Sex in the City, part 2

I am waiting for Trickie (read this first)

I am trying to wait patiently for her but I must be failing. My insides are boiling over with such tumultuous anticipation that I am amazed that I am not shaking. I keep scanning the crowd, trying to recognize her from those few pictures she has shared with me. I begin to wonder if I will recognize her. She steps out from behind a lost and wandering family of tourists. Instantly I know. That has to be her, I am drawn to her, pulled by that wonderful magic that links some people. I call to her. She smiles at me and stops where she is. How can I possibly describe the vision? Gorgeous! That is as close as my words can get. I walk up to her, reach out and pull her into my arms. The warmth of her soft body pressing against mine causes me to moan a small sigh. I hold her beautiful face in my hands and lean forward, touching my lips to her. She responds passionately. My lips part, our tongues meet and I slide my hands over her shapely figure. For several minutes we stand there, lost in our first kiss. I am sure we get many stares but I couldn't care less; they should just be glad I have enough restraint to not take here right then and there (though I did think about it for a moment). Finally our lips part, we stare into each other eyes.
"Hello" my voice comes out low and breathy.
She smiles "Hello". Her voice is so melodic.
I take her hand and begin to leashed out of the airport. I have no choice, I must get her alone. I need her so badly, I can hardly think of anything else. We stand in the cab line, talking some but spending more of our effort lightly caressing and kissing one another. We finally climb into the cab and direct him to the hotel in Manhattan.
Now begins the long cab ride there!

Sex In The City: An Interactive Sex Blog

Trickie, my lover

For months now we have been exchanging emails online; working each other up to heights of pure horny passion that I find it difficult to think.  Over and over again I have found myself reading her blog and emails only to wind up with a throbbing hard on that will not go away.  Time and again I have tried to convince myself that she is not real; how can anyone be that beautiful, that passionate and that honest all at the same time.  Sure enough though, she will be here within the hour and I will need to but my money where my mouth is.  The question is, can I perform as well as I write?  Well, if she is even half as magnificent as she seems, I don’t think I will be lacking for any motivation.  A stray thought flashes through my mind and catches my attention; “If you have an erection lasting longer than four hours you should contact your doctor as this may be a sign of a condition called priapism”.  How long have I been thinking about her? Since I woke up this morning?  Fuck, I better sit down and relax a bit.  Ok, so I admit it, I am at the airport already – a bit early, to say the least.  Well, you never know how long it will take to get her!  Yea right, nice excuse.  So, I find a bar and order a drink; “Scotch on the rocks please, but just one, thank you”.  I relax for a bit, trying to think of something else but failing miserably.  It is about half an hour before her scheduled arrival so I call her cell and leave her a voicemail letting her know I am here.

I relax back into my seat, feeling my imagination wash over me.  There she is, as I have imagined her time and time again.  Of all the fantasies I have ever had she is the most vivid; I have never felt someone’s skin so intensely.  How can my mind create the sensation of her soft smooth skin sliding against mine?  I can feel the tender skin of her thigh against my cheek, the engorged flesh of her outer lips against my own lips as I spread them apart with my tongue.  I can smell her erotic musk as I tease out the juice from within her succulent pussy.  I have never wanted to suck a woman’s pussy as badly as I want hers. 

The images change; I am on my back, she is climbing on top of me; I feel that velvety flesh of her feminine folds envelop my throbbing cock.  Inch by fucking inch I feel her take me into her.  I stare into those hypnotically beautiful eyes of hers as she lowers herself on me…

That is when my phone a ding, letting me know it is time for her plane to land…it is time for me to live out my greatest fantasy.

Definition of Beauty

At some point in my life I came up with a definition of what is beautiful.  I will not go into the exact details as to what prompted this but the definition has stuck with me:

Something is beautiful when looking at it, hearing it, feeling it, smelling it, tasting it or thinking it makes you feel happy.

Pretty simple really but it has made a huge difference in my life.  I recognize so many people around me as beautiful.  Being aware of it has made me even happier.

Where Am I?

So, I have been lost for some time now - unable to find that part of my being that spews forth erotic words and images.  I am hoping that it is coming back but it is a frustrating road.  I find it hard to enjoy the fantasies without having the opportunity to have that gorgeous woman sucking me or spreading her legs for me so I can slide into her.  I need to touch her, feel her.

By Myself

The hard flesh is in my hand. I feel the soft skin slide back and forth over the hard muscled beneath.  I watch and feel as I pull back and forth over my pulsing cock.  I look in the full length mirror in front of me and watch as I slowly jack my dick.  I enjoy watching, I love the feeling.  I lightly move the skin up and down the hard length then I squeeze the base tightly.  I use my other hand to stroke my balls.  With one hand I hold the head of my cock while the other grasps the base of my shaft and my balls together, stroking up and over them, then back down.  I hold the base of my cock below my balls with one hand while sliding the other up and down my shaft.  I lean forward and spit on my shaft, the lube allowing me to slide more easily.  I slide my hand up over the head then back down, simulating entering a wight wet cunt. I watch my cock, then watch the mirror.  Back and forth while my hands slide up and down.  I feel a stirring in my balls and I squeeze my dick harder.  I walk away from the mirror and lay back on the bed.  I thrust my hips upward into my hand.  My eyes clothes as I wrap both hands around my cock and begin pumping into them.  Faster and faster, I can feel my eruption building.  I groan deep in my throat as I begin to cum.  I pump on, squeezing my shaft and groaning again.  My slippery white cum bursts from the tip and then pours over my hand.  I use it to lube my cock some more and continue to pump.  I want it again.  I can not normally go straight on and normally loose interest but today I need more.  I pump myself some more as I deflate and then begin to stiffen once more.
Since I can not have what I really need I will pump every drop out that I can manage.

Waves at the Party

After the noise of the party this room is quiet; quiet enough that I can hear the sheets move as she settles herself on the bed.  The room is small, the size and darkness closes us in and we are cradled in our own warm space.  I do not know her but here she is naked and waiting for me.  I remove the last of my clothing and settle into the sheets next to her.  The feel of her body touching mine is a relief that courses through me, removing the anxiety and frustration.  Her arms curl around me and I take her into my arms.  We kiss; her lips are silkily delicious.  I take my time, tasting her, savoring her delicious bouquet.  My hand tours her soft body; her delicate curves, delighting in her supple flesh.  I feel her every movement and hear her every sigh.  I engulf her with my meditation; my entire being focused on her.  I feel her presence with my mind as well as my body.  I touch her with thought as well as hand.  I am completely aware of her. I can feel what she feels. I know how my caresses thrill her, where to slide my hand next.  Our movements have become a symphony as we begin to compose something so beautiful and yet fleeting; each moment building on the creation of the previous. 

I pull her against me as I enter her.  She leans her head back and moans. I lean my head forward and bite her tender neck; devouring her, gorging on her delicate shivers of hedonistic indulgence.  Our bodies are flat against one another; my arms along her sides and my hands on the back of her shoulders, pulling her into me as I roll my hips into her.  I can sense the tide of fervor within her; our rhythms slightly different.  I alter my breathing, matching hers.  I can feel the swells of my pleasure harmonize with hers.  I discern our path. I can anticipate the progress. I can choose a more leisurely path, taking us on twists and turns; no interest in rushing to the end. 

I am washed away on a new feeling.  Her passion pours into me and I feel my dam break.  For the first time I am lost in rapture.  For the first time I let go of my defenses; all control is lost, I go where the tides take me.  I feel her hold onto me, we drift along together.  I am within her, sliding in and out, engulfed in her feminine hold.  I do not know where I am but neither do I care.  I bask in the erotic flood, no longer caring for anything else.

Eventually I come back to myself.   I feel her in my arms, I hold her close and revel in the glow.

Another Quandary

Where has the thrill gone? I normally get such a salacious charge out of writing fantasies but for a couple of weeks now it has not been the case. I feel apathy for imaginings. I am bored with stories, pictures and movies. I assume what I need is reality; an actual encounter but I suppose that is true for many of us.
So, how do I get the stimulation back? Where is the muse to draw out my passions?