It’s been a busy Fleet Week in New York, and my revolving door just hasn’t stopped spinning.
But let me pour a glass of peach iced tea and pause to make these announcements.
First, here’s my weekly Sex Blog Roundup at Fleshbot. This time out, we tip the hat to those who just aren’t getting any. My fingers are crossed for you, friends.
Second, we have two winners for my recent Spring Fling Contest . Thanks to all who applied, and congratulations to our deserving winners.
You’ll recall that I reserved slots for two flings—one for a female, one for a male.
A female winner emerged quickly with a sweet submissive gal in search of her orgasm.
The male slot, sadly, went wanting. I had a few applicants, but none that met the basic criteria of proximity, compatibility and ability to actually make a date.
I’m increasingly convinced that boys are as lame as the girls say.
So, in the interest of balance, the second position went to another woman. Male aspirants may take some comfort in knowing she’s practically a boy—really, she’s such a prick, she must be packing testosterone someplace.
Of course, I’ll tell you all about it in time.
Perhaps the guys will do better with my annual Summer Boyfriend contest. Last year’s attempt uncovered a fine boyfriend—though, come to think of it, he turned out to be a woman.
sex
sexblogs
bisexual
erotica
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Walk the Line
Three people sleeping in one bed is often better as an idea than it proves to be in practice.
I woke between Emma and Mitzi in exactly the same position in which I had fallen to sleep. I was stiff, wedged into place by their nude bodies pressed close against mine.
I took my nose from Emma’s hair and looked to the clock. It was mid-morning. We had been asleep only a few hours.
I had to stretch and breathe.
I lifted myself on one hip, taking care not to adjust position lest I disturb my bedmates. My hip slid from under Mitzi’s arm as I pulled myself to the edge of the mattress.
“Jefferson?” she whispered.
I stood and went to her. I kissed her cheek. “Shh, baby. Don’t wake Emma. I’m just stretching.”
“Coming back?” Her eyelashes fluttered between sleep and wake.
“Yeah, soon.” I pet her hair.
She turned back to her pillow as I kissed her shoulder. My bare feet cooled against parquet as I left the women to slumber.
The living room was full of morning light. I stretched my arms up and lifted myself on my toes. I could feel the expansion of my hamstrings and calves. My vertebrae and joints complained as they popped back into place.
I twisted on the axis of my hips, my cock flopping amicably between my thighs.
I yawned and scratched my ass.
I poured a glass of orange juice and returned to the doorway of my bedroom to survey the women under my covers. I smiled at their arms over the duvet.
They looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place the memory.
The citrus slashed across my tongue’s cottony memories of the previous night’s cocktails.
I finished the glass. My mouth was a little more awake, but my body was no less fatigued.
I needed to rest to the sound of my own pulse.
I rinsed my glass and took a piss. I took a pillow and blanket from the linen closet and curled up on the couch.
“Jefferson?”
Mitzi woke me there, as she had just before dawn.
“Hmmm?” My eyes remained closed.
“Sweetheart,” she said softly. “Can you come back to bed?”
I turned to my back. “Hmmm, no, I’m fine. Go to sleep.”
“But I miss you.” She sat against my hip, caressing my hair.
“I’m just sleeping.”
“Come sleep with me.” She put her lips to mine.
I flipped to my hip and pulled her into my arms. “No, you sleep here,” I said, too leaden to move. She nodded and lay on her side, nuzzling her back to my torso. My face was buried in her black curls.
I dozed.
“Jefferson?”
“Hmm?”
“Honey, I’m falling off the couch.” I realized that she clutched my forearm with tense fingers.
“Okay.” I rubbed my eyes. “Maybe the bed makes more sense.”
We sat up, abandoning the couch and it’s bedding to find slightly roomier accommodations.
Emma awoke to the sound of us fucking beside her.
“Good morning,” she smiled.
“Hey, morning, sweet.” My cock pushed deeper into Mitzi as I leaned to kiss Emma.
“Did we wake you?” Mitzi asked.
“Yes, like you care,” Emma said. “I mean, you’re not going to stop just so I can sleep, are you?”
“We’ll stop,” I grinned to Mitzi. “Eventually.”
“That’s what I figured,” Emma said, lowering her heavy lids. “Just leave me some room on the bed.”
I put my forearms under Mitzi’s shoulder, pulling her closer to me. I kissed her earlobe.
I held my cock deep in her, pressing my pubis back and forth against her clit.
“So deep, baby,” she squealed quietly.
“I know, so deep,” I whispered. “Now give me what I want.”
She nodded. Her cheeks were wet against mine.
“Unh,” she moaned. “Unh, no, Jefferson . . . so close, but I can’t.”
I pulled my face back and looked at her. “Do you want to . . .?”
“Yes, please,” she nodded.
I pulled away from her body. She sat up.
We traded positions. She lowered her pussy to my thigh.
She began to grind down on me. I tensed a muscle under her, and took a nipple between a finger and thumb.
Emma turned and sat up. “Are you going to high school him?”
“Uh huh,” Mitzi smiled. “Now be quiet.” She closed her eyes.
Emma and I watched Mitzi’s face as her hips pushed back and forth against me.
Mitzi lowered her hand to brush my cock, bobbing against her hip. “Unh,” she moaned quietly. She moaned again, more loudly.
She opened her eyes and smiled.
She collapsed on my chest.
I pulled her hair from her face. “Did we get it?” I asked.
She nodded into my chest. “Unh huh.”
“Nice work,” Emma said. “It’s good to see Jefferson finally having sex when he’s awake.”
I asked the girls what I had missed by falling asleep at the orgy. Emma said she had enjoyed it when Nate fucked her as she was poised in midair, her back against one hallway wall, her feet against the opposite.
“You were in the air?” I marveled. “Wait, didn’t that block the hallway?”
“Wasn’t that Apollo?” Mitzi asked.
“It was one of them, whichever.” Emma shrugged. “I don’t know if we blocked the hall; I was too busy to notice.”
“Damn, I sleep through the best sex,” I lamented.
Mitzi raised up and punched my shoulder. “What am I, chopped liver?”
“Ow!” I winced. I sniffed Mitzi’s hair. “Oh, is that liver I smell?”
“Motherfucker,” Mitzi laughed, hitting me harder.
“Bitchcunt,” I replied, grabbing her wrist. “Bitchcuntpussyass punk.”
“Children, behave . . . ,” Emma began.
“She fucking started it,” I grimaced between clenched teeth.
Mitzi struggled against my grip. “Bring it, asshole—I’ll kick your bony ass.”
“You talking to me?” I snarled.
“Can’t we all just get along?” Emma asked plaintively.
“Stand back, Emma,” Mitzi warned. “I don’t want you getting hurt as I take him down.”
I blocked a blow with my free hand, now gripping each of Mitzi’s wrists. “Ha!,” I gloated.
Mitzi jumped her feet and wrestled free. She crouched into a wrestler’s stance and drummed her chest. “You want a piece of this, old man?”
“You can’t be talking to me?” I rose to echo her pose.
We circled, our eyes locked.
“Jesus, would you just get a room?” Emma sighed.
“We’ve got a room . . . ,” I began before being silenced by a lunge.
“Mother fuck,” I reeled back. “Ref, did you see that?”
“You gonna cry to mama, poor little wee wee?” Mitzi taunted, bobbing from side to side.
I took her arm and hurled her to the bed.
She fell, raising a foot to stop my advance.
“Okay, enough,” Emma said, raising a hand. “It’s all fun until someone loses an eye.”
“Fine by me.” I stood back and extended a hand. “Truce?”
“Truce,” Mitzi nodded before kicking my hand away.
“You double-crossing, yellow-bellied cocksucker,” I swore. I came at her waving my hands in a mock sissy fight.
She waved me back.
We turned our heads, eyes closed.
“Okay, okay, you win,” I surrendered. “You are boss sissy.”
“Damn right, Mary.” Mitzi leaned back on a pillow, her cheeks flushed, smug in victory.
I sat on the bed between the two women looking at me. Emma’s blond hair was sprawled on one pillow, Mitzi’s dark locks on another.
“Huh,” I said. “Now I get it—you two look like a Courbet.”
“What Courbet?” Emma asked.
“A painting?” Mitzi smiled. “Really?”
“Yeah,” I nodded, squinting to recall a painting I knew better in graduate school. “It’s called ‘The Sleepers,’ and it shows two nude women embraced in bed. One is blonde and the other is brunette, like my present company. I remember something about the blonde representing Europe and the brunette representing Asia, but I’m not sure about that. I’m just sure it’s pretty hot mid-nineteenth-century girl-on-girl.”
“Sounds hot,” Mitzi looked at Emma.
“Yeah, Courbet was a pervert,” Emma nodded.
“Or his patrons were,” I concurred. “Remember ‘Origin of the World' . . . “
“L’origine du monde,” Emma corrected.
“What’s that?” Mitzi asked.
“It’s a painting of a woman’s spread legs,” Emma said.
“Basically a beaver shot, right?” I nodded. “It hangs in the D’Orsay these days, but it was painted for a Turkish patron who went for the smutty pictures. It was originally commissioned for his private viewing pleasure.”
“Or wanking,” Emma said.
“Most assuredly, wanking,” I smiled. “It’s now public, but it was intended as a private thing.”
I realized I was absent-mindedly massaging each woman’s thighs.
We fell quiet, listening to the city.
“You know,” Mitzi broke the silence. “I’m having the best time. I’d like this to continue. Would you?”
“Sure, it’s nice,” Emma said.
“You want to go to a movie?” Mitzi asked.
“I need to see ‘Walk the Line.’” I said. “It was just nominated, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, and I haven’t seen it,” Mitzi agreed.
“Me either,” Emma said.
Mitzi sat up. “Oh my God, are we going to do this?”
“I think we are,” I said, just as excited. I liked the spontaneity of Mitzi’s proposal. Why end this time together, or limit it to my bedroom? Why the hell not go to a movie?
Mitzi needed to stop by her place to walk her Chihuahua, Monster. Emma needed to study. I had writing to do.
We resolved to take a break of a few hours, and then reconvene at the theater. Emma would study at my place as I worked.
But first, we each needed a shower. In the spirit of togetherness, we took our party to the bath.
I was soaping Emma as Mitzi shampooed.
“You know, Jefferson,” Mitzi said, as if this thought just occurred to her. “You are living every man’s fantasy.”
“You think?” I grinned.
I blubbered as I washed my face in Emma’s soapy tits.
The girls laughed.
I hoped this joke hid my blush. I knew that what Mitzi said was largely true; my life is pretty much a wet dream for most men. But it’s a little embarrassing to have it so baldly stated.
Yes, I have a lot of sex, and some very cool lovers.
But, it’s not a put on, or some Playboy Mansion grotto fantasy.
It’s my life.
The daily fabric of my life may well be the envy of most men. Who would not want to awake between two women? Who would not want to have sex with these women, and trade playful barbs or ideas about art before facing the real world?
But it’s my life. How does one maintain a private life in so public a situation?
Mitzi messages Emma, who messages Shelby, whose best friend is Meg, who messages Madeline, who shares my girlfriend Viviane and my boyfriend Marcus . . . and of course, everyone has fucked everyone else.
Everyone talks about everything. There are no secrets.
I was pondering all this as my birthday week of wall-to-wall sex entered its second week—and I realized I had reserved no time to myself.
The afternoon was waning as Mitzi joined us at the theatre.
She smiled knowingly as she approached us on the sidewalk. We had already purchased tickets.
“Hello, Jefferson. Hello, Emma.” She kissed our cheeks in turn.
“Hi,” Emma kissed her.
“Hey baby.” I kissed her.
“Did you get much studying done?” Mitzi asked Emma.
Emma demurred. “Well . . . “
“Not so much,” I volunteered.
Mitzi smiled like a crocodile. Her voice teased. “Oh, Emma, did that bad Jefferson distract you from your studies?”
Emma turned to me. “Maybe a little.”
“Maybe we need to get seats,” I suggested, hedging the follow-up questions.
I avoided a few admissions.
Emma had put her books aside as we fucked. For several hours.
Emma cums so readily. It was almost cruel how I pushed her from one orgasm to another. A body can only stand so much. And yet I was insatiable for more of her shudders and gasps.
It was also cruel how close that brought us. Emma’s body found its language with mine. Our minds were just as synchronized.
At this moment in her life, Emma has no use for love and all that. She likes that I am uncomplicated about the emotional stuff. I’m a good person. I give her good sex. I’m a gateway for more good sex. I don’t mess it up.
But our hearts had to take care.
Emma was a little quiet as we walked into “Walk the Line.”
The heart is only so resilient.
I sat between Emma and Mitzi.
For nearly three hours, we watched Johnny Cash find his soul mate in June Carter.
I leaned to the left, leaving an arm entwined with Mitzi’s. Our fingers were interwoven.
At my right, my hand fit dryly into Emma’s palm.
I had to borrow my right hand to daub tears when June finally relented and agreed—on stage—to marry Johnny.
It was evening when the movie let out. We clustered on the sidewalk, parsing scenes and offering reviews.
Viviane waved to us as she rounded the corner.
The four of us talked for a while before Viviane said it was time to go. We all kissed cheeks. Viviane flagged a cab.
Viviane and I had a date that night.
sex
sexblogs
bisexual
erotica
fucking
threesome
Courbet
Walk the Line
Johnny Cash
June Carter Cash
I woke between Emma and Mitzi in exactly the same position in which I had fallen to sleep. I was stiff, wedged into place by their nude bodies pressed close against mine.
I took my nose from Emma’s hair and looked to the clock. It was mid-morning. We had been asleep only a few hours.
I had to stretch and breathe.
I lifted myself on one hip, taking care not to adjust position lest I disturb my bedmates. My hip slid from under Mitzi’s arm as I pulled myself to the edge of the mattress.
“Jefferson?” she whispered.
I stood and went to her. I kissed her cheek. “Shh, baby. Don’t wake Emma. I’m just stretching.”
“Coming back?” Her eyelashes fluttered between sleep and wake.
“Yeah, soon.” I pet her hair.
She turned back to her pillow as I kissed her shoulder. My bare feet cooled against parquet as I left the women to slumber.
The living room was full of morning light. I stretched my arms up and lifted myself on my toes. I could feel the expansion of my hamstrings and calves. My vertebrae and joints complained as they popped back into place.
I twisted on the axis of my hips, my cock flopping amicably between my thighs.
I yawned and scratched my ass.
I poured a glass of orange juice and returned to the doorway of my bedroom to survey the women under my covers. I smiled at their arms over the duvet.
They looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place the memory.
The citrus slashed across my tongue’s cottony memories of the previous night’s cocktails.
I finished the glass. My mouth was a little more awake, but my body was no less fatigued.
I needed to rest to the sound of my own pulse.
I rinsed my glass and took a piss. I took a pillow and blanket from the linen closet and curled up on the couch.
“Jefferson?”
Mitzi woke me there, as she had just before dawn.
“Hmmm?” My eyes remained closed.
“Sweetheart,” she said softly. “Can you come back to bed?”
I turned to my back. “Hmmm, no, I’m fine. Go to sleep.”
“But I miss you.” She sat against my hip, caressing my hair.
“I’m just sleeping.”
“Come sleep with me.” She put her lips to mine.
I flipped to my hip and pulled her into my arms. “No, you sleep here,” I said, too leaden to move. She nodded and lay on her side, nuzzling her back to my torso. My face was buried in her black curls.
I dozed.
“Jefferson?”
“Hmm?”
“Honey, I’m falling off the couch.” I realized that she clutched my forearm with tense fingers.
“Okay.” I rubbed my eyes. “Maybe the bed makes more sense.”
We sat up, abandoning the couch and it’s bedding to find slightly roomier accommodations.
Emma awoke to the sound of us fucking beside her.
“Good morning,” she smiled.
“Hey, morning, sweet.” My cock pushed deeper into Mitzi as I leaned to kiss Emma.
“Did we wake you?” Mitzi asked.
“Yes, like you care,” Emma said. “I mean, you’re not going to stop just so I can sleep, are you?”
“We’ll stop,” I grinned to Mitzi. “Eventually.”
“That’s what I figured,” Emma said, lowering her heavy lids. “Just leave me some room on the bed.”
I put my forearms under Mitzi’s shoulder, pulling her closer to me. I kissed her earlobe.
I held my cock deep in her, pressing my pubis back and forth against her clit.
“So deep, baby,” she squealed quietly.
“I know, so deep,” I whispered. “Now give me what I want.”
She nodded. Her cheeks were wet against mine.
“Unh,” she moaned. “Unh, no, Jefferson . . . so close, but I can’t.”
I pulled my face back and looked at her. “Do you want to . . .?”
“Yes, please,” she nodded.
I pulled away from her body. She sat up.
We traded positions. She lowered her pussy to my thigh.
She began to grind down on me. I tensed a muscle under her, and took a nipple between a finger and thumb.
Emma turned and sat up. “Are you going to high school him?”
“Uh huh,” Mitzi smiled. “Now be quiet.” She closed her eyes.
Emma and I watched Mitzi’s face as her hips pushed back and forth against me.
Mitzi lowered her hand to brush my cock, bobbing against her hip. “Unh,” she moaned quietly. She moaned again, more loudly.
She opened her eyes and smiled.
She collapsed on my chest.
I pulled her hair from her face. “Did we get it?” I asked.
She nodded into my chest. “Unh huh.”
“Nice work,” Emma said. “It’s good to see Jefferson finally having sex when he’s awake.”
I asked the girls what I had missed by falling asleep at the orgy. Emma said she had enjoyed it when Nate fucked her as she was poised in midair, her back against one hallway wall, her feet against the opposite.
“You were in the air?” I marveled. “Wait, didn’t that block the hallway?”
“Wasn’t that Apollo?” Mitzi asked.
“It was one of them, whichever.” Emma shrugged. “I don’t know if we blocked the hall; I was too busy to notice.”
“Damn, I sleep through the best sex,” I lamented.
Mitzi raised up and punched my shoulder. “What am I, chopped liver?”
“Ow!” I winced. I sniffed Mitzi’s hair. “Oh, is that liver I smell?”
“Motherfucker,” Mitzi laughed, hitting me harder.
“Bitchcunt,” I replied, grabbing her wrist. “Bitchcuntpussyass punk.”
“Children, behave . . . ,” Emma began.
“She fucking started it,” I grimaced between clenched teeth.
Mitzi struggled against my grip. “Bring it, asshole—I’ll kick your bony ass.”
“You talking to me?” I snarled.
“Can’t we all just get along?” Emma asked plaintively.
“Stand back, Emma,” Mitzi warned. “I don’t want you getting hurt as I take him down.”
I blocked a blow with my free hand, now gripping each of Mitzi’s wrists. “Ha!,” I gloated.
Mitzi jumped her feet and wrestled free. She crouched into a wrestler’s stance and drummed her chest. “You want a piece of this, old man?”
“You can’t be talking to me?” I rose to echo her pose.
We circled, our eyes locked.
“Jesus, would you just get a room?” Emma sighed.
“We’ve got a room . . . ,” I began before being silenced by a lunge.
“Mother fuck,” I reeled back. “Ref, did you see that?”
“You gonna cry to mama, poor little wee wee?” Mitzi taunted, bobbing from side to side.
I took her arm and hurled her to the bed.
She fell, raising a foot to stop my advance.
“Okay, enough,” Emma said, raising a hand. “It’s all fun until someone loses an eye.”
“Fine by me.” I stood back and extended a hand. “Truce?”
“Truce,” Mitzi nodded before kicking my hand away.
“You double-crossing, yellow-bellied cocksucker,” I swore. I came at her waving my hands in a mock sissy fight.
She waved me back.
We turned our heads, eyes closed.
“Okay, okay, you win,” I surrendered. “You are boss sissy.”
“Damn right, Mary.” Mitzi leaned back on a pillow, her cheeks flushed, smug in victory.
I sat on the bed between the two women looking at me. Emma’s blond hair was sprawled on one pillow, Mitzi’s dark locks on another.
“Huh,” I said. “Now I get it—you two look like a Courbet.”
“What Courbet?” Emma asked.
“A painting?” Mitzi smiled. “Really?”
“Yeah,” I nodded, squinting to recall a painting I knew better in graduate school. “It’s called ‘The Sleepers,’ and it shows two nude women embraced in bed. One is blonde and the other is brunette, like my present company. I remember something about the blonde representing Europe and the brunette representing Asia, but I’m not sure about that. I’m just sure it’s pretty hot mid-nineteenth-century girl-on-girl.”
“Sounds hot,” Mitzi looked at Emma.
“Yeah, Courbet was a pervert,” Emma nodded.
“Or his patrons were,” I concurred. “Remember ‘Origin of the World' . . . “
“L’origine du monde,” Emma corrected.
“What’s that?” Mitzi asked.
“It’s a painting of a woman’s spread legs,” Emma said.
“Basically a beaver shot, right?” I nodded. “It hangs in the D’Orsay these days, but it was painted for a Turkish patron who went for the smutty pictures. It was originally commissioned for his private viewing pleasure.”
“Or wanking,” Emma said.
“Most assuredly, wanking,” I smiled. “It’s now public, but it was intended as a private thing.”
I realized I was absent-mindedly massaging each woman’s thighs.
We fell quiet, listening to the city.
“You know,” Mitzi broke the silence. “I’m having the best time. I’d like this to continue. Would you?”
“Sure, it’s nice,” Emma said.
“You want to go to a movie?” Mitzi asked.
“I need to see ‘Walk the Line.’” I said. “It was just nominated, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, and I haven’t seen it,” Mitzi agreed.
“Me either,” Emma said.
Mitzi sat up. “Oh my God, are we going to do this?”
“I think we are,” I said, just as excited. I liked the spontaneity of Mitzi’s proposal. Why end this time together, or limit it to my bedroom? Why the hell not go to a movie?
Mitzi needed to stop by her place to walk her Chihuahua, Monster. Emma needed to study. I had writing to do.
We resolved to take a break of a few hours, and then reconvene at the theater. Emma would study at my place as I worked.
But first, we each needed a shower. In the spirit of togetherness, we took our party to the bath.
I was soaping Emma as Mitzi shampooed.
“You know, Jefferson,” Mitzi said, as if this thought just occurred to her. “You are living every man’s fantasy.”
“You think?” I grinned.
I blubbered as I washed my face in Emma’s soapy tits.
The girls laughed.
I hoped this joke hid my blush. I knew that what Mitzi said was largely true; my life is pretty much a wet dream for most men. But it’s a little embarrassing to have it so baldly stated.
Yes, I have a lot of sex, and some very cool lovers.
But, it’s not a put on, or some Playboy Mansion grotto fantasy.
It’s my life.
The daily fabric of my life may well be the envy of most men. Who would not want to awake between two women? Who would not want to have sex with these women, and trade playful barbs or ideas about art before facing the real world?
But it’s my life. How does one maintain a private life in so public a situation?
Mitzi messages Emma, who messages Shelby, whose best friend is Meg, who messages Madeline, who shares my girlfriend Viviane and my boyfriend Marcus . . . and of course, everyone has fucked everyone else.
Everyone talks about everything. There are no secrets.
I was pondering all this as my birthday week of wall-to-wall sex entered its second week—and I realized I had reserved no time to myself.
The afternoon was waning as Mitzi joined us at the theatre.
She smiled knowingly as she approached us on the sidewalk. We had already purchased tickets.
“Hello, Jefferson. Hello, Emma.” She kissed our cheeks in turn.
“Hi,” Emma kissed her.
“Hey baby.” I kissed her.
“Did you get much studying done?” Mitzi asked Emma.
Emma demurred. “Well . . . “
“Not so much,” I volunteered.
Mitzi smiled like a crocodile. Her voice teased. “Oh, Emma, did that bad Jefferson distract you from your studies?”
Emma turned to me. “Maybe a little.”
“Maybe we need to get seats,” I suggested, hedging the follow-up questions.
I avoided a few admissions.
Emma had put her books aside as we fucked. For several hours.
Emma cums so readily. It was almost cruel how I pushed her from one orgasm to another. A body can only stand so much. And yet I was insatiable for more of her shudders and gasps.
It was also cruel how close that brought us. Emma’s body found its language with mine. Our minds were just as synchronized.
At this moment in her life, Emma has no use for love and all that. She likes that I am uncomplicated about the emotional stuff. I’m a good person. I give her good sex. I’m a gateway for more good sex. I don’t mess it up.
But our hearts had to take care.
Emma was a little quiet as we walked into “Walk the Line.”
The heart is only so resilient.
I sat between Emma and Mitzi.
For nearly three hours, we watched Johnny Cash find his soul mate in June Carter.
I leaned to the left, leaving an arm entwined with Mitzi’s. Our fingers were interwoven.
At my right, my hand fit dryly into Emma’s palm.
I had to borrow my right hand to daub tears when June finally relented and agreed—on stage—to marry Johnny.
It was evening when the movie let out. We clustered on the sidewalk, parsing scenes and offering reviews.
Viviane waved to us as she rounded the corner.
The four of us talked for a while before Viviane said it was time to go. We all kissed cheeks. Viviane flagged a cab.
Viviane and I had a date that night.
sex
sexblogs
bisexual
erotica
fucking
threesome
Courbet
Walk the Line
Johnny Cash
June Carter Cash
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Fleshbot and Friends
I must say, my new gig at Fleshbot has varied my reading of sex blogs. There are so many good writers out there burning up the keyboards with tales of lust and longing.
You can see what I mean at this week’s Sex Blog Roundup.
If you would like to have your blog considered for inclusion in the roundup, feel free to drop me a line. You may write fiction or nonfiction, straight or queer, vanilla or devil’s food—it’s all good to me. All I ask is that you write well and with some regularity.
All of this reading has encouraged me to update my blogroll, at left, and to add more of my favorite bloggers. The links preceded by asterisks take you to the blogs of my friends and lovers.
Those new to this blog may benefit from an introduction to some of the other places I crop up. You can often find me getting naked at these blogs:
Madeline
Marcus
Meg
Rose
Darling Viviane helps to keep it all in order by compiling Jefferson’s Gang Bang.
Every now and then, I may sneak into someone else’s blog boudoir. So keep your eyes peeled.
I’ve also started a new blog, Bukkake Social Club. The stories that appear there will also appear here. So why dedicate a blog to a particular fetish? That question is addressed in the first post.
Happy reading, all. I’m peeling my eyes from this screen and taking a book to the park.
sex
sexblogs
bisexual
erotica
You can see what I mean at this week’s Sex Blog Roundup.
If you would like to have your blog considered for inclusion in the roundup, feel free to drop me a line. You may write fiction or nonfiction, straight or queer, vanilla or devil’s food—it’s all good to me. All I ask is that you write well and with some regularity.
All of this reading has encouraged me to update my blogroll, at left, and to add more of my favorite bloggers. The links preceded by asterisks take you to the blogs of my friends and lovers.
Those new to this blog may benefit from an introduction to some of the other places I crop up. You can often find me getting naked at these blogs:
Madeline
Marcus
Meg
Rose
Darling Viviane helps to keep it all in order by compiling Jefferson’s Gang Bang.
Every now and then, I may sneak into someone else’s blog boudoir. So keep your eyes peeled.
I’ve also started a new blog, Bukkake Social Club. The stories that appear there will also appear here. So why dedicate a blog to a particular fetish? That question is addressed in the first post.
Happy reading, all. I’m peeling my eyes from this screen and taking a book to the park.
sex
sexblogs
bisexual
erotica
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Fleshbot and Dicks
You’ll never catch me apologizing for delayed posts in our continuing soap opera. At least, not so long as I am working for sex and peanuts.
Much as I enjoy savories.
But you do get my regrets for taking a few days to notify of you of my most recent Sex Blog Roundup, which appeared at Fleshbot this past weekend.
My next roundup should be up at the end of the week; in the meantime, enjoy the tasty treats offered by the scrumptious Chelsea Girl.
And while you are flitting about, venture to Sexy Dicks, where it is said of your humble servant: “he’s cute, he’s cool and he’s funny.”
Such nice words—and from a site with so vulgar a name!
Guess they don’t know I am a cheap date, huh?
Hell, they had me at “cute.”
Much as I enjoy savories.
But you do get my regrets for taking a few days to notify of you of my most recent Sex Blog Roundup, which appeared at Fleshbot this past weekend.
My next roundup should be up at the end of the week; in the meantime, enjoy the tasty treats offered by the scrumptious Chelsea Girl.
And while you are flitting about, venture to Sexy Dicks, where it is said of your humble servant: “he’s cute, he’s cool and he’s funny.”
Such nice words—and from a site with so vulgar a name!
Guess they don’t know I am a cheap date, huh?
Hell, they had me at “cute.”
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Fleshbot and Photos
The fine folks at Fleshbot have invited the incomparable Chelsea Girl and yours truly to compile their regular roundups of the best in sex blogs.
Each of our efforts appear weekly, with Chelsea at the top of the week and me at the bottom. (Now, I ask you—how often do you find me at the bottom?)
Take a peek at my virgin submission.
And as long as you have your eyes busy, here are some new glimpses of the man behind the curtain. My pal photographer Ryan Morris was good enough to aim his camera my way, taking care to obscure the bits you don’t need to see.
Enjoy.
Each of our efforts appear weekly, with Chelsea at the top of the week and me at the bottom. (Now, I ask you—how often do you find me at the bottom?)
Take a peek at my virgin submission.
And as long as you have your eyes busy, here are some new glimpses of the man behind the curtain. My pal photographer Ryan Morris was good enough to aim his camera my way, taking care to obscure the bits you don’t need to see.
Enjoy.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Tuckered
“Jefferson?”
I felt so rested and at peace. Her voice was sweet and gentle in my ears.
I opened my eyes, smiling. “Yes?”
Mitzi stood beside the couch, near my feet. “Jefferson, it’s after four. I’ve made the bed. Would you like to move to the bedroom?”
I turned to look around the living room. The lights were on. The radio was tuned to a soul station.
“Four? Like, in the morning?” I sat up. “Did I . . . ?”
“Hmmm, yes, Jefferson. You slept through the Nubian party.”
“Wow.” I rubbed my eyes. “Did I really? Wow.”
It had been a very long day.
I woke at six thirty, roused the kids, made breakfast and packed lunches. I took them to school.
By nine, I was at Viviane’s for breakfast and sex.
That afternoon, we drove to Costco and Home Depot, loading a car between us. We unpacked some things at her place, then unpacked the bulk of things at mine.
Afterwards, I cleaned my apartment, washed laundry and put things away.
The evening, I hosted Rose’s cocktail party, finding myself turned on and pretty tight as it shifted into an overheated gangbang.
And then the Nubians were supposed to show up around eleven, and so . . . well, what happened?
“Was it a big party?” I asked, scratching my hair.
“Uh huh,” Mitzi nodded. She held out her hand. “Come on, Jefferson. Let me take you to bed.”
I stood and put my hand in hers. “So, how did it go?”
“What’s the last thing you remember?” she asked, leading me to bed.
“Well, I . . . ,” I stopped, hearing a noise in the back bedroom. I dropped Mitzi’s hand and peeked around the door.
I saw Nate’s back, completely covered in a methodical pattern of deep purple and red hickeys. Two smooth pale legs wrapped around his pivoting hips.
I turned to Mitzi. “That’s Nate and Emma?”
“Uh huh.”
“Didn’t he have to go someplace last night?”
“Yes, but he changed his mind. I think Emma had something to do with it.”
I squinted and walked into the other bedroom. “What all did I miss?”
“Tell me what you remember.”
“Let me think.” I stood next to my freshly made bed and began to undress. Mitzi crossed to the other side and pulled off her shirt.
“Okay, so the boys and I were fucking Rose . . . ,”
“Right.” Mitzi unhooked her bra, tossing it onto a chair.
“ . . . and then you showed up at the door. That was like, what, nine thirty?”
“Something like that.” Mitzi stepped out of her jeans.
I pulled back the covers and sat. I turned my nude body and lay back. Mitzi snuggled next to me.
“Oh,” I smiled at the memory. “I was on fire when you got here.”
“You sure were!” Mitiz said, sliding under the sheets. “You dragged me to the bed by my hair . . .”
“I threw you on top of Rose, didn’t I?”
“Yes. You said, ‘Rose, this is Mitzi.’ And then you started beating my ass.”
“Well, you had been whining for a spanking. Rose was being fucked by . . . Nate?”
“No, that other boy, the twinky twink.”
I looked at her. “Isn’t he cute? That Robby is fucking cute.”
“I didn’t see much of him,” Mitzi sighed. “My face was in Rose’s tits. But she was nice. She stroked my hair when you beat me.”
I pulled Mitzi close. “Oh, that is so sweet.” I kissed her hair.
She snuggled to my chest. “Go on.”
“Oh, right.” I scrunched my forehead. “So then Emma showed up . . .”
“Right . . .”
“And, oh! Right! Nate was all about Emma.”
“He sure was.”
“Well, they hadn’t met, and she’s real pretty.” I looked toward the sound of the pair in the next room. “Poor guy, he never made it to his party.”
“I don’t think he will regret it in the morning.”
“Did he turn loose of her at all?”
“Well, yeah,” Mitzi began. “She was pretty popular with the Nubians.”
There was a knock at the open door.
Apollo was wearing boxers and his trademark black flop hat.
He was trailing a nude woman I had never seen.
“Yo, look who’s up. What’s going on, Jefferson?”
“Hey, Apollo. Yeah, sorry I dozed off.”
“No, it’s cool, it’s cool.” His eyes drifted to the woman he followed. She paced the room as if caged.
“Are you looking for something, Tawnee?” Mitzi asked.
“Yeah, she looking for some pussy,” Apollo said.
“Well, this shop is closed,” Mitzi smiled, pulling the duvet to her shoulders.
“Huh,” Tawnee replied. She left the room. Apollo followed.
I looked at Mitzi.
“She’s a load of personality,” I noted.
“She was fun earlier,” Mitzi shrugged. “Until about two or so; maybe she’s tired.”
“So anyway, Rose left in good spirits. She seemed content to you?”
“Oh yeah, she was pretty happy, I thought.”
“And then, the last I remember, we got this party started. I was with you, Nate was with Emma, the four of us naked on the bed, going at it, and all these people were watching . . . ,”
“That’s right. All the white people at the party were on display.”
I laughed. “Yeah, the voyeurs took their sweet time to get at it.”
Mitzi ran her hand over my cock. “That was so nasty when we were doing it, and all those people were watching . . .”
I pulled her close, growing hard to her touch.
“Too bad I conked out, and you didn’t get to have any more sex.”
“Oh,” she kissed me. “I had some sex.”
I pulled back took at her eyes. “Oh?”
“Uh huh,” she nodded. “Apollo did me.”
“Look at you!” I grinned. “Getting busy with Apollo.”
“Uh huh.” She whispered in my ear. “He’s pretty hot, Jefferson.”
I ran a finger to her clit. “He’s a handsome fellow, that’s for sure.”
“That he is,” Mitzi cooed, running her fingers across my chest. “But right now, I want you to fuck me.”
I was already reaching for a condom.
Mitzi and I fucked into dawn.
During the course of things, we heard Apollo and Tawnee leave.
Nate came in to kiss us goodbye.
Emma followed, curling into bed with us. I spooned against her back. Mitzi wrapped her arms around my chest.
I was the first to fall asleep.
Silhouetted against my closed shades, the run rose on the fourteenth day of my birthday week of wall-to-wall sex.
sex
sexblogs
bisexual
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orgy
I felt so rested and at peace. Her voice was sweet and gentle in my ears.
I opened my eyes, smiling. “Yes?”
Mitzi stood beside the couch, near my feet. “Jefferson, it’s after four. I’ve made the bed. Would you like to move to the bedroom?”
I turned to look around the living room. The lights were on. The radio was tuned to a soul station.
“Four? Like, in the morning?” I sat up. “Did I . . . ?”
“Hmmm, yes, Jefferson. You slept through the Nubian party.”
“Wow.” I rubbed my eyes. “Did I really? Wow.”
It had been a very long day.
I woke at six thirty, roused the kids, made breakfast and packed lunches. I took them to school.
By nine, I was at Viviane’s for breakfast and sex.
That afternoon, we drove to Costco and Home Depot, loading a car between us. We unpacked some things at her place, then unpacked the bulk of things at mine.
Afterwards, I cleaned my apartment, washed laundry and put things away.
The evening, I hosted Rose’s cocktail party, finding myself turned on and pretty tight as it shifted into an overheated gangbang.
And then the Nubians were supposed to show up around eleven, and so . . . well, what happened?
“Was it a big party?” I asked, scratching my hair.
“Uh huh,” Mitzi nodded. She held out her hand. “Come on, Jefferson. Let me take you to bed.”
I stood and put my hand in hers. “So, how did it go?”
“What’s the last thing you remember?” she asked, leading me to bed.
“Well, I . . . ,” I stopped, hearing a noise in the back bedroom. I dropped Mitzi’s hand and peeked around the door.
I saw Nate’s back, completely covered in a methodical pattern of deep purple and red hickeys. Two smooth pale legs wrapped around his pivoting hips.
I turned to Mitzi. “That’s Nate and Emma?”
“Uh huh.”
“Didn’t he have to go someplace last night?”
“Yes, but he changed his mind. I think Emma had something to do with it.”
I squinted and walked into the other bedroom. “What all did I miss?”
“Tell me what you remember.”
“Let me think.” I stood next to my freshly made bed and began to undress. Mitzi crossed to the other side and pulled off her shirt.
“Okay, so the boys and I were fucking Rose . . . ,”
“Right.” Mitzi unhooked her bra, tossing it onto a chair.
“ . . . and then you showed up at the door. That was like, what, nine thirty?”
“Something like that.” Mitzi stepped out of her jeans.
I pulled back the covers and sat. I turned my nude body and lay back. Mitzi snuggled next to me.
“Oh,” I smiled at the memory. “I was on fire when you got here.”
“You sure were!” Mitiz said, sliding under the sheets. “You dragged me to the bed by my hair . . .”
“I threw you on top of Rose, didn’t I?”
“Yes. You said, ‘Rose, this is Mitzi.’ And then you started beating my ass.”
“Well, you had been whining for a spanking. Rose was being fucked by . . . Nate?”
“No, that other boy, the twinky twink.”
I looked at her. “Isn’t he cute? That Robby is fucking cute.”
“I didn’t see much of him,” Mitzi sighed. “My face was in Rose’s tits. But she was nice. She stroked my hair when you beat me.”
I pulled Mitzi close. “Oh, that is so sweet.” I kissed her hair.
She snuggled to my chest. “Go on.”
“Oh, right.” I scrunched my forehead. “So then Emma showed up . . .”
“Right . . .”
“And, oh! Right! Nate was all about Emma.”
“He sure was.”
“Well, they hadn’t met, and she’s real pretty.” I looked toward the sound of the pair in the next room. “Poor guy, he never made it to his party.”
“I don’t think he will regret it in the morning.”
“Did he turn loose of her at all?”
“Well, yeah,” Mitzi began. “She was pretty popular with the Nubians.”
There was a knock at the open door.
Apollo was wearing boxers and his trademark black flop hat.
He was trailing a nude woman I had never seen.
“Yo, look who’s up. What’s going on, Jefferson?”
“Hey, Apollo. Yeah, sorry I dozed off.”
“No, it’s cool, it’s cool.” His eyes drifted to the woman he followed. She paced the room as if caged.
“Are you looking for something, Tawnee?” Mitzi asked.
“Yeah, she looking for some pussy,” Apollo said.
“Well, this shop is closed,” Mitzi smiled, pulling the duvet to her shoulders.
“Huh,” Tawnee replied. She left the room. Apollo followed.
I looked at Mitzi.
“She’s a load of personality,” I noted.
“She was fun earlier,” Mitzi shrugged. “Until about two or so; maybe she’s tired.”
“So anyway, Rose left in good spirits. She seemed content to you?”
“Oh yeah, she was pretty happy, I thought.”
“And then, the last I remember, we got this party started. I was with you, Nate was with Emma, the four of us naked on the bed, going at it, and all these people were watching . . . ,”
“That’s right. All the white people at the party were on display.”
I laughed. “Yeah, the voyeurs took their sweet time to get at it.”
Mitzi ran her hand over my cock. “That was so nasty when we were doing it, and all those people were watching . . .”
I pulled her close, growing hard to her touch.
“Too bad I conked out, and you didn’t get to have any more sex.”
“Oh,” she kissed me. “I had some sex.”
I pulled back took at her eyes. “Oh?”
“Uh huh,” she nodded. “Apollo did me.”
“Look at you!” I grinned. “Getting busy with Apollo.”
“Uh huh.” She whispered in my ear. “He’s pretty hot, Jefferson.”
I ran a finger to her clit. “He’s a handsome fellow, that’s for sure.”
“That he is,” Mitzi cooed, running her fingers across my chest. “But right now, I want you to fuck me.”
I was already reaching for a condom.
Mitzi and I fucked into dawn.
During the course of things, we heard Apollo and Tawnee leave.
Nate came in to kiss us goodbye.
Emma followed, curling into bed with us. I spooned against her back. Mitzi wrapped her arms around my chest.
I was the first to fall asleep.
Silhouetted against my closed shades, the run rose on the fourteenth day of my birthday week of wall-to-wall sex.
sex
sexblogs
bisexual
erotica
orgy
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