In 24 hours I fucked four different guys, individually.  Three of them I fucked in my neighbor’s apartment.  I told a friend this and she freaked out.  She said that if she found out someone else had fucked on her bed she would be livid.  Clearly, I don’t share this sentiment.  I don’t care who fucks on my bed.  I don’t like finding hair, used condoms, and other evidence, but that’s because I find that rude – clean up after yourselves, people.

I cleaned up after myself.  My neighbors have no reason to suspect I did anything in their bedroom, much less their bed.  I removed from the premises any used condoms.  I washed all the bedding and remade the bed.  They’re none the wiser.  And she wouldn’t mind anyway.  She likes hearing the stories of my exploits.  He would probably be pissed.

Three of the four cocks were Geminis.  I, too, am a Gemini.  I get along well with Geminis, obviously.

The Day of Fuck began and ended with the ‘Mate.  The ‘Mate, who is quite understanding of my need for a lot of cock.

My pussy took some time time to recover from the Day of Fuck, which really is a shame, as I had gotten used to daily fucks.  It was also a shame that I had to keep my pants on when I had a threesome with a lovely couple from Washington, D.C., the following Sunday.  The three of us still had fun, as there was one cock and one pussy and three mouths available for action, but it would have been a whole different threesome if my pussy were available.

The threesome was a shit ton of fun.  The guy of the couple had originally contacted me through OkCupid.  He said he and his girlfriend were to be in San Francisco and they’d like to spend an evening with a local lady.  Great.  I like fucking tourists.  I’m like a fuck ambassador.  A fuck welcoming committee of one?  Anyway, we agreed to meet at Rye.  There, we each had a drink and chit-chatted.

He had a thick Italian accent, she was a redhead.  They had gone to Alcatraz that day, which was unusually sunny and nice.  She had a severe sunburn on her chest to prove it.  After a round of drinks we stopped in a liquor store for a bottle of wine and then we went to Shalimar.  Shalimar has some good fucking food.  And it’s cheap.  We polished off the wine and the food and then walked to their hotel.

Hotel Vertigo is hip.  Their room was cozy but very smartly decorated; the bases of the bedside lamps were horse heads.  We chatted some more.  And then I’m not sure how things got started, but they did.

I went down on her while he watched.  Her clit liked my tongue’s ministrations, and she soon came.  She had a nice, squeezable, juicy ass that I grabbed while I lapped at her clit.

Then I watched them fuck.  While they were fucking I pulled her hair a bit.  She seemed to like it.  I checked in with her; she seemed to really like it.  Then I slapped her face.  I checked in with her again; I didn’t want to go too far.  She liked getting slapped on the face while his cock was pounding her pussy.  Oooh, fun!  Slapping a girl’s face is up pretty high on my list of sexy/dirty things to do.

She and I sucked his cock.  Mostly her.  It was her who said intact cocks are like puzzles.  I was pretty much directing the action.  I told them I wanted him to come on her face.  She looked very happy at that prospect.  While she sucked his cock some more my tongue once again found its way to her pussy.  I really need more pussy in my life because they are fun to lick.

He came on her face.  I missed the money shot because my face was in her pussy, but she looked lovely with come on her face moments later when I came up for air.  She had come, he had come, I wasn’t going to come, so our night was over.

They offered me taxi fare but I opted for the bus.  It was a lovely warm night and I ended up walking a lot farther than I anticipated in pursuit of a bus that was running that late.  No matter, I made it home safely.

My pussy soon recovered and I was back to the vigorous fucking I like so much.  The hard fucking that my pussy needs.

I swear.  True story.

©2010 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

Consequently, I spent a lot of money on AOL.  I used AOL not for any academic purpose, but to chat online.  As with most things online, there were a lot of men and very few women so I felt like a hot commodity.  I liked the attention, even if I did have to pay for it.

Many of the men with whom I chatted were not local; some were.  One local, TT, began to woo me hard.  He told me he had a girlfriend so in my naivete I thought that meant he was safe, that he didn’t want to hit on me because his romantic needs were being fulfilled.  I had never heard of relationships that were openly anything other than monogamous.  I had certainly heard of cheating, but I had also heard that straight men and women could be friends.

TT told me he loved the beach in general and sunbathing in particular.  I was (and am) very pale and prone to burning and freckling, though I did like the feeling of the sun on my skin.  So, armed with a very high SPF sunscreen and with orders that TT bring a beach umbrella, we planned to go to the beach.

TT picked me up in his Mustang.  It was packed with beach gear.  He drove us from Pasadena to a beach, the name or location of which I do not recall.  The drive took over an hour.  Over an hour of TT’s driving, to which I was just then being introduced.  I didn’t know at the time, but TT had some vision problems that affected his ability to drive completely safely.  What was obvious on that drive to the beach was that TT was easily distracted – that day by the fresh, 21-year-0ld, bisexual, loud, sex-talking, smart ass that was me back then.

He was so easily distracted during our drive that his Mustang often veered out of our lane, much to the honking panic of other drivers on the freeway.  TT, however, didn’t understand why I was so worried.  After all, he’d not actually hit any other cars.  I found it hard to believe he was sober.

Once at the beach he doted on me.  He helped me apply sunscreen; he set up the beach umbrella so I was mostly in the shade; he provided me with snacks and drinks.  It was a lovely time at the beach.  We left the beach when it started to get cold.  We drove back to Pasadena.  We were both having fun and didn’t want the day to end so we decided to go out to dinner.

TT was one of those early adopters; he had the latest of technology, including a car phone (cause it was a car phone, not a cell phone) back in the early 1990s.  When we were within range, on the way to the restaurant, he called his girlfriend.  From what I could hear from his end of the conversation everything was fine; we were going to dinner.  And I thought everything was fine until a very pissed off-looking woman approached our table.  TT introduced us but she had nothing to say to me.  TT handed her a set of keys and she left.

Well, that was odd.  He said she had forgotten her set of keys to her place and she was tired and that I shouldn’t take her behavior personally.  Fine, I wouldn’t.  We finished our dinner and then he drove me home.

I was single at the time and hadn’t been physically affectionate with anyone for quite some time so when he offered to cuddle with me as I fell asleep I was grateful rather than suspicious.  Well, I was dumb – naive – enough to think the cuddle session was just as platonic to him as it was to me.  However, when I felt his erection poke my butt I knew that wasn’t the case.  Maybe his girlfriend had reason to be upset, only not at me.

We continued to be friends despite his inappropriate boner.

[To be continued ….]

I swear.  True story.

©2010 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

I regret not something I’ve done, but the fact that I knew something my friend had done.

My friend and I worked together. Our boss was – to me at least – a father figure. I could not picture him in any sort of sexual situation. He made jokes with sexual innuendo and he dated various women, both customer and employee, but I couldn’t help but think of him as an unsexy old man. I think he was all of 40 at the time.

I thought my friend felt the same until she told me that she and he had been having an ongoing sexual affair for some time. I simply did not believe her. I didn’t want to believe her.

Rather than letting it go – rather than let me believe that they hadn’t fucked, which is what I so desperately wanted – she tried to convince me. With details. I was young – in my late teens. I hadn’t yet learned not to ask questions to which I don’t really, really, really want to know the answers.

So I asked.  And she told me.  She told me where they had fucked.  She reminded me of various times the three of us had been together and I had stepped out of the room, where they would then be all over each other.  She reminded me of several such situations.

I was not only grossed out, but I felt very stupid.  There were so many obvious signs I had completely missed.

I was incredulous exactly because I had missed so much that was so obvious.  So I asked more questions.  She had to give me minute details as a way to prove it was actually true.  Also, I was being a bit voyeuristic.

I thought it was titillating as well as disgusting that they had fucked.  It took me quite a long time – way longer than it should have – for me to stop asking questions.  I finally got my fill of salacious details.

Things had most definitely changed.  I felt weird being in a room with either my boss or my friend, and most definitely with the two of them together.  I scrutinized them to distraction; it took me longer to count down my drawer at the end of the night.  I worked as a hostess at a bar at the time.  The cash register drawer I counted down was for the 27 pool tables the bar’s patrons paid hourly to rent.

I couldn’t help but look at both my boss and my friend as strangers.  I thought I knew them, but they were keeping this huge secret from me.  I didn’t fuck my friend any more after that.  Oh yeah, I had been fucking my friend.  Not much, probably just a couple of fucks and one or two make-out sessions.  But not after she’d been with … him.

Him, who I could no longer respect.  I thought he was smarter than to fuck one of his employees, and certainly smarter than fucking one of his employees so much younger than he.  But then I supposed after his divorce he had gone a little nuts and didn’t have the best judgment after his wife had cheated on him.  [No, I did not have any idea my own life would be mirroring his several years later.]  I knew she had cheated on him because I saw his wife kissing someone right there on the bar’s dance floor, and I told him.

But after I found out he had fucked my friend, his employee, I didn’t tell him much of anything.  When he told me I shouldn’t go to college – that I should continue to work in a bar – I didn’t value his opinion much, and figured it was purely selfish because I did a good job, not out of any desire to actually give me sound advice.

At least a year after I stopped working for him – I decided that I should go to college – I testified against him in a sexual harassment arbitration hearing.  I don’t know if he sexually harassed the woman who accused him in that case, but I do know that I was disappointed that he behaved in such a way that made a sexual harassment lawsuit a possibility.  (Not that there aren’t frivolous lawsuits.)

I talked to the friend again several years later.  She was still working for the boss, but they had long before stopped fucking.

Now, of course I’d be much less judgmental of the two, and hopefully a bit more observant of what were probably some damn obvious signs, but I was still disappointed them.  And I regret I found out they fucked at all.

I swear.  True story.

©2010 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

[Continued from "Party, Part 1."]

The hippie chick put on the strap-on.  She walked around the party and went up to all the men demanding that they suck it.  It was hilarious.  Most of them gave it a try … a sad, sad try.  Finally I had to show them how it was done.  I sucked her cock for a few minutes.  According to the members of the audience, I did an excellent-looking job.

One of the ladies at the party was very drawn to the strap-on harness.  She asked the hippie chick if she could borrow it.  The hippie chick acquiesced and handed it over.  The rest of us went to the bedroom and left the woman to use the strap-on with her boyfriend.

Back in the bedroom the host suggested that when the strap-on was free that the hippie chick should fuck me with it.  That sounded like a lot of fun.  In the mean time the hippie couple, the host, and I fooled around on the bed.

The hippie guy and I began to explore each other.  He discovered my clit; he spent a significant amount of time fingering it very slowly and very steadily.  So long that the couple who had been using the strap-on returned from their ministrations, and sat, and watched as the hippie guy fingered my clit.  When I finally came – from clitoral stimulation alone – it was loud, and wonderful.  The observers congratulated the hippie guy for eliciting such a response from me.

The party’s host continued to insist that the hippie chick fuck me with the strap-on.  However, we were too distracted doing other things to get right down to it.  I requested the hippie guy fuck my ass.  He declined, but in the nicest way.  He opted, instead, to fuck his girlfriend, which I completely understood.  I’d already had a lot of fun.

The host kept bringing up the hippie chick fucking me with the strap-on.  His repeated insistence became downright creepy.

…

When I woke up everyone had gone.  I apologized to the host for falling asleep, as the party was not meant to be of the slumber variety.  The host was very nice, and even went so far as to make me quite a nice brunch that included freshly squeezed orange juice and some fluffy scrambled eggs.  The toast was his homemade bread.

Over brunch he told me he’d give me a ride home on the back of his motorcycle.  As I’d taken two buses there, I was grateful for the offer, which accepted.

After brunch we retired to the living room.  The host was obviously making his moves on me.  I, however, was still tired, and was a little jarred by the transition from a whole group to one-on-one for relations.  I really just wanted to go home and spend the day decompressing.

The host told me about a date he had recently had.  The second date with a certain woman had her to his house to eat a dinner he made.  He told me that they had not had sex, but that she should have known that going to his house to eat food he prepared meant that sex was expected.

At the time I sat there on the couch I was a tad out of it due to little sleep and thrill of having just had my first group sex situation.  It wasn’t until later that I realized he was telling me that since I was at his house, and he had made me a meal, that I “owed” him sex.

It should have dawned on me much earlier, because as soon as I made it clear I didn’t want to have sex with him that day he told me he no longer had time to give me a ride home.  I walked to the bus stop.  He rode his motorcycle past me as I waited for a bus that would take me toward home.

I swear.  True story.

©2010 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

This is my kind of party.  I’ve been to Kinky Salon and Club Kiss, sure, but I’ve certainly never seen anything like this at those parties.  However, I attended a party in a private residence that was a lot of fun.

The host of the party pre-interviewed every attendee.  He accepted only male/female couples or women from their 20s to 40 years of age.  At the interviews he told the potential guests that most of the people were straight but many of the women were “situationally bisexual” at his parties.  He prided himself on putting together a good party with people who had chemistry.

I arrived a little late, as the host lived out in the Richmond.  I was introduced to the other guests whom had already arrived.  There were a few couples and the host, and then me.  One couple was about my age.  The guy was hot and came across as cocky.  I would find out why months later at another party – he had a huge cock.  His woman didn’t say much.

Another couple was hippie-like.  They lived on a farm in Santa Rosa, in Sonoma County.  I had lived in Santa Rosa when I was a kid.  The woman was tiny and had hairy armpits.  She was like a little natural fairy.  She was the first one to bring out sex toys.  Her guy had a beard and long hair.  She was in her early 20s, he was in his mid-30s.  We talked about their age difference and how it meant nothing because they were working.  They seemed like a very happy couple.

One couple was older, well into their 40s.  They told us for her birthday they had engaged the services of a pro at a brothel in Nevada.  They said it was absolutely worth the thousands of dollars they spent and it was one of the best sexual experiences they had had.  She was very thin and quite sickly.  He was bigger and British, or Scottish, or something like that.  They were the first to go into the bedroom and begin to fuck.

There was a couple in their early 20s.  She was more experienced in these sorts of events than he.  He had a sweet, young face.  The kind of sweet and young boy face that makes me swoon.  She was the one who got the action started in the living room by going up to only the women and rubbing up on them while saying, in a sexy, breathy voice, “I just wanna make you feel good.”  I wanted her to make me feel really good.

We began to make out.  But we weren’t ready for an audience just yet, and the living room was very well lit.  She led me into the back bedroom.  We left the door open and we kept the lights off.  We went over to the bed.  She continued to rub me all over.  We continued to kiss.  It was fucking glorious.  Only I wished she had wanted me to touch her, but she wanted to devote all of her energy to making me feel good.  I liked it.

She whispered in my ear.  She asked me if it would be ok for her boyfriend to go down on me while she she played with my breasts.  Yeah, I think that’d be ok.  Very ok.  She went to get her boyfriend.  I rubbed my pussy over my clothes.  He came in.  He looked very shy.  I love me a shy boy.  It makes me feel dirty and pervy.  He and I kissed.  He was so hesitant – but he was doing it.  He was kissing me tentatively.

He talked to his girlfriend.  She told me that there was a change of plan, that he was going to continue to kiss me, and play with my tits, and she was going to go down on me.  That was fine with me.  Whatever these two wanted to do was fine with me.

By this time some of the other people joined us in the bedroom.  Our host turned on a string of red lights and some music.  I think it was Gotan Project.  The boy continued to be very needy.  He brought out something very maternal in me.  Kind of creepy, but being maternal turns me on sometimes.

Eventually the young couple left.  The hippies and I, along with the host, were on the bed.  We talked for a while.  The hippie chick pulled out her bag of toys.  She had a double dildo, and a strap-on harness with an average-sized cock in it.  I was not well-versed in harnesses.  I had worn one only once, for Israel, at that point in my life.  I asked her if she wore it.  I asked her what she did when she wore it.

She said she liked to fuck with it, and that she fucked her boyfriend’s ass with it.  Yes!  That was so fucking hot.

[To be continued ….]

I swear.  True story.

©2010 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

Once it was clear the Ex and I were breaking up, he told me that he had cheated on me.  I didn’t care.  I cheated on him more times than he knew.  More times than he now knows.  Telling him would have only served to hurt him.  I think the reason he told me he cheated was to try to hurt me.  But he didn’t get it.  He didn’t get me.  I didn’t care that he fucked someone else, and I didn’t think he should have cared that I fucked someone else.  I asked for details because I thought it was more interesting than anything.

Interesting because I never suspected he cheated on me.  When he told me when and how of his cheating, it made sense.  He had gone on a mountain bike ride with a group he found on Craig’s List or some such thing.  I encouraged him to use the mountain bike that pretty much just took up space in our apartment.  He was gone the whole day.  I went out with some friends that night.  He was supposed meet up with us but I couldn’t reach him.  I figured he was somewhere in the mountains where cell reception was spotty.  He eventually came home very late.

He told me that after the bike ride the group smoked some seriously strong hash.  So strong that he didn’t feel like he could drive.  He opted to sleep off the high in the car.

At the time the Ex and I had sex usually at least once a week.  It had been longer than that when I requested a romp.  He declined.  I asked what was wrong that he didn’t want to have sex and he told me that he was no longer attracted to me because I had gained weight.  I cried, and went for a walk.

Fast forward to August 2007 when he told me the truth.  The truth was that he fucked one of the other mountain bikers and the condom broke.  He freaked out about the condom breaking and went to get STI tests.  When he was awaiting the test results he didn’t want to have sex with me just in case he had contracted something.  Sure, that was nice of him.  However, his method of avoiding sex with me was downright mean.

Even after we were friends and I explained to him why it was so mean to say that to me, he didn’t get it.  He will probably go to his grave thinking the ends – avoiding the possibility of exposing me to an STI – justified the means – telling me he found me unattractive.  He will go to his grave wrong.

He was also wrong to call Correctional Officer’s wife.  Apparently, along with going through my email, the Ex also went through my cell phone bill and called any number he didn’t recognize.  He figured out that one of the numbers belonged to CO.  The Ex claimed he wanted to talk to CO, probably in some sort of macho posturing, “Stay away from my woman” bullshit, but a woman answered the phone.

The Ex later claimed that he felt it was his responsibility to tell her that her husband had fucked me so she could get tested.  My ex-husband was unusually paranoid about STIs.  In an illogical and stupid way.  Because if I was clean and only fucking him, and he was clean, then how could I have given anything to a guy who, until he fucked me, was monogamous with his wife, who was supposedly only fucking him?  So it was the Ex’s fault that I was called a fucking whore by the wife of the guy  with whom I’d had one awkward go.

I was angry at the Ex for making that call, because it was unnecessary and only served to fuck up yet another relationship.  This is another thing about which the Ex and I will never agree.  He thought I was overly concerned for CO and his marriage.  Truth be told, I had no clue what was going on with CO’s marriage because after the one call where he hung up I thought it best to cut off contact.  I was concerned about my friend, CO, not the guy I fucked, CO.

However, I had no one to talk to about any of the shit that was going on in my life.  Because I was so fucking horrible as to fuck someone not my husband, all – yes, ALL – of our supposedly mutual friends cut me off.  The Ex was supposedly some sort of saint – unless you were married to him.  The one friend who would be on my side I wasn’t allowed to talk to for fear of fucking up his marriage along with my own.

The Ex was so dumb as to tell me he hoped me and CO would be happy together.  Really?  He thought I’d move to that shit town where CO lived and he and I would live happily ever after with his kid?  The Ex clearly didn’t know me at all.  I don’t have to be in love to fuck.  I don’t even have to like the person.  But the Ex thought I wanted to break up for a relationship with CO.  What an idiot.

I did see Correctional Officer again ….

[To be continued, obviously.]

I swear.  True story.

©2010 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

I swear.  True (fantasy) story.

©2010 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

With his hand guiding me I eventually got all of my fingers into her pussy.  Then the tough part, the base of my thumb, went in.  Pussies feel so fucking wonderful enveloping my hand.  We gave her time to get used to my hand, then he grabbed my wrist and we fist fucked her pussy, hard.  She was screaming.  He and I were grunting with our effort, because though it was my hand in her cunt she was being fucked with the force of both him and me.

I was amazed that she could take such a pounding.  But she was taking it.  And it looked fucking hot.  My right hand was fucking her while I supported myself on my left elbow so I could have a view of my hand going into, and out of, and into, and out of her pussy.

She was still screaming.  We were still pounding.  And then she squirted.  A lot.  All over my face.  It was fucking great.

We were all exhausted.  He let her out of her bondage and she sat at the head of the bed below an open window and smoked a cigarette.  He went to his desk.  I sat at the foot of the bed.  We chatted.  At least he and I chatted; she smoked her cigarette.

Then it was time for round two.  Cool.  She was no longer bound to the bed so there were even more ways for the three of us to become entangled – without his cock going into my pussy, of course.  I licked his ass while he fucked her.  I licked her pussy while he fingered me.  I sucked his cock while she sat on his face.  It was all fun.

I had the most fun, however, when he was fucking her.  She was on her hands and knees.  He was on his knees pounding her from behind.  My head was below them.  I licked her clit while his cock was sliding in and out of her cunt.  While I was down there I also licked the shaft of his cock.  I sucked on his balls, because that’s just fun.  My mouth was all over their parts while he fucked her.  Then he came – on my face.

Yes!  I love come on my face and that night I got both girl come and boy come all over it.  I was a very happy girl.  I left in a sex daze.  I walked home as the sun was coming up.

A few weeks later they again requested my presence.  On the second visit I fell off the bed.  Theirs was the highest bed I’ve ever encountered.  It came up to my waist when I stood next to it.  I had to make a running start to get on it.  So falling off the bed was rather a big deal.  Luckily, there was a wall for me to hit before my body impacted the floor.  I came away with multiple bruises.

He showed me how to find a man’s prostate.  Well, he didn’t really show me so much as let me know by moaning when I located his.  That was fun, but overall the second visit wasn’t nearly as hot as the first.  I think they requested my presence a few more times but I was never available and I’ve not seen them since.

A friend, however, has seen them.  Based on my description of the couple (which I’ve not included here), my friend picked them out at a local sex club.  San Francisco is such a small city.

On neither one of the visits did she ever say a word to me.

I swear.  True story.

©2010 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

The guy and I exchanged emails.  He told me they were a professional couple.  They all say they’re a “professional” couple.  Frankly, I don’t give a shit what the people I fuck do for a living, but in the Online casual sex world “professional” seems to mean “not creepy.”  Or at least that’s what it’s supposed to mean.

I don’t know if this couple was creepy per se, but I certainly didn’t see them do anything professional.  In the emails I exchanged with the guy he said their only rule was that his penis could not go into my vagina.  Other things could go into my vagina, and all sorts of things could go into my mouth, but him fucking me was off-limits.  I don’t recall us discussing anal sex at all prior to our first meeting.

Our first meeting wasn’t planned.  I was home alone late one night when I received an email from the guy.  He requested my presence that night.  They lived relatively close and he assured me that my cab fare would be covered.  Usually it’s best to meet in public first to see if there’s chemistry, but I’d gotten a decent vibe from the guy via email and, well, I was horny and up for an adventure.

I got dressed and called a cab.  I was a tad worried when I arrived at the address he had given me, since it was definitely not a house or apartment building.  But there was a man waiting out front, and he paid the cabbie, so I assumed he was the guy.  He was tall and blond with some facial hair.

He let me in their place, which had been converted from a less residential use.  It was dimly lit but I could tell the place had some serious square footage.  While San Francisco isn’t quite like Manhattan, real estate is definitely pricey, so a big place is unusual.

We walked to the back of the building where there was a living room area set up.  I sat on the couch, which was facing a rather large television, which was not on, and a curtain.  While I still sat on the couch he went through the curtain.  I heard that he was talking, but not what he was saying.  I figured he was talking to her, but wasn’t at all sure.

Eventually, he bid me behind the curtain.  Beyond the curtain was a “bedroom.”  The bedroom had a large office area with a very large, multi-winged desk.  He and I sat at the desk while he said all the things we’d do to her.  I heard not a peep from her, and began to wonder if “she” existed.  But then I peeked over and sure enough, there was a woman bound spread-eagle to the bed.

We made our way over to the bed.  He kept up a constant chatter about what was going on.  After all, she couldn’t see so he had to keep her updated.

He directed me to do various things to her.  I was fine; I follow direction well and I was having fun.  I licked her pussy.  I fingered her pussy.  I sucked his cock.  I watched him fuck her.  I do so like watching couples fuck.

The whole time she made clear she was enjoying herself.  She didn’t talk, but she did moan.  He interpreted.  He assured me that she liked what was going on.  I, too, liked what was happening.  We continued with our ministrations, focusing mostly on her pussy, as there it was open for us.

I did whatever he told me.  I licked.  I sucked.  I fingered.  Then he grabbed my wrist.  He whispered in my ear that he wanted to fist her but that his hands were too big.  He said my hands were just the right size.

I swear.  True story.

[To be continued, of course.]

©2010 Random Rim Jobs. All Rights Reserved.

My first threesome came as a surprise. ‘Twas my 25th birthday, to which I was not looking forward given I had been recently abandoned by not only the best sex of my life but also my last great love (two different men, mind you). I still had a few very good friends and, trying to be optimistic, I ventured out to a fave bar to celebrate.

After about two whiskeys, I declared that since it was my birthday, everyone should kiss me. This would be the catalyst that led to my premiere sexual experience with threesomes and with women (but not the last).

A group of firemen from Modesto or some equally central California city were sitting close to our group and conversation began. One took a liking to me and before his group left we took a trip outside and made out for a bit. Thankfully I didn’t really mind voyeurs because a certain couple took a particular interest in our little tongue session. They became even more interested when they saw the fireman’s hand try to go up my skirt, which I deflected in the midst of still keeping the kissing hot. This move turned them on apparently; when they saw me walk back inside the bar without the fireman, they followed.

They stopped me before I got back to my group. They bought me more whiskey and asked me what was going with the fireman. I answered that it was my birthday and I was kissing everybody. So they both kissed me. We went back to the table and conversed while I got drunker (but with whiskey, I rarely get sloppy). Last call came and they invited me back to their place. I excitedly and curiously accepted.

Back at her apartment they showed me around, told me about a new dot com idea they had (something about networking via your sexual partners), introduced me to her cat, and then led me to the bedroom.

Sheepishly, I declared that I was a virgin when it came to women. With a little giggle, my first girl – a beautiful blonde with wonderful breasts and creamy skin – told me to go with my instincts and she would direct me from there. After a little bit of kissing, the whiskey seemed to fully permeate into my bloodstream and stripped away my remaining inhibitions.

I ventured towards her breasts and my happy explorations there made her moan, encouraging me to go farther south. I hesitated for just a moment before I put my tongue on her clit, tasting something indescribable but oh so amazing. I used my fingers to penetrate her pussy while I continued licking her clit and her boyfriend, who had been watching while I popped my “girl cherry,” began to go to work on me. He finally started fucking me from behind while I went to town on his girlfriend. Eventually he got his share of attention but I loved being in the middle of them; getting it from him while giving it to her.

We fell asleep after much orgiastic behavior and when I woke up in the morning and tried to sneak out, I was dragged back to bed for more and given the many orgasms that the whiskey had denied me the night before (the only real negative I get from the malted grains).

I have done a fair amount of memorable bisexual exploring since this experience and hope to do much much more but I would say that my first threesome was the best birthday present to myself ever.

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