ba1dbf4dde426e564bc89f9709291105.jpgHello again, my perverted friends. Welcome back for another installment of “What’s that bitch gonna say next?” Well, it’s true. Don’t you think if I COULD bite my tongue, that I WOULD bite my tongue?? I mean, at least, sometimes. I am 100% positive that I would get different results… SHOULD I choose to do things a DIFFERENT way. Just saying. Food for thought. I had the munchies.

 

Today has been a game changer for me, because today I have truly felt LOVE. FEEL LOVE. AM LOVED. Not in the usual sense of the word, mind you. But LOVE, in just one of it’s many brilliant fashions. It wasn’t packaged all pretty and cute. Rather, it was stern and blunt and cut me deep and to the core. But it was BRUTALLY HONEST. And, that, to me, IS LOVE. But, this LOVE, in particular,  reminded me of someone. Someone very, very special to me.

 

I worked via CL ads for many years. You cannot imagine the vast variety of perverts Right there. Just one click away. As I’ve mentioned before, a CL kinkster knows no bounds. And I do mean… NO BOUNDS. More often than I care to recall, I would find myself just inches from a down and dirty weirdo knocking at my hotel room door. And, of course, I do mean weirdo in the ODDEST and FREAKIEST of definitions, with perversions you and I could never possibly comprehend. (No offense to just WEIRD PEOPLE. I’m actually a member of that group. GO WEIRDOZ!)

 

It was 2015, and some unknown illness had plagued me most of that year. I was beginning to think that my job had finally taken a toll on my body. One of those dates turned out to be very different from the rest. After getting to know him over a few months time, I began to actually want to give up the work that I had cum to love so very much, so as to appease his fear-filled jealousy. 

 

His name was Joe. There’s no use for stage names here. He would never, EVER read anything written by me. To be honest, he probably hasn’t heard TOO many of the words I DO say, anyway. You see, Joe’s quite the narcissist. But that never mattered that much to me. I don’t know why, but I loved every single imperfection and flaw of character that he possessed. Those attributes just made him so much more… Human, and, therefore… More LIKE ME.

 

I know you’re picturing some hot young stud with stamina like a stallion and an 18 year old’s libido. Oh, but how wrong you would be. Joe is no handsome man of mystery. He’s a 58 year old alcoholic with low self-esteem and a receding hairline… That I simply couldn’t get enough of. His hands were rough, but his lips were hot, wet, and smooth. Unfortunately, Joe had difficulties maintaining an erection, and cumming was simply out of the question.

 

Well, I dispelled that belief, not that it fuckin mattered anyway. I showed him some tricks on manipulating the skin for entry, and we worked on his stamina. Soon, he was returning my passion in ALL ways. We traveled to a sex shop to get some intimate toys. Of all things, I became the new owner of what is commonly referred to as a PUSSY PUMP. (It acts the same as a penis pump… drawing the air away so as to inflate and swell the cock or labia. The appeal for this alludes me to this day.)

 

I would love to tell you that my pussy became thick and deliciously plumped. Perhaps, then, I would have better appreciated the 79.99 price tag. But, in truth, the end result reminded me a whole lot more of the face of someone suffering from a severe allergic reaction to nuts. Come to find out, JOE LOVES NUTS. Who’d thunk it?? 

 

Yes, I’d have to say that Joe was certainly a kinky man. He is one of only three people who have ever been able to fist me. (You cannot imagine my turmoil over divulging this very personal information.) This act of indecency is actually very difficult for me, as my vagina has changed shape in the past decade. I used to be able to take MORE cock, and now, it seems to be more the opposite. UNLESS… 1. I’m super duper relaxed. 2. My pussy is running with my own juices from squirting. 3. Said gent has the hand of a small female. And then… Ehhhh.

 

It’s slightly painful, but I have a video to prove that it is possible. Of course, the squirting orgasms that accompany said fist insertions are almost life-threatening all on there own. And the pruney dehydrated mess they leave behind is far less than attractive. So, let’s just say… It’s rare as fuck. Each of the only three men to have shared these experiences with me, were, not only longtime friends, but I was also engaged to two of them. To hold one of those coveted spots in the life of a squirt-tastic queen like myself… Well, it’s a revered position, to be sure.

 

Thank God, that the more you contract your vagina during orgasming, the more control you have over the grip of your snatch. I cum EVERY FUCKING DAY. So… Oooh. I’m kinda surprised that whole heads don’t fit in that son of a bitch. But, good ole Greedy… Always snaps back to attention, and NEVER let’s go of a GOOD THANG. 

 

Did I mention how mad I was over this man? He was a true man’s man to me. (Although he did date that one transvestite for like a year. I’m sure it was nothing serious.) He WAS probably the grouchiest man I’d ever met (tough competition: my ex was 75 when he passed away), but I saw something no one else COULD. Despite all of his attempts to portray a hard azz asshole… Joe was one of the sweetest fellas I’ve ever met. Deep down. Okay… WAY, WAY DEEP DOWN. 

 

Hey. At least he had a heart. And with that insane CHEMISTRY of our’s… Well, it was more than enough for me. Unfortunately, for us, it just wasn’t enough for Joe. You see, he knew from day one that I was a sex addict. He knew how often I fucked. He knew if I wasn’t seeing a friend, I was probably getting myself off. He knew pretty much ALL OF MY PERSONAL LIFE. At first, he actually seemed to feed off of my tales of debauchery, and the telling of them would gain us a few more stolen moments with the dick size he preferred; Romping like hormonal teenagers in my king size hotel room bed.

 

Eventually, though, the issue would always resurface. Despite my insistent denials and heartfelt pleading, he was absolutely convinced that he could never satisfy me sexually. I went on trial, so to speak, begging for his trust on the issue. Assuring him that I don’t lie, and certainly never EVER would I play with someone’s heart in such a careless fashion. I suppose it wasn’t enough, because, after two late night overseas phone calls, I was stood up in excellent fashion. His excuse: After two months of dating me, (and while I was in the hospital experiencing kidney failure), I was informed that he had recently married someone else.

 

Of course, my heart was broken. I don’t quite understand the intensity of the connection we shared, or where it originated from, but, with all certainty, I can tell you it was truly explosive. FOR BOTH OF US. I still have videos of us pumping up my pussy in a hotel room in Foley, Alabama. How fucking crazy is that shit? He is still so fine to me, with his light brown freckles and his ever thinning patch of copper hair. And he wouldn’t be Joe without that stern, almost evil, set to his jaw. DELICIOUS!!! I mean… If you ask me.

 

Very few times have I allowed myself to even dream about life on the opposite side of the NSA line. Most aspects of that side just do not seem that appealing to me. But when there is a connection… a TRUE CONNECTION, both parties can’t help but be aware of it. And, for some wonderfully unknown reason, I seem to unleash the carnal beast lying dormant inside many a man. (Trust me. I DON’T MIND. I make a fabulous fuck toy, darlin.)

 

Joe was one of the most confident men I’d ever known in every arena. But one. I never did understood the huge hangup he had about his own cock. Listen up. If you continue to talk down to your penis, why would it ever wanna stay up?? Besides, we could still fuck. Although, I’ll admit, the positions were greatly limited. But, most certainly, VERY DOABLE. Besides, there were a million other kinky activities we could engage in to get off with. Shit. We’d already crossed off most of them already, and ALL (but that damn pussy pump) were sensationally stimulating for BOTH of us.

 

Joe didn’t seem to be able to see it that way. He envisioned a future of sexual disappointments, tucked tail, and ran. Part of me knew it was for the best. At times, I am barely able to kick myself in the azz to move it with forward momentum. I would have to say that I just might not be the right person for the jobbing of helping to kick someone else’s. Part of me would do ANYTHING to hear his gravelly voice again screaming over and over, “And… you’re still not listening to me”. 

 

What Joe don’t know is that I LOVE ALL COCKS. (Well… just about.) And COCKS LOVE ME. Hard. Soft. Indifferent. We just have that kind of connection. You feel me? I didn’t need an 18 year old penis to have a superior time. I mean, does it not feel FABULOUS when being sucked?? HARD OR SOFT?? Besides, his penis was well more than enough to entertain me. Possibly… forever. I was damn ready and willing to drop everything to give it a go. That was the only time I’ve ever quit my job for someone. ANYONE.

 

I think of him often.I mean, his big head may have been a pain in the azz… But his little head fit my azz JUST PERFECTLY!

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