FUZZY
LOOK OUT, JENNA
Ever since Andrea discovered porn, she had wanted to be a porn star. she knew it wasn't the career aspirations of her peers, but it made sense to her. She'd read all about Jenna Jameson, who she admired as an entrepreneur who had made her own rules in the porn world and come out rich and independent. Andrea didn't want to go into porn like some lost, coked up, and desperate runaway in LA. she wasn't going to be used and thrown away as the flavor of the day. She would act in, and direct her own movies, write her own plot-lines, pick her own costumes, and select her own on-screen partners. She knew that no one was going to give her the chance, so she had to do it herself.
Andrea posted an ad on craigslist. She had several responses, but mostly from fat, middle-aged guys. It was her first disappointment; she'd imagined that hundreds of hunky guys would line up for a chance to be in a porn movie. There was one guy under the age of 40. He was actually just out of high school, working as a stock boy at a grocery chain, and said he'd always wanted to do something wild like this and he thought he could do it. She'd asked him to stand naked in front of her during the audition. This gave her a tremendous feeling of control. He was tall, skinny as a bean stock, but had a fairly long cock. He'd do.
"How's $40 sound?" said Andrea. "Take an hour at most. That's four times what you'd make at the grocery store."
The skinny shrugged. "That's cool."
It was her first contract negotiation. She couldn't believe it. She was really in charge, and making her dream come true.
To start her porn career, she went to Best Buy and bought two small HD camcorders and a tripod. She set one on a tripod with a view of her couch. The other she'd use hand-held for POV shots. In editing, she could cut between them, and make it seem like a real film.
The shoot was set for Saturday. The kid showed up 15 minutes late, and for a moment, Andrea almost broke down and cried. It had all been too easy, and knew it was too good to be true. But then came the knock on her apartment door. The kid had missed a bus connection, and apologized for being late.
Andrea felt relieved, but then suddenly awkward. She realized she'd never directed a porn before (or any film for that matter). She didn't really know how to start. She had the kid strip naked. He did. The control gave her a small boost of confidence. She handed him one of the cameras and asked if he knew how to use it. Sure, he said. He'd video taped his friends skate boarding and snow boarding lots of times. Good, she said.
She told him to sit, and adjusted the second camera on the tripod to frame up the shot.
Perfect. It was all coming together. She the kid to stroke his cock to get it hard, but not so much that he shot his load. This gave her a great sense of control and power. She went to her room to change. She stripped naked and pulled on tall white leather boots and sunglasses. Suddenly she felt like a porn star. She'd shaved her pussy, and when she admired herself in the mirror, noticed the glisten of fresh excitement. Through the crack in the door, she could see the kid on her couch, naked, slowly stroking himself. He was half hard, and already about 6". This got her even more wet, knowing he had at least another two inches when fully hard. Her pussy twitched, anticipating being fucked. But she'd take her time, she'd remain in control. She had a plan. A film to shoot. First the blow job scene. Then he would eat her out. Then they would go through a series of positions and end with his hot cum splashing on her face.
She strutted into the room. The boy looked up with surprise. His eyes were wide as he took in the image of her naked in nothing but tall boots and sunglasses. His cock sprung to attention.
She switched on the tripod camera, then swayed over to him. "Ready to roll," she asked.The kid nodded.
She got down on her knees in front of him ready to take his full 8" into her mouth. "Action," she said.
This is the image she designed in photoshop for the DVD cover.
RISE AND SHINE!
GOLDMEMBER
She loved to feel her gold vibe up her butt as he pounded her from behind. She'd never been with two men at the same time and never had true DP, but it was something she'd use as a fantasy while getting fucked. Her nickname for her toy was Goldmember.
She loved to feel her gold vibe up her butt as he pounded her from behind. She'd never been with two men at the same time and never had true DP, but it was something she'd use as a fantasy while getting fucked. Her nickname for her toy was Goldmember.
WHAT A VIEW
If you are ever feeling down, stressed, and frustrated with work and life and the daily grind, just go be naked in nature. Find a quiet place to be alone, and just be yourself. Take in the view--the mountains, the clouds, the reflection of water. If you sit and listen and soak it all in, you'll feel very small and insignificant, but not in a bad way. You will realize that everything around you is millions of years old--and the sun and shadows that shift over the rocks were moving long before you were born, and will continue long after you're gone. BUt for now, you get to be alive, and get to witness this timeless scene. You are part of nature as the birds and fish and clouds. Take it in. This is the moment you have been given on this earth. All the worries back at the office seem so petty now. The stress dissolves like mist on the water. They say the world began in water. They say a baby is born from water. Take in the view, this is the womb of life.
If you are ever feeling down, stressed, and frustrated with work and life and the daily grind, just go be naked in nature. Find a quiet place to be alone, and just be yourself. Take in the view--the mountains, the clouds, the reflection of water. If you sit and listen and soak it all in, you'll feel very small and insignificant, but not in a bad way. You will realize that everything around you is millions of years old--and the sun and shadows that shift over the rocks were moving long before you were born, and will continue long after you're gone. BUt for now, you get to be alive, and get to witness this timeless scene. You are part of nature as the birds and fish and clouds. Take it in. This is the moment you have been given on this earth. All the worries back at the office seem so petty now. The stress dissolves like mist on the water. They say the world began in water. They say a baby is born from water. Take in the view, this is the womb of life.
WEDDING, HONEYMOON
I don't know what it is, but I'm pretty sure both women and men would agree that there is something especially sexy about a bride. It's more than just getting dolled up and splurging on an expensive trip to the salon. And its more than the white princess gown. Truly, a wedding is perhaps the time a woman will look her very best, glowing from the pure joy of her special day. It's a time most young girls grow up dreaming about. A wedding day is romantic without parallel, and the bride is the center of it all. But there's more than just the celebration, there's a sexuality, too. The white of the "virgin," (even though we all know she's had a few boyfriends before the groom.) There's the sense of her going from "available" to "spoken for." Maybe to some that's an added sense of the end of sexual freedom; or to others, just the opposite, a rite of passage to no longer being a girl or a girlfriend, but a woman and a wife.
Maybe for these reasons, weddings are so thick with sexual energy. Maybe that's why bridesmaids are always hooking up with groomsmen. And why their is so much giddy joking about the "wedding night."
This picture is cute. It seems to sum up the contrast between wedding and honeymoon. On the left, the bride is dressed for her lovely outdoor wedding; on the right, the day has passed and she kicks back in a hot tub at the lakeside lodge, starting off her honeymoon. She's smiling, and still glows.
THE OLD COLLEGE TRY
This is a really interesting picture. Of all the vintage pictures we've seen, this is one of the most candid. There's a sense of playfulness and spontaneity. From the clothes and styles, it looks like it could have been taken in the 1920s, a time of sexual freedom, Prohibition, and jazz.
We all know the "Girls Gone Wild" videos of college girls cutting loose on Spring Break--but the roaring 20s were like one giant spring break. For the times, it was "anything goes." Women cut their hair in bobs, wore short skirts, danced and smoked and drank. And people had sex. A lot of sex. And they partied with the newest technology--driving recklessly in new cars, dancing to records, and using the new hand-held Kodak cameras to take snapshots of themselves tipping back illegal cocktails, flashing their breasts. Spring Break!
So what is happening here? Two college students? Is it a couple? Then who is taking the picture? And why? Was it two girls who ran into this tall handsome man and struck up a conversation, and the talk turned to the subject of his unusually large penis. And they said he was just boasting, and he said, no, really, see for yourself. So one of the Vassar girls held the Harvard man's member while the other sorority sister documented it for posterity.
BIG LAKE
A big lake all to herself.
A big lake all to herself.
BACK IN BLACK
Old girlfriend in the early 80s. She loved wearing sexy lingerie. She loved putting on heavy metal music and getting down. She loved to sing along, especially to "You shook me all night long." Perhaps AC/DC did say it best: "She was a fast machine, she kept her motor clean. She was the best damn woman that I've ever seen. Moving side to side, telling me no lies, knocking me out with those American thighs..." Every time I hear that song, this image comes to mind....
Old girlfriend in the early 80s. She loved wearing sexy lingerie. She loved putting on heavy metal music and getting down. She loved to sing along, especially to "You shook me all night long." Perhaps AC/DC did say it best: "She was a fast machine, she kept her motor clean. She was the best damn woman that I've ever seen. Moving side to side, telling me no lies, knocking me out with those American thighs..." Every time I hear that song, this image comes to mind....
WARM ROCK
Sitting in the sun, letting the afternoon settle. The rock, warm to skin. The water golden. Such simple things make life so lovely.
Sitting in the sun, letting the afternoon settle. The rock, warm to skin. The water golden. Such simple things make life so lovely.
TWO FRIENDS IN BED
THE SECRET OF ADULTS
The first time Linda used a vibrator, she was in high school. To earn extra money, she'd babysit for the neighbors. After putting the kid to bed at 8pm, Linda often had 2-3 hours to herself. Sometimes she'd do her homework, sometimes watch TV, but when she was bored with both, she'd snoop around the Johnsons' house.
It's been so many years, but the images and textures and smells come back to her. She can recall the shag carpet in the hall that lead to the master bedroom. They had a waterbed with a giant headboard that had a mirror and built-in night stands on either side. At the time, Linda never thought twice about the mirror; now she realizes why it was there. Her attention concentrated more on the drawers. In one side of the bed, she found a stack of nudie magazines. She assumed it was the side that Mr. Johnson slept on. On the other side, she found a rocket-shaped plastic vibrator and a jar of vaseline.
It's funny to think of now, but she honestly had no idea what she had really found and what it was used for. These were the days long before internet, or TV shows like "Sex in the City" that make references to vibrators. In fact, Sex Ed in school was taught only for an hour, literally. Sophomore year, the gym glass split up between boys and girls, and while the coach talked to the boys, the school nurse showed the girls a chart of the female reproductive anatomy. She'd learned about ovaries and fallopian tubes, but nothing about masturbation, and certainly nothing about vibrators.
Being the 70s, it wasn't like her classmates weren't messing around. The girls talked about boys, making out, getting to "third base," or going "all the way." Her classmates were pretty open about losing their virginity. But none of them ever talked about masturbation, and certainly not using a vibrator. There was still a stigma attached to anything of that nature. Linda could tell her friends that she smoked pot and balled a guy in the back of his Nova, and her friends would nod in approval, but if she said she'd masturbated the night before, her friends would surely scrunch up their faces and say, "Ewww."
So, when Linda found the magazines and the vibrator it was a real eye opener. In the images, she saw women, naked, splayed out, showing their private parts, sometimes holding their bodies open for the camera. Sometimes touching themselves. She had learned the terms "labia" and "clitoris" on the anatomy chart the nurse had shown the girls, but now she saw what adult women did with those parts.
To her surprise, the images not only informed her, but aroused her. She became tingly and wet at the sight of other women caressing themselves and giving themselves what looked like pure ecstasy. On one of the magazines, one of the women had a rocket-shaped vibrator just like the one in the drawer.
Linda took the magazine and spread it on the floor. After stripping naked, she took the vibrator. Sitting with her legs wide, she'd look down at the open magazine. She'd absorb the images on the page, and then turn to the next. She'd cup her breast in her hand, and rub the tip of the vibrator along her folds. She didn't need the vaseline; she was so wet. It didn't take long for her to discover that twisting the top of the vibrator turned it on. It leapt to life in her hand, and soon she realized how good it felt to touch to her clitoris.
For Linda, it was her real sex ed. Every time she'd babysit, she'd put the kids to bed, and go down the shag-carpet hall to the master bedroom, where she'd retrieve a magazine and the vibrator. By looking at images of other women, she learned about her own body, what she liked, and how to bring herself to a powerful orgasm.
She began to anticipate the thrill of a new magazine each month. She learned that Mr. Johnson had a simple system: he'd always have the latest issue on the top of the stack in the drawer, on top of the last 3 or 4 months. As the magazines cycled out, he'd stack them in the garage in a box on a top shelf. Of course she found them. She was a teenage girl. She knew there were only two options: either he threw them away or kept them. If he kept them, that meant they could be found. The Johnsons lived lived in a suburban ranch house, pretty much identical to her own: there were two bedrooms, the bathroom, kitchen, living room, garage. Obviously the public rooms were out, as well as the kid's bedroom, so that simply left looking in the master bedroom closet or the garage. It took her maybe 15 minutes at the most to find the stash of magazines.
With every issue, every model, she seemed to learn more. She saw so many different sizes of breasts: some small with puffy nipples, some large like hers, with aureolas the size of silver dollars. She saw many different shapes and sizes of vaginas. Some had protruding labias with dark lips, and some had merely a cleft visible. The more she saw, the more comfortable she became with exploring her own body. As she spent more time pouring over the back issues, she began taking the vibrator with her to the garage. It felt sneaky and naughty. It thrilled her.
When the neighbors hired her so they could go out, they always took the Mr. Johnson's LeBaron. They left the wife's station wagon in the garage. Linda masturbated many times in the station wagon. Sometimes she'd imagine she was on a date with Troy, the captain of the football team, and she was letting him go "all the way." To her surprise, she even created a fantasy of being in the station wagon with one of the neighbors. At first she fantasized about being with Mr. Johnson; he would confess his uncontrollable attraction to her. In her scenario, he would be driving her home (although in reality, she only lived a block away, and would just walk home). But in her fantasy world, he would have to drive her a long distance home, past the school. past the drive-in, and out toward the farmland. He'd park the car. He'd tell her how beautiful she was. He'd ask to see her breasts, and she'd pull down her top and show him. He'd ask to touch or kiss them, and she'd let him. He'd ask to see between her legs, and she'd show him, like a woman in the magazines. In her fantasy, she'd masturbate for him. And as she brought herself to orgasm in real life, she'd imagine his eyes on her. This seemed to turn her on a lot.
But then she began imagining Mrs. Johnson seducing her. This scenario was more gentle and soft. It didn't have a plot, but involved kissing and caressing. Seeing Mrs. Johnson touch herself with the vibrator, and then showing Mrs. Johnson how she used the vibrator, and then Mrs. Johnson using the vibrator on her. Somehow the magazines, and the stories inside of swinging couples fueled her creative imagination.
Once, she was so caught up in her fantasies, rubbing herself with the vibrator, naked in the backseat of the station wagon, she didn't even realize the time. When she heard the LeBaron pull up, she never moved so fast in her life. She shot out of the station wagon, and dashed into the house, through the kitchen, and grabbed her clothes. She tossed the vibrator in the drawer and bolted into the bathroom. She was trembling, breathing hard, as she heard the garage door click open and the car pull in.
She dressed and reappeared from the bathroom, as the Johnsons came in. Luckily, they were tipsy from dinner and wine. Who knows if they noticed Linda's red cheecks, the glow of sweat on her forehead, or that she'd buttoned her blouse one button off. She'd been in such a hurry, she'd just tossed on her skirt, and shoved her panties in her coat pocket. She thought she could smell the musk of her wetness between her legs, and wondered if the Johnson's could smell her recent sex. Linda was so embarrassed that all she could do is manage to say a few usual things about the kid being asleep and no problems and excused herself as quickly as she could.
She walked down the street. The moon had risen and the air was cool, and thick with night's mist. Along the street of tall elms, she could see the stars peeking through the boughs. Sprinklers watered lawns. The air smelled of water and wet grass. Without really thinking, she veered over one of the lawns and stood over a sprinkler. The watershot up between her legs, icy cold. It seemed to sooth the burning fire of her recent excitement. She didn't want to go home smelling of her own sticky juices. And the water felt so good and soothing.
She walked back across the lawn and continued down the street. Her thighs had goosebumps. Her dark curls dripped dry. Her skirt was wet, but thin enough that it would dry in time if she kept walking, past the dark houses, locked tight, and sound asleep. As she walked, she felt perfectly covered, but also naked. Like a secret. As she walked past the houses, all built the same year form the same blueprints by the same developer, she knew the layout of the rooms behind the locked doors. She wondered how many of her neighbors had magazines or vibrators by their beds. she felt like now she knew their secret.
Linda wondered if the Johnson's would fall fast asleep or make love on their bed. Would they open the drawer and reach for the vibrator? Would they find it still warm and wet? Would they know? Linda didn't care if they did, because now she knew. They did it, and she did it, and every adult on the street did it, in their own way, without talking about it, but they did. Like a secret that's not a secret, because once you become an adult, you know, but you agree to pretend it's still a secret. That's how it was to become an adult, thought Linda.
Her damp skirt clung to her skin, and she walked, naked under her dress, toward home.
HER LOLITA
She wanted to take a self portrait of herself. Nude. No... more than nude. She wanted it to be provocative. She wanted it to be erotic to the mind, not just the eye. Any woman could strip naked, lay back on a bed, and spread. She wanted more.
She'd always liked Nabokov's novel Lolita, which she'd read in high school. That had been more than a decade ago. In fact, she was closer to 30 than 15. She wanted to evoke that again, in how she saw and felt about herself. So she set up a pink photography background, tied her hair in pig tails, and before she set up the camera on the tripod, she shaved herself bare.
She wanted to take a self portrait of herself. Nude. No... more than nude. She wanted it to be provocative. She wanted it to be erotic to the mind, not just the eye. Any woman could strip naked, lay back on a bed, and spread. She wanted more.
She'd always liked Nabokov's novel Lolita, which she'd read in high school. That had been more than a decade ago. In fact, she was closer to 30 than 15. She wanted to evoke that again, in how she saw and felt about herself. So she set up a pink photography background, tied her hair in pig tails, and before she set up the camera on the tripod, she shaved herself bare.
HER IDEA
She was bored being taken to the nude beach every weekend, just to watch her husband compete in volleyball. I could tell. She brought a book to read, but that never held her attention. Sometimes she'd get in the water, but mostly she looked bored. So I finally got up the nerve to casually walk over and strike up a conversation. She seemed guarded at first, but then relaxed and seemed to enjoy the company. As we got to talking, I told her I was an art student and had first discovered the nude beach as a location where I could practice nude photography without fear of getting arrested. This seemed to interested her, and she suggested that she'd be willing to pose for me, if I wanted. Of course I did. She had a fantastic body.
Leaving her husband absorbed in his volleyball game, we went up into the dunes for a photo shoot. I had no idea how "open" she was to being photographed. I don't know if she did it as a thrill for herself or as a secret way to get back at her husband. My camera enjoyed the view, either way.
She was bored being taken to the nude beach every weekend, just to watch her husband compete in volleyball. I could tell. She brought a book to read, but that never held her attention. Sometimes she'd get in the water, but mostly she looked bored. So I finally got up the nerve to casually walk over and strike up a conversation. She seemed guarded at first, but then relaxed and seemed to enjoy the company. As we got to talking, I told her I was an art student and had first discovered the nude beach as a location where I could practice nude photography without fear of getting arrested. This seemed to interested her, and she suggested that she'd be willing to pose for me, if I wanted. Of course I did. She had a fantastic body.
Leaving her husband absorbed in his volleyball game, we went up into the dunes for a photo shoot. I had no idea how "open" she was to being photographed. I don't know if she did it as a thrill for herself or as a secret way to get back at her husband. My camera enjoyed the view, either way.
SWING BATTER-BATTER-BATTER, SWING
A POSITIVE MESSAGE
NIP PINCH
Weekend mornings, she likes to lay in bed. Slowly pinching her nipples, she wakes up.
Weekend mornings, she likes to lay in bed. Slowly pinching her nipples, she wakes up.
HOW BIG?
STUDY ABROAD
My girlfriend spent her Junior year in Honduras , teaching in a small school in the mountains. We dated long distance for that time, with only letters. The town she lived in was so far into the mountains, it didn't even have phone service.
We arranged for me to visit her over break. It'd been so long, I tried to remember all the small details about her--the sound of her laugh, the scent of her hair. I wondered if she'd changed. I guess, I knew she would. College is a time of change for everyone, and gong abroad just accelerates the change.
We stayed at the small house she had been living in. Like most homes in Latin America, it had a tall cement wall all around it, and the house in the middle of a courtyard. It was total privacy, and with the heat and humidity, we didn't spend much time in clothes.
Whatever running water there was, came gravity fed from a pipe. Showers were limited, and not always a given. Going without water and other luxuries she'd had back in college, she'd gone without shaving. I'd gone without sex, and so to me, she looked like a wild animal. Primitive. Sexy.
We spent so much time making up for lost time, I never did see the Mayan ruins. Do I regret it? Not at all. If this picture is any proof, I found just what I was looking for.
My girlfriend spent her Junior year in Honduras , teaching in a small school in the mountains. We dated long distance for that time, with only letters. The town she lived in was so far into the mountains, it didn't even have phone service.
We arranged for me to visit her over break. It'd been so long, I tried to remember all the small details about her--the sound of her laugh, the scent of her hair. I wondered if she'd changed. I guess, I knew she would. College is a time of change for everyone, and gong abroad just accelerates the change.
We stayed at the small house she had been living in. Like most homes in Latin America, it had a tall cement wall all around it, and the house in the middle of a courtyard. It was total privacy, and with the heat and humidity, we didn't spend much time in clothes.
Whatever running water there was, came gravity fed from a pipe. Showers were limited, and not always a given. Going without water and other luxuries she'd had back in college, she'd gone without shaving. I'd gone without sex, and so to me, she looked like a wild animal. Primitive. Sexy.
We spent so much time making up for lost time, I never did see the Mayan ruins. Do I regret it? Not at all. If this picture is any proof, I found just what I was looking for.
WHAT'S UP, DOC?
The carrot is a plant with a thick, fleshy, deeply colored root, which grows underground, and feathery green leaves that emerge above ground. It is known scientifically as Daucus carota, a name that can be traced back to ancient Roman writings of the 3rd century.
Carrots are an excellent source of antioxidant compounds, and the richest vegetable source of the pro-vitamin A carotenes. Carrots' antioxidant compounds help protect against cardiovascular disease and cancer and also promote good vision, especially night vision.
Carrots belong to the Umbelliferae family, named after the umbrella like flower clusters that plants in this family produce. As such, carrots are related to parsnips, fennel caraway, cumin and dill. There are over 100 different varieties that vary in size and color. Carrots can be as small as two inches or as long as three feet, ranging in diameter from one-half of an inch to over two inches.
With a shape much like an erect penis, they have been the recreational joy of women for centuries.
The carrot is a plant with a thick, fleshy, deeply colored root, which grows underground, and feathery green leaves that emerge above ground. It is known scientifically as Daucus carota, a name that can be traced back to ancient Roman writings of the 3rd century.
Carrots are an excellent source of antioxidant compounds, and the richest vegetable source of the pro-vitamin A carotenes. Carrots' antioxidant compounds help protect against cardiovascular disease and cancer and also promote good vision, especially night vision.
Carrots belong to the Umbelliferae family, named after the umbrella like flower clusters that plants in this family produce. As such, carrots are related to parsnips, fennel caraway, cumin and dill. There are over 100 different varieties that vary in size and color. Carrots can be as small as two inches or as long as three feet, ranging in diameter from one-half of an inch to over two inches.
With a shape much like an erect penis, they have been the recreational joy of women for centuries.
EURO
European girls are so hot, especially Eastern Europeans.
European girls are so hot, especially Eastern Europeans.
LOVE AT THE DUNES
NIGHT OUT
She was all dressed up to hit the town, go out, party. She looked fantastic, in her hip green jacket and Italian leather boots. She'd picked her favorite clothes and accessories, stockings...everything she wanted to wear to feel sexy and one thing she didn't wear to feel even sexier.
She was all dressed up to hit the town, go out, party. She looked fantastic, in her hip green jacket and Italian leather boots. She'd picked her favorite clothes and accessories, stockings...everything she wanted to wear to feel sexy and one thing she didn't wear to feel even sexier.
FINGERS, TOO
She loves his cock in her back, while using her finger in the front.
She loves his cock in her back, while using her finger in the front.
CHECKING EMAIL AND HER CHASTITY
Weekday evenings, she'd wind down from work by taking a shower. Then she'd slip on a robe and crack a Corona. Her hair still drying, she'd go to her computer to check emails. Being single, she'd posted online at a dating site. She liked to read the messages she got, delete the ones from the old, the gross, the fat, stupid and desperate. Although she hadn't had a boyfriend, or even sex in more than a year, she wasn't desperate. She was picky. She would hold out until she found a guy she thought was worthy of her, because she was still young, and still hot. And she had a job and a nice enough place, and just because she didn't like anyone at work, didn't mean she was going to just hit the bars and come home with drunks. Still, it had been a long time since she'd had sex and the more surfing she did, the more it invariably lead to looking at porn. This would get her wet and excited. The bottle of Corona would be empty, and warm in her hand. She'd read online about sex toys and how women were using glass more and more, because they wanted to avoid the chemicals in plastics and that glass, when warmed by the body, felt the sexiest. Perhaps because it'd been so long since she'd actually had sex with a man, she didn't go for the slow, romantic fantasies. She didn't gently caress herself or imagine a man's lips softly nibbling her neck. No, she liked watching hardcore porn, and when she got hot, she'd stand up, lean forward, and imagine being taking from behind. She used the bottle with authority, pushing it inside her and pounding. She liked it hard, fast, and forceful. Sometimes she'd ride her bottle, and sometimes put it in her ass.
After she made herself cum, she'd turn off her computer, and set the empty bottle in the recycling with the others. A week's worth of bottles, each with her sex juices dried on them, each representing a cock she didn't take to bed. She didn't feel bad about this; the bottles were her reminder to herself of standards she wasn't willing to compromise.
TRAIN PEEK
Riding on the high-speed trains of Spain. The girl in front of me was so lovely, and so engrossed in her book, she had not idea how much of her breast she was exposing. Or maybe she did.
Riding on the high-speed trains of Spain. The girl in front of me was so lovely, and so engrossed in her book, she had not idea how much of her breast she was exposing. Or maybe she did.
THAT SUMMER AT THE LAKE
This is Hallie surveying the lake, seeing that we are the only ones around, and that we have and it to ourselves, and the water is smooth and peaceful and the tress on the distant shores are green. We had been friends for years and I had always loved how bold and brave Hallie was. She was sort of hispter, hippie, punk rocker, computer geek, and derby girl all rolled into one. As we hiked up the several miles to the secluded lake, I had admired her tank top, and how it barely held her lovely breasts. Without a bra, the soft flesh seemed to slightly sway and jiggle. It was gorgeous in the sun, and in the scent of the pines. Beads of sweat dribbled down her cleavage, and beaded under her arms. She had left her hair grow wild and natural, not caring what contemporary fashion dictated.
This was the moment that would define Hallie for me, and everything I loved about her. After spreading out her towel and surveying the scene, she casually reached down and stripped off her top. Then she leaned back, turned her face to the sun, and let the summer sky warm her skin and the soft breeze off the lake dry the sweat of the hike until all that was left was a slight trace of salt, sparkling.
This is Hallie surveying the lake, seeing that we are the only ones around, and that we have and it to ourselves, and the water is smooth and peaceful and the tress on the distant shores are green. We had been friends for years and I had always loved how bold and brave Hallie was. She was sort of hispter, hippie, punk rocker, computer geek, and derby girl all rolled into one. As we hiked up the several miles to the secluded lake, I had admired her tank top, and how it barely held her lovely breasts. Without a bra, the soft flesh seemed to slightly sway and jiggle. It was gorgeous in the sun, and in the scent of the pines. Beads of sweat dribbled down her cleavage, and beaded under her arms. She had left her hair grow wild and natural, not caring what contemporary fashion dictated.
This was the moment that would define Hallie for me, and everything I loved about her. After spreading out her towel and surveying the scene, she casually reached down and stripped off her top. Then she leaned back, turned her face to the sun, and let the summer sky warm her skin and the soft breeze off the lake dry the sweat of the hike until all that was left was a slight trace of salt, sparkling.
ANGIE YOGA AT THE BEACH CABIN
Once Angie and I went to a cabin on a beach along the southern coast of Washington state. It was a lovely little cottage of a house, with tall french doors and translucent curtains that swayed with the breeze. It was summer, and at least warm enough to open a few of the doors and being in house naked, between eating and sex. Our days went like this: wake up, make slow mornign love, fix some eggs and coffee, take her from behind while she did the dishes, take a shower, and take her again, read a book, and watch her naked, stretch and do her daily yoga.
As Angie posed, bent backwards, her tiny breasts fell back into her chest. I could clearly see her thicket of hair. She kept the sides trimmed, but let the center grow out, like a skinny hedge. It almost completely hid her lips. I woudl have to wiggle my fingers or tongue to penetrate the ticket,but when I did, she was already wet, soaking in fact, and ready for me to push inside her again.
Once Angie and I went to a cabin on a beach along the southern coast of Washington state. It was a lovely little cottage of a house, with tall french doors and translucent curtains that swayed with the breeze. It was summer, and at least warm enough to open a few of the doors and being in house naked, between eating and sex. Our days went like this: wake up, make slow mornign love, fix some eggs and coffee, take her from behind while she did the dishes, take a shower, and take her again, read a book, and watch her naked, stretch and do her daily yoga.
As Angie posed, bent backwards, her tiny breasts fell back into her chest. I could clearly see her thicket of hair. She kept the sides trimmed, but let the center grow out, like a skinny hedge. It almost completely hid her lips. I woudl have to wiggle my fingers or tongue to penetrate the ticket,but when I did, she was already wet, soaking in fact, and ready for me to push inside her again.
WHAT ARE FRIENDS FOR?
BUSINESS AND PLEASURE
When she travelled for business, she liked to mix in pleasure. She had a way of testing the new personal assistants. When they landed and checked into the hotel, she'd slip off her skirt, thong, and blouse, but leave her suit coat, and stockings, and dress shoes on. When her assistant came by the room, she'd let him in and say, matter of fact, that she was still unpacking, but that since time was money, the assistant should take a seat, and start taking notes for the upcoming meeting or to show her te spread sheets he'd been preparing, or the powerpoint presentation.
She loved the mix of power and money, power and sex. Soon the assistant's eyes couldn't help but be on her, catching glimpses of her body under her suit. It was a game she enjoyed, how long would it take for him to say something, for him to make a move, or would he remain a coward, would he defer only to her. She cold tell a lot about a man by this test. The ones that came on right away and too strong, she fired on the spot, under grounds of sexual harassment. The men could hardly contest it, since they were in her hotel room, and they had made the first move. But if the young man gave his presentation and politely averted his eyes, and was too dense or too cowardly to recognize the opportunity when it was right in front of his face, she'd soon find a way to fire him. Bad choices in sex, meant bad choices in business to her. But if the young man matched her steps, followed her lead, advanced and then retreated to her cues, then he was someone who could be smart and discrete. Someone who could play the game. He was a keeper, at least for a few months. Those young men, though, she couldn't just fire. They were too smart, and by the time they'd had a full affair, they were dangerous. So she did want one must do in business: she promoted them with a new title and a transfer.
When she travelled for business, she liked to mix in pleasure. She had a way of testing the new personal assistants. When they landed and checked into the hotel, she'd slip off her skirt, thong, and blouse, but leave her suit coat, and stockings, and dress shoes on. When her assistant came by the room, she'd let him in and say, matter of fact, that she was still unpacking, but that since time was money, the assistant should take a seat, and start taking notes for the upcoming meeting or to show her te spread sheets he'd been preparing, or the powerpoint presentation.
She loved the mix of power and money, power and sex. Soon the assistant's eyes couldn't help but be on her, catching glimpses of her body under her suit. It was a game she enjoyed, how long would it take for him to say something, for him to make a move, or would he remain a coward, would he defer only to her. She cold tell a lot about a man by this test. The ones that came on right away and too strong, she fired on the spot, under grounds of sexual harassment. The men could hardly contest it, since they were in her hotel room, and they had made the first move. But if the young man gave his presentation and politely averted his eyes, and was too dense or too cowardly to recognize the opportunity when it was right in front of his face, she'd soon find a way to fire him. Bad choices in sex, meant bad choices in business to her. But if the young man matched her steps, followed her lead, advanced and then retreated to her cues, then he was someone who could be smart and discrete. Someone who could play the game. He was a keeper, at least for a few months. Those young men, though, she couldn't just fire. They were too smart, and by the time they'd had a full affair, they were dangerous. So she did want one must do in business: she promoted them with a new title and a transfer.
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