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Saturday was the best day of the whole convention, partly because of the freeones party, and partly because of all the fascinating people I got to meet. I mean, I talked to everyone and their mothers. They mamas, if you will. I don't know where to go from this other than the following plain and simple statement. He is the only one who stayed on my mind. The only one with whom I spoke that left me curious, left me.....intrigued. This mans idea's as to what is possible, and where our industry is going as a whole are so different. So fresh. So.....avant-garde. Whatever, so I wanted to brain fuck him.

I falter here because I'm not sure how honest to be. How real should I let this get, how nasty, how fucking filthy am I going to allow myself to think in the middle of the Burbank airport? Oh yeah, p.s., I'm in the Burbank airport, in the middle of this insane wet daydream that has had me in constant masturbation now for four days. For four solid days, and probably like 4 times a day, well 4 to 6 depending on the wind, and the intensity of the fragranced orange blossoms outside. I'm sorry, I lost my thought. AH YES! Ever since Saturday night, I've been replaying this sex scene in my mind. And it was by no means a sex scene.

It was all over, a full body and mind experience.

"Half a joint" was his reply to my inquisitive text.

"J" was my response.

I crept down the hall of the Mission Palms, hoping to see no one. Either people are out partying, going on their way to a party, or so trashed that the likelihood of being remembered is slim. I'm no gossip. I don't like people in my business. Especially if its in my business. Either way, I only have a short run to his room, where I'm welcomed, sly grin, fox eyes.

After I lay down on the bed, and he sparks the joint, I realize my aunt flow (sorry, nothing will be censored in this piece) is still in town, and figure whatever, maybe we can make-out and then I can go down on him or something.....hmmmm......HOW DO YOU DEAL WITH THE RELATIVES?

 Personally, I don't give a fuck. As long as we can be clean about it, I kind of like it even. For example, if we are in the shower together, and you start fucking me, you can be rough and its almost like your killing me, blood and cum and pussy juice everywhere, your tiles red, washed clean as I scream in pleasure.

But the question is never what will I do when aunt flows in town. The question is "what will he do if aunt flow is in town?" And there are always a couple different response. I figured I'd be upfront, quick styles, and let him know.

(The above is what ran through my head as he took the first drag off that half smoked joint.)

I lay on my side, facing you as you lay on your side, smoking and talking. I ask you questions about yourself, questions that you aren't allowed to ask someone you have been in a relationship, because with long term things, there is always the risk of hurting the person asking with your response. That's the best thing about fucking someone for the first time. You can be completely honest.

"Is it weird that I ask you all these questions?" I say in a near whisper.

"No, it feels like I know you already so I don't know what questions to ask back."

What is weird anyway?

I roll over onto my belly, lay on my right cheek so that I can see you while you sit. Then you come down to me, on your side, then lean in, lips to mine, soft, sweet. I rise to meet your mouth, and feel your confidence, as you know you can have me.   Now to my side, mouths embraced and engaged, arms wrapped around bodies, fingers into hair and with each kiss I feel your energy. You move with such purpose. Tell him now Flame....

"I'm bleeding, but I will suck your dick like you've never had" or something along the lines of that. I'm so fucking awkward.


Your eyes ask whether I'm telling the truth, but you kiss me anyway. Keep kissing, touching, feeling. I move down, all the way down to your pants, work them off, and feel you, with my lips, tulips, kisses the whole way up the shaft, soft wet kisses that lead to the tip, your body rising with each kiss, and I place my mouth gently on your top, gently dip your head into my mouth, going slow, taking you one centimeter at a time.

(Insert mindblowing bj here.....I always love a guy who can take control at some point in the blowjob. Not like stand up and fuck a hole through my face, but I like when you take your hands to the back of my head, and hold me down on your cock just a second longer than I would have held myself. I also am a big fan of cocks that are about an inch an a half bigger than my normal deep-throating capabilities. You make me choke just a little bit, make my breath catch, my eyes water. That's also how I know you will fit perfectly inside of me J. And last, I love when you watch me. I love the look down into me, eyes big as you slide on my tongue and down my throat. I love the smile that creeps to your lips as my eyes start to water, the way you hold my face, covered in spit, as I jack you off. I love the insane eye contact, because I want to watch you cum, and I want to make you cum, and I want to see in your eyes,......how you look while you cum.)

Now guys are funny when they cum. Its either really huge, like OOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, or a soft little oooo, or a violent shudder, or perhaps some growling. But for the most part, when a man has an orgasm, its pretty funny. One of my favorite parts of sex is when the guy cums, because I feel like a ton is revealed in that quick 30 second lapse of reason, logic, and the ability to be the cool dude you really are. So it was the moment of truth......And I liked his orgasm. In fact, I loved when he came for me, all over my hands, my mouth, my cheeks. I loved the way his chest heaved, and his belly shook, and the soft noise that escaped his lips. It was masculine. Strong. It fit his personality. It fit him.

Retreat to the bathroom now to wash my "self," my slutty little cum covered self, and possibly to pee. Something about the cold water washing over my hands kept me aroused, kept me focused, like the gong of a Buddhist bell, and after a brief wash, I sit down on the porcelain thrown I like to call a potty. My stage fright kicks in and I wonder...

"How long do you usually know a girl before she feels comfortable talking to you while she pees?"

He doesn't hear me and shuffles over to the bathroom door.


"How many times do you usually have to fuck a girl before she can talk to you while she pees?"

(this next part is the part I have been masturbating to for the past four days....you'll have to tell me what you think)

Sitting on that thrown, naked in front of him with stage fright, I finger to come closer so I can suck his dick more. He slowly approaches, and the fright fades away as he puts his cock back into my mouth. I reach my hands up to his chest to touch him, feel his whole body, down to his legs, and then look up to his face as he looks down into me, sucking and pissing. I finish and he pulls me up toward him, pushes me onto the sink, and then gently places his fingertips at my clit. Our mouths dance. And when I say dance, I mean our lips threw the ball of the century, and nobody was invited but us. Normally, when I kiss a guy for the first time, it's a bit awkward. He's too rough, or too soft, or he tries to eat my whole face. I always take the lead, try to guide his tongue into my mouth, without seeming aggressive. But this? I let it go. I enjoyed his lips, the way he kissed me. It was with purpose. Just like the way he touched my pussy. Perfect. Not too hard, not too soft. Just right.....which got me to thinking. Fuck Flow. That bitch.

"You have to fuck me."

"I'll go get a condom."

While he went to grab a condom, I removed the feminine product strategically hidden in my love palace(hahahah), wrapped it up in tissue, and tossed it in the trash. This ensures that not only does he never have to see such an icky terrible site, but also it gives the illusion that nothing was there at all, except tissue. He comes back, condom in hand and while his mouth is pressed to mine, eyes locked, says

"Are you really bleeding?"

"Yes. But I don't care if you don't care."

"What did you do with the tampon?"

"I wrapped it up in tissue and threw it away."

You smile, sly, and slip on the condom. We kiss as you slide inside of me, and I'm dripping, whether its blood or cum no longer important because you can have me regardless of whether or not my relatives are in town.  You can have me in the rain, in the sun, you can have me in the middle of lunch if you decide.

And you do. You take every part of me, all over your sink, figuring out which strokes cause the biggest quiver in my body. Some slow. Some fast. Each time you delve into my wet cunt, you move with decision, with intent, and as your mouth searches mine, I cum on your dick like I can only assume you want. I want you to make a lady of me.

"You have to fuck me in your bed"

And you do that too. You take me on my belly, and there is a brief moment where we are down, but not out (never say sorry, we are but human). I flip to face you, lying propped up against the headboard, and you suck on my nipples.

"You can bite them harder. Even harder than that...."

As you tenderly bite me, you look up, and from above the rise and fall of my own chest, I decide I like your eyes. Such depth. Incredibly perceptive. You know just how hard to bite by the waver in my breath, the way the air catches in the back of my throat, and I breathe into you. However you want me, however you want to fuck me, just do it. Take me.

Your strokes start slow, and I've already cum, am almost in a state of constant orgasm. Your waves gain height, lapping onto my shores, I feel my self building and cresting, and as you bring us both to climax, I feel again, the power in your orgasm. We cum together for the last time of the evening, and you lazily slide from my body, both of us sweaty, dripping. Wet. I lay face down, breathing hard, tingling toes, and peak eyes from under my hair to find your face. Your question.

"Did you hear our breath?"


"No, not at first. But your breath was always steady. You are very comfortable with yourself sexually."

"And you have more behind your eyes then most."

"You can spend the night if you want."

And I did. But only after we discussed the amazing sexual events of the night. We talked about how hot it was, the whole cocksucking bathroom scenario, and went play by play through our physical encounter. In fact, I think the end of game replay was one of the sexiest post coitus snuggles sessions I have ever (yes ever) been involved with. I think it was this replaying of events that has burned images of him standing in the doorway to my brain, and now I get turned on when I go pee, and think about him when I masturbate. I do! I masturbate at least 4 times a day, and the thought that pushes me to the point of orgasm is the image of him standing in the doorway, then approaching me so I can suck his cock...and the thought that he is just as dirty and filthy as me. I had heard his name a bunch before we actually got to meet, so I said it a couple times when we fucked. I think I even said his name when I masturbated, at home, with my magic wand.

Saturday I had myself a delicious piece of unexpected pie. And I'm considering going back for seconds. Sexonds.

What do you think?

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