Get On The Bus

My cock dry spell has finally been broken! Cue in angels singing and sun shards filtering down through my cum filled locks of hair.

My dry spell, I realized (or maybe not such a big realization), was stemming from sadness and fear– but mostly fear. The older I get the harder it is to get over love, loss and death. It takes longer now to recover from heartache, taking more out of me and making me fear doing it again. It has been a hard summer– but this week I felt the fog burning, figuratively and literally– and all that blue sky and sunshine made me frisky and even happy.

I soon found myself having one of those weekends that can only happen in San Francisco– one  full of sex, but without actually ever having sex– well ya know depending upon your definition.

Thursday: the SsexBbox magazine release party– spent with my solid friends. The magazine came out great, I flirted with lots of girls convincing them of how hot they would be photographed– passing them each my card.  It was a fun evening filled with lots of sexy people and I stayed out very late and slept in until 11:30 the next morning– like a Vixen should.

Saturday: I flew solo, I like to fly solo. I like the control and the mischief I can allow myself when going it alone. The Center for Sex and Culture hosted performance artist, shaman and 2008 presidential candidate Frank Moore. Often I go to events at the Center, to show my support– being the librarian and all–plus I always see it as an opportunity to take photos. Unfortunately I get shot down a lot trying to document what happens behind those doors.

This time I asked if I could photograph the performance, Frank Moore agreed as long as I was to be a participant. I never really know what to expect when I walk through the CSC doors, and have on occasion left because it was just not my thing– I'm not really into being nude in front of strangers, or masturbating in a circle of people, and it is completely out of my comfort zone to be intimate with someone I don't know  – though I would like to photograph all of that.

But Saturday, I stayed and by the end I  dropped the camera and my clothing.

Moore asked me if would remove my clothing.

I responded…"Skirt and top."

Growling, drooling and grunting his response back at me and then interpreted by his wife.

"For now, fine."

Eventually he began to pair us up, I was having an internal freak out about who he was going to stick me with. But, I got lucky. He was a tall lanky muscular sweet stoner SF nomad boy. We created friction, yeah- I rubbed all over a complete stranger– nude. He looked me in the eyes while he was touching me, I was enjoying his the way his body felt- the hardness of male to my softness of woman. Before I knew it– I was lost, the rest of my cloths came off,  there was no one else in the room, I felt high– but mostly I felt like fucking, I felt like grinding on his nice hard cock– the cock I made hard. I swiped the drop of pre cum that formed on the tip of his cock, putting to my tongue for taste, it left me wanting more. I glided and rubbed my body all over his cock, between my tits his dick would appear and reappear. Between my wet slit his cock slid, my clit was reaching for him. He could have easily have slid right into me.

When the performance ended my cute lanky boy and his girlfriend in her deep excited accent asked me a question. A question I've only heard a handful of times- and learned right away to always say yes and recommend that you do as well."Would you like to see our bus?"

By then we had all come down from our near fucking high, so we lay around in their home/bus, smoking some weed, listening to music, riffing and praising on Frank Moore, kissing, and saying our goodbyes. They sent me off with an organic pineapple, bananas, tomatoes and very wet panties.

All that "intimacy" without fucking made me crazy. There was no doubt about it, I needed cock.

The need was so strong to taste cock and cum that I pulled a really slutty blow job off on Sunday. In the car, pointed toward the ocean with beach goers milling about I gave down and dirty head. Bobbing on cock like that always make my cunt slick, it makes me want to fuck–  and bonus, I christened the new ride finally.

I love making cock hard, feeling it stiffen under my hand, behind the fabric, before the flesh to flesh. It doesn't take long for me to want you in my mouth, wanting to fuck you with my lips, tongue, throat. Your hand landing on the back head forcing the willing around your shaft- my mouth sliding up and down. Before long the warning words of cum slip out of your mouth. I should of swallowed considering the amount of delicious strands of cream that landed between my tits, in my hair, across my face, and up the length of your arm.