I don't mean the 'rose by any other name' thing. I mean there are certain females bearing certain names that have had a disproportionate amount of impact on my life.
Two, to be exact: Donna and Tina.
Donna - I lived next to one and worked with several others. While the former turned out to be a bull dyke, when we were in high school, she was like everybody else: horny. She wasn't awfully pretty, to say the least, but she was willing, and that is even better.
As to the rest of the Donnas, with whom I worked, they pretty much dedicated themselves to flashing as much cleavage as possible and driving me crazy in the process. One it particular delighted in bending over her desk while talking to me, the canyon between her mammoth mammaries drawing me like a magnet. I learned from her that 55 can be as good as two 22 1/2s.
I'll get to Tina.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Linda on my mind
Senior trip. A bus full of hormones, male and female. Given an approximate 50/50 ratio, Quasimoto could at least cop a feel.
Outward bound, enroute to Gettysburg, guys sat with guys and girls with girls. After all, there was a lot of foolishness and laughter and kidding around to get done.
Homeward bound, it was dark. After much seat swapping, we were paired up. Who had been dating whom seemed oddly irrevalent; being together all day in such close proximity had resulted in totally new pairings and not a few breakups.
On the way up, I had my eye on Marian, a brown-eyed beauty of uncertain racial background, and posessed of wonderfully large breasts. We flirted briefly but I found myself seated next to one of my girl buddies by the name of Linda. We had been in the same class for four years and, while we had never even thought of dating, we had enjoyed many, many chats, phone calls, and notes in class. I was surprised at the way things turned out, but even more so by the intense arousal she was inspiring in me.
Linda was relatively tall, dark haired, and fairly average in shape - perhaps a few pounds above her ideal weight, but not much. Her one distinguishing feature were her breasts, which were not very big for her size. This I observed on my own, but she had confided the same thing to me dozens of times; she wanted big boobs and had little more than small mounds.
Darkness. I don't know what came over me, or us, because all I could think of was Linda. Nothing specific, just her as a whole, and wanting to feel, touch, caress, kiss, fondle the whole package.
Forget the fake yawn and stretch, the accidental arm around the shoulder. I went straight to the target - without any preface at all, I began to unbutton her blouse. This earned me a kiss, which I enjoyed while sliding my hand under Linda's padded bra.
She was right; her breast wasn't very big. Her nipple wasn't very big either, but it was firm and erect and obviously enjoyed being touched. After a few minutes of nipple teasing, I withdrew my hand and placed it between her legs. Again, no resistance. In fact, she slid down some in her seat and spread her legs. The rubbing of my hand against her vagina, even through her jeans and panties, soon had her very hot. She french kissed me roughly and - as her orgasm caused her to tremble spasmodically - she placed her hand between my legs.
This is how legends begin. Heedless of our classmates watching us, she unzipped my pants and bent low. I was pretty much out of it, but even so, I saw what half a dozen of our friends saw: when she came back up, she was licking her lips.
Outward bound, enroute to Gettysburg, guys sat with guys and girls with girls. After all, there was a lot of foolishness and laughter and kidding around to get done.
Homeward bound, it was dark. After much seat swapping, we were paired up. Who had been dating whom seemed oddly irrevalent; being together all day in such close proximity had resulted in totally new pairings and not a few breakups.
On the way up, I had my eye on Marian, a brown-eyed beauty of uncertain racial background, and posessed of wonderfully large breasts. We flirted briefly but I found myself seated next to one of my girl buddies by the name of Linda. We had been in the same class for four years and, while we had never even thought of dating, we had enjoyed many, many chats, phone calls, and notes in class. I was surprised at the way things turned out, but even more so by the intense arousal she was inspiring in me.
Linda was relatively tall, dark haired, and fairly average in shape - perhaps a few pounds above her ideal weight, but not much. Her one distinguishing feature were her breasts, which were not very big for her size. This I observed on my own, but she had confided the same thing to me dozens of times; she wanted big boobs and had little more than small mounds.
Darkness. I don't know what came over me, or us, because all I could think of was Linda. Nothing specific, just her as a whole, and wanting to feel, touch, caress, kiss, fondle the whole package.
Forget the fake yawn and stretch, the accidental arm around the shoulder. I went straight to the target - without any preface at all, I began to unbutton her blouse. This earned me a kiss, which I enjoyed while sliding my hand under Linda's padded bra.
She was right; her breast wasn't very big. Her nipple wasn't very big either, but it was firm and erect and obviously enjoyed being touched. After a few minutes of nipple teasing, I withdrew my hand and placed it between her legs. Again, no resistance. In fact, she slid down some in her seat and spread her legs. The rubbing of my hand against her vagina, even through her jeans and panties, soon had her very hot. She french kissed me roughly and - as her orgasm caused her to tremble spasmodically - she placed her hand between my legs.
This is how legends begin. Heedless of our classmates watching us, she unzipped my pants and bent low. I was pretty much out of it, but even so, I saw what half a dozen of our friends saw: when she came back up, she was licking her lips.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Big or little
The eternal question: which is sexier, big breasts or little ones.
Big breasts, bulging out of her top, hanging heavy. Or medium sized ones, hard nipples poking against the blouse. Or little ones, making barely an impression against a T shirt.
I love whichever is pressing against my bare chest, or whichever my lips are exploring.
But - I gotta say this - my absolute favorite breasts are milk laden, squirting sweet rich milk into my waiting mouth. Unlike many men, I don't fantacise about being a milk fed baby or little boy. I just consider breasts the most visible sign of a woman's sexuality and her nipples in my mouth as just another way to sexually satisfy her.
Big breasts, bulging out of her top, hanging heavy. Or medium sized ones, hard nipples poking against the blouse. Or little ones, making barely an impression against a T shirt.
I love whichever is pressing against my bare chest, or whichever my lips are exploring.
But - I gotta say this - my absolute favorite breasts are milk laden, squirting sweet rich milk into my waiting mouth. Unlike many men, I don't fantacise about being a milk fed baby or little boy. I just consider breasts the most visible sign of a woman's sexuality and her nipples in my mouth as just another way to sexually satisfy her.
My goal - and it is strictly dishonorable
My goal, if I have one, is simple: to list all the girls and women with whom I have had sexual encounters. In some cases, it will be a nickname, in others their real name. (For instance, in the previous post, the girl's real name was and is Sharon.)
In any event, if you want to know bad enough, and leave me an email, I will tell you their real name and anything else you may want to know.
Its kind of a matter of kiss and tell. Or something like that.
It shouldn't come as a surprise to any of them. I wasn't shy about showing them photos and in some cases videos of their predecessors. The have no reason to believe their relationship with me would remain secret.
In any event, if you want to know bad enough, and leave me an email, I will tell you their real name and anything else you may want to know.
Its kind of a matter of kiss and tell. Or something like that.
It shouldn't come as a surprise to any of them. I wasn't shy about showing them photos and in some cases videos of their predecessors. The have no reason to believe their relationship with me would remain secret.
My first time
When I look at her photo in the yearbook, I am surprised at how trashy she looks. I guess because she was. Not that she was a whore - I don't think she ever charged anything. I would love to know how many guys she had before she got my cherry, and how many since. Especially the former.
All I know is she wasnt a virgin; she was pregnant, but being a dumbass, I just though she was a little plump around the waist.
There wasnt any seduction involved. She just saw me outside and asked me to come in to her garage and help her move something. It was a hot summer morning and she was dressed in a white terrycloth bathrobe. Being a teenager, and eternally horny, I hoped maybe I would get a look at something, maybe a boob shot, so I followed her.
I moved the boxes she wanted me to move, then we talked a couple of minutes. I sat on the edge of a laundry tub while she leaned against a washing machine. She changed positions a couple of times, eventually trying to sit on top of it. She put one foot on one side of me and the other on the other side. With her hands on the top of the machine, her robe gapped open and I saw a jungle of dark hair.
Dairk hair? But she was blond! Evidently, she ran out of peroxide before she reached her bush.
While I had seen a few vaginas in various training publications, I had never seen a grown up one looking me in the face. I have no recollection of thinking anything at all; next thing I know I was examining said vagina at point-blank range. It was then that I first got a whiff of the most erotic perfume imaginable. It was also then that I realized that I had a heretofore undiscovered ability to make women act really strange, and I have endeavored to perfect that ability ever since.
All I know is she wasnt a virgin; she was pregnant, but being a dumbass, I just though she was a little plump around the waist.
There wasnt any seduction involved. She just saw me outside and asked me to come in to her garage and help her move something. It was a hot summer morning and she was dressed in a white terrycloth bathrobe. Being a teenager, and eternally horny, I hoped maybe I would get a look at something, maybe a boob shot, so I followed her.
I moved the boxes she wanted me to move, then we talked a couple of minutes. I sat on the edge of a laundry tub while she leaned against a washing machine. She changed positions a couple of times, eventually trying to sit on top of it. She put one foot on one side of me and the other on the other side. With her hands on the top of the machine, her robe gapped open and I saw a jungle of dark hair.
Dairk hair? But she was blond! Evidently, she ran out of peroxide before she reached her bush.
While I had seen a few vaginas in various training publications, I had never seen a grown up one looking me in the face. I have no recollection of thinking anything at all; next thing I know I was examining said vagina at point-blank range. It was then that I first got a whiff of the most erotic perfume imaginable. It was also then that I realized that I had a heretofore undiscovered ability to make women act really strange, and I have endeavored to perfect that ability ever since.
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