So last night my high school crush came over for drinks and we got pretty drunk and got on the topic of sex and had a dirty conversation which lead to us masturbating together and we just cuddled till we fell asleep and I woke up in the middle of the night to her touching my dick so I woke up and I grabbed her and threw her down and ripped her clothes off and I started eating her out and fingering her and I stuck it in and we started fucking then she asked if I could do anal so I did and she kept going she asked me to stop and asked if she could stick something in my ass so I grabbed my dildo and let her fuck me with it and we went back and forth with it and we started sharing it for an hour we went back and forth on eachother until I came she took my load all over her face and I finished her 9ff by eating her out. We went back to bed and woke up this morning and did it all over again I'm so stoked it was everything I ever hoped abd now she wants to use me to start exploring and experimenting with her and trying new things she hasn't I'm so pumped it was the best night ever and she loves the same stiff I do and totally loves using strap ons and now she wants me to be her doll and let her and her friends use me and I'm so for it. I'm so stoked and her friends are so worth it to me. The way she fucked me and how that went last night was amazing

Big tits pretty face for cock

I hate traveling for work. What I do can be done remotely. I'm the guy relaxing at the coffee shop, or the library, sitting in the mall, anywhere I have a decent wifi connection and I'm good. On rare occasions I have to travel onsite and it sucks. This particular time was a favor for a friend. He had too much on his plate to do the job so it fell to me. Kiss the wife, hug the kids, off I go to San Diego.

The whole flight I kept starring at the letterhead on the proposal. I could swear I knew the logo, knew the name of the firm, but couldn't place it. Even when I made it to SD I couldn't quite figure out how I knew that firm. Hotel didn't do early checkin, no big deal it's a roller an a backpack I can manage. I debated about renting a car an then just hailed a cab. The firm was massive, huge lobby, hot receptionist. She took my name and told me it'd be a moment.

It wasn't until I heard the click of the heels, the gasp, and the soft voice that it clicked and I knew why the name was familiar. Standing behind me was my ex from high school. Yay awkward professional environment. She found out that morning that I'd be the one handling the job. Her boss assigned her as my babysitter while I was here. Jane didn't think it was funny, her boss probably did. Jane offered a tour of the place. I asked where I could leave my bags and the receptionist stashed them for me. I kept pace so I wouldn't stare at Jane's ass. She'd grown from the high school girl into a beautiful woman. I noticed the ring, lucky guy. She rattled off about this office or that person and I just nodded and kept going. I was here to fix the system, everything else was a distraction.

After the tour I offered to buy Jane lunch. I admitted I'd taken a cab and that I hadn't checked in yet. Just to make it overly awkward I threw in "not a date" and the smile on her face said I'd hit my mark. I was fine with taking a cab but she offered to drive. We picked up the bags and headed to some Thai place. Lunch was great. Conversation was all business until that ran out. Then things went personal. I was married, I had kids. She was married, had a little girl. We stayed away from the "since high school" cliche. I think both of us wanted to avoid talking about that part. Eventually I picked up the check. Again I offered to get a cab so as not to inconvenience her. She insisted on dropping me off at the hotel.

It was in the hotel parking lot where I sensed something was wrong. Instead of just dropping me off she parked on the side. She seemed distracted and suddenly started sobbing. She'd caught her husband Brad cheating 2 weeks ago. They were not separated. Her daughter was up with her parents for the summer and she really didn't want to go home to an empty house. I was the shoulder to cry on and I let her sob it out. I offered dinner plans and asked if she wanted to share the room. Room was already booked. She smiled and asked if I'd rather stay at her house. I started to talk about the cancellation policy and she laughed. The firm did a lot of business with this hotel, she could fix it with a single call. Hearing her laugh made me feel better. I hadn't realized we were holding hands, but I did notice her hand on my thigh. She rubbed a little bit and smiled. I didn't fight it and pretty soon my pants were unzipped.

She had her phone in one hand and my cock in her other hand. I could hear the lady's standard hotel greeting. Jane rattled off her friend's name and the lady said it'd be a moment. Jane smiled and started sucking. When her friend came on the line she popped off and started jerking me hard. She told her friend she needed to cancel the room. When the friend started talking she popped back on. 20 minutes of off and on and me having to be as quiet as possible. Once Jane hung up she worked her magic. She knew how close I was, and she didn't care. It felt amazing to drain my balls in her mouth. She stayed on a few moments longer and sucked me dry, swallowing every last drop. I tried not to laugh when she said "hope you wife doesn't mind I borrowed you".

I confess that I gave my wife 2 sleeping pills and fucked her very hard. We usually have sex very lightly which is ok but i needed her relaxed to fuck her hard. I dont know why but it was a big turn on. I jacked off while holding her pussy lips open which she would never let me do. I lubed up and fucked her hard while rubbing my finger across her asshole. I pulled her legs up over her head then pulled out and opened her mouth and came in her face. Now I did tell her about it and she did not remember a thing and was pretty much limp. she was fine with it. Now all I can think about is doing it again. Is this a turn on to anyone else.

Beyond the Horizon

Part 1

One of the lessons you learn after years of driving is that at some point or another, you’re going to experience the pain of repetition and predictability. Even when I first started off on the journey, I never had a destination in mind. It’s like as soon as I sat down and closed the door, it was getting hazy. It’s apparent to me now that from the moment I turned that old key and fired her up I was totally unsure of to exactly where I thought I was going. Driving is one of my greatest pleasures. There’s a sincere innocence in the act of driving. I lost sight of much of that, and from time to time I wasn’t sure if I was even in control. From a certain perspective the relationship between the machine and it’s controller breaks down, and it can become objectively difficult to distinguish which is driven by which.

To be fair, the warning signs were all over the place. It felt like I couldn’t go more than ten seconds without some sign, a precaution, a rule, a rule of thumb, a word of advice whispered in confidence. I always did my best to be a responsible driver. For the longest time I did my best to obey all the rules of the road, back before I knew better, or perhaps until I thought I knew better. Experience is the greatest teacher, not to mention the harshest. It’s common knowledge that to learn from experience makes even the worst decisions worthwhile. Sometimes it’s simply the only thing that one can take away from the curveballs so often thrown one’s way. The problem for the unwise lies in working out what lesson the accused is to take away from his crime. For the introspective the problem is rarely not seeing the problem at hand. They can even take precautions to make sure that one accident is never repeated, by not repeating whatever lead to disaster the first time around. For the experienced, and by that I mean the scarred, the disfigured, those drivers who possibly still hurt every waking day of their lives, there are an entirely different set of problems, regardless of their ability to learn from past experiences. The problem faced by the salty, by the ones who well and truly drove around that block more than they care to admit, is the inability to disengage from what they think they know best, and in doing so they find themselves sat exactly where they were before they even released the handbrake. One cannot escape his past, cannot escape the stupid things they did. But to make matters worse, they begin to see that so many of the reflective, glaring, fluorescent signs they are bombarded with as they hit the highway begin to contradict each other. They blur, they all look the same, sound the same. It seems impossible to follow one highway code without breaking another. At first, one particularly thoughtful individual might find, there seemed to be one over-arching Way. The irrefutable Tao of the road. The one true way. I miss that idea. I’ve reached a point where no matter how hard I try and see things as I used to, either I changed, or the rules did.

And so those rare unfortunates may find the signs begin to undermine each other. Slow down, but speed up. Be cautious, but never so more than you’re being brazen. Make sure to flaunt every last thing you have and haven’t ever done, because nobody likes It when you brag. And so experience fails you. It begins to lie to you, and even when you’re aware that there is clearly deception afoot, you become a man looking at a map with no reference as to where in the fuck they actually are. It’s at this point in my career as a driver that I also realised that for all the years I had been driving, I could not remember where I was going. I knew that I had been driving for a very long time, and I think at certain points I had stopped off at places, and I still remember the people I picked up. Some of them drove with me for the longest time. I always liked having passengers, but sooner or later, the destination is reached, and the journey has come to an end. But I digress. At a certain point, I found myself lost. It was the worst kind of lost, in that not only did I not know at all where and when I was, but in that I had totally forgotten where I had originally intended to go. I could not even remember at what point I had forgotten everything about myself. All I knew was in looking in the mirror, I was sure I didn’t recognise myself. I could not even describe the person who stared back at me. The Driver was a man about which you could say so much, but I’m quite certain that none of the obvious things you could gleam from that countenance were objectively correct. Nothing I’ve ever experienced has been quite so simple as that. First impressions are hard to resist, however. In a way it didn’t matter that I’m sure in some ways I recognised the Driver’s face, because from the moment I met his eyes with mine, I knew he’d always be a simple mystery to me, destined to be my enemy, the one who knew me the best.

He had the look of the man who has learned from experience as he lit that cigarette. The glow from the lighter revealed a face older and more weathered than I’m sure my own face was. He looked bad. I was certain he didn’t have the slightest good intention in mind for me, and yet everything in his eyes and in the tone of his voice struck me as sincere and well meaning. He spoke to me as if he knew me. We’re on the road now aren’t we? I’ve always loved these warm nights, the heady smell in the air. He grinned, and his eyes lit up. I suddenly felt thirsty. Thirstier than I’ve ever felt in my life. There was adrenaline coursing through my body now, and most of my worry had suddenly receded. As he rolled down the window, an old and child-like excitement crossed his face, as a child who is told on Christmas day that the best present has been saved to last. What does it even matter where we’re going? The pleasure’s in the driving. It’s also in the uncertainty. We passed a strange scene by the side of that long road. This struck me because until now it had all been so blank. There was a cow being led down the road by two men, one in front, and one following up from behind. We passed so quickly that the image struck me as an old black and white picture would have, fixed in my mind without the suggestion of fading. It was like some grim scene from a foreign abattoir, and I felt my spirit drop, knowing where the cow’s destination lay despite all his ignorance. He looked complacent if not slightly confused as to his predicament, being lead by his handlers as he was. For some unknown reason, I honestly felt very sad for him. Then I laughed. Fucker should have evolved faster. I couldn’t but help show the slightest disapproval, even if deep down something in me knew it was true. It would be pretty much the same if the boot was on the other foot. Or hoof. You get my drift. I laughed again, and I wasn’t sure if it was humour or desperation I heard in that laugh. It sounded strange to me, but laughs always sound strange when you really listen to them. Everyone knows what a laugh means, but that shit can’t be found in any dictionary I ever heard of.

I confess I sucked the propane guy's dick.

*THIS IS GAY - NO BASHING*

Yesterday the man that comes to fill my dad's propane tank came to the house. Usually he doesn't knock and just goes into the back to do his thing. Yesterday he knocked...while I was in the middle of jerking off and super horny.

I pulled on some pants fast and raced downstairs, my face still flushed and answered the door. My bulge was showing when I answered it and the man immediately looked at it then looked at me with a slight grin.

"Here to fill your tank," he said. "name's Mike."

Mike had a dark moustachem straggly hair and stood about 6 ft 4. He had a big gut and was very hairy.

Since it was gonna take a couple minutes and I was really horny I invited him in for a cup of coffee, he agreed.

After about a minute I decided to make my move.

"I'm gonna go change, be right back," I said.

I went to my room which was right next to where Mike was drinking his coffee and left the door wide open. He went to stop the pump and came back in. I saw him peeping his head when I was completely naked and then got enough courage to say;

"You could come in if you'd like"

Mike was infuriated by this, stomping in and asking me if I thought he was a fag, which I replied of course with no. I was still naked and he had gotten behind me. I felt the texture of his jeans and his cold belt buckle ride up and down my ass as he forced my head down onto my bed.

"Imma make YOU the fag," he whispered in my ear.

When I thought he was about to rape me, he pulled my hair and forced me down to his unopened zipper.

"Kiss it through the jeans, girl."

I did

"Take it out now, real gentle."

I did

"Now open that pretty little mouth of yours."

I did

He started to jam his flacid cock into my mouth, I felt it growing inside my mouth. My saliva was everywhere, on his jeans, on my chest, the floor. He was pumping my face good until he stopped.

"Go get a cup," he demanded while stroking his 6 in cock.

I went quickly.

"Good, now suck those balls while I drain them"

I sucked them for a minute until he started cumming in the cup. He must have filled half the cup with my reward.

"Drink it, bitch." he stated.

I hesitated, which only lent me a slap in the face. I took it and drank it like a shot, not sparing a drop. As I was getting cleaned up, he stuck his middle finger in my ass and said.

"Next time"

She said she wants to see herself covered in cum who can photoshop cum onto her pretty face

I'm obsessed with my co-worker.

I get it. I'm tall, lanky, awkward as fuck, and just not very attractive. I've been told that my entire life, and even when it isn't said to my face, it's said to me indirectly when I ask a girl out for something as harmless as coffee and I get rejected before I even get the words out.

So I see this girl at my work one day, and I'm FLOORED. The prettiest girl I had ever seen. We work in different departments so I rarely see her, but when I do, I'm just awestruck. When we talk, we're with a few of our other co-workers so it isn't as awkward. She seems so incredibly warm, sweet, humble, and quiet.

After months of waiting for the off chance of a brief interaction in passing, I say fuck it, and ask her out on a date after I get her number through a mutual friend in the company. I wait minutes...hours...days...no response. It makes sense, she seems like the quiet non-confrontational type. It's still a rejection, but it still fucking hurts, you know?

A few weeks later, I hear a rumor that she's sucking some dude's dick in the parking lot at work. And for whatever reason, this hurt way more than her rejection...now that I know that she's just a slut like everyone else, I've pretty much lost all hope as far as dating goes.

So now, I'm back to my usual routine of jerking off every day to thoughts of her. Right after lunch? I open up that Instagram and blow a nice load all over her face. When I get home? Open up Facebook and pound my dick and pretending like I'm railing that pink pussy of hers from behind.

Can anyone sympathize with my struggle here? What the fuck am I supposed to do here? I'm NEVER going to get a girl as pretty as Kaye. Am I just supposed to settle for some fucking whale of a woman with acne and shit?

Please, just brighten my day a little and tell me what you would do to this whore. Make a picture or video even. That'd be great. :/

I confess that I am a 25 year old guy and my mother had me take ballet for many years when I was growing up. Pretty fucking sad, I know. How my father allowed such a fucking travesty to transpire I will never understand. When I should have been playing football or hockey I was dressed up in tights, prancing around like a fairy. If this wasn't bad enough I was sexually molested for a number of years by one of my male dance instructors. He was and I'm assuming still is a pedophile. I am truly thankful that he never fucked me, but, as much as it pains me to tell it. He had me suck his dick so many times that I don't even know how often it happened....Maybe over a hundred, it's possible.

So, needless to say, I hate my parents and now when I jerk off I fantasize about swinging an axe into my old dance instructors face...Good times!

I found a couple that wanted to try an MMF threesome. It took a long time, a quite a few nights of chatting and sexting to get them to meet up. After that, it was several meet ups, drinks, talks, all this lasted for months.

She is a timid house wife looking woman, around 40, short hair, pretty ugly, but with a great body. I honestly thought it will be uncomfortable, and odd (I have never done this before either), and that it will be one big mistake.

Oh boy, was I wrong.

She is the nastiest woman on the face of the earth. She was a bit careful, at first, but after that...

She licked my ass, form behind, while her husband was fucking her doggy style. We did DP, slapping, name calling, you name it...

And they keep coming back for more.

And I am no stud, just a normal guy, normal size, normal stamina...

I think I just hit the jack pot.

I really want to try to pull some sneaky shit with my girlfriend. We've been together two years and our sex life is pretty healthy, but I want to dirty it up a little.

For example, sometimes when we're having sex I tie her wrists and ankles to the corners of the bed and put a blindfold on her. I'm thinking that if I put her face-down or on all fours, I could have a friend fuck her without her even knowing about it. I'd love to watch someone cum in her pussy and play it off like it was me. I'm sure booze wouldn't hurt the effectiveness of that scenario.

I've also fantasized about while she's blindfolded, taking a little cup/vile/whatever of another dude's cum and pouring it right in her pussy, telling her that it's just lube.

Should I do any of this? What else could be fun?