The last night of the year, and I'm thinking of stories told me by young companions down the years. I do want to remember the girls who told me these things--- lovely voices and presences gone missing over the years. Well, let's put a few more stories into my archives.
The first one is from a girl I knew back in the lost world of the early Nineties. The tale actually came by letter. I still have the actual letter, complete with a Van Nuys postmark. A letter close to thirty years old now. I have no idea what became of the girl who wrote it--- vanished into domesticity somewhere in southern California, I expect. But the story itself is fun and highly visual, something done in blues and greens and black:
Hi! Mmm-- new tales to tell! I actually had sex in a laser beam! It was basically a starfuck. This band (all black) called Voodoo Posse played at After Hours, the dance club at Magic Mountain where I'm working this summer. So I met the drummer after the show, and we ended up at Mystic Lake (in the park still...) where the fireworks/laser show is. We ended up skinny-dipping and swam out to this one platform where a laser (green) shines down on a plume of smoke that rises steadily. Fortunately, a couple of weeks before, I'd talked to a tech I had sex with a few times about how it all worked. So I ended up fucking the drummer, surrounded by smoke, in the middle of a laser. Have you ever seen a laser mix with smoke up close? It's really intense! This is the second black guy I've had sex with, and he was so much better than the first--- and he was one of the juiciest guys I've ever felt inside me. The oral sex was amazing! He was just crazy with me! Lots of trying new positions in the water!
I remember that her name was Gen--- Genevieve ---and that she was a lovely, brown-haired girl with soft pale eyes. I have no idea where she is now, and certainly have no idea how she remembers her past and her adventures.
The second is from a posh girl in Colorado from the early Noughts. She'd gone to St.-John's out west, the western branch of the liberal arts college with a curriculum based solely on the Classics. I remember that she graduated, kicked around Europe for a while, was dumped by one lover in some roadside village in Brittany, and mugged in a railway station in Paris. She was last heard of living in Ireland. I'd written asking her about her adventures, and she responded with a few tales, including these---
Q.: Where and how did you first make love outdoors? What was it like? Was there risk involved? How do you feel about being naked outdoors?
Outside Christ Church College at the University of Oxford. I was on a school trip and certainly was not supposed to be fraternizing with the locals - inside or outside - so there was plenty of risk. The campus itself was imposing and lent the whole situation a gravity and drama that I have rarely felt since. I didn't get completely naked, as I was wearing a short white skirt with no underwear that could easily be thrown up (though it did take some athleticism and flexibility to avoid getting grass stains on that skirt).
Q.: Where is the riskiest/most public place you've ever made love? Whose idea was it? What was it like?
The European headquarters of Opus Dei. I've always been privately smug about this one and wish I could tell more people because it delights me in so many ways. It was in the evening, and we were walking back from a movie. I had been teasing him throughout the movie and on the trip back, and I guess he just couldn't restrain himself anymore. We jumped over the fence for what I thought might be a quick blow job, but he threw me on the ground. It was very passionate and rough, naughty and forbidden. We were collapsed on the grass when someone caught us and we had to run, me carrying my bra and my jeans half on, cum smeared all over my shirt and jeans. The man was shouting at us, and he said something about our souls being cursed or perhaps he cursed our souls - something rather violent anyway.
This one is a bit more harsh, but it's also from Maegan, something from when she was sixteen, back in the first year of the new century. She told me the story maybe nine or ten years ago. I've never had any follow-up on it:
Hmmm, most guys I've met are a bit squeamish about their own taste....they're fine with it all over a girl's body or mouth, but seem to prefer it to stay there.
I was at my first ever rave with some friends, and this older college guy kept hitting on me and dancing with me, but I wasn't interested. After awhile, I went to use the bathroom, dumb little naive girl that I was. It was upstairs through a dark hallway, and I had no idea I was being followed, but shortly after I sat down to pee, I heard someone else enter. I assumed it was another girl, but he kicked open the door, slamming my head against the wall in the process. I fell back and of course managed to pee all over bare legs. I wasn't wearing underwear, or they'd have been soaked. I was rather dazed and didn't quite understand what was going on, but before I had any idea of who it was, he had grabbed my hair and wrenched my head back (I had two french braid pigtails). He kept hold of them and used them to yank my head forward as well as control what I did the entire time. Naturally with him forcing me like that, I kept gagging, but he didn't seem to mind. He nearly gave me lock jaw, and he shoved his cock as far down my throat as he could; I have no idea who he was. After he left, I was shocked, stunned, and could barely walk. I went downstairs as best I could and stood by someone's car in the parking lot. I gagged for a while and cried. I wouldn't tell anyone else this, but I have masturbated to this story over and over since then. I keep remembering the sound of my own gagging and wondering whatever became of him and how he remembers me now. I can tell you, but no one else.
Four stories, here on the last night of the year. I miss the voices that attach to the stories. I miss a time when stories about adventures were offered up as gifts and introductions, when stories were exchanged over the aether.
My hope is that in the new year, we'll all feel free enough to have adventures again, and to tell stories about both the past and our plans and hopes and fantasies.
Monday, December 31, 2018
Wednesday, December 26, 2018
Two Two Three: Kayak
I'll be trying to end the year with stories lovely young friends have told me of their adventures. And why not? Memories matter, just as details do. And good stories deserve to be written down, to be kept for the future.
So, then. By way of introduction, this is a story told to me by a very lovely and much-admired friend who's been sharing her December with me. We'll call her Liberty. She's tallish and gifted with lovely grey-blue eyes and a mass of strawberry-blonde hair. I've known her for a couple of years, actually. We met when she poured drinks at an oyster bar I've been known to frequent downtown. She was rather young--- just on the edge of graduating university ---and for some reason found me interesting. We had a brief fling before she went off to Florida and back to her old haunts in New Mexico. A few months ago I ran into her again, tending bar at a new place near my rooms. She remembered me--- she was wearing a sweater that used to be mine, after all ---and we've been keeping company.
I knew that I wasn't the first older gentleman of her acquaintance, and one night not long ago I pulled her close and asked her about her first older lover. She laughed and tapped her glass--- a Negroni ---on mine and told me this...
Her first encounter with an Older Man happened when she was sixteen. Her family lived in the Pacific Northwest in those days. Her parents were hippies, and while they weren't posh, her dad owned a successful landscaping business and her mom ran a greenhouse/plant nursery. So when she was sixteen, they told her she could have her own kayak. She'd been kayaking on the local rivers and streams since she was small, but they finally gave her money to buy her own. She went to a couple of the outdoor life and river sports places near where she lived. One of the places was a shop that specialized in kayaks and kayak tours, and the guy running it was supposed to be very good.
She went over one summertime morning early--- drove up in a battered old SUV from her father's company. When she went in, the owner was there, and when he saw she was serious about kayaking, he started talking with her and showing her boats.
At sixteen, Liberty was no virgin. She'd been fucked (halfway consensually, she says) at fourteen, and she'd fucked boys at house parties and after school. But she hadn't had anyone older than maybe 20. The owner of the shop was in his early or mid-30s--- she says she guessed at like 32 or 34 ---and apparently good-looking: tall, in good shape, stubbly, handsome. So she liked talking with him and started thinking he was interesting. She has really never been shy or coy about sex. She's always been very straightforward and earnest and serious. Her hippie upbringing, maybe. She just stood really close and kept making eye contact and holding herself to make being bra-less obvious. Summertime, and she was wearing short shorts and a racer-back tank. She was a full 34C at 16 and she had (and still has) very good legs, so he at least was looking.
She told me that the idea of trying an older man was really appealing as a challenge. She asked if he could show her some of the kayaks in the back, and he took her back to where the boats were on racks. She hopped up on a work table and listened to him talk about places he'd been kayaking and how she really needed to learn sea kayaking. He was clearly looking at her legs and clearly trying to impress her with stories of kayaking in the Andes and the Yukon.
Anyway, the shop owner asked if she smoked weed, and when she laughed and said sure, he took a joint out of the pocket of his denim shirt and lit up. It was a weekday summer morning, and she thinks there may only have been one or two other people in the store--- people who worked for the owner. So they smoked and laughed and he flirted with her. He started touching her hair and tracing a finger along her legs. She said she slid forward on the table and started kissing him.
He told her that he knew she was underage and she couldn't tell anyone about this. She just shrugged and said that was cool. They kissed and she kicked off her little flip-flops and got her legs round him. He played with her soft breasts and pushed up her singlet. Liberty said she just reached down and pulled it over her head and told him to kiss her tits. She squeezed him through his jeans and got him out. She remembers telling him that she didn't care if anyone came back into the rack area, and he just said no one would anyway. She stroked him and got off the table to take him in her mouth. Once she had him down her throat he played with her hair and tits and took a couple more hits on the joint, Then he picked her up and put her back on the table and got her shorts open. I thought she'd probably be in tiny, ragged, faded cut-off jeans shorts, but she told me they were khaki shorts--- short and probably old and dirty, but khaki not denim.
She wasn't wearing underwear ("I know you'll like that part," she told me) and the owner laughed and asked if she'd forgotten something that morning. Liberty just told him no. In the summer, she told me, back in her teens, she mostly didn't bother--- too hot once the sun got up, and mostly in the mornings she just showered and pulled on shorts and a t-shirt or a singlet and didn't much care about shoes, underwear, or bras. Anyway, he got her shorts off and tossed them on the floor and leaned over her while he pulled her into the right angle for entry.
He didn't ask her about condoms or being on the Pill, and she was pretty unconcerned about things like that anyway. She got her legs back round him and he pushed into her while they kissed and he squeezed her breasts. She told me it was rough in the good way--- she felt taken but still appreciated. Good fuck, she said. Good size, good thickness, good hip motion. He pushed her legs up and got them over his shoulders. He had two fingers in her mouth, which was probably good--- she is seriously loud when she has sex, and there were at least a couple of people out in the front of the store.
He came in her, which felt good. She wanted him to turn her over and fuck her from behind, but they both worried about time. He finally apologised for not using a condom, and she told him not to worry, that it was no big deal. She told me she remembered that while he was fucking her, she could look up at the closest rack and see the label on the kayak--- a Riot Kayak 11-LV Day Tourer. She still remembered that eight years later, and I wrote it down in my Moleskine. Anyway...she got her singlet back on and found her shorts on the floor and stepped back into them. She kissed his cock and kissed him and thanked him.
She said she stepped into one flip-flop but couldn't find the other--- it must've gone under one of the racks. They were $5 cheap rubber ones, so she just took the one she had and tossed it in a trash can and stayed barefoot the rest of the day. He laughed at her and told her she should come see him again and buy a boat.
She told me she did come back, and she did buy her first kayak there--- the 11-ft. Riot Day Tourer model just like the one on the rack. That's about a $US 700 boat, and she used it for a long time. She took it with her the next year when she fell out with her newly-religious parents (another story) and moved in with her then-boyfriend's family. She fucked the owner off and on most of that summer. She'd come by the shop or meet him at his house or down at one of the docks on the local rivers. She said it was all very casual--- she had other things in her life that kept her busy, and she dated a few people or hooked up at parties. She said the best time was once when she and her best friend April went kayak camping and she arranged for the owner to meet them where they'd be camping. They all drank lots of whiskey and smoked weed and he spent the night in a sleeping bag with Liberty. Did she and April do a 3-way with the man? She elbowed me when I asked and told that of course they had, both that night and few other nights, that it was all about learning new things and enjoying the summer. She loved driving to the store and just hanging out, being the barefoot girl with headphones sitting on the owner's desk with her iPod and a smoothie...and a flask hidden in her little daypack.
Anyway, she decided she liked Older Men, or at least was comfortable with them. That made it easy when she and I first started talking a couple of years ago, when she was at the oyster bar. She thought I was interesting and the age thing meant pretty much zero to her. When I told her my age--- she just shrugged. What mattered, she said, was that I was interesting. We'll use each other for the stories, she said. We'll trade stories and we'll learn things. Something I was very comfortable with.
Well, Liberty herself is very, very interesting. Her stories range from the Pacific Northwest to New Mexico and Colorado, to North Carolina and Florida. She has a degree in environmental sciences and is looking forward to doing an master's in coastal wetlands management. I can be there with her in the dark and listen to her tell me tales of her past and her thoughts, and she's taught me kayaking and how to play pétanque. I should like to keep her in my life, and I very much hope she'll whisper more things to me on winter nights.
So, then. By way of introduction, this is a story told to me by a very lovely and much-admired friend who's been sharing her December with me. We'll call her Liberty. She's tallish and gifted with lovely grey-blue eyes and a mass of strawberry-blonde hair. I've known her for a couple of years, actually. We met when she poured drinks at an oyster bar I've been known to frequent downtown. She was rather young--- just on the edge of graduating university ---and for some reason found me interesting. We had a brief fling before she went off to Florida and back to her old haunts in New Mexico. A few months ago I ran into her again, tending bar at a new place near my rooms. She remembered me--- she was wearing a sweater that used to be mine, after all ---and we've been keeping company.
I knew that I wasn't the first older gentleman of her acquaintance, and one night not long ago I pulled her close and asked her about her first older lover. She laughed and tapped her glass--- a Negroni ---on mine and told me this...
Her first encounter with an Older Man happened when she was sixteen. Her family lived in the Pacific Northwest in those days. Her parents were hippies, and while they weren't posh, her dad owned a successful landscaping business and her mom ran a greenhouse/plant nursery. So when she was sixteen, they told her she could have her own kayak. She'd been kayaking on the local rivers and streams since she was small, but they finally gave her money to buy her own. She went to a couple of the outdoor life and river sports places near where she lived. One of the places was a shop that specialized in kayaks and kayak tours, and the guy running it was supposed to be very good.
She went over one summertime morning early--- drove up in a battered old SUV from her father's company. When she went in, the owner was there, and when he saw she was serious about kayaking, he started talking with her and showing her boats.
At sixteen, Liberty was no virgin. She'd been fucked (halfway consensually, she says) at fourteen, and she'd fucked boys at house parties and after school. But she hadn't had anyone older than maybe 20. The owner of the shop was in his early or mid-30s--- she says she guessed at like 32 or 34 ---and apparently good-looking: tall, in good shape, stubbly, handsome. So she liked talking with him and started thinking he was interesting. She has really never been shy or coy about sex. She's always been very straightforward and earnest and serious. Her hippie upbringing, maybe. She just stood really close and kept making eye contact and holding herself to make being bra-less obvious. Summertime, and she was wearing short shorts and a racer-back tank. She was a full 34C at 16 and she had (and still has) very good legs, so he at least was looking.
She told me that the idea of trying an older man was really appealing as a challenge. She asked if he could show her some of the kayaks in the back, and he took her back to where the boats were on racks. She hopped up on a work table and listened to him talk about places he'd been kayaking and how she really needed to learn sea kayaking. He was clearly looking at her legs and clearly trying to impress her with stories of kayaking in the Andes and the Yukon.
Anyway, the shop owner asked if she smoked weed, and when she laughed and said sure, he took a joint out of the pocket of his denim shirt and lit up. It was a weekday summer morning, and she thinks there may only have been one or two other people in the store--- people who worked for the owner. So they smoked and laughed and he flirted with her. He started touching her hair and tracing a finger along her legs. She said she slid forward on the table and started kissing him.
He told her that he knew she was underage and she couldn't tell anyone about this. She just shrugged and said that was cool. They kissed and she kicked off her little flip-flops and got her legs round him. He played with her soft breasts and pushed up her singlet. Liberty said she just reached down and pulled it over her head and told him to kiss her tits. She squeezed him through his jeans and got him out. She remembers telling him that she didn't care if anyone came back into the rack area, and he just said no one would anyway. She stroked him and got off the table to take him in her mouth. Once she had him down her throat he played with her hair and tits and took a couple more hits on the joint, Then he picked her up and put her back on the table and got her shorts open. I thought she'd probably be in tiny, ragged, faded cut-off jeans shorts, but she told me they were khaki shorts--- short and probably old and dirty, but khaki not denim.
She wasn't wearing underwear ("I know you'll like that part," she told me) and the owner laughed and asked if she'd forgotten something that morning. Liberty just told him no. In the summer, she told me, back in her teens, she mostly didn't bother--- too hot once the sun got up, and mostly in the mornings she just showered and pulled on shorts and a t-shirt or a singlet and didn't much care about shoes, underwear, or bras. Anyway, he got her shorts off and tossed them on the floor and leaned over her while he pulled her into the right angle for entry.
He didn't ask her about condoms or being on the Pill, and she was pretty unconcerned about things like that anyway. She got her legs back round him and he pushed into her while they kissed and he squeezed her breasts. She told me it was rough in the good way--- she felt taken but still appreciated. Good fuck, she said. Good size, good thickness, good hip motion. He pushed her legs up and got them over his shoulders. He had two fingers in her mouth, which was probably good--- she is seriously loud when she has sex, and there were at least a couple of people out in the front of the store.
He came in her, which felt good. She wanted him to turn her over and fuck her from behind, but they both worried about time. He finally apologised for not using a condom, and she told him not to worry, that it was no big deal. She told me she remembered that while he was fucking her, she could look up at the closest rack and see the label on the kayak--- a Riot Kayak 11-LV Day Tourer. She still remembered that eight years later, and I wrote it down in my Moleskine. Anyway...she got her singlet back on and found her shorts on the floor and stepped back into them. She kissed his cock and kissed him and thanked him.
She said she stepped into one flip-flop but couldn't find the other--- it must've gone under one of the racks. They were $5 cheap rubber ones, so she just took the one she had and tossed it in a trash can and stayed barefoot the rest of the day. He laughed at her and told her she should come see him again and buy a boat.
She told me she did come back, and she did buy her first kayak there--- the 11-ft. Riot Day Tourer model just like the one on the rack. That's about a $US 700 boat, and she used it for a long time. She took it with her the next year when she fell out with her newly-religious parents (another story) and moved in with her then-boyfriend's family. She fucked the owner off and on most of that summer. She'd come by the shop or meet him at his house or down at one of the docks on the local rivers. She said it was all very casual--- she had other things in her life that kept her busy, and she dated a few people or hooked up at parties. She said the best time was once when she and her best friend April went kayak camping and she arranged for the owner to meet them where they'd be camping. They all drank lots of whiskey and smoked weed and he spent the night in a sleeping bag with Liberty. Did she and April do a 3-way with the man? She elbowed me when I asked and told that of course they had, both that night and few other nights, that it was all about learning new things and enjoying the summer. She loved driving to the store and just hanging out, being the barefoot girl with headphones sitting on the owner's desk with her iPod and a smoothie...and a flask hidden in her little daypack.
Anyway, she decided she liked Older Men, or at least was comfortable with them. That made it easy when she and I first started talking a couple of years ago, when she was at the oyster bar. She thought I was interesting and the age thing meant pretty much zero to her. When I told her my age--- she just shrugged. What mattered, she said, was that I was interesting. We'll use each other for the stories, she said. We'll trade stories and we'll learn things. Something I was very comfortable with.
Well, Liberty herself is very, very interesting. Her stories range from the Pacific Northwest to New Mexico and Colorado, to North Carolina and Florida. She has a degree in environmental sciences and is looking forward to doing an master's in coastal wetlands management. I can be there with her in the dark and listen to her tell me tales of her past and her thoughts, and she's taught me kayaking and how to play pétanque. I should like to keep her in my life, and I very much hope she'll whisper more things to me on winter nights.
Sunday, December 16, 2018
Two Two Two: Booth
This story comes from the days of long ago, from my friend Tara, who's now doing a performance art thing in St. Paul. The story is from 2004, when she was an undergraduate and did a study-abroad semester in...Mongolia. I've never been quite clear about that. Why Mongolia? It may be that, yes, she was a dual major in Anthropology and Art and wanted to see the culture. It may be something as simple as cost--- she wanted to go abroad for a semester, and Mongolia in those days was the cheapest program. In any case, she went to Ulan Bataar (UB, the expats say) and enjoyed the trip. Part of that was an encounter with a local, a UB policeman who'd discovered American co-eds. Tara's version of the story went like this---
Well....let's see.
The boy in question was, in addition to being an apparently well known
detective for the Mongolian police force, Mr. Mongolia 2003--a title
one earns by winning bodybuilding competitions. He was probably in his
mid to late twenties.
I mean, bodybuilding isn't hugely popular there, but still! That was
a lot of muscle!
The clothing aspect of all of this is not particularly sexy, because
it was December in UB. I was wearing warm hiking boots and warm wooly
socks, a pair of fleece tights (but not panties), a pair of low-rider
jeans, a fitted olive green shirt, no bra, and a green turtle neck
sweater. (The green shirt looks fantastic without a bra underneath.)
He was also wearing warm boots and socks and a pair of warm pants
underneath his jeans. He wore a button-up shirt with short sleeves
under his sweater and jacket. I wish I could say I remembered the
colors but I don't. I think they were just greys and browns and
things. I think the button-up shirt was the same one he wore to the
club when he followed us home and I think it was a rather strange
pattern of yellow and black.
We were at the movie store and looking at videos, trying to pick
something out. He kept trying to pick a porn flick but ultimately we
got the original Bourne Identity. I didn't really think porn would be
necessary to set the mood.
In the room there was a bench along the wall opposite the television
and then a small cube to serve as table, foot rest, etc. When we got
in the room, we sat next to each other on the bench with his arm
around me. The movie started and about 10 minutes in he was starting
to fidget quite a lot. He started nuzzling my hair etc., so I turned
to face him and we started kissing. He put a hand on my left breast
as we kissed...I am trying to remember the transition from making out
into fucking....I believe he put a hand against my crotch through my
pants and was making me come that way. I was wet enough through my
tights to wonder if the denim would get wet, too.
After I came I believe I either asked him if he wanted to fuck or I
showed him the condom that I had purchased earlier. He spoke a little
bit of English but not enough to really hold a conversation....so
probably I just showed him the condom, even though we didn't end up
using it. He pushed the cube up against the door and I took off my
sweater. I handed him the condom and he looked at me and tossed it
away as I pulled my jeans and tights down and put my hands against the
wall behind the bench. I was actually glad about the condom, since
despite what all the girls in the program kept saying about having one
at all times, I hate condoms. I certainly never used them in high
school.
He entered me quickly and started pounding me, his hands on my hips.
He was thick, more thick than long. He was uncut, like most MongoI
men, which made it feel better. I braced myself against the wall and
occasionally put a knee up on the bench for stability. I wasn't
particularly quiet and I think he was a little bit distracted by the
possibility that one of the (very cute) female video clerks would come
in. I think it was pretty clear to them that we were there for the
purposes of fucking so it's unfortunate they didn't decide to
investigate.
The unfortunate part about Mongolia is that most people live with
their parents until marriage. But this meant I got another chance to
have semi-public sex.
So...he was fucking me from behind, his pants just opened and mine
pulled down a little bit. I kept asking him to fuck me harder and he
seemed to understand that. I also reached back and pulled my
asscheeks open. He pulled out once and started probing my ass. He got
inside maybe an inch or two, since i was very dry. I pushed back a
little but he seemed to have chickened out because he then started
fucking my cunt again. Part of the way through I felt the skin at the
back of the opening of my cunt (the part towards the asshole) tear a
little bit but obviously a girl doesn't stop because of that. I think
I came at least two but probably three times. He came after maybe 6
or 7 minutes of hard fucking.
We lounged against one another as we got our breath. We watched maybe
another 20 or 30 minutes of the movie when he starting touching my
breasts again. This time we made out longer....we kissed slowly for a
while, as he got touchy-feely. He felt me breasts over my shirt and
then under my shirt...a little after he went under my shirt I started
rubbing his uncut cock through his jeans. I lifted my shirt off and
he acted like he liked their size and that I was bra-less. American
girls were all supposed to be sluts, after all. So he started sucking
and biting my nipples. I straddled him then, and we kissed that way
as he handled my breasts. He was a little rough with them, and very
eager. I pushed my cunt against his cock through our jeans, grinding
on him. His attitude changed a lot then and he started kissing me
harder, kissing my neck and my shoulders and cupping my ass. I asked
him if he wanted to fuck again and he nodded. I stripped myself
completely. The floor was sharply cold once I was without boots and
socks. He took off his pants too (white briefs--that's what he was
wearing) and his underwear, and I licked his balls and he squeezed my
breasts while I knelt. He had handcuffs on the back of his belt, and I
kept wishing he'd handcuff me.
I straddled him then and he put his hands on my waist. I pushed
myself onto his cock without kissing him. I remember smiling at him as
his eyes got a little wider. Then I started riding him as he groped
my breasts and my ass....if only he had thought to put a finger in my
ass! I should have learned the words for that off the bat. I rode his
uncut cock to two orgasms and I think he was just sort of surprised
about what was going on because he didn't make a noise and his hands
just shifted all over me. I, on the other hand, was very noisy and
excited about the whole thing. After I came twice, he pushed me off
of him and onto the bench. I masturbated for him briefly and then he
ate me out. Again--too bad one of the lovely attendants hadn't walked
in to see me there on my back, legs over his back as he ate me out and
finally did push two fingers in my asshole after I guided his hand.
Then he got on the bench and, with my legs over his shoulders, he
started fucking me. He didn't bend over, but instead was mostly
upright and perpendicular to my body as he fucked me. How gloriously
slutty! After a few years of misguided monogamy, here I was being
fucked by a cop! I hope to fuck a cop in the States soon, to get out
of a traffic ticket or something like that. All my American friends
knew about my boyfriend back home, they all knew that the Mongolian
had fucked a couple of the other American students and they had all
seen me getting ready for my date. So--these things were in my mind
as he fucked me there on the bench. He was going pretty steadily at
it and had put one hand on my clit, the other holding my right leg as
it rested on his shoulder. I came again in this position, louder than
before, and right after I came he bent over, put his hands against the
bench and started fucking me really forcefully. My butt was a little
bit off the bench, suspended by my legs, which were still over his
shoulders. I couldn't really move much, as he had me pinned on both
sides by his arms and he was driving his cock into me....I love not
being able to go anywhere. I came again and then he came shortly
afterwards. He put enough into me for it to run down my thighs. I
don't think we even finished watching the movie, we just got dressed
again and left. When we drove up to the residence building, I opened
his pants and licked him clean there parked on the street.
When I got home, the bravest of the Americans asked, "Did you bone?"
And my answer was, "Yes, of course." Most of the room was shocked, but
I'm not sure why...It had been clear as soon as Emmy (the other
American) was done with him that it was my turn. Emmy was into
cutting and that sort of thing in bed...so it was quite a shame that
she wasn't interested in fucking both of us.
I've loved the story since she first told me about it. I'd love to talk with Tara again and ask how she looks back on things fifteen years late. How does Tara at thirty-five regard her nineteen-year-old self and her adventures? I have follow-up questions, too. Did she ever see the detective again? Did she ever sleep with Emmy? How many of the other girls at the residence had sex with the detective? UB seems a place where expats can indulge in things that'll never follow them home, where you're far enough away from the world to just be free to both explore and (yes) relieve the boredom. I think I will ask girls I know about stories of affairs and one-night stands while abroad in exotic places. After all, Adventures are part of the point of travel. Let's see what stories I can find out amongst my friends and acquaintances and lovers.
Well....let's see.
The boy in question was, in addition to being an apparently well known
detective for the Mongolian police force, Mr. Mongolia 2003--a title
one earns by winning bodybuilding competitions. He was probably in his
mid to late twenties.
I mean, bodybuilding isn't hugely popular there, but still! That was
a lot of muscle!
The clothing aspect of all of this is not particularly sexy, because
it was December in UB. I was wearing warm hiking boots and warm wooly
socks, a pair of fleece tights (but not panties), a pair of low-rider
jeans, a fitted olive green shirt, no bra, and a green turtle neck
sweater. (The green shirt looks fantastic without a bra underneath.)
He was also wearing warm boots and socks and a pair of warm pants
underneath his jeans. He wore a button-up shirt with short sleeves
under his sweater and jacket. I wish I could say I remembered the
colors but I don't. I think they were just greys and browns and
things. I think the button-up shirt was the same one he wore to the
club when he followed us home and I think it was a rather strange
pattern of yellow and black.
We were at the movie store and looking at videos, trying to pick
something out. He kept trying to pick a porn flick but ultimately we
got the original Bourne Identity. I didn't really think porn would be
necessary to set the mood.
In the room there was a bench along the wall opposite the television
and then a small cube to serve as table, foot rest, etc. When we got
in the room, we sat next to each other on the bench with his arm
around me. The movie started and about 10 minutes in he was starting
to fidget quite a lot. He started nuzzling my hair etc., so I turned
to face him and we started kissing. He put a hand on my left breast
as we kissed...I am trying to remember the transition from making out
into fucking....I believe he put a hand against my crotch through my
pants and was making me come that way. I was wet enough through my
tights to wonder if the denim would get wet, too.
After I came I believe I either asked him if he wanted to fuck or I
showed him the condom that I had purchased earlier. He spoke a little
bit of English but not enough to really hold a conversation....so
probably I just showed him the condom, even though we didn't end up
using it. He pushed the cube up against the door and I took off my
sweater. I handed him the condom and he looked at me and tossed it
away as I pulled my jeans and tights down and put my hands against the
wall behind the bench. I was actually glad about the condom, since
despite what all the girls in the program kept saying about having one
at all times, I hate condoms. I certainly never used them in high
school.
He entered me quickly and started pounding me, his hands on my hips.
He was thick, more thick than long. He was uncut, like most MongoI
men, which made it feel better. I braced myself against the wall and
occasionally put a knee up on the bench for stability. I wasn't
particularly quiet and I think he was a little bit distracted by the
possibility that one of the (very cute) female video clerks would come
in. I think it was pretty clear to them that we were there for the
purposes of fucking so it's unfortunate they didn't decide to
investigate.
The unfortunate part about Mongolia is that most people live with
their parents until marriage. But this meant I got another chance to
have semi-public sex.
So...he was fucking me from behind, his pants just opened and mine
pulled down a little bit. I kept asking him to fuck me harder and he
seemed to understand that. I also reached back and pulled my
asscheeks open. He pulled out once and started probing my ass. He got
inside maybe an inch or two, since i was very dry. I pushed back a
little but he seemed to have chickened out because he then started
fucking my cunt again. Part of the way through I felt the skin at the
back of the opening of my cunt (the part towards the asshole) tear a
little bit but obviously a girl doesn't stop because of that. I think
I came at least two but probably three times. He came after maybe 6
or 7 minutes of hard fucking.
We lounged against one another as we got our breath. We watched maybe
another 20 or 30 minutes of the movie when he starting touching my
breasts again. This time we made out longer....we kissed slowly for a
while, as he got touchy-feely. He felt me breasts over my shirt and
then under my shirt...a little after he went under my shirt I started
rubbing his uncut cock through his jeans. I lifted my shirt off and
he acted like he liked their size and that I was bra-less. American
girls were all supposed to be sluts, after all. So he started sucking
and biting my nipples. I straddled him then, and we kissed that way
as he handled my breasts. He was a little rough with them, and very
eager. I pushed my cunt against his cock through our jeans, grinding
on him. His attitude changed a lot then and he started kissing me
harder, kissing my neck and my shoulders and cupping my ass. I asked
him if he wanted to fuck again and he nodded. I stripped myself
completely. The floor was sharply cold once I was without boots and
socks. He took off his pants too (white briefs--that's what he was
wearing) and his underwear, and I licked his balls and he squeezed my
breasts while I knelt. He had handcuffs on the back of his belt, and I
kept wishing he'd handcuff me.
I straddled him then and he put his hands on my waist. I pushed
myself onto his cock without kissing him. I remember smiling at him as
his eyes got a little wider. Then I started riding him as he groped
my breasts and my ass....if only he had thought to put a finger in my
ass! I should have learned the words for that off the bat. I rode his
uncut cock to two orgasms and I think he was just sort of surprised
about what was going on because he didn't make a noise and his hands
just shifted all over me. I, on the other hand, was very noisy and
excited about the whole thing. After I came twice, he pushed me off
of him and onto the bench. I masturbated for him briefly and then he
ate me out. Again--too bad one of the lovely attendants hadn't walked
in to see me there on my back, legs over his back as he ate me out and
finally did push two fingers in my asshole after I guided his hand.
Then he got on the bench and, with my legs over his shoulders, he
started fucking me. He didn't bend over, but instead was mostly
upright and perpendicular to my body as he fucked me. How gloriously
slutty! After a few years of misguided monogamy, here I was being
fucked by a cop! I hope to fuck a cop in the States soon, to get out
of a traffic ticket or something like that. All my American friends
knew about my boyfriend back home, they all knew that the Mongolian
had fucked a couple of the other American students and they had all
seen me getting ready for my date. So--these things were in my mind
as he fucked me there on the bench. He was going pretty steadily at
it and had put one hand on my clit, the other holding my right leg as
it rested on his shoulder. I came again in this position, louder than
before, and right after I came he bent over, put his hands against the
bench and started fucking me really forcefully. My butt was a little
bit off the bench, suspended by my legs, which were still over his
shoulders. I couldn't really move much, as he had me pinned on both
sides by his arms and he was driving his cock into me....I love not
being able to go anywhere. I came again and then he came shortly
afterwards. He put enough into me for it to run down my thighs. I
don't think we even finished watching the movie, we just got dressed
again and left. When we drove up to the residence building, I opened
his pants and licked him clean there parked on the street.
When I got home, the bravest of the Americans asked, "Did you bone?"
And my answer was, "Yes, of course." Most of the room was shocked, but
I'm not sure why...It had been clear as soon as Emmy (the other
American) was done with him that it was my turn. Emmy was into
cutting and that sort of thing in bed...so it was quite a shame that
she wasn't interested in fucking both of us.
I've loved the story since she first told me about it. I'd love to talk with Tara again and ask how she looks back on things fifteen years late. How does Tara at thirty-five regard her nineteen-year-old self and her adventures? I have follow-up questions, too. Did she ever see the detective again? Did she ever sleep with Emmy? How many of the other girls at the residence had sex with the detective? UB seems a place where expats can indulge in things that'll never follow them home, where you're far enough away from the world to just be free to both explore and (yes) relieve the boredom. I think I will ask girls I know about stories of affairs and one-night stands while abroad in exotic places. After all, Adventures are part of the point of travel. Let's see what stories I can find out amongst my friends and acquaintances and lovers.
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