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I went out to the bars with two of my lady friends and one of their guy friends last night. It was absolutely wonderful.
It let me know how much of a slut I like being.
First, there was their friend, Tim. Started by him buying me drinks and making out with him.
Next came Carl. We were standing at the bar, getting shots, his friend was standing right behind me. They basically trapped me in so they could feel me up. Grabbing my ass, running their hands all over my body... I would've stopped them but I just wanted to be touched. God, I loved it. I know Carl was lying about being 29... which kind of turns me on too. I love older men. No instructions necessary.
Frank was the last. We've been talking online and just happened to run into each other. He's a lot shorter than I like my men, but we danced a little and I grabbed his cock. We'll definitely be seeing each other again.
But I went home with Tim. Good choice!
We got back to his apartment, had a half hour of small talk before finally getting into bed. He was a little awkward, seems like it's been a while for him too. He went down on me for what felt like forever. It felt so good, body twisting up, thigh shaking good. As I was bucking against his mouth during my second orgasm, he reached up and gripped my neck. I couldn't swallow, I could hardly breathe... but it made me cum a third time in minutes.
Maybe I do have a choking fetish. I love it when a guy is rough with me. Throw me around, I'm a thin girl. Call me a slut. Make me your whore. Choke me, bite me, scratch me, slam my head down into the pillows when you're fucking me from behind.
He did all of those things. Finished it off with filling me up. Yum!
Slump's busted, babies.

You can officially call me chicken shit.
I'm trying so, so hard to just put it out there: "Joe, let's fuck". It's a hard step to take with a boy that already knows he's attractive. I hate those boys.
That, and every time I look at him, the vivid picture of me bent over one of the tables in the study rooms of the library that I work at with him behind me, frantically unzipping his zipper out of pure excitement to enter me.
I'm so damn sick of masturbating. And Joe giving me wet dreams without actually rolling over and fucking him. Ugh!
That's all I want for Christmas. Joe or Vladimir.
If all else fails, I know for a fact I could have the latter.

I am so sick of lusting over Joe.
His name isn't Chicken Shit, it's Joe. And he drives me bananas. This little game of court and retreat, court and retreat is killing me. I can't take it anymore.
I want to kiss him.
I want to lick wine from his lips.
I want to pin him against the wall, unzip his pants and give him the best blow job he's ever gotten. I know the bitch he's with can't suck dick worth a damn. I make men whimper and shake.
I want him to care about baseball just so I have someone really hot to talk shit.
I want to ride him so hard so badly that my thighs vibrate when I'm simply talking to him, sitting next to him. Smelling him. Looking over his skin, noticing the way his hair is combed today. The way he looks back at me makes me feel both moliminous and unnecessary. I've been fantasizing about him and me for a year and too many months now. His hands on me. All over me. Down my side, down my thigh, squeezing my ass, tracing my collarbone. His tongue in me. Him in me, for hours and weeks.
I get these debilitating crushes on men. My chest hurts thinking about him. I could cry I want him so bad. There's always a sort of sadness with it, though. I know it's just not going to work out. It's just painful, it physically hurts. I know I'm not ever going to get what I want, even though it would be so damn nice.
Dump your cottage cheese ass, horrible Monroe piercing, bad dye job, sad ass girlfriend and fuck me. I don't even want a commitment (unless, of course...). Just you and I in my bed making each other cum all night.
I'm really Chicken Shit, here. I'm never going to tell him. I'm just going to just let him reasonably insinuate that he may have been able to bang me back in college. Because that's what I always do.

I'm going to go masturbate and think about Vladimir to cheer myself up. I wish I had a camera so I could show you guys sometime.

An aside: I can't wait to get my new laptop so I can actually read my friends' page. Being in the school's library lab doesn't allow for too much privacy to read the dirtiness there. I'm salivating to get back to your stories and confessions, loves.

I was sitting on my couch, striving to be creative and get something on the page. My feet were on my coffee table, legs spread, pipe in one hand and lighter in the other. I closed my eyes for a second to clear my head and garner some fresh ideas.
The only image I've been seeing when my eyes are closed is Vladimir licking my pussy. I can't shake the intense want I have for him, even though I haven't seen him since December. That was the best goddamn night of my life.
I slipped my hand into my jeans and remembered how it felt to have my shaking thighs around Vladimir's cheeks. How delicately and expertly he moved his tongue. The devilish grin he gave me when I pushed him away, writhing and begging for a second to breathe. "It turns me on so fucking much to watch you cum like that". His big hands on my thin thighs. His hair twisted in my fingers. I kept holding off my orgasm just so I could keep thinking about those lips on my pussy for a few moments longer.

And then my phone started ringing.

"Vladimir?" I asked, confused and breathless.
"Um... did I catch you at a bad time?"
"You caught me at the perfect time, actually."
"Were you jogging your lunch away or something?"
"No, I was thinking about you."
"You were thinking about me? What were you thinking about?" Vladimir asked, a grin apparent in his tone. He knew exactly what was going on.
"Your couch..."
"What I wouldn't give to have you spread on that bad boy again," he whispered.
"Are you touching yourself too?"
"I can't think about tasting you and not get hard."
I pulled my finger off my clit. Hearing Vladimir talk, first off, makes me wet. Hearing Vladimir talk about how turned on he gets when he thinks about licking me could easily make me cum.
"Are you wet for me?"
"Yes," I whimpered.
"Where are your hands?"
"One is on the phone, the other in my jeans."
"What color are your panties?"
"Pink."
"Are they soaked?"
"Absolutely."
He grunted. There wasn't much that turned Vladimir on more than a wet spot on panties. The image of handcuffing his to a bed, stuffing my wet panties in his mouth and hovering just above his mouth so he can only lick me if he strains to sit up came to mind. I pulled my finger off my clit again.
"God, I want you so bad," he whispered between strokes and breaths.
"I want you too, baby."
"Tell me how bad you want this cock inside you. Tell me."
"My pussy's throbbing for your cock. I crave it, I need it-"
"Yes..."
"I want you to slam into my tight, wet little pussy until I can't take it anymore."
"God yes, keep going," he said, his breath quickening.
"I want you to bend me over, pull my hair and push as deep and as hard as you can. I want you now. I want you to absolutely wreck me, Vlad."
"Baby..."
"I want to feel you inside me for days. I don't want to walk the next day. I want you to fill my pussy like you did last time-"
He started gasping. I knew he was shaking and biting his lip until it turned white, pumping out a load of cum into his hands. I came seconds later. I can't hear Vladimir orgasm and not orgasm myself. We both took several deep breaths, slowly exhaling the ecstasy of a near simultaneous orgasm out.
"So... what gives?" I asked.
"Huh?"
"You haven't called me in weeks, first of all. Second, you never ever ever call me during the day."
"Oh, well... I need a favor," he said.
"What?"
"I'm coming to visit one of my friends in Iowa at the end of the month. I was wondering if you would put me up for the weekend?"

Cha-ching!

I took a deep breath and knocked on his hotel room door. My hands were shaking, I was incredibly nervous. I could've fainted when I heard the doorknob twisting.
"Hey," he said, the usual big smile on his face.
"Hey, love, how are you?"
"Good, come in."
He stepped aside, pulling the door open further. I sat on the bed and slowly exhaled. He'd already started drinking from the bottle of rum he'd brought.
"Do you want a drink?"
"Right now," I purred.
"You usually say no..."
"I need one tonight."
"Aww, what's wrong?"
I looked down at the floor and opened my mouth to say absolutely nothing. I stared at my shoes for a second.
"You look like you're gonna puke," he said.
"Thank you," I snipped.
"I'm sorry... you look absolutely mortified. What's wrong?"
"I uh... I have a boyfriend."
( Awkward! )

Behind Door #1: The Truth.
Behind Door #2: A Lie.
Behind Door #3: A Surprise.
Which shall we open?

I saw Kevin yesterday. I was shocked at how kinky he is.

Kevin and I went to high school together, we never really talked though. One of our mutual friends had a going away party, we reconnected there. He was really into me, telling me he loves biracial girls and had never been with a girl that was as dirty as we was. I took it as a challenge. I didn't give it to him that night. We met up about a week later, got drunk and he tied me up to another mutual friend's daybed. Mmm, Kevin.

But yesterday, it went a lot farther than my wrists bound to a headboard. Kevin's creative, I'm sure he'd been thinking of new ways to tie me up while he was waiting for me to return home from college.
( The rest of our afternoon... )

Goddamn, I hope I see him again soon. My pussy is still sore today from the battering he gave it.