The Grass is always greener....

As discussed on Leesa's blog

The Grass is Greener

At a previous job, a lifetime away, there was a beautiful attorney who was the flattest adult woman I have ever seen. Almost nothing, just barely an "A" cup I found out later, but she had the best nipples ever.

She would wear very expensive, very tight silk t-shirts under a suit coat when she was going to court, all very professional, but when we worked together in the office the coat came off, the nipples came out, and I had a very difficult time concentrating on anything.

Occasionally she would wear a starched white blouse and leave several buttons undone because she had nothing to hide cleavage-wise, but anyone (especially me) who stood behind her could see right down her shirt, and gaze upon them. Quite delightful.

And yes, she was a runner.

Conference Call

The sign on the door said that I was on a conference call, yet she used her master key and entered my office anyway. I put my finger to my lips and gave her a silent “Shhhh”. She walked to the far wall and closed the blinds on the left, and then on the right, blocking my view of the ocean and plunging my office into mid-day darkness.

I tried to stay focused on the voices coming through the speaker phone, but I had to ask the partner from Houston to repeat the question, kicking myself for not paying more attention. As the voices droned on, you took a leisurely walk around my office, dragging your fingernails over the spins of my technical manuals, letting your long fingernails click quietly across the hardbound binders.

You walked back over to the window, the long winter’s light fought its way past my blinds and cast your athletic shoulders and slim hips, wrapped tightly in short sweater dress in a sensuous silhouette. Standing there, you dropped your hands to the hem of your dress and pulled it over your head in one stunning and sexy moment. In the low light I saw that you were wearing the bra and panty set that I bought you for your birthday. The low rider panties vanished between your butt-cheeks and the thin bra strap the crossed you back were a dark blue satin.

You ass was, as always, perfectly round, firm, and as you bent forward, spread open to my eyes. I could feel me erection growing as I gave distracted responses to the inane and seemingly never-ending questions from the other sales managers on the phone.

Finally you turn to face me and my heart stops. Your breasts, held gently in place by the thin blue satin are full and round, perfect in every way, and your nipples are full and show themselves, inviting me to take them straight through the soft fabric. Your panties, so small and tight, hide almost nothing, but accentuate the beautiful lines of your stomach, hips, and thighs.

You pad softly across my plush carpet and take me by the hand to bring me to my feet. Standing on your toes, you whisper in my ear that you got waxed for me the night before. I look you in the eyes, still yammering on my conference call, trying not to sound breathless, and we smile at each other sweetly. You bring your lips to my ear again and add, “Elena did it for me again.”

Now you get a giant grin and I completely loose my train of thought. Elena, tall, slim, beautiful, is the prettiest, sexiest, and most intimate waxer at the spa you use. You have told me stories of how softly she touches you, how she lets her fingers drift and how you lift your hips and spread you legs, and ask her for the most intimate hair to be removed. While looking into each other’s eyes you unbuckle my pants and kneel in front of me, pulling my pants and boxes to the floor as you descend.

Instantly you take my erection in your mouth. I cough and stammer into the phone and ask the others to “Hold on”, claiming to need a drink. I press the “HOLD” button and your mouth stops.

“Keep talking.” Is all you say, and I quickly swig a mouthful of water from the bottle on my desk and take the phone off hold and resume the conversation.

Your mouth on my cock is heavenly, delicious, the perfect sensations, warm, wet, and tight are intensified by your swirling, hungry tongue. Your head bobs and weaves, your tongue attacks and retreats, all the while I fight against the sensation, trying desperately to remember what words are supposed to be coming out of my mouth when all I really want to do is groan and call out your name.

I feel my orgasm approaching and I reach down and gently tug on your ear, giving you the signal. But instead of withdrawing and finishing me with your lovely hands, you suck me in deeper and wrap your hands around my hips and pull my cock deeper into your mouth. The fingernails of your right hand dig into the back of my right thigh and I see your left hand drop and slip into your panties.

The sight of you masturbating for me, on your knees, wrapped in lingerie, with your soft pink lips wrapped around my cock is too much for me and my orgasm explodes. I can feel pulse after pulse rush through the length of my cock and into your mouth. Your tongue swirls and sucks, drawing my fluids out in with excruciating pleasure. You press your nose into my short-trimmed pubic hair and let both of your hands work across your snow white skin. You pull your lips off my softening cock and look up at me, you try to smile but your own climax is too close and mouth the words, “Cum for me” and you quickly obey.

Your right arm grabs me again, this time for support as your long pianist fingers of your left hand plunge deep between your legs. Your thumb works your clit in a flurry of motion and your orgasms hits you like a sledge hammer. Your arm locks around my hips for support as you try to keep from crying out in release. All of this wracks your body with shivers and convulsions and you slowly sink to the floor and rest against my desk drawers, panting and smiling, and swallowing the last of me.

I plop back down into my chair and start to regain a semblance of control in my voice again. “Anderson?” My Detroit manager tries to get my attention, “Anderson, are you OK?”

“Yeah, I’m great, I just had something stuck in my throat. You are the one who scheduled this meeting during lunch.”

“Are you OK now?”

I look down at you, panting, wet, satisfied, and smile, “Oh, I’m fine now. It’s a wonderful day here in Seattle.

Smiling up at me from the floor of my office, you stick your tongue out at me and roll over on to your hand and knees, deliberately showing your perfectly formed ass to me as I try to finish up my phone call. You slink out of sight around my desk and find your dress. When I see you again, you are clothed and opening the blinds. With a flick of your wrist you wave good-bye and blow me a smile.

Moments later, you instant message me from your desk,

“Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

“Yes” I reply.

“Bringing the wife?”

“Yes, U bringing the hubby?”

“Of course.”

“C U @ 7”

What if somebody sees me?

Another great post from Leesa is the inspiration for today’s entry.

Leesa went shopping at a “lingerie boutique” on Ash Wednesday, a religious holiday marking the start of Lent. The woman behind the counter expressed surprise that a “religious” person would be buying some cherry flavored body oils on such a day. Leesa’s post struck me as funny because I have been thinking along a similar theme.

Background:

My favorite sex shop is on my way home from my bus stop. I pass it every day. Occasionally I go in, sometimes to browse, sometimes to buy. I've never really thought twice about it. Like most sex shops, one half is toys, lotions, oils, etc, and the other 1/2 is pornographic movies and magazines. I try to stay on the toy side, but even the packaging there usually has someone naked on the box.

A couple of months ago I was asked to take on additional responsibility at my church. No problem. As a reasonably conservative faith, we preach abstinence to the kids and tell them to avoid porn, which is pretty good advice for most 16 year olds. I count myself among the faithful, but also on the more “liberal” side of the aisle when it comes to sex and sensuality.

Last night, on my way home, I started thinking about Valentine’s Day and the fact that our Rabbit vibrator had died. I changed lanes and started to slow down to make the left turn in to the parking lot, when I suddenly thought, "What if someone sees me coming out?"

Granted, the store is in between an out-of-business ski shop and a tattoo parlor, so the chances are pretty slim, but I hesitated long enough that I passed the driveway and decided to go home. So what does it mean?

Am I embarrassed? Ashamed? Feeling guilty? I’ve never felt like hiding my proclivities among my circle of friends, most of whom are from my congregation. Within my little circle, I know which women wax, shave, or go natural. I know that 2 couples have sex almost every night (unfortunately, not with each other). I know that Kirsten won’t masturbate and that Steve almost never stops. I know a lot about these people, sex has never been a taboo subject, and suddenly I’m hesitating over going in to my favorite store? WTF?

I started to think seriously about the disconnect between the image we present to others, and the image we have of ourselves. I see myself as a faithful Christian who really likes sex. And I don’t see any conflict between that desire and the scriptures. “Go and replenish the earth” was one of the first commandments. I’m doing my best.

So why am I nervous about someone from church seeing me walk out of a sex shop? Maybe they think I’m buying porn, maybe they imagine I’m getting something ‘dirty’ or something kinky. I’ll admit that a lot of the older parishioners have never gone in to this shop or anything like it, but that’s their loss, not mine.

Maybe I’m worried about what people are thinking as they sit in the pews, or in Sunday school class as I’m giving a lesson or sermon. “Sure, he’s familiar with the teachings of Paul, but do you know that he owns a butt-plug, 8 kinds of massage oil, and 6 vibrators of various sizes and shapes?” Can people hold two images of one person in their head? Can I be a ministry leader and a sexual animal at the same time?

I’m sure some people would just want to know that I’m faithful to my wife and that I’m not into porn. While porn isn’t an issue for many people, we discourage its use and it would be hypocritical of me to actively pursue it. But I am a hypocrite because I’ve used this blog to write porn, discuss porn, and occasionally, point people to porn I’ve enjoyed.

But I don’t feel like a hypocrite when it comes to having a strong and creative sex life with my wife. I don’t like the fact that I have to go to a special store to buy a vibrator. On a side note, I was very proud of my local Rite-Aid pharmacy for selling three kinds of vibrators in their condom section. All very discretely packaged, but all out on display!

I guess I’m nervous that someone from church would make a public issue about a private matter. Do I want to have to defend my toy buying habits in front of people who know me only in the public sphere? Do I want that much of my life exposed? I really don’t want to know anything about most of the people in my life. As long as they are in a healthy relationship with their spouses, I really don’t care if they are busy giving it to each other with a double-headed, water cooled, radio controlled silicone dildo.

My thoughts on this haven’t fully gelled yet, so I suppose I’ll come back to this topic on another day, but it was a conflict I never imagined when I simply said “Yes” to helping out at church.

Other Thoughts

I don’t care if they dress up in leather, or in diapers, or in each other’s clothes. There are some that preach that sex is for procreation only. Well, I had a vasectomy two years ago now, does that mean I’m done having sex? I don’t think so.

I’m now debating between going to my shop and doing all of my shopping on the Internet. Do I have to hide my sensuality from my church friends?

The worst trade-off in the world.

Last night my wife and I had sex, and it was pretty good sex. Everybody made it to the finish line, no one got hurt, and none of the kids knocked on the door, fell out of bed, got up for a drink, or cried, so it was a good night.

But it brought up a question. “Would you rather have sex or watch TV?”

I asked a few of my friends, all in live-in relationships (either married or cohabitating) and everybody answered the same way, “No, but…..”

I would get a lot more sex at home if I simply went to bed earlier. After 10:00 the house is quiet and 90% of the daily chores are done and my wife’s not too tired yet. If I just turned off the TV, turned off the computer, turned out the lights, and brushed my teeth before 10:15, I would probably get laid.

So why don’t I? What is so enthralling about “Seinfeld”, or “Two and a Half Men”, or Letterman, or even worse, Leno? Do I really want to trade having sex with a beautiful woman for a rerun I’ve seen 10 times already? Is “South Park” so funny that it’s better than a blow job, or 69, or just good old missionary? Is a Craig Furgeson joke better than an orgasm?

I didn’t think so.

But we make that trade almost every night of the week.

Why? Why? Why?

An open letter to my friend (revised)

I was going through and old memory stick, cleaning out some files, and found this story, 1/2 written, but ready for more. I hope you enjoy it. Comments are always welcome.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Diane (names have been changed to protect the writer, and my friends who don't know that I think this way about them)

It was nice to see you at the gym this morning. It has been a long time since we have spoken, and I wanted to tell you that I miss you. I miss sitting in the aerobics room, stretching and talking as we get ready for class. I miss laughing with you, talking about your day, and knowing the details of your love life, such that it is, and hearing who is making your heart go flutter.

I can still remember the day we first met. I had seen you in the gym for a couple of weeks, but had not built up the courage to say hello. I had tried to approach you a couple of times, but I always lost my nerve as I approached you and saw just how beautiful you were up close. It is hard not to notice your physical beauty.

Your brown hair, always pulled up into a ponytail, presents a perfect frame for your beautiful, deep brown eyes. Your smile is warm and inviting, and seems to come naturally when someone around you cracks a joke, or makes you think of something funny. You laugh frequently, and it betrays the inner silliness that you have. That lightheartedness has always attracted me to you. Whether it be laughing at a joke, or laughing at yourself, I always find myself smiling around you because you smile first.

Your figure is close to perfect, my friend. I love your breasts. I have seen them day in and day out at the gym, at parties, across the lunch table at your favorite restaurant, and once, though you probably didn't notice, wrapped delicately in a light blue lace bra as you changed your clothes for a party. It was the night that we all met at your apartment to get ready to go dancing. You had stepped into your bedroom to change your clothes and I needed to use the restroom. The layout of your small studio apartment forced me to walk past your door, which you left slightly ajar.

As I walked by I saw you reach your arms down to your waist and pull your T-shirt up over your head. The sight of your naked torso made me gasp, and I paused and stared. The material of your bra was thin and silky, and it lifted your breasts high and together. They looked so beautiful, perched on your slim frame and athletic hips. As you lowered your arms and tossed your T-shirt on the bed, they bounced slightly, soft and subtle, full and round. I sensed you turning around and I jumped into the bathroom and closed the door, but I still have that image in my head.

Last Friday, you wore an incredibly sexy top. You probably didn't think much of it when you picked it that morning, but it was extremely flattering, and it fueled my fantasy life all weekend. It had a high collar, and a large heart-shaped cutout on the front, revealing your deep cleavage as you bent over and during our stretching routine.

I imagine you in that top, kneeling at the end of my bed; you wore a matching pair of dark blue panties, high cut and thin at the waist. On your hands and knees you crawled towards me, letting your breasts sway back and forth inside your top. As you got closer you stopped and lowered your mouth to my body, taking me in without even using your hands. A few seconds of that and you released me, fully erect, and shiny with your saliva. You moved up a little further and I reached through the hole in your top and took your breast into my hands. It was full and warm and firm and I could feel your nipple hardening under my touch.

You held still and enjoyed having my hand inside your shirt. But then you wanted more, and you reached up under your long brown hair and undid the button at the back of your neck. With just a simple movement, your top fell open, revealing your body to me, and inviting me to take you into my arms.

Your chest, now naked, presses against mine as we embraced and begin to kiss. Our kisses were long and passionate, and I felt your body shift and struggle against mine. You let your weight settle on top of me, and I could feel my erection press into the thin silk of your panties.

Without breaking a single kiss, you reached down between our bodies and took my cock into your hand. You lifted your body off of mine, held the silk to the side, and guided me inside. You let all your weight settle, surrounding my cock with your warm body, and you began to pump me with rhythmic thrusting of your hips.

Your hips pressed down as you let your knees slide open across your silky sheets and I could feel myself settling deeper and deeper into your tight, wet body. You sat up tall and shook your head and flicked your long brown hair over your shoulders and I stared up at you in lustful amazement. I tried to memorize every inch of your body. Your beautiful eyes hidden by long lush lashes, now half closed as you concentrate on feeling me inside you. Your lips are turned up in a soft smile that is quickly turning into a quiet gasp as my hips begin to buck and roll. Your breasts hang in perfect symmetry and I reach up to gently stroke your growing nipples.

As I bring my fingers to your chest, I whisper that I want to see you touch them, and you oblige me, raising your long fingers to your nipples. You begin to tug and pull on them, and instinctively your hips begin to move. I close my eyes and stretch, pulling my legs together, letting my cock sink deeper into you, and your hands continue to fondle and play. With my hands stretched above my head, I grab the headboard, and buck my hips, thrusting into you, lifting you off the bed, and cause you to fall forward on to my chest.

As your hips roll forward my cock slips out of you with an audible pop and you whimper at the empty feeling. I pull you face to mine and kiss you deeply, bringing my tongue to yours, and playing lightly over your lips. You are trying to pull away, trying to find my fullness, trying to get me back inside, but I tease you, letting the swollen head of my erection brush lightly over your swollen lips without gaining entry.

We kiss and giggle, and my hands move down your side to tickle your silk-soft skin just below your ribs. Tickling turns to wrestling and we toss and turn on the bed with lustful abandon. Our bodies bounce and touch, we grope and we play as I toss you around on the king-sized bed. With one sweeping motion, I am able to grab you around the waist and lift you off the bed, your head down, and your legs up. Upside down and helpless, I pull your panties off and bite you playfully on the ass and then turn you around.

As you turn your legs splay open and I take full advantage and plunge my tongue into your wet and open pussy. With the blood rushing to your head, you feel my arms gripping you tightly as my mouth, lips and tongue attack your most intimate folds. I can feel your swollen clit on my tongue, taste the slippery wetness of your arousal, and inhale your heady fragrance. Down below I feel your lips searching for me, kissing my thighs and hips. Your arms find the bed and you lift up slightly to take me into your hungry mouth and we settle into a deep and quiet 69, the room silent except for the sounds of our suckling, slurping, and swallowing.

Knowing that it will be hard for you to cum like this, I pull myself out of your mouth and let you slide down to the bed. Panting for arousal and exertion I see you beautiful breast move and sway on your chest. You reach for my saliva coated cock and pull me towards your wide-spread legs.

“Fuck me” you gasp, “Oh baby, just fuck me.”

I move on top of you and let you guide my pulsing hardness to your aching lips.

“FUCK ME” you growl and I obey. My cock plunges in to your sweet wetness and I press my chest against yours, wrapping you my arms, pulling our bodies together as one as I press my attack and pump my cock in and out of your engorged vagina. Your heels dig in to my lower back as you urge me in deeper and my thrusts get longer, deeper, and faster.

Our kisses are hard and deep, your nails scratch long red lines across my back, and my hands bury themselves in your lustrous hair to give me better leverage. As my strokes get longer and more urgent I hear your breath catch in your throat.

“Don’t stop, Don’t stop, Don’t stop, Don’t stop” is your mantra, and I don’t.

I can feel myself slipping in and out of your sopping wet body. Your orgasm is building and I can feel your pussy twitch and grip around my raging cock. I keep up my pounding rhythm and try my best to delay my own orgasm until yours has arrived. You breathing stops as your climax approaches and the room is again silent except for the sound of two bodies fucking. In and out I go; deeper and deeper I thrust, holding a constant orgasmic rhythm meant to pleasure only you.

With a primal grunt your body convulses and your orgasm hits. Your back arches and turns, your legs crush around my waist, and you throw your head back in violent climax. I ride you like a wild bronco out of the gate and continue to thrust and pump my hard cock into your quivering pussy. I grab your hips and pull your body on to mine and pump some more, keeping you on the crashing wave of orgasmic power. Your breath returns and you grunt and moans and thrash your head back and forth as I continue to hammer inside you.

You fall back on the bed and look me in the eye and smile, trying to breathe, trying to talk, but I just shake my head and press myself deeper into you. My climax is building deep inside my balls and I can no longer hold back.

“Cum for me, cum for me.” you beg and your pleading pushed me over the edge. I feel myself cumming. Great gushes explode deep inside you. I thrust harder and harder and then plunge myself in as deep as I can go and freeze as I feel my body pump the final ounces of cum inside your beautifully tight pussy.

As you feel my body shake in its final quiver, you push me to the side and pull me down to the bed. Without a word you pull yourself off my and take my sensitive cock into your mouth, tasting me, tasting yourself, tasting us together in an erotic cocktail.

I pull your body on top of mine, your knees straddling my face, your engorged and flame pink lips just inches away from my face. My hands wrap around your thighs and pull you gently open. My fingers graze lightly over your skin and you twitch and pull away, breathlessly moaning that you are too sensitive for any more. I satisfy myself by playing gently with the full firmness of your bottom, and I pull our cheeks wide and let my fingers play deep between the cleft.
As I gently touch the soft puckered skin, you playfully swat my hand away and giggle.

“Save something for next time.” And we laugh, reposition ourselves, and kiss, in a long over due, long anticipated kiss.

Like I said, it was good to see you at the gym this morning.