Plane flights always bring about a level of anticipation. Some more so than others. A trip with the kids or the girls always involves lots of arranging, co-ordination and an understanding that one must be a “sensible packer” A top that could be worn with a variety of bottoms and cater for cool and warm days and nights. Yes, being a sensible packer is a skill that many women take pride in. So it is an odd feeling sitting in the airport lounge, clutching a ticket to Adelaide, all by myself. It’s only a weekend away so I dont have to line up a host of outfits and that has made this packing job a little easier but, at the same time, twice as stressful. My reputation as a sensible packer is in tatters as I ponder what is in my only bag. Inside my carry on luggage, one of those cute little wheelie numbers that has been with me all around the world, is well... very little indeed. And of that very little, each item of clothing is well... very little. But is it sensible? I simply do not know but I suspect it’s anything but. Is a g-string teddy sensible? Well’ better than a bra and panties on a cold night, I think. Is a couple of miniscule Wicked Weasel g’s sensible? Well, if its hot by the river they might prove to be. What river? I don't even know where I am going. But I have been told and I have created a picture in my mind. Will it be like I imagine? And I laugh at the irony of my thoughts when I ask myself “Can anything really be “no strings” when everything in my bag is a heap of strings held together by string”. ”A bad start by me” I laugh. And I’m sitting, waiting and thinking. Perhaps thinking too much. If being on a dating site as part of a couple seeking other couples and women is at all sensible in the first place? If chatting to a couple and then discovering that couple is really a man and then still chatting is sensible? If laying eyes on his pics whilst ignoring hers is sensible? If not telling my partner about this particular ...ahem..couple was sensible? I am standing with my bag in Rundle Street having seen on descent to the airport the Adelaide Hills grace the horizon in beautiful sunset tones. But it’s serenity has not fully captured me as I wait nervously for a man I simply don’t really know. And I’m here with a wardrobe that allows for a restaurant, maybe a coffee at a cafe-but otherwise nothing else that is generally worn in public. I’m here, the plane has gone, the taxi has emptied me out and I’m in Adelaide. “Not really anywhere to turn , is there?” I think to myself. Every car coming towards me is scrutinised. “God I hate tinted windows.” A 4WD ute proceeds ominously through the intersection where most other cars seem to be turning. Thats it. As it slows I know that it is indeed him. I am eye level with a brick cutting machine and my knees go weak with fear. Out steps a dark, very fit tradesman whom I recognise as the man I have come to see. His flashing smile is unmistakeable except this time its animated rather than the frozen smiles you see in still photos. Like most men, he looks me up and down in the way that women are used to. Some hate it. I love it. It makes me feel special to get a look and even if its not kosher to some, you won’t have any complaints from me as long as the glance ends up with eyes meeting and a smile. And that's how it was with Damian. The first step in regaining some comfort was warmly received as he took my bag and put it in the back of the ute. My sensible black dress didn’t necessarily clash with the tradesman’s ute but it came into it’s own as Damian opened the passenger door just like a suited and capped chauffeur does in a stretch limo. I laughed out loud at his cheeky manner and jumped in. The door was shut quickly and firmly and I swore he jumped the ute tray as he appeared in the drivers seat in a nanosecond. A first stolen kiss and the engine was running. At once, I felt a mixture of guilt, fear and anticipation. We both looked straight ahead. Onkaparinga is a word. And also a river in SA, apparently. Damian’s mouth spoke that word as we headed somewhere and I had remembered that word from years before. I didn’t know much other than it was firstly, a name on the label of my blanket when I was young. Florid writing on a tatty blanket but it kept me warm nonetheless. We all love blankets and we like them more when they are providing us real warmth. And Onkaparinga was also a kind of cockney rhyming slang for fingers. My Dad used to talk about cold “Onkaparingas”. That meant fingers I was to learn-and remember 30 years later somewhere in Adelaide, in a car with a bloke I didn't really know. I was cold but I was warming. Thinking about fingers. In my cunt.......moving in my warmth, through my boy pants while he drove and looked at me in the eyes. Damian, I want your hand on my thigh and, yes, let it wander. I don’t want the destination nor the journey. I’m in Adelaide alone with my bag and I want you to fuck me. But timing is everything, isnt it? It was. We soon arrived at a rural post box that signalled an entry to someplace It was dark. There was a road. There was a house. I could see that. In my bag was much more than I could articulate verbally but felt it’s contents down to my warmness. What next? I have boy pants on now and I am acutely aware of my underwear. Women always know what undies they have on and they always worry about it. Is it good enough? Will Damian warm to it? No matter, the underwear is about to come off and soon. I’d better prepare my mind cos my body is already seeping in all the right places. I am a sensible packer, I know that. But right now I want to be carried into that house and fucked all night. Leave my bag in the car. How not sensible. It is cos thats what I want right now. Fuck the accumulated knowledge of 45 years. Damian said in his AMM message that he’d fuck me 5 times and I was deep in anticipation. Fixated on 5 times. 5 loads of cum in me and 1 person doing it. All I need to do after all this organising is be carried and then taken...and taken.....and taken. Take me Damian-soon. He did. The ute door swung open and strong arms slid under my bum. Damian picked me up. God don’t ya luv this. My boy pants rode up my bum. It’s been years since I have been carried and conquered. At my age, I’ve kept my body but someone obviously wants what I have kept. Damian wanted me today. I wanted 5 loads of cum in pussy. I wanted the morning so that I knew why I came to Adelaide. I wanted to remember what coffee tasted like with a sore cunt and a rough hand lightly caressiing my twat before he pressed his weight on me one more time and kissed me goodbye. He told me in the message that he was going to fuck me 5 times. Damian said thats what he did for his partner. Thats what he would do for me. Fill me up with his cum in the river house while his wife stayed at home in Adelaide. I felt for her but I did got over it. I wanted him to fulfil what he said. I wanted him to fuck me and cum in me. But he was a gentleman with manners all the time trying to get in my pants. Forget it Damian, Im here. I wanted him to cum and I wanted to cum on his cock. I was no lady no more. Keep your condomns and your practised words. This was a lady with a ticket that had an expiry date and I wanted it spent. I also told him that this lady would cum all night. She does. Thats me. The mobile rang. Fukkkkkkk. Hi darlin’ . Yep cool. Work is hard. I’m in the hotel watchin the TV. Ahh Mark I want to be fucked all night in Adelaide. True. His answer was something like we all hear. Drive safely, darling and be careful. I love him in all his ways. I neither cared about the road and who was driving. I had permission. I was going to drive like a road slut. My keys, my twat, my time . And my eyes moved towards Mr 5 times. And it worked straight away. So much so, I was still wondering where I was and where in the world I was to be fucked and sent home soon thereafter In the house where I was taken, Damian slid his hands beneath my elastics-under theboy leg.He wanted my body NOW. Right then, I, too,wanted cock not cockiness and he obliged. Seeing someone elses cock works for me. Halting breath and a man that wants to fuck me grips me more than it does him. Where am I? Who is this man? Off go the undies, I am on my back, and they are flung to the moon. So exposed. At the time, I dont ever wish to see them again and I hope Damian feels the same. Except that I hope he might just keep them and want the smell me long after I am gone back to Mascot. Damian, they are yours I want your cum in me. Still daylight, with my cunt shaved, primarily for Mark, and now Damian seeing it for the first time I know what will happen. The noise and movement of a hand fumbling with a fly and I know what comes next. Been there before many years before but I’m still scared but I dearly want what happens next. He pushes his cock tip against me and I know I will come soon. Such a tease but such a player as he pushes his knob against my twat. I warn him but come just the same. He hasn’t even fucked me but he knows I have lost my moment. I’ve seen his cock and I have come already. As he enters me I know that any pretence of concern for Mark is far gone and more so as I am laid on the bed firmly. Feeling a different cock in your pussy is a moment not easily forgotten. More so when you are distant, unsafe and vulnerable. Damian just drove it into me in one fell swoop. Right at that moment, I knew he had used his flashing smile for all the right reasons. And did I come? I wasn't washing the sheets at the river house nor did I ask who was. I had an airline ticket and 4 of his orgasms to go. His first warm pulse of liquid stayed mostly in my twat and I was so pleased to hang on to it. And it was still Friday.

27 June 2006

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The first time We chat … we met on some crazy web site … you convince me that you are real .. we chat about everything … finally we make a date for the following night You drive 4 hours to meet me … you arrive at my house … wow I am shocked … you’re smooth … real smooth … and hot … really hot … you kiss me … oh yeah there is fireworks … its there … that connection that … explosion of hormones I am cooking dinner … you can’t stop touching … or kissing … omg .. dinner is burning … stop it … oh god don’t stop kissing me You unzip my top … I am trying so hard to concentrate on not burning the chicken … you undo my bra … and start sucking my nipples … Omg stop that or we won’t have anything to eat … I can feel my clit start to throb … you know it … your hand goes there and rubs so softly … teasing it You move aside my G-string … and touch me … Ok stop now … dinner is ready … All through dinner we are hungrily devouring each other with our eyes … oh god … hurry up and finish … we clean our plates .. I feed the dog .. you rinse our plates and we start kissing again … I so want to control my self … your body is so hard … such a turn on … so fit … I am so wet … I am like jelly in your hands You stop and look at me … saying you can’t take anymore … you take my hand and take me to the bed room … you strip me slowly … kissing and nibbling where your bare. My hands on your chest … your pecs … so damn hard … I undress you slowly kissing and nibbling as I go … on my knees … taking your shorts down with my hands slowly kissing the bared skin … omg .. I want you so much … I am so wet with need for you. Slowly I remove your underwear … thinking cool .. I can handle this … then I start to gently suck … I take all of you in my mouth … slowly you start to harden … and fill my throat … honey … stop growing now … I have to breathe … Gently I take you in my hands … still on my knees in front of you I look up smiling … you look into my eyes … smiling that smile … gently you take me by the arms and lay me on the bed slowly kissing down my body to my small patch of hair … gently you take my swollen clit in your mouth … your hands slide under my ass .. lifting me up to you, spreading my legs further. You hold me up … maneuvering your self to rub my clit with your hardness … no baby … wait … I jump out of your arms … and reach to the bedside and grab what we both want on fast …. Slowly you rub me again … making me wetter … and gently you enter … a little pain at first … honey take it slow … I am not made for a man like you … I adjust to you, taking you all. Mmmm baby … omg … Gently sweetie …you need to be gentle with me … omg don’t you dare stop … quickly my orgasm approaches and I flood you with it … making it so much easier for us both … you turn me over … on my knees. Taking me gently … rocking your hips until you are entirely inside me … honey … very quickly I explode on you again … omg you know just the spot inside me. Slowly you turn me over again … pushing my legs over your shoulders … taking me deeply all at once … omg you can’t take anymore … you pound into me … quickly you pull out and rip the condom off I take you in my mouth sucking every drop out of you … omg … looking up at you I swallow … you lean down and kiss me deeply … tasting your come on my lips …then I move to your arms … falling asleep with that “well loved” feeling … not quite pain … but knowing you have been deeper than any other man mmmm my last thought is wait until I wake up baby … that was nothing

23 June 2006

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You phoned me today… I was to prepare myself for you, and to be ready for you to collect me at 7.30pm- no later. All day I have been re-thinking your words. Where shall we be going? What should I wear? What are we going to do? I try to think of all the situations that could happen, but all I think of is you. I have been working harder than normal trying to keep myself busy during the day, as you have set my mind astray, and I cannot concentrate. The day crawls along slowly, but finally I am driving home. I have been aroused all day, yet suppressing it sensually it whilst at work. Now, I allow my sexuality permission to flow- and it swamps me, causing me to grind my hips as I drive. I lick my lips as I drive, and my hand slides my skirt up my thighs to expose my stocking tops, and I feel the kiss of the air against my skin. My knees part as my fingers dance over my skin, working their way to my muskiness. Ah Gods, I am so very wet. I part myself and run my nails and fingertips over my sensitive areas, gritting my teeth, as I am driving in traffic. I am so very aroused, and my breath is in short pants. I dip my fingertips into myself and lift them to scent my arousal, and then I bring them to my mouth and lick my taste off them. I taste of the Earth, and of Lust. I wonder if the man in the van next to me can see what I am doing? Mmmmm.... I’m home. It’s 6.30pm- I have one hour to prepare myself. I feverishly try to think coherently, yet my body’s urges are fighting my thoughts. Shower! The soap slides over my skin as my hands lather it, sliding it over my body. My skin seems hypersensitive to touch, and again my hand strays to my sex, sliding back and forth, around and over. Stop! Not ‘Allowed’! Savour it! What to wear? What to wear? I lavishly drench myself in fragrance- once, twice, three times. Layering it all over my body and drinking in the scent as it’s notes change and settle. I begin dressing, watching myself in the mirror. My eyes are glowing and emerald green. I luxuriously prepare myself, enjoying the sensation of the fabrics on my skin- the layering, still trying to imagine what this evening shall entail. Delicious tremors ripple through me. I slowly, thoroughly and lovingly apply my make-up. I want to look my best for you, to have you hunger you when you first see me. I have 15 minutes to wait for you, and it stretches like an eternity. I check and re-check that I am in readiness for you. My hips slowly begin to grind as I press my thighs together, trying to suppress and savour my arousal levels, thrilling in what you do to me. I hear your car and give myself a final mist of fragrance. I walk to the front door and open it for you, stepping back and allowing you entrance into my domain. As you walk by me, I drink in your fragrance- scent and man. Delicious. I feel another tremor of lust ripple through my body as I quietly close the door. We share generalities as we drown in the sight of each other and sip our wine, quietly assessing each other… beginning The Game. I casually enquire as to what to expect this evening, and with equal feigning of casualness you brush aside my questions, delighting in my mental writhing. You suggest it is time to leave, take my hand to help me rise, and kiss the back of it whilst looking deeply into my eyes. Your touch jolts through my body, concentrating in my core, and I feel my moisture gather and my hunger rise. As we go outside you quietly take my hand and lead me to your car, opening the door for me. As I seat myself you pass me a slip of satin, and tell me to blindfold myself. I look at you, then place the blindfold over my eyes and allow you to tie it. I hear the car start, and sit back to savour the ride and my imagination. I want you to touch me again….

3 June 2006

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