While looking over my latest blog entries, it occurs me that it’s been a while since I told a good sex story. 

So, unzip your pants. 

Get your poppers. 

Take your dick out and start stroking it.

This story is HOT.  I hope you shoot multiple loads while reading it.

This guy had been responding to my CL ads via email since December of last year.  We never met because he was nervous.  We had exchanged a few emails.  He asked what I do.  I told him the honest to God truth: 

I’m a TOP girl

I love having a guy’s face buried between my legs

 I want you to make sweet love to my shecock with your mouth

Make me so horny with your oral skills that I can’t help myself but bend you over and fuck you til you cry like a little girl.   

This was exactly what he wanted, too.  But it was also too much.  I was too forward.  Whatever.  He dropped the ball when it was in his court to meet up. 

A month ago, he emails me with an urgency that was missing from his earlier emails.  He told me he got a blowjob from a tranny in the locker room of his gym.  That little encounter tipped the balance and opened the floodgates.  What was once a swirling pool of nervous anticipation and restrained curiosity has boiled over into a smoking, bubbling cauldron of unfulfilled lust. 

Thank you, Miss Free Blow Job Gym Tranny, for igniting his passion!

When he asks for my availability this time around, the first thing I tell him is that my price has gone up.  He had chickened out on me so many times before.  That fucking annoys the hell out of me.  He asks about our old rate.  I took so much pleasure in saying no.

Don’t waste my time.

He must have really wanted it because, a few days later, he agreed to the new price.

When it was half an hour past the time we were supposed to meet and the doorbell never rang I shot him a polite email:

No sweat if you can’t make it but a gentleman at least cancels. 

To my surprise, he emails back.  He says he’s still working on his beer and then he’ll be right over.  He must have been really nervous. 

[By the way, I'm sorry if I'm not as sympathetic as I should be with the new beginners.  I know I'm very self-centered.  I was at that stage so long ago I have a hard time relating.  I don't make as much effort at empathy as I should.  I'm sorry.  I'm just too slutty: I can't wait for the sex to begin!]

When he walked through the door I was briefly taken aback.  He was totally Aryan Nation.  About 6’4”, shaved head, muscular with tattoos running up and down his arms.  Raggety, ripped shirt with frayed armholes.  Dark, rolled up Dickies pants.  I’m always scared that guys like him will  beat me up.

And then he smiled.

There are many types of smiles in this world.  The polite smile.  The nervous smile.  The forced smile.  And then there’s the smile a guy has when he sees someone who he wants to have sex with. 

His face lights up instantly.  It’s the best smile of all.  You can’t fake this smile.  You should never even try to fake it.  It reminds me that there can be such unadulterated purity in this world.  With no filtering.  We don’t appreciate it much as children but as adults it’s so rare to see in one another.

He was the kind of guy you see at the Zeitgeist bar in San Francisco.  Very bike messenger looking.  I’m very liberal in the sense that I support all representations of how people want to express their inner selves but the truth is these kind of guys make me nervous.  I see their shaved head and all those tattoos and I think they’re so angry. 

But when he smiled, I knew instantly he was a nice, gentle person.  He spoke in a soft voice.  I don’t remember much of what he said but everything sounded so sweet.

We kissed a lot.  He had such soft lush lips.  When you stereotype a group of people based upon their rough exterior you don’t really look at them.  I always think of skinheads as these mean assholes with thin lips.  But my guy wasn’t a skinhead.  (Even though he looked like one.)  He surprised me with the fullness of his lips.  His gentle demeanor.  You can tell he was brought up with good manners.  If I’m completely honest with myself I’d say I wondered about what it’s like to have him as a boyfriend.

Oh what the hell — Cassandra is a bigot and she totally stereotypes but she’s not afraid to admit it.  Especially when she’s proven wrong.

When I took his dick out of his pants my jaws just dropped.  This guy was HUNG.  And I’m not even into dicks but I was fascinated.  It was so pink and heavy and fat and long.  I was surprised how much I liked holding his cock in my hands.  It’s the weirdest feeling; I’m not used to being attracted to cock.  But holding it made me feel safe.  Protected.  I tried putting a condom on it and I couldn’t even roll the condom down past the tip of his head.  It’s that thick.  When I finally got the condom on it looked like the pork shoulders cut wrapped in cellophane at Safeway’s meat department.  The cellophane is stretched to its limit and barely able to hold all that meat in.

Wow… I’m already at a thousand words.  I will finish the story in a second post.

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