I touch myself

Sometimes in the early morning light, I sit on my window sill and caress myself. There’s something so primitive and erotic about masturbating by the rising sun. And as she makes her debut just over the horizon, I cum and scream with her….

Heeeee's Baaaaack

FUCKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!! Why the hell is he jumping in my fantasy?

Bunny and I were doing just fine; I have new batteries, a new bottle of KY and this mofo pops up...again...DAYUM!!!! When he showed up last week, I shook it off. When he showed up on Monday, it made me pause. And now tonight, for the 3rd time in a row, he has invaded my orgasms...what is going on?

It has been almost two years to the day since I finally broke it off with him...for good...no going back...no communication...no phone sex...no hotels...nothing. Why is he in my head?

We were crazy about each other. We had passion, love and friendship. We talked about spending our lives together. We could just never get our timing right. When he was available, I was seeing someone or when I was involved, he was available. We were never available for each other at the same time.

At first I was beginning my career and he was still in school. Then he wanted me to move with him and I decided to stay and focus on my career. Once I had become a bit more settled, he was seeing someone. When he again asked me to go away with him, I was seeing someone. This patten kept going for years until he sealed the deal with another woman.

Throughout our years together, we took amicable breaks, had painful break-ups and always found our ways back to each other...even during his marriage. He was in pharmaceutical sales, so we would meet around the country. The passion never waned; the friendship didn't falter and my love stayed true.

Even when we weren't together, we were together. We had phone sex at least twice a week and long conversations, discussions and arguments about everything under the sun. We often joked that we would make a truly horrible couple because we would've killed each other with our opinions and sarcasm.

Finally in September 2008, I said good-bye and let him go forever. I promised myself I wouldn't call, text or email him, and I didn't. He called a few times, on my birthday and around the holidays, eventually he stopped when he realized I wouldn't respond.

Letting him go was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. If there is such a thing as soul mates, then he was mine.

Why is he all of a sudden making appearances when I masturbate? It's not like I don't have others to "get me there." I even called out his name this last time, which was not good...though it was the best orgasm I've had in a LONG time.

I can't have him in my head, my pussy or on my lips. I'm not that strong...FUCKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!

I remember when we first met, he thought I was a snob and I thought he was a thug...at least I was wrong LOL.

How sprung is she?

She is sprung, and I don't mean the regular kind of sprung, I mean seriously sprung. She is soooo sprung. How sprung is she? I'm glad you asked.

She is so sprung...

... she cried when they climaxed.
... she sucked him until he came in her mouth and she swallowed.
... she let him ride bareback and cum inside of her.
... she didn't complain when he nibbled on her clit to hard.
... she allowed him to fuck her up the ass.
... she called him "Big Daddy."
... she cuddled with him afterward.
... she didn't mind him using her toothbrush.
... she cooked him breakfast the morning after.

and finally, she is so sprung, she now masturbates to visions of them together.

I told you she's sprung.

Ummmm, last night

I walked into the bedroom.
I went over to the dresser.
I opened the drawer.
I pulled out my rabbit.
I put it on the nightstand.
I pulled the covers back.
I took off my pajama bottoms.
I let them drop to the floor.
I got in bed.
I pulled the covers up.
I reached out of bed to my right.
I grabbed my rabbit.
I got wet.
I brought it under the covers.
I opened my thighs.
I positioned my rabbit against my clit.
I moved the pillow from under my head.
I crossed my legs at the ankles
I flipped the switch.
I adjusted the setting.
I closed my eyes.
I contracted my thighs.
I heard him say my name.
I called out his name.
I grasped for air.
I arched my back.
I tugged at the sheets.
I heard it again, "Shannon," Shannon."
I felt his large hand around my throat.
I smelled the scent of our fluids mixing.
I tasted his magnificent kiss.
I opened my eyes for a moment.
I closed them again.
I convulsed under the covers.
I screamed into the pillow.
I came.

We came together.

My Addiction

It happened again last night. I had a dream about him. I didn't want to, my subconscious has a mind of its own -- yes, pun intended. It probably didn't help that I went to bed after masturbating to him.

In my dream, I see the dark brown of his eyes, the gleaming of his broad smile, the smoothness of his milk chocolate skin and the flow of his locks as he came towards me. My mind's eye can scarcely comprehend the God-made goodness I see before me. I know I'm staring, I know my mouth is hanging open and I'm starting to sweat...I don't care.

My mind takes control and I can hear him saying so many wonderfully titillating and naughty things to me over & over & over in my head. I had only ever heard him say, "good morning." The bass in his voice makes the hairs on my arm stand-up, causes my knees to get weak and bring a familiar moistness to my pussy.

My mind won't stop. I try to wake up. I don't want to dream about him anymore. I don't want to think about the woulda, shoulda, coulda of it. Wake up Shannon! Wake up!

My mind keeps going and I'm forced to recall the rhythmic stride of his gait. It is confident, strong and deliberate. It has a beat that I can easily match and move with as if it was my own. I'm seeing a majestic lion move across the Serengeti and I am his prey...to be conquered, taken and eaten alive. I am consumed by all that is him.

This brief encounter envelopes my psyche, and my mind won't/can't let go. I'm addicted to him; I can admit I have a problem; and I don't wanna let it go. He has brought me immeasurable pleasure for so long, I don't know that I could let him go if I wanted to. Just the thought of him brings a smile to my face.

When I ponder him for a moment, my mouth gets dry.
When I bring his voice to my remembrance, my nipples get hard.
When I recall our brief encounter, my pussy tingles and gets damp.
And when my mind's eye has its way and imagines the possibilities, I convulse, moan, writhe in ecstasy and cum.

My mind has gotten used to him and my body craves him...I'm losing control. I dream about him almost nightly, I'm masturbating to him at least twice a week and all he ever said to me was "good morning."

She could and she did

As the adage goes, those who can, do, and those who can't, teach (or something like that LOL). And when it came to sex, she could and she did.

She could fuck everyday and every night.
She could deep throat.
She could swallow.
She could take it up the ass like a porn star.
She could take it hard & fast.
She could take it slow & easy.
She could give and take pain.
She could cum from clitoral stimulation and vaginal penetration.
She could have damn near anything smooth & cylindrical stuck in her pussy and enjoy it.
She could take two guys at once.
She could masturbate to the memories of her experiences, fantasies were not needed.
She could lick her man's fingers clean, enjoying the taste of herself.
She could kiss for hours, licking, sucking, nibbling on her man's lips & tongue.
She could make all of her man's fantasies come true.

Needless to say, she didn't have much time to teach.