Sunday, 21 September 2014

Trail of Squirt

He sat comfortably on the chair in the corner of his home office. I had already put our son to bed and checked the camera to the screen in our bedroom was online.  He was working late, some book he was fast proofreading to beat a deadline, but when he saw me looking the way I was – nude, glistening from the massage oil I had applied on myself and some syrupy liquid dripping between my legs – he stopped what he was doing immediately.

With the grace of a deer I impaled myself on his erect phallus. I slipped in with ease, what he loves, and settled at the base of his penis. Just for effect, I looked him in the eyes, so I could see how his desire mounted and mine in his eyes. I felt his hand on my back, then on my ass. I returned the favour by caressing his chest. I leaned to kiss him, teasing him a bit so he won’t devour me like a fox.  

His hands on my buttocks, he drew my pelvis towards him and completely filled my open vulva. I felt him bulge inside me, and begin to twitch. I knew what was coming next, but the pre-orgasmic level made him stop and focus his attention on the crown. In that way he would guide the sexual energy upwards.

I too wanted to do that, guide the sexual energy along the spine towards the crown in order to avoid his early ejaculation and my banks from bursting. I am every woman’s fantasy – I squirt every time I have sex.

We seesawed, touched, caressed, kissed, nibbled and tugged at each other until it was not practicably possible. And then all the basic energy that we had sublimed into deep happiness and amid thudding of the body.
My body shuddered, legs too weak to support me, thighs doing a kind of a dance I was familiar with as I drained all my liquids on him like a waterfall.


“Enough of the foreplay, let’s get down to business,” he said as he carried me, leaving a trail of my dripping squirt on the floor, to the bedroom and laid me on the bed.

Wednesday, 13 August 2014

Gold Digger

When I return from the bathroom, I sit on his laps.
He seems lusty.
My hardened nipples push through the sheer negligee
A minaret and a spire that calls men to worship me.
When I left my pussy was pulsating, swollen and dripping wet.

He whispers quietly on my ear:
You smell nice. Your scent is sensual.
No, I want to say. It’s sexual.

Jamie, ten years my senior, talks dirtier:
I wanna feel that dripping wetness on my dick. My nipples brush his lips when
I move closer – my pudenda throbs for your cock, cough dough.
I move to the couch opposite him and I let out a moan.
He is more handsome than I can remember.
I press my open knees closed. Sit like a girl, my mother used to tell me.
I finger the hole between my legs, slick glistening when I remove and suck it.

From his couch he stares at me, eyes drooling.
My elongated clit caresses the leather and I tremble –
I open my legs like a well-oiled door,
Daring him to show me the dollar bills and

Give me what I wanted: DICK.












Thursday, 17 July 2014

Sex Tip of the Week: Fun Sex

The bedroom is boring. Make matters worse if you insist lights off. A lover without indiscretion is no lover at all, someone quipped. I am for this. I have an open mind, and not afraid. I want a man who is so.

I love the outdoors, very much. Not because I am desi girl naturally and I aggrandize the perfumed garden of the Kama Sutra. I have not even watched the Kama Sutra, but I have read the book, crammed it like a Muslim girl attending madrassa.

And then there is the hotel. And please, it’s not the dingy ones where the shower trickles like tears, and the bed is noisier than a locomotive. Even though it is said it’s a public place, take me in the elevator on that ride up to our room.

Well, something else I like very much is sex in the office. Not the me-the-secretary-and-you-the-boss thing. That’s unprofessional, and for me office romance is a no-no. It’s the other way round. I will surprise you in your office and demand you give it to me there and then. Don’t be afraid to storm into my office and ask nicely to unfurl the petal that’s my pussy.

Who cares whether I still behave like a teenager at thirty. I am a bachelorette. I fuck wherever I want whenever I feel like. So, sex in the car; make it more tantalizing on the hood – I will squirt all over you like a fountain.


I always dream of having a pleasure cruise. That’s after my childhood sweetheart failed miserably to take me on the stern of my father’s boat as my twenty-third birthday present. He was afraid that the boat might capsize. The idiot did not know that if he died inside my palpitating pussy it was one-way ticket to heaven. I still crave that.

Wednesday, 28 May 2014

1000 Years without Climaxing

I was prone on the bed and he lay on top of me. I opened my luscious thighs, that were already palpitating with desire, and received him, from behind. Like a man who is in love with a virgin, and aware of it, he moved inside me gently and deeply anchored there.

The soft of his palm cuddled me, stroked and fondled my swollen breasts. Like the body when it realizes it’s pointless and useless to fight death, I felt my self-will and restraint give way, the body abandon the notion of bothering about the surrounding and drew up my legs and spread them like wings to feel him proffer my vulva completely to his glans and penis shaft.

Just when it was getting heated, I lay on my stomach and he followed suit on top of me, legs interlaced. I was in the mood for trying something new, a sex style and position I had seen in one of Kama Sutra’s books. Following what the book had said, I turned and he did so with our backs to each other.

I knew he would feel some pain, but I had a way around that. I maintained my balance with one arm facing him supported on his body, titillated at the entrance to my weeping pussy by the glans of his thick shaft. Naturally this was only foreplay.

He got it real deep into my cunt by turning gently to one side. Then my pulsating pudendum was now ready to receive him in totality.

Whatever he did, a slight movement caressed places I never even knew existed. The intensity of the pleasure was debilitating, and gyrating in synch we realized that it just skyrocketed. When we stopped the sirens went off and drove us to about climax.

It was like a game we seemed to know by heart, his penis anchored deep into me like a vise while my pussy shuddered and welled at the same time.


Were it not for his gullibility to release inside me I could do it for a 1000 years like the Indian gods of love without climaxing.