I gripped Sam harder and started stroking his cock. He half protested and half groaned. I could feel pre-cum under my fingers.
“Ooo-kay,” Sam sort of grunted, his eyes closing. “I guess you can keep going.”
I leaned over and whispered that a handjob wasn’t what he’d challenged me to.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Autumn, no.”
Fortunately, with men, no seldom actually means no. It’s one place where the double standard works in my favor. If had a nickel for every time Sam has told me no and successfully made me stop doing something sexual, I’d probably have a nickel, but only if I started with one.
I took my hand out of his pants and laid down on my stomach, my arms propped on his legs. This annoyed the woman behind us because my up-kicked legs were suddenly in her face, but she moved with a grunt, then settled back in to watching the sky. I was totally innocent. I’d just gotten comfortable, my head resting on my arms and my arms resting on my guy’s legs. Lots of people were doing something similar.
My face was literally three inches from Sam’s hard cock. The only problem was that his pants were between my lips and its veiny grandeur.
Would anyone really notice if his cock were suddenly out? I decided not. If you’re in a crowd, do you keep looking around at everyone’s laps? Would you really notice a dick? I kind of doubt it, especially at dusk.
I took stock.
One: My lips were already where they needed to be, and nobody thought it was strange.
Two: Nobody would notice if Sam’s dick were out right now.
The thing that alerts people to a blowjob or a handjob in progress is the motion. If I could eliminate the motion, I’d be golden. Now, for most girls, that’s a tough obstacle to surmount, but I’m not most girls. I am a world class cum slut.
Slyly, slowly, I unzipped Sam’s fly without unbuttoning his pants. Slyly, slowly, I fished inside and freed his hot rod through the hole in his boxers. He was totally clothed save those few inches of pink pole. He was dick-in-a-box guy without the box. It was right there in front of me, rocking with his pulse.
I licked it, moving only my tongue. Sam moaned.
He didn’t like this. His face was tight and red as if I were subjecting him to torture. But he couldn’t protest, because people were just feet away. If he moved too much, they’d glance over. He had to stay perfectly still.
I licked it again. It twitched. I tasted the salty pre-cum.
He gave me an intense look but didn’t say anything for fear of attracting attention. His look said,
Knock it off.
I gave him a look that said,
Not on your life.
He gave me a pleading look that suggested, and maybe even begged that we could do this later, back at his place.
I extended my neck by a single inch and took the head of his little admiral between my lips. It was barely any motion. I felt like I was in one of those wildlife shows where they say some predator’s vision is based on movement, and that if the prey doesn’t move, the predator can’t see it.
With just the tip of his dick in my mouth, I began to suck slowly, like a gobstopper, rolling my tongue back and forth across the bottom.
The beauty at this point is that if anyone looked at us, we would seem totally and completely innocent — so long as the person looking missed the four visible inches of pink skin between Sam’s jeans and my mouth.
And in the dark, as long as I didn’t move much, it was easy to miss.
I rolled it around more, using my lips to squeeze just the head of his cock, and my tongue to rub around the bottom of the head. I didn’t dare go deeper, use my hands, move my head or lap him with my tongue. This was like sexual isometrics.
I rolled my tongue across the little nub on the underside of his cock. I sucked the head hard, then light, then hard, then light. Like a stroke job without any stroking.
Beneath my totally casual arms, I could feel Sam’s legs start to tighten.
A few more fireworks started to shoot into the air, still just the small testers. Everyone seemed to be looking toward the skies, but without the rapt attention that would seize them once the real show started, any second. But it was still enough distraction, and just enough noise, for me to start squeezing and sucking harder. I timed my thickest licks and most powerful sucks with the explosions, hoping to mask Sam’s grunting. I got pretty good, ridiculously fast. I would wait for the rocket’s scream, then suck hard and roll my tongue on the tip of his mushroom as it pulsed harder and harder in my mouth.
Screeeeeeech… (suck)… BOOM!
I moved faster. Sam started to pant, still trying to remain still. He was doing a pretty good job considering the amount of twitching his dick was doing — practically a dance — between my lips.
When three rockets went up at once, I chanced a deeper stroke and sucked Sam hard until my mouth filled with his hot, sticky cum. I tightened my lips and, as Sam fought not to spasm with aftershocks, swallowed every drop.
When he was fully re-stowed in his pants, I returned to a seated position, and sat beside him smiling. The woman behind us who’d shifted to avoid my legs huffed and readjusted, clearly annoyed.
Sam looked at me and said, “That was stupid.”
I looked at his crotch. “Your friend didn’t think so.”
Unable to disagree, Sam settled for saying, “You still have cum on your chin.”
A volley of rockets exploded, so I wasn’t sure I heard him. I said, “What?”
Sam practically screamed, “I said, you still have cum on your chin!”
The volley had ended. Everyone heard him and turned. I raised a finger to my chin and found that he was right, so I cleaned it with a lick.
“I mean
lemonade
,” said Sam, speaking to everyone else more than me.
When we left, like five dudes applauded.
J
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12
SOMETIMES — OKAY, MOST TIMES — I just can’t help myself.
I contacted the podcast guys. They have a contact form, so that means they’re just asking for it, right? I asked for some thoughts on word count for stories and what I should price them at, thus marking the first time I have ever not totally trusted myself in a matter concerning length.
I feel my stories evolving, and told these guys as much. They were nice but I know I can be pushy, so I reigned myself in. I didn’t use the words “cunt” or “cum” in my emails. Not even once. This is tricky for me. It’s amazing how often it comes up.
My momentum is good, but I suspect something is missing. Their last episode was on characters, and I think I’ve that nailed… creating recurring characters who show up again and again. But in line with my length question, I do wonder if I should be writing longer stuff.
Trying some experiments with random stuff. Too soon to talk it out — not even here. Don’t want to jinx shit.
Also, bonus — my obsessions at the podcast have started streaming video. So I can see them. Johnny seems cocky. Sean has this big nose. But Dave is just as cute as I’d suspected.
Sam remains jealous. Luckily, I know how to make him less so.
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30
SAM BET ME THAT I couldn’t write in my diary while he stuck a vibrator in my pussy and a dildo in my ass. So that’s what’s happening right now. I’m bent over my desk and my chair totally naked, my tits are pressed against the edge of my chair, and I’m typing.
He seems really frustrated that I’m able to keep typing while he keeps giving me the double input.
This is actually really hot, but I don’t like losing bets.
Okay, back after a thirty second break. Just came. My asshole tightened so hard when I did, I shot the dildo across the room. Sam chased it down and had to hose it off in the sink because there was weird floor lint stuck to it, gummed to the lube. Sam said he won the bet. I said that I didn’t even stop for a minute, and proved it by staying right where I was and typing more. Then he sai
okay now that fucking cheater is using his cock back there. i quit. i win.
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5
GOT AN EMAIL A WEEK or so ago from a woman who said she was quite literally on the verge of divorce when she started reading my stuff. She said that she no longer thinks that she and her husband will split up.
I couldn’t let that one go. I emailed her back, but instead of just saying how pleased I was, I asked her, in polite terms, just how in the hell my gonzo fucking sex stories helped her with her relationship. Did they read them together? Did I inspire them to go out and play-act and fuck in public?
The answer was much more mundane, and I’m still trying to totally understand it since it’s sorta foreign to me. I just heard back from her today, and here’s a sentence from her email:
“It’s subtle. I just see how you refuse to apologize for liking… to be FUCKED… and it kind of made me perk up and refuse to apologize for being who I am too. It’s not even about sex for me. It’s about feeling comfortable in my skin. Our sex life hasn’t changed… yet. But how I feel about myself has.”
Mind-blowing, it is.
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I MADE A LIST TODAY of stories I want to remember to tell some day. Maybe I’ll get to them all and maybe I won’t:
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W
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T
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I W
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CAN’T RESIST OUTLINING THE COP one now.
NOTE: Totally OK to exaggerate.
+++
Autumn is out in the woods, shitfaced-drunk and totally naked except for an elf hat, because she fell into a group of those live-action role-playing LARP dorks on a dare.
It started because Brooke said she was sad that she’d never get to fuck a knight back in the olden days, since fucking a guy who served the King sounded hot. Autumn said that she’d seen the LARP people doing sword battles and stuff in the park, pretending to stab each other in armor and shit. Brooke says she thinks that’s stupid because she’s being cunty. Autumn says that nerds need pussy too.
So she finds this one guy, whose name she doesn’t know because he only goes by Lancelot, and he looks kind of hot and has a big codpiece. He’s a virgin, but he’s so into this LARP shit that he says he wants to lose it to an elf. Autumn thinks he’s nuts until she realizes that they’ve got some
Eyes Wide Shut
shit happening in the woods after hours, and yada yada yada she finds herself naked and up against a cop car and dressed from the neck up as an elf, including the pointy ears. The cops didn’t arrest her or ask her to put her hands on the cop car and spread her legs, but she’s tired of Lancelot and his queerbos and cops were handy. The cops are like, “Um, miss? What are you doing?” and Autumn is like, “Frisk me!” So the cops are down to play and feel her up, doing a cavity search at her insistence, and so on. Then she climbs into the back of the car and declares herself under arrest. At this point, she’s pretty much ready to explode from a major pussy bomb, having gotten girly blue balls from Lancelot and his inability to wield his sword. (She started clothed but eventually remembered that she had some self respect and so stripped naked and ran through the LARPers with one hand in her pussy, screaming, “WHICH KNIGHT AMONGST YOU HAS THE CHARISMA TO PLUNGE THE ELF’S GREAT DEPTHS FOR BOOTY?” but the dorks ran off to whack it to Arthurian porn.)