Five Blowjob Night

The other night, I had five calls, and I realized after the last one, they were all about blowjobs. Deeeeelicious.

I just had to stop writing for a moment to go get a lollipop. I will clearly need something to suck on while writing this. Hooray for oral fixations!

The first call was a nice, slow guided masturbation, but he was in the mood to tease me through my clothes, dammit. He was gently talking smut in my ear while telling me how to stroke myself, and I started begging for him to touch me, fuck me, shove his cock in my mouth, anything more than this tormented non-touch, please... He was standing over me, enticing me, and eventually gave in to my pleadings and slid himself to the back of my throat as he allowed me to cum, which tipped him over the delicious edge as well.

I like begging so much more before I start begging, and later when I think about it, than I enjoy begging when I'm in the middle of it. Funny how that works.

The second caller has fantasies of using me as a whore, as impersonally as possible, just meeting in a hotel room, getting sucked off, and then tossing me on my way. He wanted to hear stories about times I'd given head when the guy couldn't have cared less about my pleasure, when he just used my mouth like a glory hole.

As it turns out, I have a few of those stories: college spring break when my friend brought home a random hookup and his friend, I got stuck with the friend, and I obliged him with oral sex so he'd let me go to sleep; the drunk boyfriend who fucked my face while I hung my head off the edge of the bed and then passed out; my husband and I completing our sex-in-every-room tour of the new townhome with an unreciprocated blow job on the back porch, loud enough to meet his "slurpy" preference, but quiet enough to hide from the people in the nearby pool.

You'd think that guy would be the type to hang up right away after coming, wouldn't you? But no, he's surprisingly cuddly and chatty afterward, and wants to know all about my life. Such an amusing juxtaposition.

The third caller was in a tender mood, and wanted "something languorous, luscious... like the most sensual fellatio you can imagine." So I covered his body with kisses and massaging caresses, worked my way to his cock, and then took my time, enjoying the heat, the scent, the taste, the feeling of the rhythm building, the pulsing of his flesh under my tongue, the intimacy of him looking down into my eyes as I swallowed him whole time after time.

He was slurring his words from sleep or alcohol when the call started, so his sleepy, satisfied "Mmmmm, g'night Galinana" was hardly a shock. So cute.

The fourth caller told me a story, of why he had hung up on me last time he had called: because I was describing a three-way I had with a couple in 2002, where both of us girls were going down on the guy, and the caller had been driving during our previous call, and had gotten turned on, so he had pulled over, in the middle of nowhere, to masturbate while I described it in vivid detail... and a cop pulled up! Yikes! He got his dick back in his pants and convinced the policeman he was napping on a multi-hour road trip, thankfully. But wow, yeah, that's a valid excuse to hang up suddenly!

So for this call, thankfully, he was not driving, and he wanted me to start the story over from scratch, and give every lascivious detail. Since that weekend I spent with that couple is one of my favorite erotic memories, I was happy to oblige.

Then the fifth and final caller of the night wanted me to rim him while jacking him off, but it morphed into him guiding my head with his hand in my hair, me deep-throating him, while I fucked his ass with my finger to the same rhythm. He said he shot clear up to his neck he came so hard. Awww. That made me so happy. Isn't that what every girl wants to hear?

Then I logged off and looked over my notes to make sure I hadn't left anything out, and realized I'd had an all-blowjob evening. My fingers were pruney from sucking on them so much, my husband was frustratingly out of town, and my panties, uncharacteristically still on my body at the end of the evening, were soaked.

Why, hello, there, favorite vibrators with fresh batteries lying by my bed. Do me a favor and help me out with a little fantasy I've been working on, would you? It involves me on my knees...

Playing With My Food

In my off-phone sex life, I have a few great memories of mixing food and sex, which is not surprising, given my strong oral fixation. I'm plenty hedonistic enough to appreciate multiple layers of taste and smell and texture.

By far the best ever was the night my husband and I ... ummm... /blush... met in person for the first time? slept together for the first time? Oh, hmm, mmaaaayyyybe those were the same night... Anyway (/innocent whistle), we had been fucking like bunnies for a couple of hours, and I felt snacky, so we ventured to the kitchen, naked, to discover our culinary choices. I opened the fridge, saw the whipped cream can, shook it, opened it, leaned my head back, filled my mouth (without touching the nozzle with my lips or tongue, of course, because although I am clearly trashy and presumptuous and greedy, I'm not germy), and then I had the good graces to be mortifyingly embarrassed that I'd just done that. He looked stunned. Like, eyes wide, blink, blink, blink stunned. I managed to swallow it all, which is tricky to do when you're trying to apologize and not laugh with a mouth full of whipped cream. He finally caught his snap and said, "I think I just fell in love with you a little bit. That was awesome."

The most creative was the sensation game: I was blindfolded while a lover fed me different food and drink, or traced different sensations over my body. When I guessed correctly, I got rewarded with kisses or stimulation or flesh in my mouth or, eventually, permission to have orgasms. When I guessed incorrectly, I got spanked, clamped, or restricted. By the end of it, my hands were clamped to my collar, my feet were cuffed to the spreader bar, the spreader bar was leashed to my collar, and I had clamps everywhere sensitive. As we were cooling down, after he freed everything but my hands, he fed me samples of flavored chocolates and kissed the flavors off my tongue. Not only was the experience wonderful and unforgettable, the set-up he had to do was damn impressive indeed.

In my on-phone sex life, I've enjoyed some super sexy food play, without any annoying logistical concerns of cleanup or hygiene.

The most amusing was the guy who asked if I were on my knees with his cock in one hand and chocolate in the other, what would I choose? Those of you who guessed "melt the chocolate on your dick and let me clean it off with my tongue" are the ones who know my greedy little self the best.

The most surprising was the man who started describing his homemade turtle cheesecake, then how he would feed it to me, then shifted to focus on how much weight I would gain. The more I described fat packing itself onto my flesh, the more aroused he became. After the call, I referred him to SS BBW Angie Kimber (who I've had the pleasure to meet in person), and the weigh-in videos she told me about (search her studio for "weight gain combo"). Since I haven't heard from him since then, I assume Angie's taking great care of him!

The biggest divide between "fun to imagine" and "probably not fun to clean up in real life" was the gentleman with the combo fetish: sploshing and silky panties. Sploshing, in case you don't want to wander to potentially frightening new places on the internet, is the fetishistic use of wet, but solid, food, like getting a pie in the face, or having a food fight with spaghetti and meatballs in tomato sauce. This particular gent wanted me to fill my silky undies with chocolate pie or banana pie and describe it oozing out onto my thighs and soaking through the soft fabric so he could lick and suck it off me.

Man. Now I'm hungry.