Post #100! Oh, and HNT – November 5th, 2009

This is my official post #100! If you’ve been following me from the beginning, you may know that there were a large number of posts I cut out when coworkers found my blog. But as it stands now, this is number one-zero-zero! And I’m very proud.

To commemorate this occasion, here are 100 things you may or may not have known about me sexually!

1. I love sex.
2. I lost my virginity at 18, in the back of a car, on prom night.
3. I had my tongue pierced for four reasons: a) it was 2-4-1 piercing day at the parlor, b) I loved the way it looked, c) I admit, I did want to use it while giving head, and d) my man at the time had his done and ohgodyes did that ever feel good!
4. I like it rough.
5. My ‘number’ is between 15 and 25.
6. I regret only one of those.
7. I’ve been titty-fucked.
8. I’ve had a MMF threesome.
9. I haven’t had a FFM threesome (but I want to!).
10. I’ve dated and/or slept with guys of these nationalities: Persian, Saudi Arabian, Russian (x2), Indian, English, Lebanese, Kurdish, Cuban, South African, Mexican, and American.
11. I have an FBI record for dating the Saudi Arabian… and the FBI knew details of my sex life I hadn’t given them myself. Creepy. [Only now, I share my sex life with the entire internet, so I guess I can't really complain.]
12. I used to get sent home early from pre-school for taking my clothes off and trying to chase the boys so I could kiss them.
13. My first serious boyfriend (age 16) once tried to get me to touch his penis (I had never before touched one!), and when I said no, we compromised that I would just “look at it for a little bit.”
14. I was once choked during sex (by someone I trust to the highest degree). It was hot.
15. I used whipped cream as a sex toy for the first time when I was 17.
16. I love being on top… but I love it more if he’s grabbing my hips and moving me up and down.
17. I have a clitoral hood piercing.
18. I’ve had sex on a kitchen counter… that wasn’t mine. Or his.
19. I’m incredibly aroused by women, especially lesbian porn… but in practice, I’m totally straight.
20. I’ve been tied up.
21. I’ve tied someone up.
22. The oldest person I’ve had sex with was 17 years my senior.
23. I once stuck the handle of a hairbrush up someone’s ass.
24. I only have one nipple pierced, and I’ll probably keep it that way.
25. I once got fingered in a sandbox at a playground (I was 17). It definitely wasn’t a repeat experience.
26. My favorite movie sex scene is in The Red Violin, when the gypsy girl is fucking the violinist as he plays.
27. I’ve had sex in front of a stranger.
28. I like to read Craigslist ads searching for a girl for a FFM threesome. I’ve never responded, but I think it would be really hot to be a “couple’s toy” for a night.
29. I like nibbling on ears.
30. A recurring theme in my fantasies is being slammed up against the wall.
31. One of my hottest sexual experiences was Engineer fucking me as we both watched ourselves in the mirror.
32. I love watching guys masturbate.
33. I’ve always, always wanted to have sex in a library.
34. I used to work for Starbucks and I always wanted to do an HNT in just my green apron… Unfortunately, I gave them all away when I quit.
35. I think champagne is the sexiest drink to have with a lover. It has a sexy name, it comes in a sexy glass, and it has a sophistication to it that even wine does not.
36. In that vein, I have always wanted someone to drizzle champagne on me and lick it off.
37. In high school, I was the romantic and my best friend Bear was the sex goddess. Not that she isn’t any less goddess-y, but now, the roles have sort of switched. As is, she prefers relationships and I enjoy casual sex.
38. I buy bedsheets based on how sexy I think they look.
39. I love water sex – I’ve had sex in a pool, a shower, and a hot tub. I also love making out in the rain and hope to have sex during a thunderstorm.
40. I’ve never owned more than two sex toys at a time.
41. In Israel, I once had to deter a guy who was trying to have sex with me in a bathroom. My Hebrew isn’t great, so the only thing I could think to say was, “Bad time of the month!” (which wasn’t true!).
42. I used to fuck a customer from the bar who we all called Motorcycle Marty.
43. Since getting to the UK, I’ve had sex only seven times.
44. I had sex in the middle of a baseball diamond.
45. I’ve fucked a college football player.
46. My almost first kiss resulted in me laughing in the guy’s face. Oops! But to be fair, he tried while my dad was driving him home and we were in the backseat. It was not the time nor the place.
47. Ever since I became confident sexually, I’ve wanted to have revenge sex with this guy I met freshman year. I had sucked, and he was a jerk.
48. My favorite toy right now is my LELO Lily that RainCityBaby got me.
49. Three people I’ve slept with know about this blog. I don’t think any of them read it regularly and I’m not sure one of them has ever even looked for it.
50. In the last week, I have made myself cum at least three times a day.
51. The most used tags for my blog are (in alphabetical order): breasts, cock, dating, fucking, HNT, pussy, sex, and the Engineer.
52. I think my ass is my best sexual feature. So do most of my sexual partners.
53. Despite that, I’ve never had anal sex.
54. I have been rimmed though.
55. I prefer finger-fucking to oral sex, but it’s best if they’re combined.
56. I used to hate having my breasts touched. It reminded me of my first boyfriend.
57. My first vibrator was actually really good. It was a multi-speed/multi-function ribbed bullet which was incredibly powerful and lasted a year and a half until I dropped it.
58. I started reading sex blogs when I googled “How to give a blowjob” and landed on The Over-Educated Nympho’s How-To. I was 18.
59. My roommate freshman year and I once tried to learn how to dirty talk by writing an anonymous naughty letter to one of the boys down the hall. We taped it to his door and ran away giggling. It had choice phrases like “I love your coffee-colored skin and want you to put your cream in my cup.”
60. I once gave someone a blowjob in his kitchen while a party happened in his living room.
61. I think the sexiest thing about a man is the V of his hips leading down to his cock. I love when his trousers slip just enough that it’s subtly visible.
62. I once had sex on a giant trampoline.
63. I’ve had sex with a guy who had a Prince Albert.
64. I really want to fuck a guy with a strap-on.
65. The second guy I ever had sex with was a frat guy with a “reputation.” Screw the rep, we were safe, and he really knew what he was doing.
66. I like ribbed condoms better than smooth.
67. I hate when guys are quiet in bed. I like to hear you moaning as you cum.
68. I always tear up a little when I deep-throat… and for some reason, I love how sexy and slutty that makes me feel.
69. I don’t like 69ing. Can’t concentrate on what I’m doing. Two people doing half-assed oral isn’t as good as one person giving their full attention.
70. I like (rationally) jealous boyfriends.
71. I like silly sex.
72. I once had sex after drinking a few shots of Absinthe. It was incredibly heightened sensation-wise and we had to stop because it felt so good it hurt.
73. I am really turned on by being told what to do.
74. I have never ‘made love.’
75. I love teasing a guy while he’s on the phone.
76. One of my hottest first kisses with a guy was in a theatre dressing room.
77. I am often the one to take initiative sexually.
78. I think spontaneous bondage – being tied up with a tie, a belt, or some other everyday object – is infinitely hotter than bondage toys.
79. Until recently, I could not always make myself cum during masturbation.
80. My first real orgasm was during a bubble bath.
81. I once signed up for a Sugar Daddy dating website. I went on one dinner date, but it was really not my thing. Nothing happened.
82. I read somewhere vanilla, as a scent, is one of the strongest aphrodisiacs for men, so I always try to have something with vanilla in it in my bathing/perfume routine. Currently, it’s a vanilla bodywash.
83. I love playing with nipples.
84. If ever necessary, I have music picked out to striptease to.
85. Before I leave university, I really want to fuck a professor.
86. I don’t own any panties that aren’t thongs or boyshorts. No granny panties or even bikini briefs in my underwear drawer! (Oh, wait. Except ONE pair that is lacey and leopard print, but y’know. Close enough.)
87. I really want to fuck Jonathan Rhys Meyers.
88. My best friend Bear taught me how to give head with a big, black, suction cup dildo.
89. I love having my hair pulled.
90. I sometimes forget how non-vanilla I am and how many non-vanilla things I’m aware about that others aren’t and shock people.
91. I’ve had sex with a sexy firefighter, though he wasn’t wearing his uniform at the time. Backdraft was on in the background, though…
92. I wish more guys would want you to put your finger up their ass.
93. I love being naked.
94. I think it’s fun to go out somewhere “freshly fucked”.
95. A partner and I once broke a key off a keyboard AND a blender in what he referred to as the “throes of passion.”
96. I hate sex terms like “donkey punch”, “Dirty Sanchez”, etc. I especially hate “superman”, but that’s mostly because Soulja Boy is an idiot.
97. I think sexting is totally hot.
98. I was once given a joke candy-cane shaped vibe for X-mas… and he totally used it on me later that night.
99. I have incredibly nice canvas posters on my wall… of yummy erotica.
100. I’m cheating for #100… It’s my HNT! But you get four pictures this week and a bit more than I usually show (above the neck, anyway ;P risky? perhaps… but I like a little risk!), so I think it’s worth #100.

*click*

Last week for Halloween, I was a faerie. I found this wonderful Venetian carnival mask…

*click!*

Don’t forget to stop on by Osbasso’s! Happy Half-Nekkid Thursday everyone, and Happy 100 to me!

Everything a Big, Bad Wolf Could Want

"Little Red Riding Hood" by Gustave Dore

[Little Red Riding Hood - Sam the Sham]

This story is another challenge post between Amy of Sex, Chocolate, and Red Lipstick, Z of Phaedra Fallen and I. The challenge was Fairy Tale Erotica, 1000-1500, and I am over a day late. Oops! Check out their blogs to see Cinderella and Snow White, Rose Red. But just a warning, this particular story is a little dark, and while it is certainly sexual, it might not be as ‘hot’ as some of my other posts. The original Little Red story is incredibly morbid and I wanted to keep that feel (though I admit I left out the part about her drinking her grandmother’s blood from a wine bottle…). My final disclaimer is that the Little Red character is of the age of consent where I grew up (sixteen), and not the child she is in the original story.

Once Upon a Time,

Little Red Riding Hood grew up, as little girls do. She married the Huntsman not but three days after he saved her from the Wolf, a prim and youthful bride of sixteen with rosy cheeks and a dark little secret which kept her wet between the thighs. She cried out on her wedding night, but not because she was a virgin, only because he wasn’t the Wolf. That night, and many nights after, she sobbed softly into her pillow after her husband had gone to sleep, letting her hands coax from her clit sad, wonderful orgasms as she remembered her secret over and over again.

She remembered his large, calloused hands touching her trembling lip, reaching up and pushing the hood of her little red cloak away off her head, stroking her dark ringlets… She knew he was bad, knew Mother’s warnings, but there was something so teasing about his smile, something hidden at the side of a smirk, a hint of a fang, maybe, but more like a dare to be bad. Oh, all little girls want to be bad, sure enough, and all little girls want to succumb to a bad man once or twice in their lives. And he was the worst, which, as far as she could tell as a good little girl who wanted to be bad, made him the best.

She protested, of course. She was expected to, wasn’t she? And with every feeble no, he seemed to smile a little wider. He asked her where she was going. She knew she shouldn’t say, but the words tumbled from her mouth like precious pearls and he gathered them up with care, as if she didn’t realize he was a rogue, a thief, and certainly not to be trusted. He led her down the path a little further, pointing one of those large hands toward a field of wildflowers.

She gave in. Less to bring something pretty to her grandmother and more to please him, to do as he had said and gather a bouquet of the best. She felt his eyes, hungry, following her through the field, settling her pert new bosom and rounded backside. She knew he was behind her when she bent to pick up the perfect little bunch of bluebells, and she felt exhilarated and terrified when he pressed himself hard into the back of her skirt. He reached his arms around her, catching at her wrists as her basket of goodies for her grandmother toppled to the ground. Her heart was in her throat and between her thighs, as he held her captive against him, his strange, masculine hardness pushing into her soft buttocks.

“Please,” she whimpered softly, suddenly sure this game was too adult for her, but he forced her to face him. His mouth was rough, and he nipped at her lips with sharp teeth. Her knees buckled and he grasped tight onto her arms, leaving huge handprints on her flesh from a necessity to hold her up. His tongue tasted her, moving from mouth to ear to neck, nibbling at her skin and savoring her salty-sweet flavor.

Finally, he let her fall to the earth, crushing the perfect bluebells. He undid the laces on his trousers and there was furry hair everywhere, and in the midst of it all, his hard, eager cock. He put it in front of her cherry lips and she stared up at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. He wrapped her curls around his fingers and pulled, and then she understood what he meant. She took his cock into her mouth, tentative, but he showed her what to do with each painful tug of her hair.

He nearly howled when he came, pulling himself from between her lips to cum hot and sticky across those rosy cheeks and down her dimpled chin. He smiled down at her, that twisted, fanged smile, and then he ran off, leaving her in the dirt. She stared after him, licking her lips, enjoying the strange, foul taste he’d left there, an odd delight spreading over her body.

 

She had gathered up the bread and biscuits for Grandmother, tucking them neatly back into the basket before finding the path once more. She couldn’t get his thick, hard cock out of her mind. She wanted more of it. She wanted him to pull her curls once more and make her heart beat faster in her chest. She felt slippery and moist, ready and not at the same time.

She opened Grandmother’s door slowly when she arrived, expecting her to be sleeping soundly in her bed. She saw instead the dark form of him, and she felt a rush of fear and excitement.

“Grandmother,” she called softly, and he stirred in the bed, pulling the bedclothes up over his face. “Is that you? What shall I do with my basket?”

“Oh, little dear,” he answer, his falsetto obvious and his smirk of a smile trickling into his tone. “Come get undressed and climb into bed with your sweet grandmother.”

“But Grandmother, where should I put my basket?”

“Oh, onto the table, dear! You shan’t be needing it anymore.”

“And Grandmother, where should I put my apron?”

“Throw it into the fire, dear, you shan’t be needing that anymore, either.”

She untied her apron and dropped it into the flames. “And my bodice, Grandmother?”

“Throw it onto the fire!”

“My dress, too, and my petticoats?”

“And your stockings and your shoes but…” he looked at her, shivering and naked except for her brilliant red cloak wrapped around her body. “Leave on your little red riding hood and come climb into bed with me.”

She climbed into the bed, nervous and barely able to breathe as she realized he was also completely nude. “Grandmother, how hairy you are!”

“Oh, the better to keep warm, my dear.”

“Grandmother, what big arms you have!” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, his dick erect and pressing into her thigh.

“The better to carry firewood with, my dear.” She gasped as his hands pulled and teased her nipples, tracing down her stomach to wriggle in between her legs.

“Grandmother, what big hands you have…!”

“The better to hold you with, my dear.” He climbed on top of her and she stared into his face.

“Grandmother, what big ears you have…” His mouth twitched and he smiled, leaning in close and murmuring to her in his own voice,

“The better to hear you with, my dear.”

“Grandmother, what big eyes you have,” she said to him.

“The better to see you with, my dear,” and he slid himself into her. She cried out, first in pain, then in pleasure, as he began to fuck her. He held her arms down, one of his large hands able to clasp her two wrists, but she did not struggle. Instead, she let her body rise and fall to meet his, frenzied and rousing. His free hand reach beneath the bedclothes, sweetly tormenting parts of her body she had never knew existed.

She felt herself burst. Her body tensed in unknown joy around his as she fell into his wild brown eyes. As she started to relax, he began to thrust harder, untamed, harder and harder and harder into her until it hurt again and she cried out once more, loudly. He closed his eyes, a grotesque serenity on his face, before she felt him cum, hot and filthy and fantastic inside her.

“Grandmother, what a big mouth you have…” she whispered as he lay next to her, and he turned to look at her, that hunger in his eyes no less abated. He smiled his awful smile and bared his fangs.

“The better to eat you with!” She shrank back as he lunged at her, not knowing if he was going to bite her or kiss her.

 

She never knew, for at that very moment, the Huntsman murdered the Wolf, his blood spilling over her, masking her own loss of innocence spattered on the bedsheets. She was supposed to be happy, grateful, and now, a good wife, and she threw her blood-soaked cloak into the river to forget. But somethings are never forgotten, replayed underneath her fingertips while tears roll down her cheeks, and no one actually lives happily after after.

I Think I’d Rather Misbehave

[Dirty Laundry - Bitter:Sweet

Another challenge post, this time with both Z of PhaedraFallen and Amy of Sex, Chocolate, and Red Lipstick. 1000-2000 words, theme of “Back to School”, three elements - plaid skirt, stolen glance, and something ripped. It wasn’t exactly how I expected it to turn out, so… well, you’ll see.]

As much as I enjoy school, there is nothing worse than the first day and going over a stodgy, tenured professor’s expectations of you. Luckily for me, the first stodgy, tenured professor I had of the school year was far from stodgy and light years away from tenured. Taking my desk, I was unexpectedly pleased to see the young man opening his laptop up at the front of the room was a nervous, but gorgeous, graduate student. This might be more fun than I anticipated, I thought gleefully, because if he’s boring, at least I’ll have daydream fodder.

But drifting off into fantasyland was soon forgotten as my goal became to distract him from his first day of school speech. I crossed my legs overtly, trying to draw attention to my too-short shorts and bare skin. I nibbled thoughtfully on the end of a pen, wetting my lips and batting my eyelashes when his gaze passed my way. I stretched with a phony yawn, my breasts lifting high as my back arched, my alright tight tank-top pulling tighter to show every curve. His derailed stutters were tantalizingly adorable, his panicky motions endearing. But when I looked around the classroom, I realized I wasn’t the only girl trying to catch his eye with flirty tricks. Every damn sorority sister and busty coed in there was pulling the same shit!

I frowned. With all of us trying for him, this had gone from lecture distraction to the semester’s challenge. I would need to do something dramatic; something different. Something that didn’t involve repeating trips to his office hours.

“Don’t forget to pick up your textbook within the week. And just remember, I’m always available by instant messenger if you have any quick, burning questions. Well, not always, even grad students sleep sometimes!” He let out an anxious laugh and cut it short as he realized no one was laughing with him. “Okay, see you next class.”

His final words gave me an idea, so I made sure to bring my laptop the next time class met. Sure enough, his was also open and running, and it was a gamble, but I bet he had his messenger program going, too. I signed in. Yep. There he was, “c8h10n4o2”, whatever that meant, online and unsuspecting.

LibraryLust: Hey. I’m in one of your classes and I had a question.

I watched him glimpse his screen and then look at the clock. It seemed like he was deciding if he had enough time before class started to answer or not. He leaned down to type a reply.

c8h10n4o2: Hey, I’m about to start class, why don’t I message you after?

LibraryLust: Do you know how sexy you are?

His eyes widened and I hid a smile. I guess that meant he didn’t.

c8h10n4o2: Please only message me if you have a serious question.

LibraryLust: I’m wet just looking at you right now.

Now he looked startled. He coughed uncomfortably, then looked around the room, eyes shifting quickly from girl to girl, realizing almost all of us were on laptops. I bit my lip to keep from grinning.

As he started class, my game became even more fun – his notes were on his laptop, and I knew he’d see that flashing IM window and be too curious not to check. After all, if he’d been truly offended, he would have blocked me.

LibraryLust: Don’t bother responding, I’ll talk, you teach.

LibraryLust: If I had my way, I’d be stripped down naked on that desk of yours.

LibraryLust: Other students in the room or not, I’d trail my hand across my nipples…

LibraryLust: Get them hard.

LibraryLust: Get you hard.

A tinge of pink crossed his cheeks the next time he looked at his notes, and he gave another nervous cough. Ah, so he was keeping the IM window open. Dirty boy. I smirked. He launched into a distracted discussion of the chapter we were to have read, and instructed us to turn to the right page. He held his copy tightly, his knuckles white, and his eyes searched the room for more than just studious compliance. I opened my book in my lap and waited until he turned to write something on the board about the author’s intentions.

LibraryLust: I bet the secret thrill of this has your cock already climbing to attention.

LibraryLust: I would love to get it hard in my mouth.

LibraryLust: Kneel in front of you as you teach.

LibraryLust: Suck you off as you lecture.

“And you’ll notice, if you turn to page, ah…” He swallowed uneasily and looked down at his computer screen, presumably to see which page we were supposed to be on next. Instead, he read my messages, and there was a “rrrriiiiiippp” as he accidentally tore the page out of the book in surprise. The class giggled, and the pink tinge turned into a bright red blush. “I’m s-sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me today.”

LibraryLust: I’d like you to get into me.

He shut his laptop quickly. The class was looking around, amused at our instructor’s ineptitude, tittering noisily. I was bummed at having to play nice, but sat back and listened to him wing it for the rest of the lesson.

The next few classes, c8h10n4o2 stayed offline. I was delighted to think I might have frightened him that much, but disappointed that my game was cut short. But a week later, there it was:

c8h10n4o2 is online

As the class sat down, I planned my attack. Today I would really make him sweat.

LibraryLust: I had a dream about you last night.

LibraryLust: You were studying in the library.

LibraryLust: Naked.

That familiar blush began to spread across his face and he reached toward the keyboard, seemingly about to sign off. I quickly began to type.

LibraryLust: Wait!

LibraryLust: Don’t you want to read what happens next?

His hesitation was sexy, in a naïve and unsure way. He began to type back, checking the clock to see if he had time before beginning the class.

c8h10n4o2: Yes.

LibraryLust: I’ll tell you if you drop your pencil as you start class. When you pick it up, bend over – ass to the class.

There was a rush of power as he did exactly as I said. I could practically feel myself getting wetter watching him apologize – flushed crimson red – and then bend over. The class giggled while I almost sat on my hands to keep them out of my pants. The lecture began, and I started to detail my “dream.”

LibraryLust: You were naked in the library.

LibraryLust: I crawled under the table you were sitting at.

LibraryLust: You tried to look busy in your books

LibraryLust: as I sat between your legs and licked your cock.

LibraryLust: You tried to keep quiet – it was the library, after all…

LibraryLust: But as I ran my tongue up and down

LibraryLust: Putting my lips around you…

LibraryLust: My hands switching between touching you

LibraryLust: And touching me.

LibraryLust: You moaned and came.

A whimper, inaudible to anyone except the girl listening for it, escaped when he next looked at his computer. His concentration wavered and his eyes roamed the classroom again, looking for his sweet, public tormentor. But I feigned involved note-taking and tried to look as nonchalant as possible. His eyes passed over me.

Over the weekend, I found myself distressed at his dismissal of me as his admirer. After all, I wasn’t unattractive. I wasn’t a bad student, either, just a bit distracted during his class. It was time, I felt, to reveal myself. If I was going to get anywhere past cybersex, he would have to know I was.

Sunday night I signed on and, sure enough, he was available.

LibraryLust: I want to make you cum.

c8h10n4o2: WHO ARE YOU?

LibraryLust: Tomorrow I’ll be wearing a schoolgirl skirt. Don’t talk to me until after class.

c8h10n4o2: Why are you doing this?

c8h10n4o2: Who are you?

c8h10n4o2: Hello?

c8h10n4o2: Are you there?

c8h10n4o2: Hello?!

When I walked in Monday, my game had taken a little twist. Two other girls were wearing plaid skirts. I smiled as the teacher’s eyes flicked from girl to girl to me in a daze. This just made things more fun, in my opinion, so I flounced my way over to my desk without even looking at him.

I waited until the middle of the lesson to even sign on, dutifully keeping up with my notes so any typing wouldn‘t seem out of the ordinary. He’d been mostly calm with nary a stutter, though I noticed his eyes lingered on the three of us often, as if trying to read our actions and see which of us it was.

LibraryLust: Three girls, three plaid schoolgirl skirts. Which one am I?

LibraryLust: I’ll give you a hint.

LibraryLust: I’m the one not wearing panties.

As if on miraculous cue, one of the other girls chose that moment to bend from her chair and retrieve something out of her book bag. He faltered as he tried to grab a stolen glance up her skirt, trying not to be obvious to the rest of the class as he acted like a sneaky pervert. I almost laughed aloud, then continued.

LibraryLust: After class, I want you to push everything off your desk.

LibraryLust: I want you to run your fingers up my skirt.

LibraryLust: Slide them into me and feel how wet I am.

I crossed my legs, turned on from my own teasing words. He was blushing again, and I couldn’t tell exactly, but I thought I glimpsed a hint of a hardening dick in his pants. Better get it harder.

LibraryLust: I want you to punish me for distracting you in class.

LibraryLust: For making you tongue-tied, embarrassing you in front of the other students.

LibraryLust: Bend me over the desk.

LibraryLust: Flip up my skirt, my bare ass pushed out toward you.

LibraryLust: You know you want to spank me.

LibraryLust: So do it. Spank me. Hard.

LibraryLust: I deserve it.

LibraryLust: Spank me until you’re hard as rock.

LibraryLust: I’ll be even wetter, then.

LibraryLust: I like to be punished.

He had stopped lecturing entirely, and was staring at the screen, shocked and mesmerized. The class began to murmur, wondering what the fuck was wrong with our young teacher. I clenched my thighs tight, aching to touch myself, breathing a little faster.

LibraryLust: I want you to unzip your pants.

LibraryLust: Order me to sit on the desk.

LibraryLust: Put your cock in me.

LibraryLust: Fuck me on your desk.

LibraryLust: Fuck me in this classroom, fast. Relentless.

LibraryLust: Punish me for making your first time teaching a joke.

LibraryLust: Watch my tits bounce up and down as you slam into me over and over.

LibraryLust: Just when I’m going to cum

LibraryLust: Pull out.

LibraryLust: Order me to lick my own pussy taste off your dick…

LibraryLust: Knowing another student could walk in at any moment.

LibraryLust: And when you cum, cum all over my face.

LibraryLust: So when I walk into my next class, your punishment is visible.

LibraryLust: I want you.

He let out an audible groan. “Mister, are you okay?” a student asked, and he looked up, as if realizing for the first time the class was there. When he spoke, his voice was high and tight as he strained to speak without revealing how turned on he was.

“We’ll resume from here next week, guys, I’ll let you go a little early today.”

As the rest of the class trickled out, I lingered in my seat, slowly putting my things away. His hard-on was obvious as he turned and beckoned to me to come to the front of the room.

“I think you’d better stay after class,” he said, “I believe we have some discipline issues to discuss.”

Storm

Every once in a while, Twitter proves to be a really amazing chat tool. I tend to have these really strange but wonderful conversations, especially with Jake of FactsandFriction, Amy of Sex, Chocolate, and Red Lipstick, and Z of PhaedraFallen (and very often, Lilly chimes in!). Z and I got to talking yesterday and came up with a challenge: a fantasy/erotica short in under 1000 words with a theme of a thunderstorm, to be finished by the end of Thursday, July 2nd. We both finished early. ;P! Hers is here and utterly sexy. Two VERY different products from the same prompt! And here’s mine at a close 999 words! (BTW, based on THE Ex… purely fantasy though certainly derived from reality! Also, I went through a tug of war with myself to get a good title for this. I ended up going with a song that has no words because it was the only thing that matched the ‘feeling’ of this, Vanessa Mae’s version of the third movement of Vivaldi’s Summer, “Storm”. Listen to it here. Best to listen while you read. ;P)

He was seething. I had tried to make him jealous, dancing with another guy, but pushed it too far. His eyes had narrowed and his fists had clenched; he’d almost punched the innocent pawn. Instead, he’d grabbed my arm firmly and overdramatically pulled me out the back door of the club, despite the pouring rain and imminent lightning. His beloved muscle car was waiting there and he practically shoved me into the hood when he let go of my arm.
I was, for the first time ever, a little scared of him.
“Get in the car,” he growled. I slunk over to the passenger side door and tried to open it.
“It’s locked,” I said softly.
“Fuck, girl.” He tried his door as the rain continued to pound into our hair, clothes, and moods. “I gave you the keys.”
“They’re in my purse,” I said, a little more defiant. “Which you managed to leave inside when you pulled me out here!”
“Go get them,” he demanded. I glared at him, wiping my now drenched bangs out of my eyes.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I spat. I was not the good little Arab girl he wanted. I was a fiery, sexual, independent American woman and I refused to sit quietly by his side as a trophy girlfriend while he chattered with his friends in Arabic. That was why I’d sought out other company that evening – sheer, untranslated boredom. I looked too good not to be on the dance floor with some hottie, and if it wasn’t my self-centered boyfriend, then I would just find someone else. Clearly, he didn’t like that.
He closed his eyes and lifted his head to the sky as if to say, “Allah, why her?!” I perched myself on the wet hood of his car and just scowled, daring him to kick me off. Instead, he came at me, slamming his palms onto the hood, one hand next to each of my hips, almost straddling me. Lightning flashed as if on theatrical cue from him, and my heart jumped into my throat.
“Were you trying to make me jealous on purpose?” he snarled.
Looking him dead in the eye, ignoring the quickening beat in my chest, I smiled a little too sweetly. “Yes.”
He grabbed my wet hair in one hand and pulled my head at his, forcing me into a kiss. I tried to push him away, but he kept me in my place with muscled arms. Accepting the futility of slipping away, I clenched my hands in the folds of his soaking shirt, pulling him close. I fought back with my lips, trying to drown him in lust and storm.
The kiss was fierce and the hot summer rain had made it impossible not to feel his stiffening cock underneath the second skin of wet clothing. But when his knee crept up the hood of the car, underneath my clinging skirt, and against my panties, I knew there was no way he thought the rain had made me that wet right there.
Thunder cracked fittingly as he pushed me down, hard, onto his car. “I can’t believe you, little slut,” he said menacingly, licking the rain off my neck before nipping at it. He grabbed at my breasts, pushing my shirt and bra down to tease my nipples with his tongue. The rain on my bare breasts was too much, and I was unnerved – and aroused – by the exposure. I reached to push his hands away, but he caught my wrists and pinned them above my head. I whimpered. He laughed quietly. “You’re mine.”
He shifted his knee so that it was pressing tight into all the right places. I felt helpless, sopping wet and held down against the metal of his car, my body betraying me to grind into him and beg pleasure from his taking hands. I shifted my hips back and forth, trying to rub my clit to orgasm on his knee. He stopped teasing my nipples to watch me writhe underneath him.
“Turn over,” he barked. “Yalla!“ which, like that, meant ‘now!‘ I did his bidding, flipping over with my breasts pressed flat against the hood, his hand pressed flat on my back to hold me down. I felt my skirt flipped up. “Girl, I love your ass,” he said, before smacking it. The noise was loud, intensified by the wetness from the weather.
“You won’t do anything. You’re Muslim. You don’t have sex.”
“No,” he agreed, before pushing aside the fabric of my panties and slamming two fingers inside of me. “But I can do that.” I moaned inadvertently as he crudely thrust his fingers in and out of me. It was torturous – he refused to pick fast or slow and I had no idea how he was going to attack next. The rain fell harder and I became conversely wetter with it, rivers down my thighs. The hand that wasn’t in my pussy was suddenly tangled in my hair, tugging me like a puppet up to his waiting lips. The sensations were too much, my back arched to meet his mouth and his fingers roughly fucking my pussy. I felt myself on the verge of cumming and a pathetic “please” escaped me. He stopped and straightened.
“Please what?”
I bit my lip, shaking from the near climax and at the same time, dreading giving in to his dominance.
“Please what?” he challenged again.
I couldn’t bring myself to do it, to give in and beg him for pleasure. He slid his fingers from me and pulled my skirt back down to cover my ass. When he stepped away, I collapsed, weak-kneed and frustrated, onto the puddling asphalt. My clit throbbed, screaming at me to lose my dignity and plead with him to come back and finish, but I kept my mouth shut.
“Go inside and dry off,” he ordered, reminding me I lost anyway. “You’re too wet to get in the car. Yalla.”

Tired of Using Technology, Why Don’t You Sit Down on Top of Me?

[Technology - 50 Cent]

A text message conversation with the Engineer. I have ulterior motives. He makes an inappropriately ‘crush-like’ comment. We both get aroused.

I wish I was in your bed. I’m already hot and wet for you!

Mmmm sounds delicious

You sound delicious.

I can’t wait to get back to your city and shoot a big hot load right on your tongue where you can taste it best

Sounds fucking amazing… I will swallow every tasty drop. You are so big but I am determined and it turns me on to suck you off

Damn I’m getting hard at lunch. Not cool!! Will you let me cum on your face?

Just don’t get it in my eyes ;P

Hahaha. deal. I love how you make me laugh

I love you make me wet… And how you’ll make me cum, tongue on my clit, fingers deep in my pussy…

Hell yeah! Maybe 1 in your ass…

Maybe… God, i bet you could break the record of how many times i can cum in one night…

What’s the record

Five

How many hours

Two or three? I don’t remember exactly

daaaaaaammnnnnn

;P no shame if it doesn’t happen

It’ll happen.

I can’t wait to get you naked and hard… God the things I have running through my head!

Yes yes yes. I’m going to hit hard baby – very fucking hard

I can’t keep my fingers out of my pussy after that…! Hitting it hard and rough is one of the things I like best..

What’s the other

I like slow, teasing sex where I am begging for it and sometimes I like being in control… And silly sex! I like almost everything ;P

Back to work see you tuesday

Teach Me, Tiger, Or I’ll Teach You

[Teach Me Tiger - Marilyn Monroe]

I know you were studying for a final exam, but there was something in the way your head was bent, intently lost in that damn textbook, that reminded me of your head bent, intently lost in my pussy, the night before.

I had to impose a study break or I was going to go mad.

Your protests were feeble as I straddled you on the chair, and I wouldn’t have heard them as anything more than moans against my lips anyway. I lassoed my fingers in your hair and used them to pull your head back, to take charge of the study session, to get you to kiss me the way I wanted, knowing it was the way you wanted, too.

I took the hard-on underneath me as permission granted to go to recess. I slid down off your lap to the floor, wriggling your study-comfortable sweat pants off as I go. It only made my mission easier that you hadn’t bothered to wear underwear, and I spread your thighs with a smirk and dared you to focus on your books now.

Knelt between your legs, wicked little glint in my eyes as my tongue enjoyed long, teasing licks up and down, pausing only to really feel every curve of the head with my piercing, I relished your groans of pleasure and distraction.

“Delicious…” I murmured around your hard cock before parting my lips and taking you in. The feeling of you filling my mouth turned me on immensely and I had to grip your inner thigh with one hand to steady myself. I needed more. I pushed myself further down onto you, your head at the back of my throat and my greedy tongue contorting itself around the length of the man-candy I’d put in my mouth. It was easy to find a rhythm to enjoy every bit, slurp at the top, lick down the shaft, take it all in, begin again.

Your body quivered, and I caught your eyes knowingly. I sucked a little harder and bobbed a little faster, and when I felt you tense, my back arched with you and I swear I could feel my wetness near dripping out of me. Then it was your hot wetness dripping onto me as you pulled from my lips and came gloriously on my chest. “Yes!” we both cried, you from climactic pleasure and me from sheer, victorious excitement.

You slumped breathless back into your office chair, and I stood up to clean myself off in the bathroom, entirely too smug that I’d so successfully distracted you from that boring textbook.

But you wore the wicked grin now as you caught my wrist and pulled me back onto your lap. “Where do you think you’re going? Study break isn’t over yet, baby.”

Please Don’t Stop The Music

On the importance of proper background noise -

During the Engineer’s last visit, he dropped into the hotel during his lunch hour. I was sitting cross-legged and mostly naked on the bed, partially waiting for him and partially watching a special on early Nazism on the History Channel.

He laughed at my ‘laziness’ (really, I couldn’t leave the room without getting locked out, so I didn’t bother getting dressed), then came over and kissed the top of my head, his hand lingering on my shoulder before dropping down to cup my breasts. I feigned dressing and bent over in front of him to pick up my discarded clothes from the night before, and within seconds I was bent over on the bed, his cock hard and teasing at the opening between my thighs.

“And in 1938, the Nazi Party…” Whoa, whoa, whoa! NOT sexy, dirty talk!

The Engineer didn’t notice, but all the Holocaust talk was making my poor little Jewish vagina quiver in terror and distraction. Nazis and Pre-WWII Germany just didn’t make me wet…! In fact, if anything, I was drying up, so I frantically grabbed for the remote on the other end of the bed and switched off the television. Blissful silence! And now I could properly hear the Engineer’s groans of pleasure, too. Yum. That was a sound I could get used to.

So what IS appropriate for sexing to avoid embarrassing distractions like the Power Rangers theme sifting into your iTunes shuffle mix or your noisy roommate’s through-the-wall phone conversation? I propose these choices:

1. Nothing!: Sometimes it is best just to have sex to your own sweet noises. The slick slap of skin on skin, light whimpers, soft moans, loud moans, nasty, naughty, dirty talk (“I’m going to fuck your sweet little pussy so hard and you’re gonna’ lick me clean…” “Ohhhh, yes, please, fuck me, I just want you inside me NOW!”), name-calling (“Slut!”, “Cocksucker!”, and “Jake, Jake, Jaaaaaake! Oh, JAKE!”*). I even like the delicious wet noise my cunt makes when I’m so dripping-ready for fingers, or tongue, or cock… Not to mention it is always good to monitor the pounding of the bed against the wall and the squeak of the mattress springs – you never know when they might collapse on you!
2. Low Televison/Movie Noises: The only reason I’m including this is because sometimes, when watching tv or a movie with a partner, hands wander and bits touch. In my experience, this is usually comfortable and sweet sex, which I don’t really like much anymore, and very “homey.” However! Just like the History Channel did to me, your TV may spring some audible gem on you like when I was making out with my high school boyfriend on his mom’s couch after getting distracted from watching Team America and the vomit scene came on. God. That was awful. Hindsight? I don’t really recommend this. Just… pause it. Or turn it off.
3. MAKE A PLAYLIST!!!: My FAVORITE option! As a musician, singer, and music-lover, I have been constructing playlists to match moods for years. From “Summery California Roadtrip” to “Fantasies of Violins” to “Dance It Out”, my iTunes is arranged and rearranged multiple times. But you want to hear about the SEX, right? These are all playlists I made specifically for fucking and GOD some of these songs are hot!

• I Lust You – The first playlist I made. Mostly songs that just had to do with sex and weren’t always ’sexy’ (“Toucha-Toucha-Touch Me” from Rocky Horror was on there, afterall). There’s a lot of tango music on here, too, including the tango from the scene in Mr. and Mrs. Smith (a movie which always kind of turns me on) Assassin’s Tango. Oh, and pretty much every piece I possess by Antonio Vivaldi (demonstrated there by the sexy Vanessa Mae), who I would make sweet, sweet love to if he weren’t, y’know, dead.
• seXXXy – This is the playlist I like to play for myself, either while I get ready to play sexy or when I’m getting sexy with my own fingers or toys. This includes songs like Handsome Boy Modeling School’s “I’ve Been Thinking” (sensual, slow, yearning), Melanie Fiona’s “Give It To Me Right” (lusty, burlesque-y, demanding), Lady Gaga’s “I Like It Rough” (describes my tastes a bit, doesn’t it?), and The Fugees’ “Killing Me Softly” (classic, fantasy, soulful). Lots of similar things on this mix – very feminine, powerful, and luscious,though .
• Take Me – This is the playlist I composed for hardcore, raw FUCKING. Without question, “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails is on here (geeked a little bit, since I just saw the Star Trek movie today… I’m not a huge fan, but I do love the Kirk/Spock slash in this video!). Also, I have Massive Attack’s “Dissolved Girl” (gorgeous, driving, deep), “Undenied” by Portishead (really, anything by them, but this song is like red nails clutching into the flesh of someone’s back and close, intense, passionate thrusts), Garbage’s “#1 Crush” (those opening moans really do it, don’t they?), and Kanye West’s “Love Lockdown” (poppy, but love the beat).

• Tease – The stripping playlist, or the “ah, ah, not yet *wink*” playlist! Definitely includes “Come On Closer” by Jem which is hands down one of the sexiest songs ever recorded. If you don’t start taking your clothes off to just the music of this song, then listen to the lyrics! Guaranteed to get you hot. Other songs on this playlist: “Slave 4 U” by Britney Spears (engaging, playful, submissive), “I Turn My Camera On” by Spoon (satisfied, selfish, pleasing), “Lights On” by The Pierces (I’m not a Gossip Girl fan, but it was the best version I could find on YouTube… this song is just pure tease, I adore it. The lyrics are very clever, too!), and another perfect striptease song, “Nasty, Naughty Boy” by Christina Aguilera (nasty [of course], naughty [well, duh], scrumptious).

There are other songs I love as well, but those are most of my favorites. As I find more, I’ll certainly share them with you! Nothing like a good fuck-song passed between friends.

*I have never actually screamed Jake’s name in bed. I have never actually met Jake. But I feel like he must have that effect on women he sleeps with and so he makes a cameo that way.

This Chick Will Dance in the Flames

In Tel-Aviv, there is a nightclub called Bordel – a fitting name for a place with sultry red lighting and a wild clientele. The bartenders have a fascination with swinging on the rafters and tricks with fire, like lighting up the counters of their bar and playing with the resulting flames. This is the story of what happened there.

She’d been there only a short time before she felt the attention whore in her snap. Inspired by the driving beat of the DJ and three vodka-RedBulls, she climbed on top of the bar, firmly planted the heels of her purple stiletto boots, and began to writhe and grind to the lusty music. The trick, she knew, was hitting the beat with your hips, flashing sexy eyes to the crowd below, and catching the nuances of the song with the rest of the body. Just the right amount of confidence and bravery (read: alcohol) never hurts, either.

It was such a high seeing the hungry eyes of the men below as they watched her shake her ass, hoping to snatch a peek up her swinging skirt. The pleasant buzz of the vodka mixed well with being desired and it made her panties wet to be wanted. She dropped down to eye level with the crowd, hitting the beat hard with a move which spread her thighs apart tantalizingly, closing them on another teasing beat. A guy in front grinned, and she smiled with just a tiny, arrogant twitch of her lips, turning on her heels and sticking her ass in his face as she undulated back up to standing.

Boom. The moment their eyes met was electric – the turn had put her face-to-face with the bartender, a cocky showman of a drink slinger who had been a mix of fire and flair all night. He must have been watching her like the rest of the horny club-goers and she thirstily drank in his dark and wild curls, flashing hazel eyes, and self-assured smirk.

“You are so hot,” he murmured in heavily accented English. She thanked him in broken Hebrew, then pointedly looked him up and down and remarked, “gam atah” – “you, too.”

She was no longer aware of the rest of the men in the club – only the bartender mattered now. THAT was the man she was going to have and she shook her ass in his direction, casting seductive glances over her shoulder. She was pleased to notice that despite his busy bar, he still managed to watch her every move; in retaliation, she made every move worth watching.

Finally, he seemed to get a slow moment and she slid off the bar to demurely ask for a cup of water. As he handed it to her, she leaned in, dangerously close to his lips. “I want you.”

“I want you, too.”

He practically yanked her on top of the bar as they began to kiss, hard and careless and savage. She wrapped his curls around her fingers and he moaned into her lips. Her mouth opened a little more to allow for his darting tongue to toy with her own. Delicious, she thought, and went for another taste of him, sucking lightly on his lower lip.

His hand held her firmly around the waist, steadying her perch sitting atop the bar and pulling her feverish body even more close at the same time. She felt his other hand running up her thigh, toying at the hem of her skirt. A shiver of pleasure shook her body and she kissed him even harder. A patron yelled “get a room!” in Hebrew and another bartender quipped loudly in English, “I guess that’s why they call this place Bordel.”

Broken away from their lust-driven world by the bawdy comments, she laughed softly and pulled back. He grinned at her, and she resisted the urge to tear off his clothes and fuck him right there.

“I’m only here for three more days,” she said, scribbling a number onto a bar napkin. “Call me.”

Come On Home, Turn Me On – Part Two, 5-1

[The continuation of my Top Ten Turn Ons! Part One Here]

5. Words – This could move up to number one if I’m in the right mood. Words are my line of study and I try to surround myself with them as often as possible. The number of books I own has grown exponentially since my last bookshelf purge, and that includes three or four erotica short story collections. Literary erotica gets me so much pleasure, and if I’m feeling aroused and by myself, I like to immerse myself in it. I also think that an important aspect of flirting in this age of technology is TEXTING. I don’t mean “lol u r sxxxy” but “I’m sitting in class and I can’t stop thinking about the way you fucked me last night…” or “I’m so wet right now, it’s hard to concentrate on my work. ;P” I even like “Fuck me. Hard. Tonight.” All kinds of sexting is at your fingertips (literally), and I think it’s a great foreplay for foreplay. It’s a great way to communicate your desires to fuckbuddies and hook-ups without getting involved with shit like phone conversation or dating. I think it’s safe to say that any man or woman who can use words properly can be sexy with dirty talk (something I’m still working on myself, though), dirty texts, and dirty literature.

4. Music – You may not have noticed, but every single one of my titles is based on the lyrics of a song (except the HNT posts). Music is… passion. Music fuels so much of my life. Before being a creative writing major, I was a vocal performance major. I acted and sang in musical theatre in high school, I played violin from the tender age of five to the sullen age of fourteen, and music theory used to be one of my geeky joys (though I’ve forgotten most of it now). Imagine how bewildered and ecstatic I was when I realized the effect music had on me sexually! I know the exact moment, too. I was lying in bed, listening to “Palladio” by Karl Jenkins (the “diamonds” song – you can listen to a rockin’ version of it here while watching the very sexy eScala). I pictured myself as a grown woman, performing this song with my lover in the audience. The scene switched back and forth between the intensity of a soloist’s concentration, beads of sweat forming on her brow, and her romantic tryst after the concert as her lover pulled her upstairs to their dark New York loft and slammed her down on the bed, wild with lust after seeing her perform. The piece is a constant back-and-forth between the string instruments and my mind wandered back and forth from the concert hall to the narrow, sinful staircase. That did it – after that, every song had a story behind it. Classical music, especially, but then I melted into everything – jazz, big band, cabaret, musicals, and then I discovered club music, hip-hop, some rap, reggaton, salsa… I made playlists anticipating having sex to them – “I Lust You”, “seXXXy”, “Take Me”, “Tease”. I’ve never actually had sex to any of my playlists, though. It’s sort of a shame. But get me in a room with a low, dark beat and a sultry, sexy voice crooning some kind of taboo intimacy, and I have to grind against you until we both can’t take it.

If only I had an iPod…! I would love to combine music and sex with this or this.

[I have a longer post on music coming up... just getting my thoughts together about it!]

3. Intelligence – After the Engineer, I realized just how important intelligence was to me. It’s not just about your math skills, but let’s be honest, stupid people aren’t attractive. My High School Boyfriend was not the brightest and it ended up being part of our downfall as a couple (that, and the fact that I wanted sex a helluva lot more than he did).

Gotta’ face it, kiddos, you can’t have witty banter without wit. And half of flirting, in my opinion, is witty banter! Coyly throwing challenges at your opponent and weaving in subtle innuendo is another foreplay to foreplay (just like sexting!). But if I meet a guy in a bar, he’s cute, and all he can say is, “Duh, wanna’ go home with me?”, then it is NOT going to happen. And by meet a guy in a bar, I mean, you know, after my 21st birthday on Monday. ;P

2. High Heels/Stilettos – God… yes… As creepy as it was, I have to give Rocket Scientist credit for his appreciation of heels. I own at least twenty pairs of shoes, more than half of which are heels. I have black stilettos, dark red pumps, silver heels, black kitten heels (which are not my favorite pair because of how short they are, but I do love the word ‘kitten’!)… The ones I like best are my ‘Schoolgirl Heels’ – gray and black plaid with a sweet silver buckle (it just so happens they match my so-short-it’s-unfit-for-public-outings schoolgirl skirt, too).

I like girls who wear sexy heels. I like girls who wear stiletto-ed boots. I like the way a heel shapes my calves and makes my ass taut, pushed out, and pouty. I like leaving my heels on, especially with thigh highs and a garter belt. I don’t have the money to have a shoe fetish like Carrie Bradshaw, but I do have the desire for it. If I can help it, I never wear flats. School and work keep me in slip ons and sneakers, but for any other situation, I WILL ‘click-click-click’ down the hallway in heels.

And the number one turn-on for your sex-loving Coquitten…

1. ROUGH LOVERS – He slammed her up against the wall, pulling her head back by her hair so that his lips could smother hers. His other hand pinned her wrists above her head with sheer brute force, and she would have fought harder to free them, except that his knee shoved under her skirt and between her thighs was making her weak as it rubbed mercilessly against her soaked panties…

Okay, it’s not my best work of fiction, and it’s a little cliche, but give it to me like that I will dissolve into a puddle of cum. I want to be slammed and pressed and forced and twisted. I want to be tied up and taken advantage of, kissed hard, and fucked harder. Being roughed up makes me moan and I like that spank, that bite, that hair pull…

I don’t want a BDSM relationship. That lifestyle is not for me – even isolated just to the bedroom. And yes! I like to be the dominant one every once in a while! I don’t like to bleed, or bruise (at least… not anywhere visible ;P), and I definitely wouldn’t trust someone to play these desires out to the max unless I really knew them.

But I like to be taken, not coaxed, and seduction is better if your heart is racing. Being told what to do is a fantasy of mine that no one has really grabbed hold of and accomplished yet. I love the idea of teasing someone until they can’t handle it and subsequently losing control of the situation. Cocksucker! I don’t wanna’ fucking make love! I wanna get FUCKED by you!

Come On Home, Turn Me On – Part One, 10-6

Getting ready for bed last night, I swept my hair into a high ponytail (think of the title character from “I Dream of Jeanie”), and I realized I found that high ponytail really, really sexy. I like to look at girls who have their hair pulled back high and tight, either in buns like ballet dancers, up and loose to keep their neck cool while they work out, or that genie hairstyle (which practically screams “submission”, by the way). I realized it was kind of an odd thing to find arousing, but there you have it: girls with high ponytails turn me on. Provided the rest of them isn’t decked out super eighties.

So, I thought about making a list of all the things that turn me on. My mind raced and the list was about a mile long before I could even get my hand down my pants. I realized the list would be so long and elastic that to really do my turn-ons justice, I would have to update and re-link to it every single week! Solution? A Top Ten! And high ponytails didn’t even make the cut!

Here you are, 10-6:

10. Rain/Thunderstorms – I think I like to be scared. No, really. I hated thunderstorms when I was a little kid, but my parents (being of the science variety) would sit me down in front of our giant glass window and gently talk me through the phenomena of lightning, thunder, and storms. I didn’t jump any less at the CRACKA-BOOM, but I did get a thrill counting the seconds after lightning struck and anticipating the coming noise.

Somewhere in my pubescent years, I began to fantasize about having sex during a thunderstorm. The sweaty, sticky summer monsoons were perfect fodder for this – it was warm enough to want to be outside in the rain, drenched from head to toe, and it was still dangerous and thrilling enough to see and hear the volley between light and sound. Past boyfriends of mine know I start squirm the moment dark clouds fill the air, aching to be outside, pressed against someone else, and absolutely dripping wet. Needless to say, I’ve spent some summer nights cooped up inside and frustrated beyond belief.

9. Blonds – Here’s a strange one, mostly because I never anticipate liking blonds. My ideal man is medium height, stocky and muscled, the color of cafe-con-leche, and has deep brown curls. But the majority of my boyfriends and lovers have been blond and blue-eyed! My first two boyfriends were tall, skinny blonds, the Russian is a wild-haired, sandy blond, the Firefighter is a stocky, muscled blond, Engineer is blond… Excepting for when I went through my Arab phase (with THE Ex and the couple lovers I had that stemmed from that circle), all my great sexcapades have been with delicious, light-haired men!

I haven’t had any female lovers yet, so I don’t know what the trend will be. I tend to fantasize about brunettes, but the girls I like best have been from my blonde-filled guilty pleasure (The Girls Next Door – Hugh Hefner’s former three girlfriends, Bridget, Holly, and Kendra), and my sapphic dream was a blonde, too.

8. Being Held From Behind – THE Ex used to sidle up behind me, snake his arms around my waist, and press me to him. I don’t know if it was because it was so possessive or if I just liked the intense closeness and way our bodies fit together, but I loved it. Held like this, I would feel him grow hard against the soft curve of my ass, and that felt powerful. At the same time, there was a tantalizing feeling of being powerLESS because he would have such a tight grip on my body from there. I never felt unsafe, mind you, just… dominated. I loved standing like that with him; on his balcony, against his car, wherever.

7. Spanking – I suppose this one could fit into some of my other turn-ons, but I think it warrants its own category. I feel let down if I’m being taken from behind, my ass round and pushed out into the air and it isn’t being spanked. I have a BOOTY and my curved white cheeks like attention. Doggie style feels great for lots of reasons, but it feels better if there’s a red handprint blooming on my skin.

Other times I also love being spanked: Making dinner with someone in the kitchen. A quick, hard slap as Doorman passes me in the server station at work (“Take it,” he barks when I mew a fake protest). Any moment that I have to bend over (provided I have enough balance so I don’t faceplant). Straddled on top of a guy with his cock plunged tight in my pussy. In the shower (water makes it sting a little more and the noise is quite a bit louder). It’s never been done to me, but I’d love to be ‘punished’ as a bad girl and held over someone’s knee (we talked about it, the Firefighter and I, but I think it weirded him out because he was already a father and I was already so much younger than he was). Anytime!

6. Muscle Cars – Guilty. I love fast cars. I love sexy, sleek cars. I know jack shit about engines or models and makes, but I know when it revs with a loud purr and shines from babied care that I like it. THE Ex had a gorgeous car. It was his ‘other’ girlfriend – black and orange, loud and fast. You may not believe me, but I liked cars before that. I collected Hot Wheels and Matchbox Cars and I constructed car models when I was bored on the weekends in high school. But it was THE Ex’s car which absolutely slicked my panties.

When I first met him, I had no idea what his car was like. In fact, it was broken down on the side of the road that night (he fucked up the clutch). I’m throwing that in as my disclaimer that I do NOT judge men by their cars. If I’m attracted, I couldn’t care less. But as a bonus… Mmm… THE Ex took me out one night knowing that I was a sucker for a fast drive. We were broken up at the time, and he wanted to get back together. His strategy worked. We flew down the street, my heart pounding, his eyes constantly flicking in my direction to see my reaction, the speedometer wavering past 120, 130, 140… It only went up to 160, and it fluttered past that for a few seconds before the stretch of straight, unpoliced highway ended and we had to slow down. I felt oversexed before he even touched me. It was amazing.

Camaros, Trans Ams, Mustangs… everything turned my head after that. I’ve calmed down a little bit, but I still look in car windows to see if the driver is as sexy as the machine.

Beginning with 5, the countdown to 1 will follow shortly!