Slut© shadowJewel
Yes, I'm a slut. I admit it. I love sex. I can't get enough of it. Most
of the guys I dated in school (that's college) were so confused about what women want. They thought that all they had to do was the wham, bam..
I don't think so. So, shortly after discovering hetero sex, I gave it up as over-rated and not worth the effort. I did better playing with myself than with a narcissistic male chauvinist. I don't sound bitter, do I?
Well, after all, I was better than they were. I could get myself off in less than ten minutes. Even the local ho's slot each john for a minimum of fifteen minutes and figure it will take them twenty to get them off. And then, I didn't have to talk to them afterward.
So, I got this dyke, ice-maiden image. I really wasn't either, though I did wonder what it would be like with another woman. I just hadn't found the right person, I kept telling myself.
In fact, I was in my late 30's when I met this guy on the Internet. My big charge at that time was to see how many johns I could get off in cyber space without the others knowing. My best was to have five going at one time. Oh, the cyber sex was nothing despite what they thought. Come one, how turned on can you get when just as you are starting to get excited the screen goes blank? It was more of a challenge to do five at one time than sexual arousal. None of them even came close to getting me hot. And I got so tired of "what are you wearing?"
One night I just got tired of the game. Now don't tell me people don't come into your life when you need them to. He just wanted to talk. So, we talked.
We talked for months. We talked for almost a year. He was the one who kept my attention longer than all the others combined. I even allowed him to call.
His voice was liquid silk. He was the only one who got me off on the phone. I chalked it up to being verbally assisted masturbation. And, of course, we know I'm good at masturbation.
But it was that voice. Dark chocolate liquid silk embraced my body. He knew what would turn a woman on. He verbally caressed my neck, traced down my chest, and lifted each breast to his mouth and suckled hard nipples. Then, in words, he slid a hand between my thighs and circled the clit. I could feel myself rising to his spoken touch. I could feel my lips swell and moisten. When he slid a finger into me, I could feel first one, then two, and three slide in and caress the inside of my womb. He told me his thumb circled the clit as he pumped inside me.
He could hear my excitement on the phone. He then turned me over, played with the tight anal muscle, probed it, and inserted a finger. I came. I came hard. He knew I came. He could hear me coming. I could feel myself coming. I could feel the juices flow. This voice turned me on like no man had ever done.
We decided to meet weeks after that first phone call. I had to find out. I was nervous. Until then I had a rule -- no meeting with anyone with whom I had sex of any kind either on phone or Internet. But with this guy I had to find out.
He was wonderfully romantic. He knew how to get laid. He met me with flowers and had made arrangements at one of the best hotels in town. He not only had a room, he had a suite. And then he left me alone to rest after traveling. He didn't push for the sex. We had dinner. We spent the next day together. We had dinner again, theatre, and a stroll along the river.
Just when I was beginning to think he didn't want me, he asked. Yeah. He asked! Yes, I was ready. I almost came on the spot. He took me back to the hotel and we showered. He wouldn't let me do anything. He sensually lathered my back and then turned me to face him. Gently he slid soapy hands around my breasts and then across my belly and down between my legs. Only after a leisurely shower did he lead me to the huge bed and lay me upon it.
Almost at his first touch I was ready to come. But I waited. For what seemed hours he touched me. Every move he had described on the phone he did to me. Within minutes I was helpless in his hands. Wave after wave of orgasm engulfed me. I released to him all that had been pent up for years.
Yes, I am a slut. I love sex. I love sex with him. I look forward to it. I get wet at the thought of it. And I like talking to him afterward.
