Part II
The old Impala is chewing up the asphalt. D’s fingers move from my thighs to become gently more insistent, tracing slow circles against my panties and pressing in softly. He lifts my knee just a bit, shifting my foot on the dashboard to part my legs a touch more, making sure he has perfect access to what he wants. But I can tell he’s still trying to leave me sleeping. I feel that sweet, familiar ache begin to build. There’s something about having a man touch you when he thinks you’re asleep that’s so tantalizing. It’s taboo. Even if you’re his woman, he doesn’t necessarily have your permission to take advantage of you while you’re unconscious. It makes it easy to believe that he’s simply taking what he wants… touching you for his own pleasure rather than yours, regardless of whether it violates you.
As much as the thought of it makes my heart race, I all but force myself to ignore the heat building between my legs and keep dozing. I drift in and out of that perfect, dreamy, aroused state, all the while knowing that he has to be pleased with the wetness he is creating. As I doze off again, I think I feel him softly tugging my panties to the side, slipping his fingers lower to check his work more closely.
The sun is a bit closer to the horizon when I wake again. Our journey has already found a place that is warmer and softer—swampy, but scented with a magnolia-bourbon sweetness. The road twists a bit more than when we started out. The air has the hint of a chill and tall trees tower over us. The car is stopped along the side of a mossy, still creek. The sound of the first crickets and frogs of the evening drift up from the water.
These are not the things that wake me. D’s head buried under my skirt, his soft tongue lapping between my legs, my body now somehow splayed across the wide backseat… this is what wakes me. The disorientation is beautiful. I open my eyes to an expanse of bright pre-dusk blue sky, and lose myself in orgasm moments later.
“If you wanted me to drive, you could have just asked.” I tease after I catch my breath.
“Not yet, Babe.” He gets out of the car and stretches, and I see the outline of his hard cock through his shorts. “We’ve got to get going, but I’ll be driving while you return the favor.”
“Mmm. Yes, Sir.” I lean over the hood and light a cigarette, already wet again at the thought. “But we’d better put the top up once we get back out onto the main road.”
“Nope.” He slides a hand up the back of my thigh and presses himself against me.
I let out a tiny gasp. I imagine truckers peering down at us, throwing D a lewd honk and a thumbs up as they admire my ass in the air, my skirt blowing around me in the wind, and my mouth around his throbbing cock. I picture D leaned back, one hand on the wheel and the other on the back of my head, returning their attention with a knowing nod and a smile. My face flushes bright red. I start to protest but he slaps me on the ass before I can get the words out.
“Wipe that innocent look off your face and get in the car.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Gravel scurries around in the dust behind us, and my blush deepens as I notice that he’s tied my soaked panties to the antenna like a badge of honor.
Note: You can find Part I here.
(via pornandchicken)
My friends, things are going well. I’m presently putting in many more hours on this full time student gig than I think I ever did as an employee, and that’s saying something. But—-with the exception of the small nagging worry that I’ll never work again and we’ll starve under a bridge while trying to live off of our love, dumpster scraps, and the generosity of strangers—-I am loving it. I am happy.
And yet, this picture. Wow. I saw it and was transported instantly into a detailed vision that most shrinks would call an escape fantasy:
We have somehow acquired, borrowed, or rented a convertible—a big old one I think. Early ’60s Impala, something like that. Red. We have thrown our middle fingers up to the world, blown off our obligations, haphazardly packed a bag of essentials, and set out just before dawn for someplace warm and dry - Texas or southern California perhaps? Mexico? It’s hard to tell, but I know it’s west of here. I drive the first stretch, with D asleep by my side, his unconscious hand lingering on my knee. I want him to rest well. I leave the radio off. The silence and the smell of fog lifting clear my mind; the accelerator rumbles under my bare foot; the gypsy blood in my heart tells me to press down harder. I map out a route in my head—it’s not the straight shot that it could be, but we’re not on a schedule and I’m bored with seeing the interstate. Besides, I’d rather cut south right away… we’re both tired of being cold.
After awhile, we stop for black coffee at a no-name greasy spoon along the road. As we open the door, the smell encourages us to grab a seat and add some hash-browns and bacon to our coffee order. The food is good and warm and the stools at the counter are filled with old men telling worn out stories, who are only too happy for a fresh audience. Their wives are gathered at a booth in the corner; they eye my cleavage disapprovingly and whisper to one another. The waitress shakes her head. Smiles. Keeps the coffee coming. We order seconds of bacon just to have a reason to sit and listen a little longer.
Once our bellies are full, we head back to the car and D takes the wheel. I climb in beside him, prop my feet up on the dash, crank up the radio, let the wind style my hair, and chain smoke like only someone who is driving west in a convertible on a whim can chain smoke. Eventually, the road noise encourages me to doze just a little. It’s restful, but I’m still aware of the sun on my face, the scratchy sounds of the radio, the smell of asphalt and warm grass blowing in, D’s fingers intertwined with my own, and the miles disappearing behind us. I feel his hand loosen from mine and gently slip up my thigh. My legs part slightly, slowly, as though they’re trying not to stir me from my sleep. I feel the breeze tickle against the growing dampness in my panties…
All of this first thing in the morning from just a picture. Maybe we do need to get away… that cancelled trip from earlier this fall must be weighing on me. As such, Part II of this story may be forthcoming in a few days if I make enough progress as a good little student.
Update: You can find Part II here.
(via gentlekama)
Dear Tumblr. I’ve worked myself to death over the last week, and still have a lot to get done tonight. But I’m tired and need to procrastinate for just a little while. I’m in a sappy mood, and there’s a story I’ve been meaning to tell you for over a month now. It’s just a little thing, I swear, and was so effortless that he may not even remember it happened. But it’s reminded me that this man has brought out a girly, feminine side of me that I’d fought off for years. And that’s a good thing.
We were at a hotel. Nothing romantic, just a cheap, dingy place—the tiny kind with the sink and vanity and everything in one room, bright 80s decor, a touch musty. Just a place to hang our hats for the night so we could attend an event early the next day. It had been a long day and we’d just come back from an awesome dinner followed by a great time in a smokey dive bar, so I grabbed a quick shower before bed. I got out, we chatted about something inconsequential, he went back to watching basic cable on the tiny TV, and I went to the sink to dry my hair.
After awhile, I looked up to see if he’d fallen asleep, and our eyes met. “What are you doing?” I asked. His reply? “Watching you dry your hair. I never get to see you do it at home, you always shut the door.”
I was completely tongue-tied. I have a lot of hair, so God knows how long he’d been watching. This is the kind of stuff they put in romantic comedy date movies for girls. I couldn’t have been any more blown away if he’d walked in with a dozen roses. I think I replied with something brilliant like “Oh. Yeah. I shut the door at home because it’s loud.” Or I might have made a silly joke about how he was “busted,” because he busts me all the time when I’m staring at him. But inside? Inside, I was thinking “I didn’t know they made men like this. I moved nearly a year ago and he still likes me well enough to watch me dry my hair? I am one lucky girl.”
I’ve never dated a military man before now, and everyone in my family who served had passed on before I was born. So the rush of having someone by my side who not only signed up, but actually served overseas, is new to me. But I’ll tell you this. It effects my head, my heart, and certain other unmentionable parts of me equally. I think of his willingness to sacrifice and it blows my mind. My heart swells with pride at his bravery and selflessness. And when my eyes fixate on his tattoo, or his broad shoulders, or the way that even years beyond active duty, he can still pick me up (or hold me down) with one arm… well, my panties tell that tale. Today isn’t that different than any other day in which I’m inspired to tell the world how lucky I am… it’s just that I have an extra excuse to do it. Happy Veteran’s Day, everyone. If you happen to live in a country where you can view and/or post dirty pictures all day without getting stoned to death, you know who to thank.
“All gave some; some gave all.” Show appreciation for our veterans today!
Dear Friends,
I realize that many of you may not have ever clicked through to the actual blog, following through your dashboard only. But for those who have, and especially for those who have been following since the early days, you know that since the day we finally confirmed that my Baby would be coming to snatch me up and bring me home, I had a countdown in my sidebar. And once we were reunited, I modified it to count up our days together, rather than counting down to the finale of our separation.
Well guess what. Take a gander at that counter now. Sweetie, it’s been a year of ups and downs—between us, and in life in general. We’ve been to funerals, fought with family and each other, lost friends, lost confidence, and run ourselves ragged in general. But it doesn’t feel like that. Looking back, it feels like a year of pure, uninterrupted bliss. And that’s because I’ve done it all with you by my side.
D, I hope you’ve realized by now that there is nowhere else on earth I’d rather be. Thank you for coming to get me, my Love. Week 3 came and went. Welcome to week 52 and beyond.
My Love. I had an incredible day with you yesterday. And we talked about things last night that lifted the weight of the world off of my shoulders. The post below is from just about this time last year. Read it all again. Do you still remember how it felt? We both forget sometimes and take being together—and each other—for granted. But Babe… for me, every day I wake up by your side still feels like a new gift. I love you, D, more than ever.
The notes below made me choke up a little. I’ve looked back over my shoulder at you from the airport security line too many times. Searched your face for every line that I want to remember as we kiss goodbye. Filled my nose as full as it can get with one last smell. Looked at the moon with you from 2600 miles away just to feel a little closer.
I want to scream at every happy couple I see “Do you know how freaking lucky you are to be able to hold hands any time you want to!?”
And even though all of that will end soon, I don’t ever want to forget this awful urgency, and how painful this separation really is, because it will make every day I wake up by your side feel like a new gift. Not long now Baby. Chin up. xoxo
In his arms at last, he relished the though of the next two days…
noubliejamais: ntima ; starlesstare ;
“Long-distance relationships have an urgency that couples in short-distance relationships can only dream of. Every second together counts. Every shared meal is savored; every kiss must be good enough to last weeks, maybe even months. Have you really lived, after all, if you haven’t searched for your beloved’s face at an airport gate, cursing the flight delay because you have only a weekend before you must part again? We should all be so lucky to seal in our memories the image of our lover on our doorstep, suitcase in hand, clothes wrinkled from a long trip, skin emanating a scent that we’ve forgotten but suddenly comes rushing back, bringing with it the recollection of the last time, which was too long ago and too brief, and ended with a tearful goodbye on this same doorstep.”
Probably the third time I’ve posted this pic. But it’s personal. After a busy roller coaster day yesterday full of laughter and stress and frustration and fun, I drifted off to sleep with your cock in my hand. Not that unusual for us, I know. Sometimes I reach for it just because it feels good to hold it; sometimes because I’m hoping to find it stiffening as we lay together; sometimes because I want to remind you that I adore it and the man it belongs to; but times like last night, I reach for it because I need it—because I know the comfort it brings will calm my racing mind and remind me that all is right with the world.
(via libraryvixen)
I love the fact that sometimes, like last night, you still kiss me like the very first time you kissed me. I never thought kissing like that could last two years in. And it still sets my spine on fire, just like that very first kiss… you know, the one that swept me off my feet and changed my life forever? That one. I love you, D.
(via billets-doux)
I remember the first time you took me over the edge through my nipples alone. We were on the hood of your car in a pouring summer rainstorm in the middle of the night. We were both steaming—literally—from just hopping out of a hot tub. One of my very favorite memories for sure.
Reblogged for the too-perfect caption. Both parts.
I love this place where I am comfortable and happy. It feels so much different than that old comfortable feeling I had for all of those years before when I got nothing accomplished. Home is your huge balls in my mouth.
(via dailyporno)
OK Tumblr, I’m going to be forced to pause from reminiscing about our most recent night of mind-blowing sex to offer a brief and judgmental rant. But in the process of looking for the just-perfect picture of a blow job (which I believe I finally found here), I’ve watched three different BJ video posts…
Listen, Ladies. There is a difference between sucking cock and giving someone a damp hand job. Please don’t tell me you love to suck dick and then post video of you jerking him off and licking at the tip every few strokes. Sorry girls, but if you’re going to suck a cock, you’ll have to actually put it in your mouth. And those of us who like that part of it just sit back and shake our heads when we see you peck-and-retreat like it might bite you. Moreover, if you happen to be fond of the cock’s owner, please at least think about swallowing. It’s an acquired taste, but it grows on you I promise. We girls grow up with so much shame about what we may or may not taste like, but we don’t think twice about returning the insult by spitting out his very essence. If he licks your pussy without running for the mouthwash afterward, swallow his cum and learn to like it.
Thanks for sticking around for the public service announcement. Now go learn to suck cock.
My aroma drives her to the point of engulfing my balls deep in her mouth…
All I could add to the caption below is, “me too.” When you’ve closed off my airways, when the drool down my chin mixes with the water streaming from my eyes, when I hear you taking joy in the noises I make to accommodate your cock down my throat, when you’re using nothing but a fistful of my hair to show me what you really need… nothing else exists for me then but that moment.
By the time I am fully enveloped
By the time your throat reflexively closes down on me
By the time my sac comes to rest on your chin
By the time your mouth is stuffed with cock
All else will have ceased to exist for me
You, wet and warm and receiving
Me, slate-hard and thrusting
My fingers threaded through your hair
That soft, seizing sound of my length lodging and then releasing at the back of your throat
The lovely sheen your dribble has left on your swaying breasts
These things exist
Nothing else
This picture threw me back nearly two years in a heartbeat. Tulsa. We’d known each other less than a month. Our spark was undeniable and unreal. Our instant level of familiarity bordered on creepy. And we were right in the middle of our decision to write our chances off anyway — too many obstacles; too many unknowns. And yet you laid your head on my belly, held me tight, and wept. And all I could think was “Am I really walking away from the first person in my life who has shown this kind of honest and raw emotion over little old me? Am I an idiot?“ We left that town set on never seeing each other again. Well, look at how well that panned out.
“Not now. Please. You can’t leave me now. There’s no place you have to be more important than right here.”
Dear Tumblr,
What an incredible day we had yesterday. We got up early, got some things done in the real world, and then I blew off work and we spent the rest of the day alternating between napping, eating, drinking, and fucking. And laughing a lot, especially when I fell out of bed flat on my back. It was the kind of day I’d needed for a while. Baby, how long has it been since I told you how happy you make me? xoxo
He told her he could do without her.
It was the best laugh she’d had all day.
Oh friends. I have missed you! I have had a most wondrous and perfect past month. In fact, this picture could well be me - ass dimples in the air and a huge grin on my face. And I do apologize for my longer-than-planned absence. But beyond the general chaos of moving across the country, the honest truth is that I’ve been getting laid twice a day (sometimes more)… which means that tumblr-porn is now an infrequent indulgence rather than a daily crutch. :)
But I don’t want to rub that in too much. I’ve gotten so many lovely messages from you - many who are in the same predicament we were in - and the extent to which that distance sucks is still a fresh memory. So listen. Hang in there, all of you. It’s worth it. I promise.
As for the blog, I may not be here every day, but I’m not going away either. This filthy girl still needs an outlet from time to time, and besides, I don’t expect to get railed twice a day forever. I may not caption everything (I actually get to see and talk to him in person now, after all), but I’m at least getting back on the horse. xoxo
~2600
happy and naked is the best combination in the WORLD