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i can't wait

I love this photo. I love that she's not naked. I know that sounds odd, but the way her jeans are tugged down, her shoes are still on, suggests that urgency: I'm not waiting for you strip, you're taking too long, I'm doing this… right now.

rope magic

creating the illusion of non-sexuality

A sample of items around my apartment in plain view hastily shoved into closet before visit from parents.

01. various books
02. leather blindfold
03. pieces from my growing collection of "ceramic erotica"
04. floggers
05. handcuffs
06. photograph of a dungeon set from a porn movie
07. standard vibrator
08. standard dildo
09. various postcards from the wall above my desk
10. lube

two cum sluts on 29th street

I want to see you get fucked by a lot of men. I want to watch them come all over you and after they are done, I'll lick every bit of cum from your body and then fuck you.

We had a lot in common. We had similar goals. We exchanged a few e-mails, then graduated to the phone. Soon, we were exchanging videos of unusually potent cum shots from RedTube.

We finally decided to meet. He chose a bar I'd never been to and will probably never go to again for reasons soon to be explained. The place was packed with a few office holiday parties and we shouted over the drunken crowd with Santa hats. We found a place at the bar, and after some light generic conversation about work and the holidays we quickly got down to talking about why we were there: his insatiable oral fixation and my general love of debauchery. Neither of us bothered to keep our voices down as he talked about his love of nipple clamps and having his tits chewed to oblivion. I talked about my love of flogging and semen. He had yet to suck a cock, but was eager to do it. Licking come off of someone is great, but there's nothing like drinking straight from the tap.

I was wearing a rather long, wool skirt and he was rubbing my thigh sweetly. I excused myself to the bathroom and whispered in his ear, "I'm going to take off my tights and my underwear."

When I returned, we noticed a booth was open by the door. We gathered our drinks and our belongings and settled into the corner of the booth. It was just to the left of the entrance and on a slightly raised platform. We settled into the corner facing outward and continued our conversation. His hand slid up my skirt and started teasing my clit. I lifted my ass a little so he could gain better access and soon he slipped a finger inside. I could feel the lining of my skirt grow damp. I nibbled on his neck keeping one eye on the door. Every once in a while someone would walk by, no more than 5 feet away, oblivious to what was happening just to the right of them.

He lifted my skirt higher and slipped his hand under my ass, slipping one finger back into my cunt and another in my ass, pumping in and out vigorously. I buried my head into the crook of his neck, muffling my groans. Every now and then I would catch the bouncer eyeing us and I would tap his shoulder. We would part discreetly, each of us temporarily returning to our drinks. He slipped his fingers out and put them to my lips, so I could lick up my juices. When the coast was clear, back went the fingers. He went in deep, curling his fingers inside me, hitting my G-spot with one and fucking my ass with the other. I bit into his shoulder, lifting my ass up while demurely tugging my skirt down. I gripped his shoulder as I came on his hand, growling into his sweater. He slipped his fingers out and brought them to my mouth again.

It was getting late. We both had to get going. Outside, I lit a cigarette and we both stood for a while making chit-chat. We had both eased ourselves against the wall. There were construction walls and scafolding in front of the bar, making it a slightly less exposed area. He moved behind me and suddenly dropped to his knees. He lifted up my skirt and dove under, licking my ass. I gasped and leaned forward slightly. I watched a group of people walk by across the street and I kept my eyes on them as I ground my ass into his face. My lids grew heavy and I moaned as his tougne lapped my asshole. He spoke often of his oral fixation and I was beginning to see what he meant. My knees buckled and then I noticed a couple coming down the street. I reached behind me and tapped his head. He lifted up and I straightened my coat and skirt. We kissed and parted ways.

D.I.Y.

Beauty and Sin
An online community for people to upload and share nude photos of themselves.

Church

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The mind-body problem

I hated doing it. I've never pulled the curtain down in the middle of an act, but it wasn't working. I wasn't happy. On paper, it sounds like everything should have been fine, but it wasn't. We met once before and had dinner together. It was fine. I wasn't feeling the sparks, but we had a lot of the same kinks in common and he was nice. Maybe the sparks would come later…

I tried to be in the moment, but it was not happening. His kisses were odd, his touch was off, I felt no connection, but I figured I just needed to get into the mood. It was our first time together, he wasn't used to my body. I wasn't used to his teeth. He pulled off my my top and unbuttoned my jeans slipping his fingers into my underwear. He slipped a finger into my cunt, a bit surprised that I was so wet already. I was, too. My twat has a mind of her own.

He pulled off his shirt and stood above me as I sat on the couch. He pulled down his underwear and I went down to suck his cock. Soon there was a long string of drool coating my chest. He was long and thick. I went down to the balls, taking it down my throat, running my tongue along his cock. He grabbed my head and started to fuck my mouth. It is rare that a cock in my mouth and a hand on the back of my head does not relax me, but something was off.

He sat back on the couch and I laid across his lap. He reached around and slipped his fingers in my cunt and pulled, forcing me upwards. He slipped in another finger and fiercely fucked me, hitting my G spot and flicking my clit with his thumb. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the grinding. I was not thinking about him, but I came twice, clutching my thighs together, trapping his hand inside me. He asked me what I was thinking about. I pointed at his cock and nodded at my cunt. "That, in here."

But first a little flogging. He had mentioned that he was big into florentine. I had my doubts. It looks too fancy for me. A lot of perfume, but not a lot of substance. But I was willing to give it a shot. It was erratic feeling, and oddly stingy. It created a breeze. It was like getting scratched, more than hit. I think it probably looks better than it feels. I was relieved when he grabbed me by the neck and led me to the bedroom. I sucked his cock for a while, then he took my head in his hands and started massaging my face. It was weird. Then he slapped the side of my face, then the other side. Again, there was nothing bad about this in and of itself, but there was just something about it that felt… off. He pulled out a condom and then excused himself for a moment. He came back with a cock ring and put it on. I've never been with a guy with a cock ring. I didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

But his cock felt right. I started on my back, resting my legs on his shoulders. It started off with that comfortable fullness, slowly easing in and out. Again, I closed my eyes, trying to go with the flow. He leaned into kiss me and I accepted it for a moment before turning my head to the side and offering my neck instead. Soon he started banging away. He moved my left leg over around him so he was fucking me from the side. This was even better. He could get in deeper and the angle was hitting me just right. He came at me hard and fast, and I demanded harder and faster, pushing my hands against the wall to force myself back on to him. My pussy was there, but my head was not. I was not happy and I didn't know why.

Then the ear thing. I've been having some weird ear thing lately. My right ear will plug up for no apparent reason. It's really annoying. He's banging away at my cunt and my ear pops. It's really, really annoying. I had to stop. I did all the tricks you do when your ear pops and it wasn't working. Then suddenly he slapped the left side of my face. My left ear immediately started ringing. "What the fuck!?" I said, pissed. He thought it would help. It didn't. Now, instead of one fucked up ear to deal with I had two. I thought, with some people, that might have just made me laugh. I would shake my head, lay back down and spread my legs. Not this time. "I'm sorry, but I don't think it's going to happen."

I know it was confusing. He said, "But you were so into it." It may have seemed that way, but I wasn't. Not really. I would rather be honest than pretend to feel something I didn't. I don't fake orgasms, either. It's not fair to anyone. This had never happened to him before. Honestly, I've never done it before. I used to just take it. Go through the motions with someone I wasn't into, afraid of being disappointing. So I would wait until he came and left and I would feel like shit. Well, fuck that.

He's not used to rejection and I hate to bruise an ego. We talked a little and he was surprisingly understanding. He said, I looked sad and I suppose I was a little. I don't know what happened and why, but I do know if something doesn't feel right, don't do it. I didn't want to lie to him. Is it possible to look passionate and not feel it? How can my body betray my mind like that? He did say that I sucked cock like a gay man which I take to be a good thing.

36-24-36

I do not want to be one of those people. One of those, "I had a great date so I must blog about it immediately" people. But shit! I just had a fucking awesome date and I must blog about it.

I was not expecting much. I've been on enough blind "online dating" dates to know not to expect much. We met at a casual bar near my place. Local. Low key. I was early and sitting at the bar reading a magazine and drinking a Maker's Mark on the rocks. He tapped me on the shoulder. He was cute. He looked like his picture. He was "really" cute. We had some drinks and had some bar food. I got a burger. He got the wings. He had that hipster nerd thing going on that I love. He had this whole multi-culti thing going on that I love. Dad from Denmark, Mom from Trinidad or something. I don't remember. He runs his own business in this extraordinary, slightly antiquated industry that totally turned me on. There's something very old-world, yet completely modern about him that I find fascinating.

He was in a band. Studied film in college. Fuck. You had me at "Hello".

We moved on to this new bar near me I've been meaning to check out. They do some burlesque, not the big leagues Little Brooklyn / Dirty Martini stuff, but good for some fun. I tried their signature drink, some crazy concoction of Maker's Mark, grapefruit juice, muddled cranberries... normally more than 2 ingredients is too much or me. I hate "girly" drinks. But it was pretty damn good. The second one was just as good. And the third.

Then he got down to it. The "what are you looking for" question. So I laid it out and I've never done this before...

I want a partner, a boyfriend (I hate both of those terms) a significant other, but I do not believe in monogamy. I want someone to share my life with, who will also be willing to explore sexually with other people with other genders... to me, sex is a playground, and I have no intention of limiting myself to only one playmate for the next 30 years.

Then there was the awkward bit. The slight pause as he took stock. "Did I just freak you out?" I ask. I'm all about being honest these days. I don't want to waste my time. I don't think I put it this clearly since I was drunk at this point. All I remember is him saying something about wanting to get it on with Johnny Depp at which point I may have had a tiny orgasm right there on the stool.

At some point he pulled me in for a kiss and fuck... he is a damn good kisser. Fuck. We're making out like idiots at the bar. They're playing "Let's Get Physical" and the dancer is doing her thing with the pasties and she's got that insanely creamy skin that I fucking covet.

We finally decide to leave and he's tipsier than I am on his Stoli and tonics, which I find cute. We're on the sidewalk and I'm having a smoke (which he finds kind of kinky!). We start making out again and they're playing "Brick House" and we're necking and singing along... "chicka bow, chicka bow, chicka bow wow..." And it gets to that part that I LOVE. We're pawing at each other and I push him away, then we go in to kiss some more and we're clutching each other and I PUSH him away again, because not tonight. Not yet. When we do, I will fucking rock his world. But not tonight.

And I walk away... "She's a brick... house. She's mighty mighty. Just lettin' it all hang out."

Switch

I pulled my virgin floggers from the hook on my door. Never have they touched human flesh. He had given me a lovely massage, fingered and licked me into two orgams. I practiced my deep throating technique and now we were cuddled on the bed. "Do you want to try out some kinky stuff?" he asked.

I wasn't going to let him flog me since he had never done it before, but I thought I'd show him what bits I've picked up. I used my pillow as a demo for a while, then I said, "Turn over, on your back." I started off slow, working on my aim, using the softer one. "That's not bad, right? It's kind of nice. Like a massage." He agreed. I moved around to get better access to his ass. "It doesn't really hurt," he said. Oh, no? I swicthed to the heavier one. "What about that?"

"That stings." Yeah, it does. I put more weight into it. "Get on your hands and knees." I switched back and forth from the elk to the bull, watching him wiggle his ass, waiting for the grunts, the jumps of surprise. He was a tough cookie. I watched his back and ass turn red, my aim wasn't that great. I got his neck a few times. "It still doesn't hurt that bad." Oh really? I gave him one last wail and that made him jump! I rubbed the redness on his back then gave it a few hard slaps for good measure, finally getting the yelp I was waiting for.

I hugged him and gave him a kiss, thanking him for being my guinea pig. I think I'm going to need to do this a lot more.

The Hitachi -v- The Cone

I first posted this review on my other blog and have since done a side by side comparison. The Hitachi is still more powerful, but less nuanced. The Cone may not be quite as intense a vibration, but the variety of vibrations make up for it. I use the HItachi when I want to come and don't have a lot of time. It's efficent and in a way the design of it shows it. It's a power tool, there to do the job and it does it... quickly. It also makes me squirt. It doesn't mess around. The Cone is seductive, it teases, it's pink and sculptural in a minimalist way. It packs a big punch in a pretty package. The Hitachi is a "fucking take me now!" vibrator. The Cone is a "lay me down by the fire, baby" vibrator.

The original review:

The Cone I love this thing! It's right up there with the Hitachi. Is it worth $130? I think so.

It tooks some experimentation to figure out which position worked better. Lying on it face down ("The Clitimulator") is the most comfortable, for me so far. But, "The Wall" is pretty fun. It's totally hands free, there are no cords and the controls are just two little buttons that are easy to access. And if you're like me and like my porn in the written form, that makes life so much easier.

It's also simple. There are no bells and whistles. I never liked the Rabbit or the Dolphin or those vibes that wiggle around when it's in your cunt and tickles your ass and thumps on your clit and looks like an animal... they're too complicated. I don't need a whole song and dance, just do the damn job!

It has 16 different settings that range from a regular vibration to various pulsations, sort of like a pulsing showerhead. It even includes a "straight to orgasm" button in case you're short on time!

I'm really anxious to try it out during sex (with another person, I mean). See "The Cone Dog". Also, since you're basically humping and grinding on this thing, I imagine watching someone on it would be pretty damn hot.

And because I care about these things, it looks cool.

The only drawback is (like so many vibes) is that the fucker is LOUD. While trying out one of the pulsing settings it sounded like there was a disco in my mattress! Also, I don't think it's so great if you are on your back. It's not really meant to be held, it needs to be resting on a surface.

I have a lot more experimenting to do and I hear there are some attachments in the works.

I pulled my virgin floggers from the hook on my door. Never have they touched human flesh. He had given me a lovely massage, fingered and licked me into two orgams. I practiced my deep throating technique and now we were cuddled on the bed. "Do you want to try out some kinky stuff?" he asked.

I wasn't going to let him flog me since he had never done it before, but I thought I'd show him what bits I've picked up. I used my pillow as a demo for a while, then I said, "Turn over, on your back." I started off slow, working on my aim, using the softer elk. "That's not bad, right? It's kind of nice. Like a massage." He agreed. I moved around to get better access to his ass. "It doesn't really hurt," he said. Oh, no? I swicthed to the bull. "What about that?"

"That stings." Yeah, it does. I put more stregth into it. "Get on your hands and knees." I switched back and forth from the elk to the bull watching him wiggle his ass, waiting for the grunts, the jumps of surprise. He was tough. I watched his back and ass turn red, my aim wasn't that great. I got his neck a few times. "It still doesn't hurt that bad." Oh really? I gave him one last wail and that made him jump! I rubbed the redness on his back then gave it a few hard slaps for good measure, finally getting the yelp I was waiting for.

I hugged him and gave him a kiss, thanking him for being my guinea pig. I think I'm going to need to do this a lot more.

Music makes the people come together

What would I play on my OhMiBod? Check out Smut Turntable to find out.

Boots

When I was in high school, I had this crazy English teacher. He ended up getting fired for hitting a student and it was rumored that he was a Neo Nazi. Anyway, once in class (I can't remember the book we were discussing), he made this big pronouncement out of no where:

"A naked body, in and off itself, is not pornographic. A naked body with leather boots on, is pornographic!"

Fists of Fury 2: Jefferson

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Fists of Fury 1: Liam

Liam and I were exchanging instant messages through out the day. Just as I am not a great phone sex person, I'm not a great I.M. sex person either. I tend to let him go into detail about what he would like to do to me (or I to him) and I would concur that the said deed would be "hot". Every once in a while, we would take a break, each of us having meetings to go to, or phone calls to make.

Around lunch time, with the familiar ping, he asked me if I wanted to go to an orgy after work. I had never been to an orgy before. I was hesitant, but I said sure. He told me, when I arrived at the apartment, I was to ask the host (a dominatirx) if I could please kiss her ass. I spent the rest of the day with a knot in my stomach.

I was early, so I stood outside the apartment, anxiously smoking, until it was time. I was expecting an intimidating woman in thigh high black leather boots and five layers of eye shadow to greet me. Instead, she was dressed in a flowing hippie-esque blouse and jeans. She was barefoot. I recited my lines and she laughed and shook her head, "Oh, Liam... do you want an apple martini?"

I was the first one to arrive and the two of us sat on the couch, drinking our cocktails waiting for the boys to arrive, chatting and sharing Liam stories. It was a small studio lined with books. She was friendly, easy going, intelligent... she kind of reminded me of my sister, which wasn't much of a turn-on, but it made me a lot more at ease.

The next guest arrived talking on his cell phone as he walked through the door. He loosened his tie while he bitched someone out on the phone. Liam arrived shortly after, to my relief, and the four of us made small talk for a while. Mr. Business stopping several times to make more business calls.

After a while, Liam and I retreated to the kitchen to make ourselves some less complicated drinks. "So when is this thing doing to get started?" I asked. We were both getting antsy and Mr. Business needed something other than his cell phone to keep him occupied. We returned to the living room and I stretched out on the couch resting my legs over Liam's. He caressed my legs and ran his fingers up to my pants, slipping his fingers inside. This seemed to get things started.

I took turns sucking cocks, they took turns eating my pussy. Our hostess lounged back on the bed, still fully clothed, watching us. We urged her to get naked, but she insisted she was happy just watching us. I wasn't buying it. Liam and I gradually helped her disrobe, taking off a piece here and there, until she was finally naked. She was shy and seemed uncomfortable with all the attention. I didn't understand why. This was her place, her party, she was a dominatrix right?

I had never gone down on a woman before, but I figured this was a good time to start. I settled myself between her legs and parted her labia. I took a tentative lick and finding it not at all unpleasant, I went in for more. I tried to replicate what's usually done to me, gentle licking, sucking, little hummingbird flickers over the clit, until urged on by her moans, I started going at it like a vibrating ice cream cone until gasping she urged me to stop. I didn't know if she came or not, but she had a big shit-eating grin on her face, so I couldn't have been that bad.

While I was bent over, with my ass in the air, Liam took advantage of the situation and slipped his cock inside me. He fucked me fiercely while the hostess' pussy was replaced by Mr. Business' cock. We rearranged ourselves further up the bed my mouth still firmly set on his dick and Liam gripping my hips as he banged into me.

In some transitional moment, I ended up on my back. Mr. Business was fingering my cunt while Liam sucked his dick. He slipped in one finger after the another. One, two, three... is that four? My groans got deeper and louder. Our hostess got some lube and coated his hand. My breath quickened and Liam stopped his cock worship to watch the proceedings. "Almost there, almost there..." I shook my head no, but Mr. Business was determined. I leaned against our Hostess and she held my hand like a mid-wife.

I wasn't even sure what was happening. Is he... is he trying to fist me?! Does he think I'm a porn star or something? I've never given birth, my vagina isn't used to such things! Does he think he left his phone up there? I was panting, failing my head from side to side, the pain all confused with pleasure. I was just about ready to start begging him to stop and then, "Yeah!" Mr. Business looked ready to give Liam a high-five if his entire hand wasn't in my twat. I laid there sweating, panting thinking, "This is what marathon runner must feel like when they cross the finish line." Two first in one evening. Not bad.

That seemed to be the big finale of the evening. Shortly there after, Liam and I left. It seemed over too soon. We had dinner at a nice little Italian place in the East Village, discussing the pluses and minuses of the evening. He drove me home in his little sports car, speeding and blasting "world music". I gave him a goodnight blow-job in the car.

grease monkey

"What am I doing with my life?" I asked myself as I stood naked, bent over a patched, plaid Salvation Army sofa in the back office of a car repair shop somewhere in Connecticut with an inflatable butt plug up my ass.

I had just met this person. We only chatted a couple of times on-line. There wasn't much to say. He wanted someone to dominate and fuck and I wanted to be dominated and fucked. What else was there to know?

The first time we met was when he picked me up at the train station. His fingers were dirty, stained with years of oil and grime. Theoretically this would have turned me on. Theoretically. I had made an effort to look nice, I wore a skirt and some little kitten heels. The least he could do was wash his hands. Then again it wasn't like he needed to impress me, to charm me into sleeping with him. I was already naked and spread out as far as he (and I for that matter) was concerned. What was I going to do, say I changed my mind and take a cab back to the train station? Yeah, right.

He wasn't particularly attractive or he might be if he had a little more confidence. This happens all the time. The bravado, the authoritarian voice on-line becomes timid and meek in real life. He smelled of too many Marlboro Reds.

We drove up to the garage, my heels clacking on the greasy concrete. I looked around and started to get wet. "This is going to be good," I thought. Maybe he would bend me over one of the cars with my naked ass exposed in the huge space of the garage? Or would he tie my hands to one of the chains hanging from the ceiling?

Instead, he led the way to the office. It was small, low-drop ceiling with florescent lights, an ancient coffee maker and a stack of styrofoam cups, yellowed memos tacked on a cork-board, a couple of metal folding chairs... you get the picture. I excused myself to the bathroom, washing my hands with that pink, powdered soap I didn't think they made anymore.

"Take off your clothes." He sounded almost bored, which should have turned me on more than it did. It was freezing in there. He told me to bend over the couch and I did. He ran his hands over my body roughly, like he was testing my skins resiliency. He smacked my ass hard and I moaned my approval. He spanked me for a while, but not long enough.

He withdrew and stepped back to retrieve something from his duffle bag. "Have you ever tried one of these before?" Butt-plugs sure, inflatable, no. I turned my head to the wall and jumped at the sudden coolness of the lube. He was more careful, when he put the plug in. "Good?" he asked. I nodded and closed my eyes. Then the pumping began. It sounded just like a blood-pressure monitor. Slowly it expanded, growing larger and larger inside me. It was odd, to have this thing growing inside me. There's something about inserting something large inside my ass or my pussy that's satisfying. It's work, it takes time and there's a sense of accomplishment when that huge dildo or that 5th finger makes its way inside. This felt like cheating.

I asked him to stop after a while, just at the point where it was becoming uncomfortable. He stepped back and smacked my ass again. He shoved his fingers (which were still grimy) into my cunt and fingered me roughly, occasionally rubbing my clit. It was an obligatory finger-fuck, the kind intended only to ensure sufficient lubrication. It too ended too quickly.

He kept his clothes on as he fucked me. He was almost silent the entire time, his heavy breathing the only indication he was doing anything at all. I closed my eyes and gripped the back of the sofa. He bent me over further and I leaned my head against the sofa. It too smelled like too many Reds. He pulled out and jerked off on to my back. I stayed bent over as he went to the bathroom. I reached behind me to rub his sperm into my skin.

"You can stand up if you want." He was done with me. He grabbed a Coke from the mini-fridge and asked if I wanted one. I didn't but I accepted one anyway. He turned on the little t.v. and sat on an old olive-green office chair. I sat on the couch awkwardly, the butt-plug was still in, and sipped my Coke. There was an old Star Trek episode on. "This is a good one." He went on to tell me the entire plot, his eyes not moving from the television.

"You think you could take this out now?" I waved the pump at him, all the time thinking, "There is a naked woman in front of you who's willing to do just about anything and you would rather watch television. Is it me? Am I not as alluring as Leonard Nimoy?

"Oh yeah." He deflated the pump and slipped it out of me, returning to the chair and The Starship Enterprise while I sat on the couch with my hands between my legs, shivering. At the first commercial, I told him I had a train to catch and pulled my clothes back on. I still had his drying sperm on my back, but I didn't care. Usually, I like it, this marking of territory. I like sitting on the train, wondering if the people next to me can smell it. This time, I just wanted to go home. He graciously drove me back to the train station, neither of us bothering with the pretense of suggesting we do this again sometime.

Jefferson_1

In his e-mail he said he was feeling lovely and mean. Little did I know. The one thing I did know was that as soon as I walked in the door, I had to kiss him and get naked as soon as possible. He greeted me at the door in boxer shorts. I inhaled his scent and felt his skin, relieved to be here again. We kissed and devoured each other for a while, then he told me to get out of my clothes.

I can't remember everything. When it happened, in what order. It was all a bit of a blur.

When I was naked, we locked lips again as he half guided half pushed me into the bedroom. I knelt on the floor in front of him and took his cock into my mouth. We soon moved to the chair and continued. He took my face in his hands and said, "You know one of the reasons I like you? You are so pretty!" And slapped me hard across the face. I grinned and sighed. "You are so fucking pretty!" and he smacked my face again and again, until I heard a little ring in my ear. He ran his foot along my cunt and I squeezed my thighs together rubbing my clit against his foot. He guided my head away. "Get on the floor." He pushed my head down until I was lying on my back. With my legs spread he slapped my cunt. I screamed and closed my legs, he pulled them apart and smacked it again and again. He sat on my face and I eagerly licked his asshole. He rubbed his ass against my face as I ate him, trying to get my tongue inside. I love to eat ass. I could live down there. He sat fully on my face, suffocating me.

He punched my chest over and over, forcing breathy grunts from me. I noticed that his punches were different from other punches I have known. Then again, maybe they all are a little different. He pushed me flat on my back, he shoved his foot on my face. He kicked me in the crotch. I remember scraping my nails against the cabinet doors, but I don't remember what he was doing to cause me to do so. Biting and twisting my breasts far beyond what they are used to? Smacking my cunt? Forcing one too many fingers inside me? "Your such a pussy today." He said, as I sobbed. That's always the worst punishment, the suggestion of being disappointing. He whispered in my ear, "I need to to be brave, today, because I really want to mess you up." I nodded, determined to do my best. My lips were trembling uncontrollably. My eyes unfocused.

I felt his fingers inside me, curling up to hit my G-spot. Thank god, I thought as he slipped another finger inside. I'm not sure how many he fit inside. I knew four has been done before. He ground his fingers inside me, the pain and pleasure melting together into something... else. So intense, too intense. I willed my pussy to expand for him. He fingers churned inside me. I was moving backwards, my body trying to escape the invasion, until my head was against the wall sandwiched between the bed and the legs of the chair. At one point I felt a pinch at my ear. Somehow, my earlobe had gotten caught in his humidifier. I laughed a little at this sudden absurd and mediocre bit of pain, until I was snapped back into the moment. I begged him to slow down, he did not. "I can't!" I screamed. "I can't!" as he went on and on. When he finally withdrew, I scooted myself (or did he pull me?) awkwardly out from behind the furniture. He lifted my leg and I could see a smear of blood on my thigh. He kissed my calf, the kisses turning into bites.

He sat back in the chair and I slipped my mouth over his cock again. He brushed the dust off of my back. When told me to masturbate I did.

I always loved the humor behind "Deep Throat", the absurd idea that this woman's clitoris was inside her throat. But, I swear there are times when I feel like I could come just by sucking his cock. I get incredibly wet. Obscenely wet, so much that I can feel the fluid dripping down the inside of my leg.

He then took over the blow-job. He forced his cock down my throat, I gagged and retched. Thick, pools of saliva pored from my throat, collecting in his public hair. He pushed me back down, a little puke coming up this time. He stood and I stayed kneeling. "Clean this mess up." I went back down on him trying to ignore the flecks of vomit.

I laid on back on the edge of the bed. I lifted my legs for him as he slid his cock inside me. It was so very comforting, this cock, slipping into me perfectly, fucking me just hard enough. I don't know what happened then. I felt my lips go numb and my body go limp and I rolled off the bed. Not a faint really (I'm familiar with that), but something like it. I laid on the floor for a second. I lifted myself up, then decided the floor was better and laid down again. I could hear him moving behind me. "Get on the bed." I pulled myself up and flopped on the bed, face down, luxuriating in the momentary rest. Then I felt the first hit of the flogger. This, like the fucking, was so very good. It came harder and harder and I moaned into the pillow. When it stopped, I could hear the sound of the canes rattle. I writhed and twisted under the blows. Then there was another pause and a much sharper pain. Was it a single tail? The sting was so far from the warm thud. This was razor sharp.

He knelt on me and pushed his cock down my throat again. It's amazing the difference just an inch or so further down at just the right angle can make. When sucking cock and deep throating becomes true skull fucking. The gurgling noises that came up from inside me sounded so unfamiliar. He put his hand over my my nose cutting of my air. Seconds passed like hours until I flailed my arms and slapped his hand, my entire body craving oxygen.

He rolled me over and took out a condom. He bent over me as he fucked me, he kissed me, I wrapped my arms around him wanting more and more of him inside me, wanting to force his skin inside of my skin. I ran my fingers through his hair, licked his chin and sucked on his lips. Then he gently kissed my closed eyelids. First, one and then the other and I started to cry again. It was such a tender gesture. It threw me off, I grabbed the side of his head. I wanted to see his eyes. I wanted to LOOK at him. I felt this flood of emotion that I rarely feel and hadn't felt in a long time. It scared me a little. "God, what are you doing to me?" I asked.

He held me tightly and whispered in my ear. "I don't want you to say another word to me for the rest of the day." I turned my head away and cried softly. "I'm going to cum down your throat, then your going to get dressed and leave." I anticipated something like this. I could feel it coming. I stood up and walked to the chair. I sucked him as deeply as I could. He told me to close my eyes. When he came I slipped the head into my mouth drinking it down, not wanting to waste a drop on my cheek. I laid my head on his thigh as his spasms subsided.

When it was over, I sat back and gestured to the bathroom. He gave me permission and I got up to wash my face which was now puffy and red. I smoothed my hair a bit and pulled myself together.

He was sitting at his computer with his back to me when I emerged. I gathered up my clothes, the slight pressure of my bra painful against my breast. I slid on my skirt and slipped into my shoes. I smoothed my shirt, picked up my handbag and walked out of the door, I wanted to slam it, but I didn't. I punched the down button to the elevator harder than necessary.

My hands were trembling as I took out a cigarette. I planned to take the subway back, but after a block I hailed a cab. As we rolled along the West Side Highway, I tried to take stock. I was fuming. At the time, I didn't understand why. Now, I think I do. As much as I say I want to be out of control, I'm usually not. Usually when I'm with someone, as violent as it may seem, nothing ever happens that I don't want to happen. I'm never made to do anything I don't want to do. No one ever takes me further than I can take (or think that I can take). I'm rarely surprised. Everything is so very safe, sane and consensual.

I was pissed because, somehow, I had gone further than I had ever gone in someway and I didn't know how or why. "How dare he!" I thought. "Who the fuck does he think he is?!"

But there's a lot of time to think along the West Side Highway. As the cab moved further downtown, I sank into the seat, my head swimming. By the time we passed Junior's on Flatbush, the endorphins had died down, the anger was gone and I was settled into a nice pile of goo. The radio was set to some smooth jazz station, the tag line "It's like cruise control for your mind." Yeah... I though. Exactly.

When I got home, there was an e-mail waiting. "That was fucking hot."

I laughed to myself. It was. God mother fucking damn it was.

Over the next days I watched the various bruises on my legs and thighs develop, the teeth marks and scratches on my breasts. Souvenirs. I had a burst blood vessel in my left eye. When I sat down at work, the button on my jeans hit the spot where he had gripped and bitten my stomach and I squirmed in my seat, contemplating going to the bathroom to masturbate. On the subway, I smiled as someone's gym bag hit me over and over where his teeth had been.

dorm

My freshmen year in college, I lived in Memorial Hall. It used to be an infirmary for soldiers returning from WWI and it's tower was rumored to be haunted. The facade was decorated with relief sculptures of soldiers in gas masks. It was one of the oldest buildings on campus and had a certain charm that the newer, massive, hideous, cinder block tower dorms lacked. It was an all female "quiet dorm" which meant the girls in it tended to be more studious than the co-ed dorms.

This made it the target of more obscene phone calls than any other dorm, the perception that it was the place for prissy, prudish, nerdy girls who were too scared to party with the boys. It wasn't true, but the reputation stuck.

You would hear a phone ring down the hall, then moments later another ring a bit closer, then another until it came to my room and I answered the phone anticipating the heavy breathing. I would hang it up then moments later the phone in the room next to me would ring. Sometimes I would hang up right away, annoyed. Other times I would listen, trying to picture the boy on the other end and what they were doing, why they were calling and what they would expect to happen. More than once, I talked back, participating in the awkward phone sex, masturbating along with my anonymous caller until I heard him groan and hang-up.

I once got a call that was different from the others. It was late and I was already in bed. I answered the phone with an annoyed hello and was greeted by the usual panting. "Yes?" I asked, feeling confrontational.

"I need to be fucked." He said in a soft, quivering voice. "I need to be fucked." He said over and over again.

"Do you want to be fucked in the ass?" I asked, not totally understanding if he meant he needed to fuck a girl, wanted to be fucked by a girl or wanted to be fucked by a boy. I wanted clarification. He stopped talking and his breathing quickened. "Do you need a cock in your ass?" I asked.

He let out a whimpering and slightly sad, "Yes."

I wanted to ask him why he didn't call a guy, why he automatically defaulted to the girls at Memorial Hall, but I thought that might be needlessly cruel. I deepened my voice. "You want it badly don't you? A thick, long hard cock pounding inside you. I bet you have a finger inside you right now..." I think I was doing this for me as much as him, since at the moment, we both wanted the same thing.

I went on as best I could (I've never been very good at phone sex) until I heard him moan. It sounded far away, as if he had temporarily sat down the phone. He hung up without a word and I went to bed, feeling like I had done some kind of humanitarian service and wondered long it would be before he would ask for this from an actual boy. Or, for that matter, when would I?

thursday, bloody thursday

Doug just left. It was our second date. We went to see Margaret Cho's burlesque show and it was fantastic. He had sent me an e-mail earlier in the week that was so sweet. "I know we've only been out once, but I really want to have sex with you." Aw sucks! How could I say no?

We came back to my place and it started off nice enough. We made out on the couch for a while then made our way to the bedroom. We progessed to 69-ing after a bit, he fingered and licked my cunt while I sucked his fat cock. All's good in the hood. After a while, he asked, "Faster? Slower?"

"Thicker!" I answered. "Oh!" He laughed and slipped in another finger. His finger slipped now and then and there was a brief wince of pain, but nothing big. "Four?" He asked, adding another finger. "Yeah!" Let's do this thing! But I needed a little help.

"Just a second." I lifted off and reached into the drawer by my bed to get the lube. When I turned back there was a POOL of blood on his chest. Blood was all over my white duvet. Blood was dripping out of me down my leg. And no, I am not on my period."What the fuck?!" I walk to the bathroom leaving a trail of blood behind me. He must have scratched me. Fucking fingernails.

He follows me to the bathroom, his chest hair dyed red. "Maybe I should take a shower?" Yeah, sure. I take a sponge from the kitchen and start wiping up the trail I've left behind watching the blood dripping down my leg. The blood on the duvet cover leaked right through to the comforter below. Shit. Why must I have white bedding?

He apologized over and over. These things happen, I assure him, checking to make sure the bleeding has slowed down. "I forgot to tell you," I say. "I'm a virgin." He laughs a little. It's awkward. The mood is definitely ruined. I have to have a cigarette. I'm a little freaked out. How did he not notice the blood pouring out of me? My goddamn pussy was in his face. I guess he just thought I was really, really wet. There's blood on my bathroom mat and in the grout between the tile.

We sit and chat for a while and I wrap my robe around me, my underwear back on, a panty liner now in place. "I guess I should go." Yeah, I have to get up early for work and all. We kiss. It's still awkward. He keeps apologizing and I try to assure him that I know it was an accident. These things happen. It hurts a little, but I'll be fine. The bleeding seems to have stopped for the most part.

Margaret Cho was awesome, though.

office crush

I'm currently working freelance, in-house for a firm and I am in the misdts of a kind-of "perfect storm" of boredom. The people are nice, but not particularly interesting. The project is for a financial advisor company who's workings I don't understand at all and care about even less. I've been told they want to be innovative and new, but, you know, not that innovative. By 4:00, my eyes are so heavy, I wonder if it is actually possible to die of boredom.

Today, I sat in on one of the many, many meetings they have with the entire team. I never noticed him before, which is odd considering he sits right behind me. Maybe he's been out, but we officially met today. He's working on the website. He scooted his chair over to my desk so we could collaborate on our image searches. It struck me suddenly, "Holy God, he's beautiful." Huge brown eyes, with long eyelashes, shiny black hair, chiseled features and broad shoulders. He looks slightly Middle-Eastern or maybe Spanish or a combination of both. We chatted longer than necessary, made little jokes about the project and talked about our previous employment. He doesn't know what the client does either. He has glasses like an architect. He said he liked my hacksaw necklace.

I spent the rest of the day wondering what his cock looked like, what it tasted like. How did he smell, what did his skin taste like? What does his ass taste like? When was the last time he masturbated? This morning? What does he think about when he jacks off? What does his semen taste like? As I sat, scrolling through page after page of stock photos of "business people", I wanted to get down on my knees, crawl under his desk and spend the rest of the day there sucking his cock. Or maybe the other way around, and he would be snug and cozy under my desk as he licked my cunt and fingered me until I left a sizable puddle on the ergonomic office chair and my juices hung from his neat little beard.

I'll probably wear a tighter shirt tomorrow. I should wear a skirt to show some leg, but the bruises on calves are still pretty evident from a week ago (story to come). I could wear boots. Tomorrow, I'll find out he has a girlfriend or a fiancée. But tonight, for now, as far as I'm concerned, his cock is mine.

David_2

We didn't speak in the taxi. We sat far apart, not touching, each of us looking out of our windows at the rain. When we got to my little studio, I asked him automatically if he wanted a drink, even though we were both still a little drunk. Maybe we kissed a little, I don't remember. I don't remember if we talked or if we made out at all. I remember him undoing my pants, yanking them down and pushing me to my knees. I rested my arms and head on the bed. I listened to him open the door to the bathroom. I closed my eyes and waited patiently.

When he came out I turned to him. He looked about 50 feet tall. His belt was loose and with one hand he slipped it off, then doubled it cover. He pushed my underwear down and without ceremony whipped my ass with the leather belt. I cried out at the shock, my hands curling into fists. He drew back and hit again, the straps burning me. I settled into the rhythm, concentrated on my breathing as the pain washed into me. Soon, it became too much. I put my hand over my ass to protect it, but he swatted it away. I tried again and he hit it away again. At some point, he had unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. It was huge. I sighed when I saw it, the belt forgotten for a moment. "Hold on to it!" He commanded. I grabbed his hard cock, gripping it for dear life as he hit again and again.

When he finished I slumped to the floor, leaning against the bed. He knelt in front of me, looking into my eyes. The he slapped me, full across the face. No one had ever slapped me before. I felt the tears well up and he slapped me again. I inhaled sharply and turned my eyes away. I looked to my left, my right, anywhere but at him. I clenched and unclenched my fists frantically. He reached over and grabbed my hands, opening my palms, his fingers entwined in mine. He moved to sit on the bed next to me. "Look at me." He said. I couldn't. "Look at me," he said firmly. I did, my eyes wide, a childish pout on my lips. He slapped himself. And not gently. "See?" He said and slapped his face again. "Here." He took my hand and put it to his face. "Slap me." I shook my head no, afraid of the ramifications. "Slap me!" And I did. Softly at first. "Again!" I hit him again, this time with all of my force.

"See?" He smiled at me and I smiled back, I even laughed a little. As we made our way up to the bed, I pulled my pants all the way off and stripped away my shirt and bra. It seemed odd that I would still be clothed. He was finally naked as well. He lifted my legs over my shoulders, a condom appeared from somewhere. He said, "I like wearing condoms. I like the idea that I control your reproduction." I rolled my eyes at this and entered me hard, all the way in one quick thrust. He was serious. He fucked furiously, my legs bouncing on his shoulders.

While he fucked me he asked me, "What would you do if I slapped you like that in public?" Gasping as his cock drove into me, I said with a smile, "I'd kick you in the balls." "No, you wouldn't." He said, thrusting harder. "Yes, " I laughed. "I fucking would." The temperature changed. There was a shift somewhere in the dynamics. It wasn't want he wanted to hear. I grinned, staring directly into his eyes now, daring him, challenging him. I wanted him to know that I had his number. I wasn't going to make this easy for him.

He slipped out of my cunt, pulled off the condom and raised my legs further up. He shoved his cock into my ass using my own juices as lube. I winced at the pain, but as my body opened up him, I sighed with a smile on my lips. I know he was trying to punish me, to hurt me, but it felt too good. I closed my eyes and let out a laugh. When I opened my eyes, he was deadly serious. He was fucking me harder now, sweating with the effort. "Don't laugh at me." He said. I laughed harder, "I'm not laughing at you!"

(I wasn't laughing at him. That's the truth. I was laughing because, well... I was happy and I was feeling good and I was having fun. I know it may not be the sexiest response, but I can't help it. And no matter how many times I've had sex, I still get giddy by the fact that there is a cock inside me.)

He slapped me across the face. "I said, don't laugh at me!" I couldn't stop grinning, his large cock pumping in and out of my ass, hitting me so deep in just the right place. "I'm not laughing at you!" I shouted. But for some reason, just then, I wanted him to think I was. I looked him in the eye, a smirk on my face. "Go ahead," I thought, "What ever you're going to do, do it." His eyes were mean, there was no humor, he was genuinely angry. I knew it wasn't directed at me. It was an anger he had already for some other woman or women in general. It was too deep and too old for me to have caused it. I took stock of where my knives were in my kitchen and how quickly I could get to them.

He pulled his cock out of my ass and positioned it to my mouth. I could see bits of my own shit on his cock, but I put it in my mouth anyway. It did not take long. He pulled out, came all over my face and collapsed on top of me panting. I reveled in the weight of him on top me. I hadn't come, but I didn't care. He rolled off of me and quickly fell asleep.

I usually can't sleep with another man in my bed, one I don't know anyway. It takes me forever to fall asleep by myself, anyway. Usually, I lay awake for hours and fall asleep just as the sun is coming up. This time I dropped right off. I slept like a baby.

The next morning, I walked him to the subway. We awkwardly kissed. He seemed shy and maybe a little embarrassed. He couldn't look me in the eye. I stopped at the corner to get a cup of coffee and a muffin. When I got home, I went to the bathroom and saw there was a small smear of shit on my forehead and a bruise the size of a dinner plate on my ass.

At the time I was angry at his "It's not you, it's me" brush off. Like most men who do deliciously mean things to me, I had developed quite the crush. He wrote that he didn't intend for it to go so far so quickly. E-mails became less frequent and then stopped.

Now, I know I dodged a bullet. He was right. It was him.

Dimtri_1

We had met for the first time in person that night. He took me to a divey club where some band he liked was playing. I half listened to the mediocre music while I sipped my drink and looked at him, sizing him up, wondering how the rest of the night would go. I was getting a headache in there. I rubbed my temple dramatically. He took the cue and finished his drink.

We took a cab back to my place in Brooklyn. He put his hand on my thigh in the back seat. "Are you nervous?" He asked. I shook my head no. I wasn't, not really. I get nervous when I have expectations. This night I had none. I knew exactly where this was going. We had nothing in common, he bored me with his talk of his job and his bad taste in music. There was only reason why would be together and it was starting in the back of this taxi.

He moved his hand to the back of my head coaxing it to his crotch. He quickly unzipped his fly and pulled out his erect cock. I gave a quick glance to the cab driver, who kept his eye dutifully on the road. Then I went down. As quietly as I could I gently suckled his cock, just teasing. I could hear his breathing quicken as his hand clenched my hair. Every once in a while I would lift up to give directions to the cab driver.

He wasted no time once I opened the door to my apartment. As soon as we were inside, he pushed me to my knees. He unzipped his fly again and took out his now soft penis. He pushed my head up and I instinctly opened my mouth for the familiar. Instead he said, "I'm going to piss in your mouth," he said shakily, fumbling with his penis. My eyes widened. I was not prepared for this and did not want it, not then at least. I had been curious, of course, but now with his flaccid penis in his mouth, the idea of it, well, it freaked me out. I shook my head no and could feel the tears rise in my eyes. "Just a little! It's no big deal." I shook me head again, but I didn't close my mouth. I looked up at him, pleading, but he wasn't paying attention to me. It occurs to me now, I could have just shoved him away jokingly, "No way!" But I didn't. I never do. He was concentrating. He seemed to have gotten piss shy and was mummbling with frustration. I smiled slightly with relief. "This never happens!" He said. I shrugged and gave him an "It's okay" look grateful for his inability to perform.

Of course, now he was frustrated and needed some kind of release. He pulled me up and positioned me on my knees in front of my bed. The first smack was perfect. Not to hard to throw me off, but not too soft. I couldn't see what he was using but it felt good. They came hard and steady, it must have been a paddle of some kind. I moaned into my duvet and gripped the fabric in my hands as the blows became harder and my ass more tender. It was the kind of beating I like: a slow build up that grew and grew until the pain spread into pure sensation. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the growing ache in my ass, soreness on top of soreness.

Then the pause between hits was longer than usual. "I have to stop." He said. I turned to look at him. "You're bleeding." He showed me the paddle. There were small raised spikes along it surface. I had no idea. "I could keep going," I panted. "No," he said. "I think I should stop."

That seemed to be some signal to him that the torture portion of the evening was over. I stood up, rubbing my ass, amazed at the warmth and watched him rifling through his toy bag. He pulled out a flogger. He told me to bend over the bed and I prepared myself for another volley. Instead, I felt his fingers at my ass. They were cold with lube and I pushed my ass out for what I assumed was his cock, the flogging now forgotten. Instead, I felt the blunt, textured tip of the handle at my asshole. "Oh!" I exclaimed and pushed my ass out further. It was rough, the braided leather adding a strange texture that was totally alien. It was not easy going in, my rectum fighting against the un-tapered tip. He forced the handle into my ass, until I felt the straps on my thigh. I stood up and turned around, wiggling my butt, making my new "tail" swing. I would say one thing for him. He was full of surprizes. He smiled at his handiwork, turning me around and bending me over. I could hear him unwrapping a condom.

When his cock entered my cunt, I groaned at the sudden fullness. I amazed at my body and it's capacity to take these forgien objects (alive and not). He tossed the straps to the side and grabbed my hips as he fucked me fiercely, the handle firmly in place. Robert Mapplethorpe would be proud I thought.

David_1

He looked like how I imagined the character Vaughan in J.G. Ballard's "Crash". He was very tall, muscular, not from the gym but from construction work. I hate to use the phrase "raw sexuality" but he had it. He was the definition of it. We met at my favorite bar, a secluded place in Chinatown that had once been a gay speak-easy in the 20's. It was usually quiet before 11:00 and the the little nooks provided instant intimacy.

We both came straight from work (although I suspect he stopped at his apartment for a quick shower), I from the office, he from the Williamsburg bridge. The palm of his left hand was wrapped in a white bandage that was already getting dingy. He explained he had an accident at work. A nail had driven straight through his palm. I was immediately turned on.

We sat near the back. He had scotch (he was already a little dazed from the pain killers). I had a martini. He sat back and leaned against the wall, his eye lids heavy. Conversation was slow in starting. Maybe it was the awkwardness of the first date or the combination of alcohol and drugs. We had chatted for a while by e-mail. I was intrigued by his odd combination of misogynistic and feminist tendencies. He was extremely intelligent, rather cocky and just a little terrifying.

Slowly, conversation grew. We talked about our past, our families, and third-wave feminist theory. We had another round, then another. At some point I had moved closer to him. We sat side by side, his arm around my shoulder. I hadn't noticed it, but the bar had filled up. I looked out at the hazy crowd with mild curiosity, wondering what all these people were doing in our space. The music had gotten louder. If we were still talking we would have had to shout. But we weren't talking anymore. I felt his hand caressing my cheek. It would disappear for a moment and then return. I felt a wetness as he ran his fingers over the side of my face. I turned and watched him put his three fingers of his un-bandaged hand deep in his mouth and withdraw them, covered in saliva. He lazily spread his spit over the side of my face, over my closed eye, my cheek, my chin. I suggested it was time we left.

We stumbled out of the bar into the street. It was starting to rain. We walked side by side, our cigarettes quickly turning damp. The rain came harder. Neither of us had umbrellas, but we made no effort to get out of the down pour. We walked lazily side by side, as people around us ran for cover. "Where are we going?" I asked casually not really caring about the answer. We made our way under the scaffolding in front of Planned Parenthood. He stopped suddenly and turned to me. I looked up into his face, dripping wet. He looked serious, a slight frown on his lips, but I recognized the look in his eyes. That slightly dazed, wide-eyed glare I've come to love on men.

He suddenly grabbed me by the belt and shoved me against the wall. He kissed me violently, his stubble scraping my chin. He kept his grip on the front of my jeans, pulled me from the wall and slammed me back, going in for another kiss. I thrust my hips forward, hoping he would take it as a sign to slip his hand inside my pants, but he kept his grip steady.

I looked to my side as he devoured my neck. There was a delicate, effeminate young man a few feet away. His soaking wet dark hair was plastered to his face and his already baggy pants were slipping down from the weight of the water. He wasn't paying any attention to us. He was crying softly. I watched him sob while David ran his tongue over the side of my face. He finally looked up and I gave him a small, sympathetic smile. He gave a small smile back. I rolled my eyes in David's direction in a mock exasperated "Men!" kind of way. The boy laughed a little and walked away.

David pulled me from the wall and we started to walk again. "Are we going to your place?" I asked. I knew he lived nearby. "No. Yours." I hailed the next cab.

Liam_1

I re-told David's fantasy to Liam. In his scenario, we would go to a fancy restaurant. He would order an elaborate steak dinner for himself and for me a piece of dry toast. I would sit through the meal in silence as he relished every bite of filet (medium-rare), washing each bite down with a fine red wine, my toast left untouched. After his meal, he would retreat to the men's room with a small dish. He would return, the dish now filled with a fair portion of his semen. With a spoon, I would take his cum, spread it on my toast and eat it. Meal complete.

David told me he would never think of acting this out. It was too degrading. I wondered, in this scenario, who would be degrading whom?

Liam and I agreed to meet for lunch two days later.

I sat at my desk, attempting to work, my fingers trembling over the keyboards. I glanced at the time, over and over, thinking I could e-mail him and cancel, making some excuse about a last minute meeting, knowing I wouldn't. When 12:30 finally came, I gathered my purse as calmly as possible, excusing myself from the usual debate about where and what to eat. I was going out. Just lunch with a friend. On my way out, I stopped in the kitchen and grabbed a demitasse, slipping it into my purse. We agreed it would be more polite not to use the restaurants dishes.

He picked a nice, little Italian place in the Flat Iron district. We decided to deviate from the original concept slightly so I had the ravioli rather than toast. I had no appetite, but I ate quicker that necessary, anticipating desert. We chatted about work and movies and all of the normal things men and woman talk about at lunch. After, the waiter came to clear the plates, Liam asked calmly for the cup. I slipped it to him under the table and he excused himself to the men's room. He had picked a table by the window and I watched the people go by, a knowing smile creeping on my face. I sipped my water slowly, cleansing my palate.

It did not take him long. He emerged from the back, calmly, his hand discreetly concealing the cup. He passed it to me under the table. There was not as much as I had hoped, but it was a rather small target. I took a moment to savor the smell. If it was a wine glass, I would have swirled it for a moment, held it up to the light to examine the color. I raised the cup up in a small toast and downed it like a shot. That leering grin I knew so well, crept on his lips and I think I caught a glimmer of admiration in his eye. The waiter came just in time with the check as I slipped the now empty cup back into my purse.

Back at work, I sighed contentedly, running my tongue over my teeth, savoring the remaining traces. I quickly rinsed out the demitasse and put it in the dishwasher with the rest of the coffee cups.