girl from years past.

We took a candlelit bubble bath together and fucked again.  He took me from behind that time.  He filled every space inside me.  As he was about to unload, he pulled my shoulders back to edge in as far as he could.  He let out a primal growl as he filled me.  I loved it.  I wanted him rough.  I wanted him to use my body for his pleasure.  I wanted to give him something he didn’t get at home.  I wanted to be slut he needed me to be.

We carried on throughout the night.  Around midnight, we both got ready to leave.  He helped me put on my dress, but refused to let me put on my panties.  He said I should keep them off, as he found it sexy.  I was happy to oblige.  He walked me to the elevator and pushed the button for the penthouse.  I was confused.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Just taking a ride, that’s all.  Gives us a few more minutes together” And with that comment, he walked over to me, slipped his hand up my dress.  Pushing two fingers in my hole, he fingered me on the elevator for a couple of floors.  He slipped them out and put them in my mouth, running them around my lips.  I could taste my sex and his seed.  He then pinned me to the wall and kissed me.  “Now we have tasted each other together.  Until next time, baby.”  He kissed my cheek and walked off the elevator as it we had just reached the ground floor.  He walked to the left.  I walked out to the right.

And as I made my way to the car I thought about the evening and once again, I felt weak in the knees...

 

(photo credits, Pinterest)

The 22 Year Old Virgin

tangled

Twenty-two.  Not 40.  But had I not intervened, he may have waited until he was forty.  I did my duty and rescued him from such a fate.

It was unseasonably cold that winter.  We’d actually had a smattering of snow, which is unusual in the deep South.  The roads were icy and I was sequestered at home…with my parents.  So the weekend after the winter storm, I was more than ready to get out and heat things up a bit.  My cousin invited me to visit him for a decadent weekend.  He was in his junior year of college at the University of South Carolina and there was always a party going on.  He had a wide variety of friends.  Men/women, gay/straight/bi, wild as hell and super nerdy.  He was a social butterfly who enjoyed them all.

I loved visiting him.  He always had a plan, an agenda, of what we would do for fun.  He was a small town boy with big city tastes.  He loved to live on the edge.  And I walked that ledge on the edge with him.  We started the weekend by going to a few parties on campus.  We both had a good time, but it wasn’t at the level of our typical shenanigans.  We were infamous for doing some crazy shit, like tip-toeing out of someone’s bedroom before their lover got home.  In fact, he was the same cousin who had taken my to the beach, where I had my first three-way.  Our stories were scandalous and I was slightly disappointed that the weekend began so tame.

Saturday was full of shopping, noshing on eclectic food and drinking.  I spent a copious amount of money on a sexy black cashmere sweater.  It was the perfect color for my milky complexion and I wore it with a micro-mini Pucci-print miniskirt and black thigh-high boots.  I was fierce.  We went to a few 18+ nightclubs, but nothing kept our attention.  It looked like the night was a wash, when we happened upon a party on the Horseshoe.  My cousin recognized one of his classmates, Tom.

Tom was a finance major, who was graduating that year and planned to continue on and get his MBA.  He wanted to intern with Barclay’s in London and eventually open his own consulting firm.  The man was smart, articulate and incredibly sexy.  Tall.  Dark.  Handsome. (And his feet were HUGE..just sayin’).  But he was a nerdy mess when it came to chatting up a girl. He could talk about the world of finance and currency exchanges, but flirty banter made him a blubbering mess.

And that’s when my agenda changed.  I had to have him. I was attracted to Tom in a different way.  He had this charm and innocence about him.  He was successful and if I am being real with you guys…he was a Kennedy.  Not related to the royals, but he had an air of aristocracy that made him seem like he was one of them.  I could tell there was a bad boy lurking  beneath the surface.  And it was my duty as an American citizen to find that beast and bring it out…you know the whole, “not what your country can do for you, but what YOU can “do” for your country” thing.  I took that seriously.

I sat next to him at the party and engaged him in conversation about European currency.  This was before the Euro and he had a vast knowledge on the subject.  My knowledge was basic, but enough to impress him that I had an interest (he seemed to pick up that I had a little bit of nerd lurking beneath my bad girl persona).  We talked for hours.  He was starting to become comfortable and sat a bit closer to me on the couch.

I peered into his big brown eyes, hoping to lure a kiss out of him, but he was still very nervous.  I realized that this project was going to take some time.  We parted ways that night with a long hug and quick peck on the cheek.  And that was okay.  It gave me something to do the next weekend.

We talked every day that week.  I could tell he was smitten with me.  We planned to meet again on Friday afternoon.  Both of us were finished with classes by 2:00 and it was less than an hour away.  I told my cousin I was coming up again for the weekend and he was happy to have me there again.  I told him not to plan much, as I was going to focus on Tom.  He understood, as he’d met someone new and was busy planning their agenda together.

Friday arrived and I showed up at his dorm in that sexy cashmere sweater and my best “good butt” jeans. He was visibly nervous, but I got him talking about something in his comfort zone and he began to relax.  We decided to try a new restaurant in the Vista.  We had an amazing meal and he was such the gentleman.  Honestly, it was a perfect date.  Part of me felt guilty for having such tawdry plans for him later.  He was such a good guy.

After dinner we stopped in at a few parties and talked with some of his friends.  He seemed more and more relaxed as the night went on.  We finally made it back to his dorm (his roommate was away for the weekend) around 11:30 that night.  We sat on his bed and talked some more.  Once again, I looked into his eyes, hopeful that he would kiss me, but not expecting him to make the first move.

He brushed the hair from my face.  I could feel his hand shaking as he touched my face and pulled me towards him.  Despite his nervousness, the kiss was perfect.  And it went like a wildfire from there.  We were locked in a fit of passion.  The kissing was sensual and erotic.  I began to wonder why he was so unsure of himself.  He certainly seemed like he knew how to kiss a girl.

He pulled me onto his lap as his big strong hands massaged my back.  My black sweater had a plunging neckline and I felt like my breasts would spill out from how he passionately touched me.  I could feel his hardness through my moist jeans and I was eager to see him fully naked.  To take him all in and study his form.  Soon, I removed his shirt and he took off my sweater.  His hands trembled as he unfastened my lacy pink bra.  He looked at my bare breasts in awe before clumsily fondling one as he attempted to lick my nipples.  He eventually found his groove and before long, we stood before each other naked.

“I don’t know how to tell you this” he whispered nervously.  “I’m still a virgin.”

I already knew, but didn’t let on.  “You are?” I asked

“Yes.  Someone broke my heart my last year of high school and I’ve not had the nerve to ask anyone out here at college.  I have buried myself in studies and just put it out of my mind.  But I am ready.”

He walked towards me, held my face with both hands, looked into my eyes and said, “I want you.”

Let’s just pause for a minute and reflect, shall we?  1.  This man is gorgeous.  2.  He is a virgin.  3.  He wants me…ME.  4.  And he’s a Kennedy.  

I gently kissed his mouth and dropped to my knees, taking him into my mouth.  He was rock hard and almost lost his balance.  I asked him to sit down on the bed as I resumed my position.  I realized that he’d never experienced anything like this before.  I knew he may orgasm quickly, so I slowed my pace, allowing him to enjoy each and every second of the experience.  He closed his eyes and moaned in pleasure.  I didn’t allow him to finish, because I wanted him to direct how he wanted his first time to go.

He pulled me on top of him, as he fumbled with a condom.  I politely took it from him and had it on in less than a minute, with expert skill.  He wanted me on top.  I straddled him and slowly guided him inside me as he pulled my hips onto his.  He watched me ride his cock.  He looked into my eyes and then watched every move of my body on his, in amazement.

He came quickly and was most apologetic.  I assured him that it was okay.  He was ready to go again soon and we fucked all night long.  Him on top. Me on top again.  Him from behind.  More oral.  Showering together.  We finally went to sleep around 4:00 am and woke up and fucked more at 7:00 am.  We stayed in bed the entire day.  Exploring.  Feasting on each other.  Sharing our desires.  It was one of the best weekends of my life.

It rained for most of the weekend and when weren’t worshipping each other, we were intertwined in the sheets, watching it rain from his large dorm window.  We never got dressed or went out…We ordered pizza on Saturday and  Sunday.  We didn’t want to miss a moment together.  But eventually we had to untangle ourselves and get back to reality.

I left that evening a bit confused.  I’d been with virgins before and I enjoyed the role as a teacher. But this felt different.  I really liked this man.  He was everything I wanted in a boyfriend and the sex was amazing.  I remained in deep thought as I drove home in the rain.  The moment I arrived home, the phone rang.  It was him.  He wanted to make sure I made it safely.

We talked for hours that night and I think that was the first time I fell in love.  We stayed together as a blissfully happy couple until the summer.  He landed that internship at Barclays and headed out for a summer in London.  We tried to stay together despite the distance, but I was ready to move on.  I was not ready to find the One.  He could have certainly been the One.  But I was young and adventurous and we both decided to see other people.

Eleven years later, I was on a beach near Charleston, SC.  I heard someone call out “Tom?  Tom Kennedy? Is that you?  I haven’t seen you since USC!”  I looked up and saw Tom talking with the man who had called his name.  He was 20 feet away from where I was sitting with my family.  OMG.  He was still gorgeous.  He was married and had two beautiful children.  I was there with my husband and son.  I decided not to say anything and I made an excuse for us to change locations, because it would have been too much to see him again.

I prefer to remember him as he was during that rainy weekend in the winter of 1991.

 

 

(Photo, Pinterest)

Badass Women

 

badass chick

I love a Badass.  Badass men.  Badass singers.  Badass actors.  Badass entrepreneurs who handle their business.

But I especially LOVE a Badass woman.  I respect them.  I admire them.  I often have a slight “girl crush” on them.  They play by their own rules and they get shit done. Since there’s not a designated Hallmark holiday celebrating these extraordinary beings, I am claiming today as BADASS Chicks Day. Here are a few in my tribe, fellow bloggers, that I would like to share.

Lennon Carlyle is about as Badass as they come.  I’ve known this Beauty for longer than Jennifer Lawrence has even been on this earth.  Lennon is fiercely independent and unabashedly confident.  She never compromises her standards for anyone.  And she kicks serious ass working in a male-dominated industry.  She can party like it’s the last day on the planet and show up the next day, ALL BUSINESS. Lennon is a fast driver, smooth talker and plain and simple, she has good hair.  Always has (lucky bitch!).  She writes a hysterically REAL blog that you should check out.. https://fabulouswithglitches.wordpress.com/about/

There is the Cougar of the group.  She’s a real Badass.  Both a nurse and an attorney, this bitch gets shit done.  She is single by choice and has her pick of the litter any time she wants a boy-toy in her life.  She’s packing heat and can hold her own with anyone.  She is the leader of the #BGM, and you can find a few of her stories on Bad Girls Mafia.  She hasn’t written on there in a while…she’s too busy handling her boy-toys.  But her stories are great and I hope she gets back to posting soon! https://badgirlsmafia.com/

There is the Poet Laureate of the Badasses.  She will lure you in with interesting stories and heartfelt poems.  You will think you know what she’s all about…then out of nowhere, this Badass Chick will throw some steamy erotica on the page and you’ll have to look back and make sure you’re reading the right blog.  I’m talking about the lovely, Sandra, from “What Sandra Thinks”  This chick has some serious writing chops.  I love her take on things.  And I love her dirty little tales. You will love her too, check her out at https://whatsandrathinks.com/about/

This next Badass is the music-loving, quick-witted, lovely Lady G.  I just found her blog (compliments of my girl, Lennon Carlyle) and I feel like I’ve known this chick for years!  In one post, she took me on a First-Class, Non-Stop flight down Memory Lane, taking me to a place I’d almost forgotten.  And I am so glad she did, because I did some seriously scandalous shit back then that I need to share with you on here.  Lady G is the cool-as-hell neighbor we all wish we lived next door, because she would always be ready to pour the tea. Check her out at  https://seekthebestblog.com/about/

So go forth and celebrate the Badass women in your life. And if you want to become a Badass yourself, here are a few tips:

Take no shit, but do no harm

Handle your business

Keep your standards (and your heels) high

Don’t pay attention to the trolls talking behind your back, they are BEHIND you for a reason

If you fall on the runway of life, pick yourself up and adjust your crown, you’ve got a job to do…and you better work, bitch.

Surround yourself with strong and confident women.

Oops…almost forgot…Never act or reveal your age.

choose badass

(Photo credits, Pinterest)

 

The Good “Bad” Girl

The bad good girl

I think this percentage is off a bit.  In fact, by my stories on here, one would think it would be the other way around.  But in reality, I am really a good girl.

Just a good girl, who occasionally does bad things.

Here’s an example of the good:  I will help the old woman in the grocery store reach something on a shelf that’s too high for her.  (Not that I am tall, but I’m always in heels.) And I will donate to any charity that asks.  I’ve served the homeless in soup kitchens and bought food for the elderly.  I take in any stray animal who darkens my door.  I love babies and children and will move mountains to help a child in need.  And on occasion, I will pay for the person’s order behind me in line at Starbucks.  

And on occasion, I will leave that person a note.  Especially if it’s a hot single dad in line behind me.  Something like, “I’ve enjoyed looking over my shoulder to see you behind me in line, bet it would be even more fun seeing you like that from the side of my bed.  Enjoy your coffee.  Call me when you’re thirsty for “more”. I will save you a place in line.

JUST KIDDING!  I haven’t really done that (yet).  But I have had a few trysts with those single dads in the car line at Rocky Ridge Elementary school.  And then there was that gym teacher.  I loved to hear him blow his whistle.

Guess it was my special way of joining the PTO…like the good girl I am.

goodbad

(Image credits, Pinterest)

Reflecting

Greetings, Readers!  I have been in a contemplative mood lately.  Taking inventory of my quite tawdry life. Thinking back to some of the escapades I’ve written about and plotting my next posts, of the things (people) I did (and have yet to do for that matter), and some I’ve not shared with you.  I worried when I began this blog, that I wouldn’t have enough material in my kaleidoscope of memoirs to keep it going.  But that’s far from true.  There’s always something to dish about.  And so many more people to do.

So as I plan my next trip down slut lane, I will leave you with this…

goodbad

Be back soon with some legendary tales, and the rug-burns to show for it.

 

Fist Full of Dollars, Mouth Full of…

Warning…

I am going to live up to my title…

This is going to be quite tawdry.

During our time together, I helped Viktor embrace his inner Dom.  It wasn’t difficult to coax it out of him.  It was in there and he was very attuned to his natural traits.  He demanded respect.  He was disciplined.  In control of himself and his emotions.  And he possessed a charm that made you want to do exactly what he wanted you to do.  During a few of our trysts together, I had the pleasure of experiencing his hand on my backside, of being dominated and taken by him.

As time moved on, Viktor and I morphed into this incredible friendship where we could be completely transparent with each other.  I found myself in a D/s (actually M/s) relationship (and it’s still going strong) and he found himself searching for a submissive. As fate would have it, he found a young woman in her early 30’s looking for a Dominant.  It seemed a good match.  She was willing to learn and eager to please him in every way.  And he was a patient Dominant, willing to train her to his liking.  Her name was Nadia and life was going well for them.

Although obedient, Nadia had a very bratty side.  She wanted to please Viktor, but often put her own needs first.  She would follow his commands, as it suited her, but often did things her way.  He was very patient with her.  He held her on a long leash, but when he had enough, he yanked it back with incredible force.  And there was always punishment.

Viktor’s punishments were unique and relevant.  He would typically ensure the punishment fit the crime, teaching a lesson.  If Nadia was late, she would be lashed for each minute.  He soon realized she enjoyed the lashing, so he would completely ignore her for each minute she was late.  She hated it and found herself more punctual to avoid it.  Nadia had a very smart mouth and would often speak out of turn.  Viktor turned a blind eye to this behavior, because it was a facet of her personality that he enjoyed.  However, she often towed the line between acceptable and rude.

One Saturday afternoon they prepared to go to Sak’s on a shopping trip.  Viktor’s mother’s birthday was quickly approaching and he wanted to find her something nice. He invited Nadia to join him, as she could provide a second opinion.  She was thrilled to help, but her bratty side bubbled out and she said, “If I go, what do I get?  If I am helping you, I should get something pretty.”  At first, her demands didn’t phase him.  He was so focused on his mother’s gift, that he paid little mind to her antics.  They were supposed to leave at 1:00, go to Saks and have lunch, which would have put them back home around 4:00.  Viktor had a video conference with some clients in Europe at 5:00 and he wanted to get this finished early in the day to make time for the meeting.  Nadia was fully aware of his timeline.  And to be a brat, she decided to run back in the house for something as they were leaving.  Viktor waited patiently for the first five minutes, but then, he became angry.

She climbed into the car around 1:15.  And as she got in the car, she gave him a bratty little smile.  He knew she had done this intentionally.  He knew that she was acting out because she wanted the guarantee of “something pretty” from their excursion.  And as he rounded the corner out of his driveway, he reached down between his legs, unzipped his pants and looked at her.

“Since you are clearly misbehaving, I will need you to suck my cock for the entire drive.  But you are not allowed to make me cum until I say so.  Do you understand me, Nadia?”

Once again, she smiled a bratty smile and said, “Yes, Sir.  I can’t wait!”

She leaned over and began her task of pleasuring him as he drove to their destination.  She loved this punishment.  She loved the feel of his cock in her mouth.  She loved pleasuring him on the open road.  It made her feel like such a naughty girl.  She was lost in her place, when Viktor said, “I am glad to see you are enjoying this.  Maybe if you are a good girl, I will get you something pretty.  But you have to complete the task.”

She came up for air and said, “Oh I will complete the task, Sir.  No worries there.”

Viktor just grinned to himself.  She had no idea what was in store for her.

They arrived at Saks around 1:40.  Nadia’s face was still buried between his legs as he parked the car.  She continued for a few minutes and asked if it was time yet?  Viktor was beyond ready to unload, but had waited for this precise minute.

Pulling her up by her sweaty hair, he turned her face to his.

“Bratty slut.  Your mouth and lack of respect have earned you an applicable punishment.  I hope you learn from this.  I am about cum in your mouth.  You are not allowed to swallow.  You must walk around the store with me, with my load in your mouth, until I tell you to swallow.  If you can do this, I will buy you something.  If not, I guess you will learn to be more careful of when you open your mouth.”

Her face showed it all.  That’s quite a task for anyone.  Our natural instinct is to swallow what’s in our mouth…and she was not allowed to.  And she had to keep composure,as they were at a nice store, and she had cum in her mouth.

She lowered her head and began to suck him once again.  He was so turned on by this time, that he was ready to explode in her mouth.  Which he did.  And she held it there as the walked into the store.  She couldn’t even talk, because she would have to swallow.  And Viktor made it clear, she was not to spill any.

They found a lovely gift for his mother about 15 minutes into their visit.  Then Viktor decided to up the stakes.  “If you can hold me in your mouth for another 15 minutes, I will buy you a bracelet.  But you must not swallow.”  She nodded.

As they perused the store, he would walk up behind her and whisper in her ear, “You naughty little slut.  You like how I filled your mouth.  You like how it feels to be my cum slut don’t you.  You wanna feel it slide down your throat, so you can relive the moment don’t you, slut?  I own you.  You are mine.  Be a good girl.  Don’t swallow”

That talk made it excruciating for her continue on with her task.  She was so turned on my his words, that she swallowed by accident. She looked at him in shock, as he had watched her do it.  His eyes met hers and they just stared at each other.  It was affirmation of their   power exchange.  She knew her place.  He knew his place.  They knew who they were together.

And with that realization, he stroked her cheek, kissed her forehead and took her by the hand, leading her to the jewelry department.  “You won’t get anything today, but let’s look.  I know you will do better next time.”  She closed her eyes and smiled, knowing he was a man of his word.  She would do better and he would reward her.

That Viktor is quite a man.

lips

Photo credit, Pinterest

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?

Growing up in the Deep South, it was an expectation to date within your own race, culture and religion.

I’ve never liked rules.  And I scoff at expectations.

My poor parents never knew who was coming to dinner. (But lets just say I always knew who was “coming” after dinner.)  My curiosity and adventurous spirit led me to some very interesting encounters with gents from all walks of life.

There was Geoff.  He was a restaurant manager where a few of my friends worked.  He was very dark and brooding.  No one called out sick when Geoff was there.  He ran a tight ship and as much as my friends disliked him, I found his power and control a big turn on.  He seemed to like me also.  We began dating and on the first date, I learned that he was Jewish.  I was fascinated.  We talked a lot about religion.  His very orthodox upbringing. His “rebellion” by dating Christian women.  We talked about rituals and teachings.  I was like a sponge.  I learned so much from him.

And then I thought…time to teach him a thing or two…

Although he was older than me by a few years, he’d not had many sexual experiences.  I feel that his upbringing had a lot to do with that.  I was happy to school him in the ways of the flesh.  He was a very tender lover.  Very considerate.  I longed for him to channel some of that power and control he exuded at work, but it just didn’t happen.  He just wasn’t confident enough yet to blend those parts of his personality.  But I could see a beast lurking behind those big brown eyes of his.  But it just didn’t last long enough for me to bring it out.  Our relationship fizzled before Passover.

There was Ki.  His mother was Korean and his father American.  We went to high school together and the bastard beat me out for Salutatorian by less than a point.  I never saw myself dating him.  He was so focused on school that I don’t think he dated much.  We were always friends (and always in competition) but there was no spark.  While in college that changed a bit.  He began working out and out of nowhere…picked up some serious swagger.  The combination of his new attitude and intelligence made me take an interest in him.  We started going out.  He was a doting boyfriend.  Always attentive.  Almost in a fatherly way.  He would ask if my car had gas, if I’d done my assignments, if I’d paid my bills (and offered to pay if I needed) and always made sure I had groceries.  Not that I needed any of this, but he ensured I was cared for.  For him, it was a learned behavior.  His mother had never worked outside of the home and his father handled everything.  She was very submissive and I feel that modeled what Ki sought in a girlfriend.

And in turn, as a submissive…I made sure he was cared for.  I gave him his first head.  And he was blown away.  He had only had missionary position sex and I opened the doors to contortions far beyond his imagination.   He was such an eager student that we fucked every chance we could.  It’s ironic that he tried to control my life in his own way…keeping me on task with the things I needed to do.  And I controlled him in a sexual way…steering the course of what we would do next.  It was an interesting dynamic.  And he loved nothing more than filling me with his seed when I rode him, only to have me finger myself to taste him afterwards.  Our little hot flame went out as he began testing to get into medical school.  His time was consumed with his studies.  But I must confess…I intentionally kept him up all night in a marathon fuckfest, the night before his first attempt at the MCAT.  Retribution, motherfucker…for beating me out of being Salutatorian.

There was Umesh, my chemistry tutor.  He was from India and was already arranged to marry a woman his parents selected for him.  And for me, in my rebellious nature, that posed a challenge.  How dare anyone decide for another person!  (Again…I was naive and headstrong…I had no idea that it was accepted in his culture)  So I took Umesh on as my student.  We didn’t have intercourse, but we explored far more than the periodic chart of the elements.  I showed him how to make me cum using only his index finger.  How to exact pleasure and pain by sucking my nipples.  I pleasured him manually and orally.  I think I even showed him some new hand job techniques.  He was always so grateful for our lessons. I am sure his knowledge served him and his arranged bride well.

And I ended up with an A in chemistry.

There were so many others I brought into the mix. My family finally began asking if there were any dietary preferences or religious restrictions when I said I was bringing home a date for dinner.  They eventually became accustomed to meeting people from different cultures, so I feel I did them a great service. And I didn’t do it to rebel against them or anyone else, I was truly thirsty for knowledge and experience.  I was able to learn things about different cultures and religions, intimate things.  I learned that at their core, men from all cultures and walks of life seek the same things.  Connection.  Respect.  Pleasure.

And amazing blow jobs.  

ki