How to Get the Perfect Shave
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Posted:Feb 1, 2009 10:43 am
Last Updated:Oct 21, 2009 7:12 pm
10049 Views
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I looked down at my pretty pink panties and frowned at the wirey strands of black hair sticking out. I had been bareful to shave my legs smooth, until I reached the spot where pelvis meets thigh. You couldn't find one strand of hair on my legs, but it was evident that the shaving stopped high on my parted thighs.
I tried again to adjust the silky pink fabric to catch as much of the hair as possible. I'd started shaving myself bare at the age of 15. I'd seen enough pornography and media graphics to know that if I ever wanted to know what it was like to have a tongue on my clit, I'd have to get rid of as much hair as possible. And here I was, standing in bright pink panties, staring at the coarse hair peek out of the sides.
Tonight was when I'd finally meet K. We'd talked for weeks, and when he accused me of being a flake and scared to meet, his reverse psychology worked and we set up a date. In the course of our conversations, the inevitable topic of grooming appeared. He shaved and expected the same of his women. He boasted a love for the taste of pussy and the need to have full access to the pink velvet slit in order to enjoy the experience. When we finally set the date, he asked me if I was shaved. I had not been getting laid, so I had a fair amount of growth, but I promised him that my pretty little pussy would be bare by Thursday. That's when he surprised me. He asked me if anyone had ever shaved me. When I answered that I had not, he explained that he'd done it once before with an ex and was dying to try it again. I felt my face flush as I realized he was asking if he could shave the most intimate part of my body for me. After some deliberation, I agreed. The prospect both excited and horrified me. His face would be in my pussy, not licking it, but inspecting it. What if he saw something he didn't like? What if I came before he finished?
After food and drinks we were in the hotel room. Less then an hour of meeting face to face, he was delicately pulling of my layers of clothes I'd put together with so much thought. When he pulled off my pants, his grin widened as his eyes fell on my panties. His face fell to the pink fabric and inhaled deeply before rubbing his face against my cunt.
Before long I was on a towel on the bed, laying back with my thighs parted wide, and he was gingerly applying shaving gel to the mess of black hair. I felt myself begin to get wet and his fingers made sure to find every piece of hair to apply gel to. My legs fell wider apart and my nipples stood erect. He pulled my lips apart as he slid the razor over the delicate skin. He took his time, torturing me. I wanted his hands inside of me, I wanted his tongue on my clit, I was leaking sweet juice that began to flow over my asshole. When I didn't think I could bear anymore of the torture, he brought over a warm towel to wipe my skin clean of the gel. His cock was hard and thick and bobbed as we walked towards me.
After each swipe with the towel, his tongue followed. He assured me that he was just making sure it was a smooth shave. His tongue finally slid between my freshly shaved lips. My hot hole gushed for him, begging him to fuck the cum out of me. He slid two fingers inside of me and slid his tongue over my clit. In one swift motion he was under me, I was sitting on his face, fucking his fingers and rubbing my clit against his nose and tongue. He crooked his finger, hitting my gspot, and I instantly came. I not just came, I squirted all over his waiting face. He had pussy juice sliding down his neck in thick drops and his mouth worked over time to catch all of my nectar.
I squirted on his mouth two more times before he finally fucked me. The bed was soaked through to the bottom mattress. I was a mess, but my bar skin shone in the moonlight, reflecting the pools and streaks of cum that addoned my skin.
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Three's Company: The End
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Posted:Jan 15, 2009 6:06 pm
Last Updated:Aug 13, 2009 8:02 pm
8383 Views
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There's more to the story... it was as messy as you think it would be. In fact, it was messier - a threesome, more lies, manipulation, and faked friendships. It was ugly, but I can honestly say it wasn't all my fault. Through much reflection I've determined that his wife has serious mental issues and he (obviously) has some too. The calls, e-mails, and text messages continued for months and I never returned them. I pulled myself out of the situation and I don't particularly care how it all ends for them.
The story ends with events from last week. I got a call from the girl who works at the coffee shop he and I used to frequent. She told me he'd left me a book and that I can pick it up whenever. The next morning he sent me an e-mail explaining that he still has feelings for me and hates himself for it. He desperately wants me to be happy - even if that means living without him. I still haven't picked up the book... I know what book it is (the one pictured)... I'm just scared of his "post secret" that will be left in my book. And to be completely honest... I'm scared because he remembered my love and excitement for the Frank Warren books.... I'm scared that he will be the only one who pays that much attention to what I say and remembers it for a later date....
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Three's Company: Part V
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Posted:Aug 25, 2008 7:35 pm
Last Updated:Jan 15, 2009 5:37 pm
8718 Views
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His jaw was clenched and he stared into his coffee. His hands were shaking with anger and I could tell he was trying to calm himself down.
"I'm telling her tonight that I'm leaving her. I'm done taking her shit. I'm done dealing with her and her bossy, overbearing, 'I know best' attitude. I'm leaving her." His words hit me like a ton of bricks. "You're what?" I asked, still not believing what I was hearing. "You can't leave her. You love her. You have to stay. Stop being a baby and go work things out." My bottom line: "You can't leave her for me. Don't leave her for me. I won't be with you. I can't be with you. Don't do anything stupid."
Two days later she stormed through the coffee shop I liked to study at. Her face was beet red and her hair streamed behind her. I quickly ducked my head and tried not to pay attention. They left together and ten minutes later the calls started.
She called me every name in the book. Her got on the phone and called me a homewrecker. His mother also put in her two cents. They all hoped I was something special to make such a respectable man tear his family apart.
When he finally got a hold of me he explained that she told the he was leaving. She kept pressing him and he finally told her that he had feelings for me - the exact reason I told him NOT to leave her. He checked into a hotel and asked me to turn off my phone so I could get some sleep. He told me he would try to make them stop harrassing me.
I woke up to a flood of text messages. They were mean and crass. Then they began pleading with me, "Please answer. I don't know where he is and I think he's going to do something stupid." The voicemail was absolutely chilling, "Please call me when you get this. T attempted suicide last night. I need to talk to you. We're at the hospital. I'm not messing with you, we need to get him better."
I immediately called. I was open. I told her everything. I answered her short questions. She thanked me for being honest. I thanked her for calling and apologized for the mess I made of her life.
"Would you like to see him?"
"Yes... When?.... Yes.... Does he want me there?... Do you want me there?"
"Come as soon as you can. I've already cleared it with him and I think it's best. You should come. Call me when you get here. I'll tell them you're my sister."
I pulled on a sweater and ran a brush through my hair. I thought I might cry.... but the tears didn't come...
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Three's Company: Part IV
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Posted:Aug 24, 2008 9:50 am
Last Updated:Jan 15, 2009 5:39 pm
8169 Views
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I came to my senses by the following Monday. He met me at the coffee shop I study at on his lunch break. I looked at him and studdied his reaction as I told him that we could not continue a sexual relationship. His face fell but his words tried to reassure me that he understood and respected my decision. He wouldn't look me in the eye and never touched his coffee.
The rest of the afternoon he sent me e-mails that were an obvious effort to mask what he was really thinking about. At midnight I finally got a text that gave way to his true feelings, "I miss you and I can't stop thinking about you. Please don't shut me out. You're so beautiful."
The text messages and e-mails continued for about a week. The next saturday he asked me to meet him at a hotel. He wanted me again. He had to have me. I gave in and I met him. We wrecked the hotel room. Halfway through the sweaty fucking his wife called him to see when he'd be home. I felt a pang of guilt as my pussy flooded over his cock with my final orgasm.
The following monday was the same talk. I told him we couldn't have a sexual relationship.
I watched him fall in love and didn't know how to stop him. He was falling hard and fast. Hell, he'd probably already fallen and I had been oblivious. Two weeks later, my suspicions were confirmed....
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Three's Company: Part III
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Posted:Aug 22, 2008 12:56 pm
Last Updated:Feb 1, 2009 9:07 am
8470 Views
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His eyes were glued to me as I pulled my shirt over my head, revealing my full breast held in by a black bra. I reached back and undid the clasp. He immediately pushed himself forward and stuffed my nipples into his mouth. His breathing was hard and his touch was soft.
As he worked his way over my breasts and down my soft belly, I couldn't help but look around his converted basement. His lived here. They watched t.v. here. They played guitar hero with their dad. I was just about to pull my clothes back on when his mouth hit my dripping cunt. I'd had no idea how turned on I was.
He ate my pussy the way boys did in high school. Back before they got sex. When oral was the grand finale and they had to make it count. He made it count until I pulled his head away from my dripping slit.
"Fuck me," I told him simply while I held his face in my hands. He just stared for a second. I took one hand off of his face and handed him a condom. I looked him in the eye and told him again, "Fuck me."
He fucked me on his couch. I squirted over and over. His sweat dripped onto my body and moaned over and over. I wrapped my legs around him. He fucked me like it was his first time.
When the dust settled, there was a stain on the couch, a condom on the floor, and sweat all over both of us. He tried to hold on to me as I pulled myself off the couch. I put my clothes back on while he watched. I asked him, "Did you enjoy yourself?" His only answer was, "I couldn't believe you took your shirt off for me. No one, other then my wife, has ever taken their shirt off for me."
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Three's Company: Part II
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Posted:Aug 7, 2008 4:05 pm
Last Updated:Jan 15, 2009 5:43 pm
9039 Views
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"I wanted to kiss you last night."
It sat nestled in with the other sentences in his e-mail so matter of fact. He wanted to kiss me. He had lingered by my car too long, leaned in closer then normal, stayed longer then ever before. It had been obvious, I had seen it in his eyes.
I knew I should tell him dinner was a bad idea, but I didn't. Instead I told him I'd meet him. It was an odd misture of feelings. I knew nothing good could come of it, but I felt good again. Someone wanted me. Someone wanted me when they shouldn't.
Dinner came too quickly. I was my typical 10 minutes late. His attention was on me all during dinner. I could feel him staring at me. I had him. He would be anything I wanted him to be. At one moment I watched him watching me and knew I didn't want him. I wanted him to want to love his wife. I wanted him to think I was some silly little girl. He didn't. He wanted me. I was something different then he'd ever had.
I again made another bad decision. I got into my car and followed him to a bar. I told him that it would just be one more drink and we would go home alone. He agreed. I stuck it out for another 3 hours. We drank, we laughed, we talked. I got smashed. I was 10 jack and cokes in and he asked if he could kiss me for the 100th time. I let him. He kissed me... in the bar... people watching.... his wedding ring embedded on his finger...
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AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! Just stop it!
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Posted:Jun 26, 2008 3:43 pm
Last Updated:Jan 15, 2009 5:44 pm
8692 Views
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So.... I'm on another dip on the roller coaster that is life. I've been basically kicked out of my place (through no fault of my own) and have been spending the last week looking for a place. Not to mention, I haven't had internet where I'm currently living so the updates are few and far between. It's hard to find a public place with free wifi where it isn't weird that you're on a sex site. As soon as I get this figured out I will be back and finishing up my story. I'm figuring it will be a few parts long. It's non-fiction, btw.
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Alright... Alright.... I'm sorry!
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Posted:Jun 18, 2008 2:01 pm
Last Updated:Aug 8, 2008 2:43 pm
8092 Views
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It was brought to my attention (thanks Gimme haha) that I have been gone for over a month. I apologize. The story that I started last should adequately explain my disappearance. I'm not promising timely posts... but I promise to try to say hi more often. I didn't realize I was such a big deal haha!
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Three's Company: Part I
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Posted:Jun 17, 2008 8:31 pm
Last Updated:Jan 15, 2009 5:45 pm
8276 Views
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"Do you wanna grab some coffee?"
I looked T over while standing in the parking structure trying to weigh the innocence of his question. We'd been out of our weekly wednesday night meeting for 30 minutes talking and I guess he noticed that I was shivering in the cold. I agreed to the coffee and conversation, determining that he simply wanted to talk somewhere other then the hospital parking structure, and led him to my favorite parking spot. During the drive I thought about the fact that he was married with less then 10 years younger then I and knew that we would just be friends. It was innocent, I told myself as I watched him get out of his car.
Four weeks of weekly, uncandid coffee & conversations after the initial innocence, he crossed the proverbial line.
"Will you go to dinner with me?" I just sat and stared.
"No, no, I'm not looking for anything other then dinner. I'd just really like to get to know you more and I hate talking after these meetings." I continued to sit in stunned silence.
"Don't say no. Not yet. Just wait. Sleep on it. Send me an e-mail in the morning."
Is your wife okay with it?" I asked him, already knowing the answer.
"Well... no.... But she's going out of town and it won't be a big deal, I promise." He looked at me. I could see the fear of rejection hidden behind his soft smile.
"I'm not saying yes. I'm not saying no. I'm not saying anything. I can e-mail you in the morning and let you know my answer. I wouldn't anticipate a yes..." I finished the last of my coffee after my final sentence. I wrote down my e-mail address and told him to e-mail me in the morning and I would follow suit with an answer to his dinner invitation.
The next morning I checked my e-mail while still lying in bed. The first e0mail was from him. It was sent at 7:30 a.m. - the precise time he told me he gets to work every morning. A mixture of dread and excitement flooded my brain and I clicked on the e-mail to open it.
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A Different Kind of Mother's Day Post...
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Posted:May 10, 2008 10:37 am
Last Updated:Aug 13, 2009 8:03 pm
8625 Views
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Ode to my mother
You shaped my sexuality well.
I learned how to tease men
Until they damned me to hell.
A 12 year old in a bar
Never expected to learn
That exposing your breasts
Make the men yearn.
I watched you dress
For your night on the town.
Recall watching you shave
Your legs and your mound.
When you cam home late,
I crept to your door.
I could hear moaning,
From my spot on the floor.
I didn't understand
For the longest time.
Now I'm a sex addict
and your habits are mine
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"Nice Shoes - Wanna Fuck?"
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Posted:Apr 30, 2008 12:56 pm
Last Updated:Feb 1, 2009 9:07 am
9853 Views
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As human beings we have been granted the ability to reason and draw parallels between cause and effect without it being explicitly explained to us. Through our experiences in and exposure to the world, we learn how to analyze certain acts, behaviors, consequences, and rewards. We create our own correlatives to determine what we can expect based on what we observe.
As we gain experience in the world of dating and sex we begin to develop particular tastes and draw connections between certain calculated grooming rituals and salacious personalities.
I was first introduced to this concept as it related to sex at the tender age of 18. It was just after my first set of midterms in my first semester at the university I was attending. My roommate's aunt had given her money so that we could treat ourselves after such hard work and dedication. We reviewed our options and she convinced me we should get pedicures. I had never had one, but I was open to the idea. I left the salon with a simply elegant french pedicure touched off with a burst of innocence manifested in the form of a brightly painted pink flower on my big toe. The following monday I wore open toed sandals to the surprisingly casual CPA office I worked at. One of the men who also worked there (in his 40's) commented on my fresh pedicure. I thought it was a little strange that he noticed my feet since we'd barely spoken before this point. Later when we were the only ones in the office he divulged that he always knew if a woman was shaved based on the care she put into her feet.
To this day, I try to get pedicures as regularly as my finances will permit. I assume it's based on his tiny pearl of wisdom as to one of the things that men notice about women.
Just last year, I met a man from here at a bar for a drink. It was the summer so I was wearing flip flops with my bright red toe nails displayed.
As we were well into our third beer he looked me in the eyes and told me point blank, "I'm going to fuck you tonight." It wasn't truly a surprise to me since I had already determined that far earlier in the evening.
As is my nature, I simply looked at him and with a raised eyebrow inquired, "And what helped you pinpoint the rest of tonight's activities?"
As is a man's nature, he flattered me with, "Well, you've got a killer smile, you're absolutely hilarious, beautiful in every right," raising his glass and pointedly finishing with, "and of course those pretty toes." We left the bar shortly after and had a fulfilling sexual relationship for all of two weeks.
The most recent apocalypses were regarding shoe choices. The first was a statement from a man after asking me if I liked his shoes. They looked like plain, black shoes to me with nothing particularly dazzling about them. He then informed me that a sign of a truly classy woman is one who noticed a man's shoes first. Apparently his were $300 Italian leather and he'd received many compliments from women over the years on hi wonderful footwear. Personally, I think he should have divided the money a little more evenly between his shoes and the rest of his clothing... but I digress.
The second experience with shoes came from a lesbian I know. We were at lesbian bingo (a Thursday night ritual) and she headed to the bathroom. When she came back she very randomly told us that without even seeing anything else on a girl, she can tell if the girl will be her type based on the shoes she's wearing. Apparently a girl in one of the stalls had been wearing spiked leather boots with jeans and the lesbian had determined that her dream girl was on the other side.
So I'm interested to know, dear readers, what grooming/maintenance habits do you notice about a person that can make or break jumping into the sack? Is it her toes? His shoes? Her designer purse? His beat up wallet? Maybe it's the watch on their wrist?
Also, do you notice that you engage in certain practices because you know they will be noticed and your sexual prowess will be determined by them?
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I'm sorry, I was looking at your boobs. What were you saying?
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Posted:Apr 26, 2008 2:20 pm
Last Updated:Jun 16, 2008 7:00 pm
8873 Views
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I decided at a young age that boobs were by far the devil as well as the greatest assett known to mankind. They've been a problem and a blessing at the same time in multiple situations since they began to debut when I was ten years old.
My mother casually metioned that she'd be willing to buy me a sports bra if I wanted one. It was her clever way of not alerting me to my budding womanhood as well as not scare the crap out of her little tomboy by making me look at lacey bras with underwire and bows. She is a rather crafty woman and I we took home two. One in black and one in white. It took a week for me to figure out that I was the only one wearing them.
Fast forward two more years - I'm standing in a dressing room with a dress resting on my already ample chest and tears streaming down my face. We were looking for Christmas dresses and nothing would fit past my boobs. We had to begin looking in the juniors department and I was so upset I could hardly breath. I thought it meant I was fat and I was heartbroken. My stepmother explained the concept of boobs and what it actually meant and I couldn't have been more devastated. I knew my breasts were larger then the other girls in my class, but it hadn't become blatantly obvious until that day in the dressing room.
Skip ahead again one more year. I had come to accept that I had big boobs and that it meant shopping differently. We were at a family gathering at the lake house for a birthday and I was standing there, drinking a soda and talking to my uncle. We were talking about school when he looked at me and with a serious face said, "How big is your chest?" (I realize years later that my uncle might have some sort of crush on my but I'll leave that for another post.)
Without thinking I replied, "I'm a 36 B." He looked me over and quickly said, "No, I don't think so."
I looked at him and told him matter of factly that I thought I knew better then he did what size my bra was.
He looked at me again and told me, "No, you're bigger. E (my cousin) is wearing a C and you're definitely larger then her."
The next day I was fitted for a 36D bra. I cried all the way home again.
Middle school continued with me wearing large t-shirts, over-sized jackets, and constantly sitting with my arms crossed. I was horribly ashamed of my breast size and the questions that were rapidly fired at me at sleepovers about what size I was, if they hurt, do boys like them, what do they look like.
In high school it all changed. I don't remember what did it, but I began wearing fitted shirts that showed cleavage. I began to get things bought for me, men at my mom's office stared when I came to visit her, I was making tons of sales at the store in the mall that I worked in. While the other girls at school got in trouble for wearing skirts and shorts that were too short, I was talked to about the amount of cleavage that I was displaying. Apparently some of my male teachers were having problems with my classroom attire. At graduation I was a 36DD and using my boobs for all they were worth.
Through college I used them to the best of my ability and it never ceased to amaze me what a nice pair could make happen for you. It wasn't until I started dating my present g/f that I realized just how affective my cleavage was.
She and I went out quite frequently and she would openly oggle my breasts. The most memorable moment was last summer when we were having dinner with her two girls. It was kinda warm in Texas and we decided to eat on the patio at a favorite Mexican food restaurant. I was wearing a black flowing skirt and a bright blue tube top. We both had our suglasses on since the sun was out in full force. I was relating a story about work to her and realized I was just getting "uh huh" and head nods in response to what I was saying. I wordlessly pulled her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose and realized she was once again lost in my cleavage. "Clandy! Seriously?!?! You've seen them in shirt, out of shirts, in bras, out of bras, in shirts without bras and in lingerie!" She just giggled, kissed me on the nose and told me she loved my boobs.
Another favorite scenario - my roommates. All three are men... all three are gay... and all three will stop mid sentence when I come downstairs dressed for an evening out. They are mesmerized and I've been pulled on stage at the drag shows here in Michigan more then once to have my breasts talked about.
Everyone loves a good pair - bi girls, straight men, gay men, bi men, straight girls (oh yes - they've commented and asked if they could touch as well). I've learned to love them as much as everyone else 
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Why do I want to obtain the highest education again....
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Posted:Apr 19, 2008 2:34 pm
Last Updated:Apr 25, 2008 1:50 pm
8760 Views
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I haven't eaten a proper meal in almost 10 days.
My masterbation has gone from 5 times a day to a measly once every couple of days simply because I CANNOT fall asleep.
I'm physically tired.
I'm mentally drained.
I still have one more test.
Even after the last test (Tomorrow morning - yes a sunday)... I may not be good enough to stay.
Dear two week break between semesters,
Please come as quick as you can. I'm losing my sanity and 3am and I are fighting again. He wants me to stay, I only want to meet him in the dark streets after I've been out drinking. I've had to start paying rent to the coffeeshop I've been studying in. I don't remember my name anymore... simply my exam id number.
Please Restore My Sanity,
Ungrateful Student
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To link to this blog (youngsexaddict07) use [blog youngsexaddict07] in your messages.
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