Linda Sue's Diary

Here I am...

2022-10-26T20:46:00.001-07:00

No excuses, loyal readers, only explanations.

Work has been very intense, made more so during the pandemic. Lots of travel, too.

The truth: Sex blogs like mine are out of fashion. I'm older from when I started Linda Sue's Diary. Still horny as hell, but settled down with one lover. Monogamy has its virtues and pleasures, although I don't know if I can marry again.

So I'll encourage you to enjoy the archives and if I have something new to add, I'll be back.

My position on ... positions

2019-04-08T14:10:00.002-07:00

Once I had an affair with a man who had been dumped by his wife. She would have sex with him only rarely and then only in the missionary style. We had a hot fling and he called me "position girl" because of my willingness to go anywhere.

So here are my takes on sexual positions.

Missionary: I actually love this position, but it comes in many flavors (most of which people never try). The traditional man on top thrusting is fine; sometimes I pull my knees up and lazily enjoy being fucked (let him do the work). Or I can fuck him back using my pelvis — if I put my feet on the mattress or floor or ground, it can give me the leverage to bring him off in a hurry. I love to wrap my long legs around my lover and pull him in as he fucks me.

But my lover can also raise my ankles over his shoulders — this puts him deeper into me and is delightful. My favorite lovers even turn their heads to kiss my ankles as they hoist me into position. So is missionary where the man crooks my knees into his elbows, very intimate, very sense of "being taken." Love it!

And there's the "high riding," where the man positions himself slightly higher, pressing on my pubic bone. When my lover is on top and raising himself on his arms, I can also pull my legs in front of him and nearly cross them, producing a very different sensation.

Unlike many women, I can come in any of these variations. I have a very sensitive G spot.

If you're well endowed, I'll gently press against your abdomen, holding you at a distance until my pussy can adjust to your length. This is another benefit of missionary.

A couple of further grace notes: Reaching around and stroking his balls. I love feeling a man's balls against me as he thrusts and this gives him a major turn-on. Also, intertwining my legs in his. Missionary can be romantic, or dominated, or adventurous.

I don't like a guy to be completely down on me. If he raises himself on his arms, we can see each other's faces and expressions. My favorite lovers smile like angels as they fuck me.

Me on top: This is another position with many varieties. I can ride in the usual sitting position, but also bend my legs back and slide. I've had lovers who grabbed by ass, raised their legs and really pounded into me.

A bonus: My man can caress my breasts and lick and suck my nipples. Have to be careful in this position because if I bear down too much, too soon, I'll immediately start coming.

I'm not a fan of being on top and facing backwards. But that's just me.

Doggy: I love to be taken from behind, but you need to sense the right mood. It's fine to push right in when we're both on fire and have left a trail of clothes from the front door to the bed.

But teasing me with your cock-head right at the edge of my labia, then slowly sliding in is very arousing.

Some men swivel their pelvises to fuck me from different angles with each thrust. They fuck in a rhythm, then pull almost all the way out before slamming in deep (this also can work in the ankles-over-shoulders missionary style). The feeling is amazing.

Bonus: If the relationship is souring or dull, I can fantasize about another man fucking me.

Yes, I claw the sheets if I really get going.

All the above positions work in bed, but I've also done them in public, on the floor, on assorted pieces of furniture, in a meadow, and (missionary) on the hood of a car.

Sixty-nine: I've done this with men and women. Best accomplished with patience and give-and-take. Sometimes I get so aroused that I have to lie my head on your thigh while I come from your tongue-worshipping. Then do the same in return. It's great foreplay — or as the main course.

Side-by-side: A well-hung guy can penetrate me when we're lying beside each other. This isn't a fave, but it offers some variety while enjoying a love-making session with multiple positions.

Scissors: This is popular in girl-girl sex. I don't especially like it because I can't see my lover close-up, or have the submissive rush of doggy. Tried it with my ex-husband, with his cock in me. But we only did it once.

Face-sitting: Two words: Orgasm city.

What are your favorites and why?

Seeing is believing

2019-02-21T14:26:00.000-08:00

Three photos on this blog are the real me. I won't tell you which ones. I will say this: Thank god I'm old enough that my wildest years were before iPhones or I'd be in big trouble. Especially considering my job.

Nowadays, you can't trust a lover to take an intimate photo or video and not post it on the internet. This is especially true of someone seeking revenge after a breakup.

To be sure, I'm something of an exhibitionist and if I were younger and in a different field, it would be exciting to see myself the subject of hundreds — thousands! — of guys masterbating to my image. I know you do it to my stories — I've even spiced up some marriages if my emails are to be believed. I think about my most passionate relationships and wish I had stills and videos (with sound) of those — but only for me.

The only time I was filmed having sex was my infamous time at the frat house, when I was nearly gang-banged. I realized too late that someone had a videocam running. That was in college, before I learned the moves that would have allowed me to seize the camera and do a beat-down on the cameraman. Oh, well.

In a couple of relationships, my lovers and I took Polaroids of our fun. Me being fucked from behind, sucking him off, him going down on me, me posing legs spread wide. Pretty take stuff. I still have them. I also have photos my husband and I took.

One of my friends — I'll call her Lauren — was filmed having sex with her boyfriend. The camera was set up for a perfect angle to catch his dick going in and out of her as she lay there, knees up. He moved her around so every position was captured. After they broke up, he posted it on the net and sent Lauren a link. Her face was visible. This is the height of slime.

So is the experience of Heather, who told me how her professional photographer boyfriend took hundreds of shots of her naked, of them having sex, closeups of semen running out of her pussy, and the threesome with his best friend he talked her into. He dumped her. She now sees the pics on porn sites. She also learned he had done this to other girlfriends.

Other friends are willing participants. With iPhones and other digital devices, it's commonplace for some couples to photograph their privates, their partners naked and wet or hard, selfies... It's a thing.

But not for me. You'll have to use your imagination.

What about you? Tell me everything.

Hookup culture and pulling trains

2018-12-21T14:23:00.002-08:00

Brett Kavanaugh is quite a bit older than me, but we're both Gen Xers, both went to elite high schools, and were both exposed to the hookup culture that was prevalent then (no, my agency didn't investigate Kavanaugh).

I can't speak to the veracity of the Justice. But his age and social situation put him squarely in this sexual revolution (I wonder if young people even have much sex today, with their faces stuck in their digital devices)

My experience was unusual, however. My mother was constantly lecturing me that I would go to hell if I had sex outside of marriage (once she barged into my bedroom when I was masterbating, and totally freaked out). So in high school, aside from giving some blowjobs, I was...sigh...a good girl. I had to live the hookup scene from afar — and through the stories of friends.

Megan had a regular boyfriend. But he coaxed her into fucking him and the his best friend one night in a cemetery — she lost her panties amid the romp.

Fueled with "mind erasers" (Rohypnol), Katie regularly went to hookup parties at friends' houses while parents were out of town or at the country club. She told me of the many boys whose cocks she sucked and with whom she had intercourse. As hookups, these were encounters with no strings attached, often with partners she would never see again. She made love with other girls while the boys watched or participated

I first heard the phrase "pulled a train" from my friend Lindsey. She told me about being put on the carpet, her ass in the air, as several boys fucked her from behind. My mom liked Lindsey, who went to our church — little did she know that with some booze and drugs Lindsey became a going-to-hell teenage sex machine.

My brother confided his hookups to me, too. He had a special affinity for cheerleaders. He loved the relative anonymity of the parties, where nothing was expected besides the momentary pleasure. I was terribly envious. Were there victims such as Christine Blasey Ford — if one believes her very believable story? Undoubtedly. But my friends went in with eyes wide open.

It was only in college and later that I experienced sex with multiple partners and no-strings encounters.

My first "train pulling" was at a lifestyle club. Five men took me from behind while I sucked off a sixth, then performed cunnilingus on an older woman.

On an intellectual level, it was interesting how the different cocks felt, their lengths and girths, the one with the painfully-large head, another with an upward bend to it, how long each lasted before blowing his load in me, their assorted techniques ranging from get-off-as-soon-as-possible to the guys who fucked slow then fast, deep then shallow, swiveling their entry as they moved.

In the moment, it was sheer naughty pleasure, with me coming repeatedly and walking funny for a day or two after. Being told what a great ass I had, how I came "like a volcano," that, wow, I was a natural redhead.

What would mom have said?

My first time, part three

2018-07-31T14:20:00.001-07:00

My first orgy: This was my senior year in college, when I was having an affair with a rich, married man. He took me to a party at the Hamptons, where four other couples were waiting.

He was twenty years older than me and everyone else there was in their forties, too. But they were in good shape, in the way that only wealth allows. The men, and some of the women, looked me over hungrily. We made small talk, drank wine, and smoked some pot. One of the women said, "Why are we still dressed?" Then the clothes came off. I was the last to disrobe.

Frank started making out with me on a sofa and pretty soon I felt fingers gently prying my legs open. I looked down and saw an attractive, busty blonde on her knees below me. Frank, normally very possessive, let go and watched as Laura expertly licked my pussy. "You're a natural red," she purred, seeing my pubic hair. I heated up in a hurry and had an explosive orgasm, holding her hands, our fingers entwined. When I opened my eyes, a man was fucking Laura from behind.

Things got wilder from there. I was on the floor, my butt in the air, a man pumping frantically into me as I sucked another man lying in front of me. He held my head down — I didn't like that — and a jet of semen flew into the back of my throat. I struggled not to gag and swallowed it all.

More cocks appeared before my face — long and thick, short, average — and I worked them all, taking a load from each one. Further fucking and sucking and cunnilingus followed, couples, threesomes, me as part of three women making a circle. I was vaguely aware of Frank fucking another redhead, Sue, so I wanted to make him jealous with my performance. The big room smelled of sex.

Afterwards, driving home in his Jag, I felt very ill. He pulled to the side of the road and I barfed what looked like a gallon of semen — although I'm sure it was less. His precious car interior was safe. I was sore for days afterwards after all the fucking. But I was aroused thinking about it, and willing to try again.

My first time, part two

2018-03-16T14:27:00.002-07:00

My first big cock: The average erect penis is from 4.7 to 6.3 inches and that's been my experience. It all matters in how you use it, guys. A man with a big cock can be fabulous if he is a skilled lover. On the other hand, I've had some average men who were among my best because of the same abilities.

My first experience with size was mixed at best. A fraternity brother had led me to the basement during a party and we fucked. I was still lying, miniskirt hiked up, there trying to catch my breath when another shape appeared, unzipped his pants and displayed the biggest cock I'd yet seen.

He climbed on and pushed in. Between pussy juice and the cum in me I was thankfully well lubed. It still hurt for several minutes, then felt better, then really good. After he was done, I saw a line of guys waiting their turn, grabbed my clothes and ran out.

My first anal sex: I know you guys have been waiting for this. Lots of men had wanted to take me in the ass but I held off until I was married. I didn't have many "firsts" I could offer my husband, but this was a big one.

"I want you to fuck me in the ass," I said during a lovemaking session. He got out KY and put me on my knees.

First he entered by pussy and fucked me slow and sweet. I felt his finger slide into my anus, syncopating with his cock moving in and out of my pussy. Then two fingers. Finally, he pulled out and rested the head of his penis against my perineum, then slowly entered me. "Am I hurting you?" he asked. "No," I said, although it was uncomfortable as he fucked me.

I didn't come from this but it was still thrilling, especially thinking of what my uptight family would think of their little cheerleader honor student getting it up the ass. "You're a very naughty girl, Linda," my husband panted, instinctively understanding. He had a violent orgasm and I felt him shooting in me. He stayed there until he went flaccid and we showered together.

My first public sex: This is a tough one. The summer I lost my virginity, I cheated on my sweet boyfriend with a bad boy from high school on whom I'd had a crush. One night we drove into the country and he fucked me on the hood of his muscle car.

It was wildly erotic to be outside, the breeze running across my legs, my moans and screams out there wafting into the woods. But nobody was there. He said he would never get the dents removed from his hood.

The first "official" time was when I was having an affair with one of my professors — common then, but a fireable offense in our neo-Puritan age.

Believe me, I was not being taken advantage of. Anyway, it was winter and the sun had set early. I went down on him and sucked his cock a long time. Then I sat on his desk and he fucked me. After, I saw that a crowd had gathered at a window of a nearby building and had seen the whole thing. They applauded. I smiled and curtsied. My lover was mortified and always closed the blinds after that.

My first time, part one

2017-12-07T14:34:00.000-08:00

We never forget our first time. So I'll try to remember some of mine.

My first blowjob: I incompetently sucked the cocks of several boys in high school. But the prize went to Christopher, in his new BMW, parked in a car overlooking Puget Sound. It was senior year in high school and I was still a virgin. We were making out like mad, I was very wet, and he started taking off my clothes — but I wouldn't let him. I was still screwed up by my fundamentalist mother's sex admonitions. But I unzipped him and his nice, circumcised dick popped up. I started working on it with a frenzy, and really sucking. It couldn't have been more than three minutes until he moaned and his come hit the back of my throat. I was surprised, but didn't want to appear as inexperienced as I was — so I made myself keep sucking and swallowing. It was thick and salty. I felt wonderfully dirty and came home with semen in my stomach.

My first intercourse: It's almost a cliche, but this was with my steady boyfriend from high-school, when I was on summer break from freshman year in college. Unlike my friends, I didn't hook up in high school. His parents were away, so we used their kingsized bed, he undressed me, climbed on top and gently pushed. I felt him inside me, no pain at all (I had done years of dressage, so maybe that got my hymen). It felt better and better as he fucked me. We made pledges of eternal love, but in reality we were going in different directions. But it was a fun summer of discovery.

My first girl: This was my suite-mate Pam, who had a baby-boomer name like me. She was blond and compact; I was red-haired and long legged. One night we were alone and killing off a bottle of wine when, as the song went, I felt her hand above my knee. Pam was much more experienced. And unlike the muscled boys I'd had, she was patient and loving. She gave me my first real orgasm(s), made me realize I was a screamer and capable of multiples. Although we both had plenty of boyfriends, we kept up our intimacy for two years and have remained friends. She went on to be a soccer mom.

Tell me your naughtiest true story

2016-07-28T15:08:00.000-07:00

You've been reading my true adventures for years. Now it's your turn. In the comments section, tell me your kinkiest, most shameful, forbidden, secret sex adventure. The only rule is that is has to be true.

I'll kick it off with this letter from a reader:

It was in the winter of 1981. I know this because I recall it was about a month and a half after John Lennon was shot in NYC. As project manager I was finishing the construction of a large industrial furnace in the Mobile, Alabama, area. The job was complete except for the trial shakedown phase and turning over to the customer. It had been a long job and my crew had returned to Houston with the exception of one technician, a young man named Tim (I don't remember his last name) who was about 15 years younger than I was. At that time I was 38 years old. Tim was a diminutive young dude about 5'4" or so and weighed maybe 130 pounds. For that reason he had the nickname "Munchkin". We had both been away from without a break for at least two weeks and it was Friday night and we were scheduled to drive the company truck back to Houston the next day. (It could have been Saturday evening/night but it was one of those two days.) I was also separated from my wife at the time. Tim had a girlfriend (young with a nice body). I knew Munchkin mostly from work and had never done any partying with him, but I knew him well enough to be comfortable around him.

Mobile is often warm or at least temperate in February and this was one of those nights, somewhere in the mid-50 degree range. Of course the sun went down early, so the nights were long. Downtown Mobile had some interesting bars and at least one brothel in '81. The brothel was called the "55 Club" because you went into the bar on the ground floor and talked to the girls. If things were "right" between you and the lady, the bartender was handed $55 cash and that got you the basic service upstairs above the bar. The standard fare was a blowjob or straight vaginal sex. Anything "special" would cost more and was negotiated directly with the lady. Tips were expected and regular customers were known to be either good tippers or cheapskates. I had visited the place two times (I think, might have been three, but I didn't have a lot of cash) just to keep my seminal vessels drained.

In any case, after Munchkin and I got some dinner, he, mostly, wanted to go downtown and get a blow job. He was emphatic that he needed some relief. So I drove to the 55 Club. Just as we pulled into the parking lot, a station wagon with three girls pulled in and as we got out of the company truck (the truck had a magnetic sign on the side which we had removed and put behind the seat) and shouted at us in so many words that they were hooking and could give us a better deal than the 55 Club. All we had to do was to follow them to the Quality Inn (might have been the Best Western) on the Airport Road. So we took off following them for a ride of about 5 miles.

When we got to the motel parking lot, the girls climbed out of the wagon. We were all wearing light jackets except for one of the girls who was wearing a long lightweight overcoat. She opened her coat to reveal a plump round preggo belly and she said with a laugh: "I got caught." One of the girls was tall about 5' 10 and the other two about "standard" height, say 5'5 or 5'6. I am about 5' 8 which makes me on the short side and I really like tall girls, so I kind of wanted the tall one.

As it turned out, the tall girl, who let's say since my memory is not absolute on this, called herself "Joy" and the other non-pregnant girl called herself "Pam." I'm sure that those were not their names, but who cares. The preggo girl never said her name, or I don't remember. When we got to their room it became immediately obvious that the tall girl, Joy, wanted the Munchkin. She was about the same age as the Munchkin and was almost gushing over him. Later she purred that "He's so cute, I just want to take him home." The senior girl and the one that made it clear that she was obviously in charge and the leader of the group was Pam. Pam informed us that they had some VIP customers coming by at ten and that we would be on a schedule so as to be gone by then. This was her way of making clear that we were not going to have anything but a one-pop date. The preggo girl said: "I'm tired of watching people fuck, I'm going to the bar" and she left the room. Drinking while pregnant was not quite so onerous in that day.

Pam it turned out was about two years my senior and so Tim and I placed our $50 each in Pam's hand and we all got undressed. The room had two standard sized beds with a nightstand in between. There was a table and a sofa at the far end of the room next to the window so it would have been described in the day as a "business suite" Pam and I had a brief talk (we were more than a decade older than the Munchkin and Pam and therefore a little more compatible.) and mostly I remember that she professed a liking for heroin. I had some experience with drugs, cocaine, weed, ludes, speed, and some knowledge of acid, but I had never seen any heroin. She surprised me, but she seemingly was not holding and that was the extent of the conversation. Much later I wondered if the 10 o'clock appointment was her connection, but then again maybe they didn't even have one, although Pam's actions seemed to indicate that it was a fact.

As we got undressed, I noticed how really attractive Joy was. Joy at about 5' 10 had beautiful legs and she was very pretty. Nice petite breasts, trim with a great complexion. Pam was average in most every way but she was soft, warm and I was happy enough. (I have often thought how things would have turned out if I had chosen the preggo girl; it crossed my mind at the time but only in passing.) Pam and I got onto the bed closest to the bath and I went down on her. Pubic hair was in vogue then and hers was neatly trimmed with a sweet tummy. As I best recall she had a nice pleasant taste and and after a while she sighed with a little quiver and said "I've had enough of that" and gently lifted my head and invited me to mount her. On the way up I noticed that Joy was giving the Munchkin a blow job and I figured (so wrongly) that he would pop his load any moment. So I climbed up slipped inside my lady and in what seemed too short (always) I busted my nut. I remember saying, "I'm coming y'all, I'm coming." Condoms were not generally used in that day and I don't remember Pam being exceptionally wet on entering her but my cum certainly slicked her up.

Pam lead me to the bathroom and washed my dick in the sink. This was noticeably old school even for 1981 and I was pleasantly surprised by this. I was wondering if she was just keeping me in the bathroom so nature could run its course on the other bed. She handed me a towel and picked up one of two douche bags, this one was white, that were laying across the tub and proceeded to fill it with water from the tub faucet. It split down the middle on one of the side seams. She cursed just a little and informed me that it was two years old and had served her well but could I go ask Joy if she could use Joy's red bag. (I just now wondered what the preggo girl had if anything, there were only two bags in sight.)

I stepped back into the room and Joy and the Munchkin were going at it missionary style. All this time I never saw Munchkin's dick, just an average looking pair of balls bouncing in his nut sack. Pam came right behind me from the bath and I don't remember exactly how but she got the pair to get into doggy with Pam sitting Indian style on her knees behind Munchkin. I was standing between the beds close to Joy's head which she had placed on top of her forearms so her ass was sticking up. Munchkin, too, was on his knees, going in and out. I noticed Pam began to play with his nuts from behind. I saw her reach between her legs with her right hand and get some slick stuff from her pussy. At the time I didn't think about my cum still residing in her snatch. Her hand reached towards the Munchkin's ass. Suddenly he got a "deer in the headlights" look on his face and went almost catatonic. I didn't think much at the moment about Pam slipping into his ass and rubbing his prostate. I just was too busy being still and watching him have a killer orgasm. He didn't move hardly at all, he didn't groan, or even seem to breath hard, he just was frozen while his auto reflex involuntarily took over. Even as exciting as this seemed, a wonderful, rich aroma wafted up from Joy and Tim's crotch area. It was an amazing scent of sexual fluids being blended which I had smelled before but never so intense or so overwhelming. Even though my gear had been drained, this odor reached my lizard brain and set my primal libido into an almost aroused again mode. Wow, that was cool. I noticed Pam had remained motionless during the moment and was very still just sitting behind. I glanced down at Joy's face and a sly smile came across her and she said, "That's a BIG load!"

Pam guided the Munchkin off the bed and lead him into the bath. He looked completely spent, somewhat shaky, and like a little sleepy puppy that mommy dog was pulling back into the den. He was compliant in every way. Pam asked Joy if she could use her douche bag and Joy said yes and slipped off the side of the bed. She started around the foot of the bed towards the sofa area and said: "Damn, it's running down my leg, get me something." Her voice was not imperious, more of distress. I looked and down her beautiful right thigh, a silver white ribbon of jizz about 4 or 5 inches long was drooling on her skin. It stunned me for just a second as I contemplated how totally erotic it was. I then hastily went back to the bath and got a wash cloth. Pam was washing the Munchkin's pecker just like she did for me. I was just a little jealous that I hadn't filled my lady to the overflowing point like Tim. Ah, youthful production! I took the washcloth to Joy and she shoved it into her crotch.

Tim and I got dressed and as we left, of course, we had to pass by the bathroom door. Both girls were sitting side by side on a towel on the edge of the tub with their legs inside the tun. Joy's red douche bag was hanging from the shower curtain and the hose disappeared between her legs. We exchanged pleasantries and departed. It was sort of sentimental to see the girls enjoying their feminine moment with the shared douche bag and the silver streak. It capped off a great adventure. We badass males got our vesicles tapped and again the pussys were prepared for the next draining.

Women who don't like to be licked

2016-06-21T12:42:00.000-07:00

To me, a "cunning linguist" is the foundation of a good lover. If he doesn't want to give oral sex, and good oral sex, we don't just not have a future — we don't have a present.

But, based on conversations with men friends and readers, not all women are this way. Indeed, some won't allow their lovers to go down on them. In a few cases, she will give good head — but doesn't want to receive.

Over the years, I've had many conversations with girlfriends about this topic. It's led me to offer these reasons why these women are reacting the way they do.

Some are very sexually repressed. They were taught by their mothers that "you pee down there," and their private parts are somehow dirty and off-limits. Certainly to a man's (or woman's) mouth.

Another reason is control. Nothing is more intense than an orgasm from oral sex. Some of these women have told me they don't want to let go that much. They're content with less-intense vaginal orgasms (although mine are explosive, a rarity) or no orgasm at all. These women aren't very highly sexed to begin with, to paint with a broad brush.

A good many had bad experiences with men who went down on them. The men were inept or selfish lovers. When I have an orgasm from a man's tongue-worshipping, I want him to know how to sense how much is too much, or too little — and this changes over the course of the oral love-making.

Finally, some women simply aren't very responsive. For a variety of reasons, they either can't have orgasms or never learned how. The background here can range from the psychological to physical causes.

If your girlfriend fits into these categories, my advice would be to run away. It won't get better, especially if you like the full menu of sex. If she's resistant to receiving oral sex, there will likely be other no-go zones and the sex will die off once she has your commitment.

If she's the love of your life, be prepared to be patient. Try to get her to talk about why she doesn't want oral sex. Can you live with it if she doesn't? I couldn't. But everyone's different.

My 30th birthday present

2016-04-04T14:38:00.000-07:00

When I turned 30, my main boyfriend at the time was a theater guy: tall, wavy dark hair, athletic in the sack, horny all the time, very well read and an expert flirt. When he came over to my apartment that night, he said he had my 30th birthday present. I expected him to hand me a wrapped gift. He had something much more memorable in mind.

After we finished martinis, he asked me to put on my high-school cheerleader outfit. I happily complied. It still fit perfectly. By today's standards, it was demure — pleated skirt, sweater. But I have to admit, I still looked sexy as hell in it. "My god, you're beautiful," he said. He brushed back my hair, cupped my face in his hands, and began passionately kissing me. I was already starting to heat up as he ran his hand up my knee to the inside of my thigh, and then I felt his finger pry aside my damp panties and lightly stroke my clit. I shivered and moaned, grinding against him — all the time he was kissing me — until I came.

"That's one," he said, somewhat cryptically.

"Fuck me," I pleaded. "I want you inside me.

He picked me up and carried me into the bedroom, gently depositing me onto the bed. I watched as he stripped off his shirt, slacks, and underwear. His hard cock dangled in the shadows. I opened my legs, my skirt spreading on the bedclothes, as he climbed on top and I guided him inside, feeling him fill me up. He was in no hurry, slowly sliding inside. I raised my knees and wrapped my legs around him as he fucked me, first slow, then going faster, deeper. My feet were starting to burn. My moans led into sharp screams as two orgasms overwhelmed me. He raised my legs over his shoulders and was instantly deeper inside. Another orgasm. He was smiling as he pumped into me, slow rhythm, then suddenly fast, deep strokes, then shallow, then deep again. His arms went down to pin my legs against his elbows, and he fucked me like a maniac.

"Let yourself go, babe," he said, a wide smile on his face. As if I hadn't already.

"Fuck me!" My voice was somewhere between a cry and a moan. I tried to fuck him back but he had me totally pinned down as his hard cock went in and out, again and again. My hands ran through his hair, gripped his shoulders. I came again and again, colors streaking the edges of my vision. The usual sounds of traffic outside my windows were lost to me. Then he let out his own cry and pushed into me. I felt his semen filling me. After a few minutes, his cock slipped out and he untangled my legs. I thought he would collapse beside me. Instead, he undressed me, tossing each garment to the floor after examining it, stopping to sniff my panties.

The room smelled of sex. He gently ran his tongue over one nipple, then moved it in circles, and finally started sucking. The sucking became very hard but I loved it. He moved to the other breast and did the same thing, while holding its twin in one hand. Next parted my legs and started sucking my toes. It felt fantastic. I was like a tuning fork, vibrating all over, whimpering almost uncontrollably. I felt his mouth kissing up one leg, pausing at the knee, then moving inside my thigh. I was about to come again when me merely brushed his face against my pussy and started all over again with the other leg.

He was driving me crazy, teasing me. Then I felt his tongue lightly tracing the lips of my pussy.

"No grinding," he said, pulling back. I tried to relax my hips and his tongue returned. I reached out and he met me with his hands. Our fingers intertwined. My entire pelvis caught fire and I heard myself scream again, sharp, sudden. I don't remember every moment after that, only snatches (pun intended): he would tongue-fuck me, going deep inside; his finger stroked my perineum while he licked my pussy — this pushed me over the edge again and again; him playing me, pulling back to lick my vulva and then suddenly hitting my clit again (another explosion); the way he used the facets of his tongue against my pussy, the tip and edges and full on; his ability to know exactly when to be gentle and when to push me over the edge again... My legs were noodles, draped over his shoulders.

After a very long, amazing time, he climbed back on top and started fucking me again. As he French kissed me, I tasted our mingled juices. I was pretty useless, just pulling my legs up naturally and letting him do the work. It was sweet and unhurried and soon I felt the burn coming yet again as I let out a hoarse scream. After he came, he took me in his arms and held me for a long time.

"That was one to grow on," he said. Yes, he had given me 31 orgasms that night.

I have girlfriends who come one and they're done, and a sad few who can't come at all. I always knew I was unusual in being a multi-orgasm girl — and a screamer, naturally, not any theatrics; I can't help myself. When I've told that story, they can't believe it. But it really happened. And I slept the best that night of my whole life.

Size queens and fellatio

2016-02-12T14:27:00.001-08:00

In praise of big cocks. I've had a few. Some guys think all they have to do is show up; some well endowed men can be duds, while a responsive, caring man of average size is just fine.

Still, my big boys love it when I get them really aroused, unspool all that cock and then start madly sucking the head and glans with my mouth, while running my hand in a corkscrew motion up and down the shaft. As I increase the urgency of my moves, even the most taciturn guy will start moaning. He knows I want his come.

A well-endowed boyfriend would tease me by calling me a size queen, and it's true that I love a big package. He was a thick eight inches (an honest eight, not just a come-on line). It was a joy just to see and appreciate. I could tease the shaft, glans and head with my tongue, just like any cock, but there was more of it to work with. One girlfriend told me she had a boyfriend who measured 12 inches, and she could only suck the head while giving him a hand-job!

But I'm not a one-note Linda. Every penis has its appeal (although a girlfriend once complained to me that her fiancee's unit was less than three inches; the engagement eventually busted up). Give me thick and average and I can be in heaven. I can get him all the way in my mouth. After the requisite licking, kissing and teasing of his cock, I can start sliding it in and out as I suck, going all the way down, in a way I can't with a larger dick.

It's true that I was once taken and face-fucked by a big dick. He rammed it into the back of the throat, while keeping a tight hold on my head and hair. I had no choice but to take that dick all the way. The surprise and the emergence of my latent submissive side were exciting. But I also thought I was going to keep gagging and just pass out. In general, this is bad manners, to say the least.

Big dicks don't always produce the most semen...and you know I am a girl who not only loves to swallow, but loves big loads. My first high-school blowjobs were guys with average dicks...one with a big helmet of a head (ahhhhh...) and the other with a thick shaft and the head a little smaller (yes, I remember them vividly!). But how they came! I really felt as if I was sucking their taut young balls dry. Yes, youth has its benefits.

So size isn't everything in fellatio, but it doesn't hurt. Most of all, give me an appreciative man, who knows he's getting this wonderful gift from me.

Every blowjob has its place

2015-05-04T13:51:00.000-07:00

I posted this originally on the old Fellatrices blog. Hope you enjoy

I'm getting aroused in advance of Fellatio Friday and the thought came to me, everything oral has its own context.

For example, I reunited with my sometime lover, Jon, last weekend. I hadn't been in bed with him for nearly two years, but it was like we hadn't been apart. I woke him in the middle of the night by taking his cock in my mouth. He always loved that. I felt it get steel hard and fill me as he moaned contentedly. I thought, this is the I Know You Well blowjob, and the memory made me think of other contextual sucks.

* The Getting to Know You Blowjob. I've had new boyfriends where all I wanted for starters was to suck their cocks, and maybe nothing more that the first time. They never complained. So I could marvel at how very unique each man's equipment is, how it felt against my tongue and inside my mouth. Would he have a strong spurt or kind of dribble? Would his semen be pungent or mild, stringy and thick or watery? Mmmmmm. The joy of discovery. Some men have never really had a proper blowjob before me, and it's amazing to see their ephiphany!

* The Wait-for-Me Blowjob. I loved this. A long-distance relationship. Hot phone calls every night. I told him he had to wait to come before he saw me in two weeks -- no masturbating. It drove him nuts, and when we got naked he just had to plunge his cock into me. I let him fuck me awhile, but then wiggled away. "Don't come," I purred. Then I went down on him, slowly... I've never gotten such a mouthful. He was a good boy and did exactly what I asked.

* The Spontaneous Blowjob. When I was married, my husband got back from a business trip, and we were all over each other in the airport. I couldn't wait. So once we were in the car, in the parking garage, I unzipped him and sucked his cock. I could hear people coming and going nearby, car doors opening, voices. I didn't care. I just wanted that delicious cock in my mouth.

* The Blowjob Surprise. A new lover whose ex-wife refused to go down on him, much less swallow...he loves me. One who is delightfully long and/or uncircumsized. An old lover who surprises me...he wants to kneel over me on the bed while he fucks my mouth like a pussy. Sharing his semen with him in a long French kiss. He comes in my mouth but stays hard and immediately fucks me.

And many more. I'm sure everybody has her own tale...

Taking a new lover

2015-03-13T14:12:00.000-07:00

No, I didn't get drunk and drive a car into the crime scene by the White House, so stop asking. What a bunch of idiots.

Something has disturbed the sex time-space continuum. I have lately received emails from a number of men and women who are considering bringing a new lover into their relationship. For example, men who are intrigued by the idea of watching a stranger fuck their wives. Or women with the same idea, but more often, "My husband wants me to do this, what do you think?"

My advice: Proceed with great caution. This is real life, not a story on the Kristen Archives.

When I suspected my then husband was having an affair with his assistant, Heather, I took action. After all, I know a thing or two about surveillance. So I rigged up two cameras with sound in our bedroom, along with an actuator to turn them on if more than one person came in the room.

Work took me out of town so he had the place to himself for a couple of days. When I got back, I poured myself a glass of wine and watched the video.

Sure enough, I got to watch my husband be unfaithful. They came in the room taking each others' clothes off and passionately kissing. Pretty soon, he had her bent over the bed and was taking her from behind as they both stood. He was rough with her in a way he had never been with me. Then he gave her a long missionary fucking and she rode him to orgasm. They lay there, legs entwined, him softly calling her name, just as he did with me. Later, she took him in her mouth and brought him off a second time.

By this time, I had stopped the video long enough to pour a second glass of wine and then bring in the entire bottle. I wished I had a martini.

I was angry and jealous. This girl was canoodling with my husband in our marriage bed. She was younger and me and pretty. Blond. Unlike me, she had large breasts, which my husband eagerly sucked as she rode him. She was a moaner (I'm a screamer), so I took a little comfort in that. Less so in that they obviously were having a great time. That I loved him and he had betrayed me. I so wanted to be wrong about my suspicions

But I was also very aroused and territorial. As I watched it a second time, I fingered myself to an explosive orgasm. But nobody was there to hold me afterwards. My feelings were scrambled and strewn all over the room.

I wondered how I would have felt if he had asked my permission. If we had agreed that I could hide in the closet and watch. Maybe join them. It might have been different. I would have had a vote in the matter. But I would have had all the conflicted feelings.

Before I confronted him and took my revenge, we continued to have sex — the ghost of Heather in the marriage bed, of course. I asked him if he wanted to spice things up, if he was bored with me. How would he feel if I took a lover while he watched. Or maybe he wanted to bring in a woman? Or even experiment by being with me and a strange man, taking the man's cock in his mouth? He was turned on by the conversation — the talk ended with him fucking me, my legs up over his shoulders, a hard, frantic fuck where we were both very loud and I came about five times (at least he remembered to call "Linda" instead of "Heather).

Later, he was less enthusiastic. "What if you fall in love with him," he asked. "What if he's better hung and a better lover? It might break up our marriage." Yes, said with no irony.

But he was onto something. I had a girlfriend whose husband was turned on by the idea of being cuckolded. She was initially not interested. They had a good marriage and she had been raised strait-laced. In fact, he was her only lover. But he kept bringing it up, and indeed she had a co-worker who had been hitting on her for some time, a man to whom she was attracted. She warned her husband that if it happened, it might hurt their marriage. But he persisted.

So they had the man over for dinner, a handsome, charming single dude. After enough liquor had been consumed, they brought up the idea. He didn't need any convincing and soon all three were in the bedroom, the husband only watching. To make a long story short, she loved it. The newcomer fucked her like she had never been fucked. He was very skilled, including in cunnilingus where her husband was bumbling at best, and he had, as she said, "a monster dick on him."

For weeks afterward, the husband sulked and was overtaken by bursts of anger. She saw the other man on the side, and eventually moved in with him.

I've heard other stories where things worked out better. I've been to lifestyle clubs with experienced swingers. But these people knew themselves, knew the true state of their relationships, and knew their internal bottom lines.

No two couples are the same. But remember, real life is different from a fantasy.

I'd love to hear your stories, for better or worse, in the comments section.

Changes

2015-02-04T14:04:00.001-08:00

I know. I've been gone.

Since we last visited, I've made some changes in my life. The biggest is that I am no longer playing "cougar."

Don't get my wrong. Parts of it were fun. It was definitely good for my ego to be attractive to younger men. I liked their stamina and their ability to get hard so quickly after coming. I love that strong stream of semen that most young men have. Young, taut skin, washboard abs, muscles and stamina. I had my share of long, thick cocks that stretched me like a virgin. Sweet.

But other things were either turn-offs or got old. In some cases, I was fucking guys half my age. In other words, young enough to be my sons...I tried not to think about that part. I did try to be a good teacher, the older woman initiating the young man into the arts of love in the European way, and in many cases I found willing and grateful pupils. There are women out there thanking me now for the skills their lovers picked up from Linda Sue.

Yet the majority either pretty soon wanted to move on to women their age. I tried not to be jealous, but that green-eyed monster is real. It made me aware that I wasn't 25 any longer. Others wanted a mommy substitute, and I definitely didn't want to play that role.

The thing that started to bother me was when these young bucks complained about my pubic hair and wanted me to shave. I'm proud of my natural red hair down there and it's not as if it is a jungle. It creeped me out that a lover wanted me to look like a prepubescent girl. There were young men who would pull out and masturbate until they came on my belly. This was fun once, because he seemed turned on by it. But it left me feeling unfulfilled, pun intended. I want a man to come in me, and then to feel his penis stay inside me as it became soft, and have him hold me. Their love-making was artless despite my best efforts. I realized that so many young men are porn addicts that they "learn" about sex from videos that show these acts.

No offense to readers who get off on this. But it's not my thing.

Then there was, in most cases, a big cultural and generational divide. I have a job with heavy-duty adult responsibilities, life and death. I like adult things and keep learning and growing. So many of my young lovers acted (and dressed) like adolescents frozen in their teens. They don't read books.

Lately, I've chosen men my age or older. I'm still juggling, but fewer. Two men — one my age, and another one who is ten years older. Both are great lovers (and for those counting, their penises are average length but lovely). And one lover is a woman my age. Jenn is also a natural redhead and my height. To be honest, I have been to a lifestyle club again, so I haven't lost my edge or curiosity. I still love short skirts, garters and stockings. Yes, I'm still a multi-orgasm screamer.

Jenn slowly opened up and told me how she had been brutally raped while working late when some hoods gained entrance to her office. There was nothing sexy about it. No enjoyment and unexpected orgasm. Just cruelty and brutality. It made me question my submissive side and rape fantasies — and I had one scary episode myself that I may tell you about. Anyway, I've tried to set those things aside.

I'm back in country for at least a while. I've grown my hair long, over my shoulders. I think you'd like it. Thanks for all your emails while the blog has been dark. I can't promise to be diligent about posting. Blogging is hard work and I have a fulltime job. And three lovers to keep happy...and to keep me satisfied. Life is good.

P.S., I am looking for some new blogs to link. Ideally, they are real stories like mine, not fantasies. But send me your nominations.

The fluffer

2013-08-23T11:02:00.000-07:00

"Jennifer" was a beautiful girl, 5'5, 100 pounds, killer body, strawberry blond hair, the younger sister of a friend. She came from a comfortably affluent family. Deadly normal. This caused her to flee when she was on the verge of beginning her freshman year at the University of Washington.

She drove to Los Angeles, a city she had visited many times before. At first, she crashed with friends and said she was determined to become an actress. After all, she had excelled in theater in high school and everyone told her how good she looked, how she was a natural. The real world was much tougher. Everyone in LA, at least in "the industry," was more beautiful, more connected, richer, thinner. When she finally found an agent, she knew it was too good to be true. And it was. She went to a second-floor walk-up office in a dingy building on Van Nuys Boulevard. There was a job for her, all right, but it was in adult films.

"I should have run away right then," she told me later, "but I didn't."

Why not? Why do any of us do stupid things when we're young? An internal dare. Rebellion. Facing our fears. Convincing ourselves it will lead to something better. "I just wanted to," was all she offered.

Her "audition" was perfunctory. She was told to get on her knees and suck the cock of the "agent," a sweaty fat man with a small penis. And she did, bringing him off quickly. Jennifer had been hooking up since early in high school and was quite proficient. He seemed impressed, and not. "You're gonna have to learn," he said.

Two days later, the man picked up Jen and drove her an address in the Valley, an ordinary suburban house, a little down on its heels. Inside, however, it was a studio for filming adult videos. A dozen people were inside, some dressed (the crew), some not. "This is your new fluffer," the man said to another man she learned was the director. She had never heard the term. It would be her job for the next year. Although "fluffer" is often associated with gay porn, it's also a job in straight adult film. Usually teenage girls, fluffers are there to help the male porn stars get hard for their scenes with the women. Jennifer was 18 but looked younger. She wondered if she would be asked to disrobe. She was comfortable with her body, even an exhibitionist. She was not, at least not at first. As the job was explained to her, she also felt a little let down. Although adult videos were not "Hollywood," she at least assumed she might be featured as an actress. Hell, it couldn't hurt. Other adult stars had crossed over. She might meet important people. But, no. She was just part of the crew. A very special part.

She was lectured by the director and his assistant, a woman: Your job is just to get the guys hard when they can't do it on their own. Never bring him off. It became obvious that the men, even though they were quite handsome, were "props." The women were the stars, and most of them had little patience for male co-stars who couldn't get it up. That's where a fluffer came in. There were three studs that day, each one with a bigger penis than she had ever seen before. She dutifully stimulated two of them during the multiple takes. The third seemed rock hard all the time ("if you have an erection lasting more than four hours..."). That first day, it was "phat" to be there, sucking the cocks of strange men. They were all clean and had great bodies. As far as she could tell, the "plot" was a husband who tries to defend his wife from a gangbang and fails. The female stars ignored her.

In good months, she might work every day, making enough money to get her own place and buy clothes without asking for help from her parents. As far as they knew, she was getting work doing commercials for local television (that way they couldn't look for her). On big shoots, there might be two or even three fluffers. But Jen was the most attractive and skillful. Only once did she get so involved with a stud — and he with her — that she brought him off in her mouth. That led to a hard slap from the director and a black eye that lasted two weeks. She was a beautiful girl, and a few of the studs came after her when shooting was done. She enjoyed being fucked by such skilled lovers, once she learned how to handle their size in her pussy — there was a difference. Somehow she thought the adult industry required regular checks for STDs. Later she learned this was not necessarily true. The money and productions got better as she got a reputation as one of the most skilled fluffers in the business. Her agent took a percentage, of course. Eventually, she was cast in a few videos, always as a teenage cheerleader, babysitter or, in the creepier plots, a daughter who got fucked by "daddy" and his buddies. Truth was, she liked the sex. She liked the scene as some of the women actors warmed to her. When she came on camera, it was usually real.

But this is a sad story. The fluffer did not become even an adult video star. She was not a young woman in charge of her wild side like my friend, Mary Beth. A second-tier actor became her boyfriend and introduced her to cocaine. Unfortunately, she loved it. By the time I found her, she was wandering Hollywood Boulevard (true story) at one a.m., high as a 747, dressed like a cheap prostitute. In fact, that was what she had become. There was an echo of her beauty left, but the life was gone from her eyes and her 22-year-old face looked 40. Her sister had asked for my help. As I was half dragging, half carrying her to my car, a big dude came up. Her pimp. He made a couple of threats before I kicked him in the balls and, as he bent toward me, drove the heel of my hand into his nose. I could have arrested him, but who needed the paperwork and the suspicion of the local cops? I took her back to Seattle. She's been in and out of rehab ever since. That's my fluffer story, gentlemen. Wish it could have been a turn-on without consequences.

The voyeur

2013-08-02T14:21:00.000-07:00

Here's a story I've never told you. When I was married, my husband and I did **everything**. He was the man who got my anal sex cherry. But he was always pushing the envelope, and over time he kept wanting to see me fuck another man. I had my worries and warned him that he might not really like it if it happened. We talked about this extensively — he knew all my sluttish past — but he kept after me. So I agreed.

One afternoon, I brought home an old boyfriend, assuring him that my husband was on a business trip, and took him to our bedroom. I'll call him Tom. Unbeknownst to Tom, my husband was sitting in our walk-in closet, in the dark with the door cracked open. It had a great view of the bed as Tom and I got it on. My husband had an average size penis, but quite nice and really knew how to use it. Tom, on the other hand, was very well-endowed. He carried a log: Almost nine inches, thick and uncircumcised. Once we were naked, I put on quite a show, pulling my long red hair over one shoulder and licking his big dick like a lollypop and then gently lowering the foreskin and taking his sensitive head in my mouth. This went on a long time. I was so wet from the knowledge that my hubby was watching all this.

We fucked in all sorts of positions: Missionary, me on top, him taking me from behind and then him on top again with my legs pulled over his shoulders and then pulled tightly toward me in the crooks of his elbows. I had not forgotten what a good lover Tom was — how sweet that log felt inside — and I must have come four times, each orgasm more intense than the previous one. We fucked for about 45 minutes. When he finally came in me, my mind was floating somewhere up on the ceiling, the walls echoing from my screams. I completely forgot that my husband was in the closet.

Afterwards, Tom had to go. He was like that. Not one to stay and hold me. I had never liked that part. When I came back to the bedroom, my husband was still invisible. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," I said. He appeared and sat on the bed, an expression on his face I had never seen before. The room carried a very strong smell of pussy and semen, a stranger's semen.

After a long time, I asked, "Do you want to talk?"

No, he wanted sex. I was only wearing an old Harvard T-shirt, my nipples pressed against it, my red bush flaming in the ambient light, and he kept that on as he pushed me down and licked my pussy. I came almost instantly, but he just held on and kept the tongue work going. He tongue-fucked me, tasting Tom's come. My pussy was throbbing with arousal and electricity. Then he fucked me on top, very hard, and turned me over and raised up my ass, fucking me even harder from behind. I didn't expect it when he slid his cock into my ass, which was only lubricated by my juices, thrust a few times and came with his own guttural scream.

He reached into the bedside table, pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit up. He hardly ever smoked, but when he did he chose expensive Dunhills, a reminder of a trip we had made to London. He offered me a drag and I took it. We sat in silence. I was very sore. Come was seeping out of my pussy and ass.

I was trying to stay awake.

"Are you still happy we did this?" I said.

"You looked and sounded like you were really having fun."

I hesitated and then told the truth. "I was."

After more silence, he told me how he felt. He was and is a very articulate man. I'll paraphrase because of course I don't remember it exactly. He felt all sorts of things: Jealousy, arousal, humiliation, anger, arousal. He needed to fuck me "to take back my woman." I told him he had never lost me, and gently reminded him that this had not just been his idea, but something he had been pushing me to do. "I know." His tone was unreadable. He was very curious about how it felt, especially how Tom's large penis felt inside me. I did my best to describe it. He wanted details. And how was it different from when we fucked? And was I turned on by knowing he was watching? We talked a long time. I told him he was my best lover, which was true, but I knew he didn't believe me.

Our marriage settled back into its normal patterns and we didn't do this again. I felt bad for him, because as much as the experience satisfied his appetite for kink, he had watched himself be cuckolded, watched his wife not just like it but lose herself to it. And, as with any man, the big dick really stuck with him. I'll never know how much this played into his later infidelity. I think he felt he had to prove something. And I am in no position to judge.

He's changed

2013-01-25T14:43:00.002-08:00

I'm totally exhausted from the inauguration. No time for sex. I forgot to tell you about going home to Seattle to see my crazy family. Mom always wants me to stay at their house, but I like the freedom of having my own hotel room downtown. I did make time to see my friend and former lover Mike, who is still stationed up there. He's gotten married, but agreed to have a drink. Knowing him, I didn't think a wedding band would stop him, especially with the miniskirt I was wearing, and I would get a good submissive fucking like he used to give me. Our affair is chronicled here, here, and here.

Even over martinis, he seemed very different. More mellow, actually interested in me, talked lovingly about his wife. Still, he accepted my invitation to come back to my hotel room, we took off our weapons, and eventually got into a mad makout session on the couch. I kept feeling his big, hard cock through his slacks, feeling my pussy getting very wet. Memories of our affair were bombarding me. I had his shirt unbottoned and loved the feeling of those washboard abs. He was breathing heavily. At any minute, I expected him to throw me to the floor, hike up my skirt and fuck me from behind. But he didn't.

"Come over to the bed."

"Linda...no...I should go..."

"I'm not the morality police, Mike. I can feel your cock. I know what you want." I sure as hell knew what I wanted.

I took his hand and pulled him toward the bed.

He grabbed my shoulders and looked at me a long time. I could see him wrestling with himself. Then he gently sat me on the bed and pushed me down. Getting on his knees, he stoked my legs and took off my shoes. Then he pulled off my panty hose without creating a single run. I was shivering with arousal as he sucked my toes, licked the tops of my feet and ankles, then started kissing and licking up each leg. Just when I thought I would feel his tongue on my pussy, he just brushed it with his face.

"I love your scent," he said. "I never forget that."

"I want you inside me," I commanded, but it probably came out more as a begging whimper.

Instead, he just kept teasing for the longest time. Then I felt his tongue lightly tracing along my vulva. I almost came right then. He could sense it and pulled back, nibbling on the inside of my thighs. When I was cooled down a little, he would lick me again. I had the beginnings of a massive orgasm, my feet burning and seeing colors through my closed eyes. And he backed off.

His tongue came back again, so lightly. I was clawing the sheets, reaching for his hands, but he kept them on my ass, holding my firmly in place. His entire face was hidden by my skirt.

Suddenly, it felt like my whole body exploded. I could hear some woman screaming. It was me. Pulses of orgasm radiated out as he just kept it going and going. When I was completely spent, he tongue-fucked me into another orgasm. Then he licked me gently for a few more minutes as I lay whimpering.

"Fuck me."

"I can't, Linda." He didn't even call me "Sue," as he used to do to irritate me.

"Let me suck your cock.

I reached for his zipper, but he just took my hand and kissed it. Then I heard the door closed. For about an hour, I just dozed, completely satisfied. Well, not completely. But it was pretty damned sweet. His wife is lucky.

The pickup artist

2013-01-14T13:56:00.001-08:00

Between work and life it's difficult to keep up with this blog. But I get so many nice emails from men — and some women, that I'll keep trying.

So I've been trying to get my young man hooked up with women his age. We've been to bookstores, art galleries and even bars (which I don't think work that well). I've coached him. Before we go out, I give him a great cock-sucking, but I won't let him come. I want him to be motivated. So far, not much. He's not bad looking. He's smart and emotionally intelligent. We were at one gallery when he started talking to a woman, an attractive brunette, while I hovered in the distance. Pretty soon she's got her hand on his arm. As I paid more attention, I realized she was my age. So I went over and broke it up. He was mad at me, but for God's sake he doesn't need to go from one fortysomething to another. He's got his whole life ahead of him.

It made me call my ex-husband for advice. He reminded me that he never had luck with women his age when he was in his twenties. It was only in his thirties that he learned how to talk to women (get them talking about themselves, be a great listener, dress well) and flirt ("Linda? That's my favorite name"). He said if he could go back to his twenties with the knowledge he learned later he would have "cut a swath through the young womanhood of the East Coast). Instead, he was initiated into the arts of love by older women. "Don't let him fall in love with you," he cautioned.

Back to the problem at hand. I've made him talk about the girls in his classes that he lusts after. I've made him start to go to parties at school. He hates small talk. I'm trying to fix that. Young women don't want to talk about government dysfunction or the demise of the Whig Party. I keep coaching — and fucking him. I probably shouldn't do the latter, but he's safe and fun.

It is still hard for men. I've been hit on since I was thirteen. When I was in college, especially, I was so overwhelmed by the offers, come-ons and my own horniness that it just seemed like a blur of cocks inside me and my legs in the air. But unless a guy has a certain look and way of carrying himself when he's that age, say the cool bad dude persona, he likely won't get easy access to young women. Would I have been attracted to my young man when I was his age? Probably not. I was stupid.

Women talk about sex I

2012-12-17T14:26:00.001-08:00

Yes, we do. You men just don't know it. We talk about sex at work, in the gym, over drinks and dinner, driving in the car together. Here's a sampling of what I've picked up: Heather has had 38 lovers. As she's gotten older, she feels chagrin about so many. She claims she had a guy with a 12-inch cock once. "What did it feel like?" I asked. "Different. It hurt at first." Her favorite lover was average sized but thick. She loves his cock, can't get enough of it, loves to suck it. The problem: She can't stand to swallow. My suggestion was that she suck him off after he had come inside her and then spit it out on him if need be. Problem solved. Heather's average-sized lover is a happy man.

Jennifer doesn't suck cock or let her lovers go down on her. I don't get this, but she is adamant and quickly retreats into a defensive silence. Is she afraid of losing control if he licks her? Did she learn "it's nasty down there, that's where you pee...," as my mother told me? I can't figure it out. Beautiful girl. Sad.

Amber (not my sister) is married to a man who fucks her, missionary style, once every ten days. She counts it. Hates it. He comes in about two minutes, then is off to his man cave to watch "motor sports." She stays with him for the children. About two years ago, she started falling in with married men and has affairs. "It's the best sex since college," she tells me, "and they don't want to marry me or be in a relationship. It's just about the sex." She loves being given cunnilingus again, taken from behind and fucked in the ass.

The anal thing was very difficult for Steph. Her boyfriend was after it and she was afraid of the pain. It got to where she wouldn't let him fuck her doggy-style because she was afraid he'd try to take her sweet ass cherry. I talked her through teaching him about her concerns and trying things such as ass-fucking her with one finger while he was fucking her pussy with his dick (she liked it). We talked about positioning her pelvis and having him go very slowly. I learned the sweet surrender over time and now adore it. Well, she gave it a try and it didn't hurt. But she didn't like it. In my experience, only a small percentage of women like being fucked anally. More want it as a one-time novelty or because of the "forbidden fruit" nature. "My boyfriend/husband wants anal sex" is a big conversation topic.

I'll tell more later. Meanwhile, I've been taking the virgin to museums, gallery openings and bookstores — not bars — to let him work on pickups. So far, slow going.

A good angry fuck

2012-12-04T14:23:00.001-08:00

I've been out of country and of course my lovers don't understand. This is particularly true of the (recent) virgin. How can somebody who works for the Department of Agriculture be out of pocket and not even reachable by email? Of course, I can't tell him the truth.

He has been watching Homeland and the series kind of creeps me out. I am definitely not Carrie. Her tradecraft is totally unrealistic and she'd be drummed out of the agency in a heartbeat in real life. Still, it makes me uncomfortable. The virgin can tell. I would like to spend the night with Claire Danes.

Anyhoo, the virgin was disappointingly faithful So when we got back together, he game me a good, long angry fucking. I think I came about a dozen times. He doesn't think I have been faithful to him, but the truth is that I didn't get laid the whole time. Hence, my dozen orgasms as he slammed his young cock into me. Afterwards, while he slept, I looked at him and couldn't believe how young he is. Young enough to be my son. But I have taught him how to fuck. Later, he licked me for about an hour until I was quivering and my throat was sore from screaming.

I've got to take him out and teach him how to pick up girls...

Fast learner

2012-09-11T12:37:00.003-07:00

The virgin loves sex. Like most young men, I've had to break him of some bad habits he's learned from seeing porn on the Internet. It made me glad to find this site by Cindy Gallop (I bet she does). The New York Times also did an article in the Style section about this cougar. I'm doing my modest part.

The good: He's very eager to learn. So as his stamina has increased, I've taught him tricks such as "riding high" in the missionary position, which lets him apply more pressure on a woman's clitoris. And to swivel his hips when he puts my ankles over his shoulders or takes me from behind. He's become very good at cunnilingus and I reward him with feather blowjobs that make him get very loud. He's a legs man who loves for me to wrap mine around him and run them up and down his back and the backs of his legs. I've taught him how to suck my nipples (hard) while cautioning him that not every woman likes that.

We can go five times in a night. He's very sweet and loving, so teaching him not to pull out immediately and to hold me is easy. And the come...OMG. He's got the strongest stream I've ever encountered and can deliver a big load down my throat even after he's come in my a couple of times. He likes women, a big asset. He's smart and funny.

We fucked most of last weekend. Then I had a Sunday date with another man in my life, who gave me yet more good sex. Monday morning, I was pooped and (nicely) sore.

The not-so-good: I've already had the "Don't fall in love with me talk" and he says he's ok with that. But I'm not sure his heart with hear his intellect. So this may come to tears. In the meantime, I am trying to up his social skills and (hidden) charm so he can leave the sex nest and find women his age. It will be tough. When I was that age, I probably wouldn't have been interested in him. But I was a stupid girl, as some are, taken in by shallow things. And plenty of young studs are lousy lovers. In the meantime, we'll keep going.

With a cherry on top

2012-08-19T14:51:00.003-07:00

Girl walks into a bar...

I was in one of my favorite watering holes not far from DuPont Circle, a muggy D.C. night, wearing shorts and a light top, no bra. After nursing a martini, I noticed a young man drinking a beer and reading a book. It was one of Arthur Link's books on Woodrow Wilson. That got my interest. A man who reads! And one of our finest historians! So I took the initiative and soon we were talking about the Progressive Era. He was smart and shy, tall with wavy dark hair.

Nothing happened.

Two weeks later, I happened by the same place. This time I was dressed for work. He was still reading Link. We swapped stories, mine sanitized for civilian consumption. He's in grad school, which brought back plenty of grad-school memories for me (and lots of grad-school fucking, which I didn't get into). Finally, I asked him if he wanted to go back to his place for another drink and we went. He was either one of the shyest men I had ever met or he was gay, but from the way he had been appreciatively noticing my body from the first, I took a chance on the former.

In his small apartment, modestly furnished but filled with good books, we sat on the sofa talking for a couple of hours before he took my hand and held it, just that. His hand was strong and warm. I was very wet. That "I'm going to get fucked" sense was apparent. So I took the initiative and kissed him. Pretty soon, we were making out. He liked kissing, which was a good sign. His cock was punching against the fabric of his slacks and I stroked it without pulling it out.

I led him back to his bedroom and we both fell into his small, unmade bed. Pretty soon, we were naked. He gave me an exquisite fingering while I fondled his penis: average size but with a thick shaft and a prominent, big head. I mounted him and guided his cock inside me, getting that nice, filled feeling. He put his warm hands on my hips and I started riding him.

"Oh!"

Yes, I could feel him coming in me. It had taken all of thirty seconds.

So I just rocked on top and got a nice little orgasm, then lay in his arms. He was chagrined, apologizing. His poor penis was totally flaccid, covered with our mingled juices. He actually batted it back and forth, trying to make it erect again. "Don't hurt it," I said and just stroked his chest and enjoyed the closeness. Men have such a difficult time sometimes...

Of course I wasn't going to leave things at that. Pretty soon, I took him in my mouth and he was hard again. Then I put him inside me and we fucked for several minutes this time, and I had a big screamer that left me totally wrung out. All the time, he was so gentle and caring in his love-making, even if it wasn't an athletic hour-long fucking in every position. Later, he went down on me and it was quite fine. I ran my fingers through his wavy hair as he gave me another orgasm.

Later, when we were talking, I learned that he was a virgin. And nineteen. So, there you go, Linda Sue. This cougar thing has gone too far. He's young enough to be my son. And, sure, I'm a little smug having gotten his cherry. If we play so more I'll teach him moves that women later in his life will thank me for. The danger, of course, is that he'll fall in love with me.

Cheap LA whore

2012-07-20T13:47:00.003-07:00

Long-distance relationships are always fraught, the sexual tension and release explosive, and you don't know the person in the same way as if you were in the same city dating every day. Still, I met a man once who made me abandon my caution.

I still remember when we both had business in Los Angeles, and of course I couldn't be truthful to him about what my real business there was. We shared a room at a hotel near LAX that had once been top-of-the-line but was just on the edge of shabby. After pulling off the bedspread, on which ultraviolet would expose countless semen stains of strangers, we were naked on clean, soft sheets. Just the kissing and feel of our bodies totally touching from head to toe had me about to come. Which I did when he climbed on top and fucked me, first in missionary, then with my legs scissored in front of his chest (weird, different feeling!), him leaning close and pinioning my legs with his arms (knees at elbows) and then a long big nasty with my legs over his shoulders as he thrust into me while turning his head to kiss my ankles. Whenever I could, I would look down to see his cock going into me, one of my biggest visual turn-ons.

"I'm a cheap LA whore," I teased, an indeed I was wearing sheer black stockings and garter and being impaled in a crappy hotel room. He wouldn't go there. "You are not," he said, telling me how attractive and wonderful I was. I joked, but perhaps there was something behind the words and perhaps he sensed it.

Yes, I am a slut and must be tough in my professional life. But I had really fallen for this man. He was smart and kind, cleaned up well, had a stimulating range of interests and could always make me laugh with a very dry sense of humor. I had that most dangerous feeling a woman can have: A vision for us. (And maybe some men are as vulnerable). Yet he had been hurt very badly in his recently ended marriage and was wary (even though he never gave me an angry revenge fuck against the ex — he spoke kindly of her). The sex was great and I went with it. But 'though slut that I am, I wanted more. I didn't want to be just his transitional lover.

In bed, we talked until his cock was recovered, and then I worked my way down his chest, kissing his body and rubbing my pert breasts and nipples against him. Stationed between his legs, I licked and sucked him for half an hour until he had another big orgasm. He had the strongest stream of come of any lover I'd had, and even with the second orgasm I got a nice treat.

Then he gave me a working over: Long time kissing and fondling and sucking my breasts. Then I swear he played my pussy for an hour, bringing me right to the edge and pulling back, over and over. At one point, he was lightly rubbing my perineum with one finger while (I learned later) using two fingers to make a "U" motion at the bottom of my pussy, all while tongue-worshipping me. All I could manage was a moan of "What are you doooooing?" before I exploded. It was the most amazing feeling.

We fucked five more times over the next 15 hours before we got on our planes and went different directions. He got married two years later. I won't say/admit it broke my heart. The sex was great and maybe we got the best either had to give at that time.

Where I've fucked...

2012-07-12T13:02:00.002-07:00

...On a picnic table in a state park, with a wide sweeping meadow around us and the sky cobalt blue over my head. No splinters in my butt, thank goodness.

...In a compartment of a train (more than once). The gentle rocking motion was very sensual. One lover fingered me to a barely-suppressed orgasm on a half-empty coach car on Amtrak between San Diego and LA. Another was fingering me on the subway in New York and the Metro in Paris. I'm sure people noticed.

...On a rich lover's private jet (no government planes, big no-no). Never did the Mile High Club on an airliner.

...On a sailboat, more than once. When you're a sweet young thing it's amazing how many times you are asked to "help crew" a sailboat. (Sorry guys).

...In the back of a van. I was too long-legged to fuck in a car, although I've given many a blowjob in cars. One lover licked my pussy in his wife's mommyvan — Bad Girl, Bad Girl...

...Against the wall and on the sink of several restrooms in restaurants and bars.

...In several jacuzzis and pools.

...On the beach, careful not to let sand get on our privates. It was night in Santa Monica. I was young.

...In my office, once, very bad judgment but I didn't get caught.

...In a professor's office. I realized a couple of guys in a nearby building had been watching us.

...On the lawn of a prominent national monument. I had on a miniskirt and no panties. Unzipped him, his cock sprung out and I sat down ;-)

...In my parents' bed.

...In the back of an SUV in a blizzard.

...A ski lodge. I'm a bad skier. Better with the sex moves.

...Outside, against the wall of a building, in an alley, him holding me up.

What are some of your unusual sex-spot experiences?

Cunnilingus Avoidance Syndrome

2012-06-14T14:21:00.002-07:00

Girl walks into a bar. She has a drink with another girl. The talk turns, as it often does to sex. I'll call her Megan and she was having trouble with her boyfriend. It was about licking her pussy. He wanted to — she didn't want that.

Now, Megan is twenty years younger than me and looking at her is pretty depressing. I still look good. Men still look at me. But this night all eyes were on her tight little body, long legs in short-shorts, perfect ass and small, pert breasts. She could have been me at that age. But the difference is that I've always loved cunnilingus (I hate the term "eat her out").

Yet I have run into this before, including in emails from both male and female readers. Some women just don't like receiving oral sex. Megan says she likes sucking her boyfriend off and swallowing his load. But she doesn't want him to be "down there," and it's become a source of tension.

I have two theories:

1) Some women were very fucked up about sex by their parents. "Down there" is a dirty, sinful place. It's where you pee! I heard all this from my mother, but it didn't stop me from loving cunnilingus, especially when I discovered lovers who were really good at it ("cunninglinguists).

2) Other women don't want to lose control. The more I talked to Megan, I think this was her issue. When a guy (or woman) really licks me well, I have violent orgasms, ones that put me out on the dark side of the moon. It can be so intense I've even ended up crying afterward. Yes, guys, this is one reason you should hold a woman after making love to her.

I'd be interested in your theories and experiences with this in the comments section.