Sexual Fantasies and Fun

He called me up after we had exchanged numbers the previous weekend.

"Hey, it's you," I said.

"Hi," he responded.

"I've been fantasizing about you," I said. "I thought of how you wanted me so bad, and I knew we had to reconnect."

"I know," he said. "I can't stop thinking about you, either. I need to see you."

"Well, how about we rent a film, and you come over to my place?"

There he was, standing right in front of me. A sinewy-armed, tight skinned hard man. As I stood there stroking my long hair, I saw him in his military issue black pants waiting to buy a CD at my favorite record store. I felt my legs grow weak and my pussy getting more moist as the seconds passed. As he fingered the stacks of plastic encased selections, I felt my heart skip a beat. I had to be close to him, so I strutted my legs in my 3 inch heels and fishnet stockings over to where he'd been lingering contemplating his purchase.

Every night, I looked forward to taking my clothes off for the men who came onto Just BBW Cams, because I was happy showing men I couldn't see my tits and ass. I always thought of sex as wonderful and relished the idea of making money at it. I felt pleasure each time I went on and tried thinking of new poses to strike when I took my clothes off and danced in front of the camera. I started to wonder what it must be like to run one of these sites, too, and that's why I began to fantasize about my boss.

We started out early in the morning swigging coffee and eating cigarettes, as this ritual had become a normal part of our days. The plans we refused to make took shape as moments unfolded, because we were living each one as if it were our last. I had seen her every day for the past three weeks, but I knew she was headed down to the Oakland Occupy camp and might get picked up by the cops this time. She was hard core. Her anarchic spirit was bright and passionate. She lived, breathed, ate, and slept her cause. She was also beautiful and exotic.

It had been another night of drudgery. I was on the second of two dates with a man who had so far not managed to peak any of my interest. I liked him, but he was boring me to tears with his stories of his perfect childhood and subsequent success as a Pediatrician. He represented safety, and right now that seemed the last thing to get my juices flowing. We ended the dinner after about an hour, and after he walked me to my car gave each other a friendly goodbye and peck on the cheek.

As I ate my mango over the sink like I always did after shopping at the local Farmer’s Market, I felt some of its juice drip slowly down the front of my see through blouse. It got me hot to stand at the sink in the kitchen in front of the window and allow fate to choose whether someone would wander onto my porch and sneak a peek inside. My pussy felt wetter just imagining who might stop by. The juice from the mango was sticky, and as I ate, I could feel more of the drops glide downward onto my breasts and send shivers through my whole being.

Testing the water in my tub with my foot, I determined it was time for me to turn off the cascade of warm liquid I’d emptied into my apartment’s excuse for a spare room. Knowing I would soon be ensconced in wet womb-like fluid, I felt my pussy puff up a bit in anticipation. As I eased into it, I felt the day’s stress melt away. Closing my eyes, I breathed a heavy one in then out. Opening my eyes again revealed in my periphery a book that had been sitting on my toilet’s tank for what must have been ages.

The night went on, and we slept together in my bed for hours. He held onto me for this long as the heat from our bodies seemed to penetrate us. Our lovemaking had been perfect. I‘d wanted him so much, and my dream had come true. After lying with him like this, we both woke up around 2 am and looked at each other then kissed. He then perched himself up on his side and started stroking my body with gentle, long strokes that felt like feathers caressing me.

Looking through my BUST magazine at the local coffee shop was a habit of mine. I frequented the shop, but today felt different, because I was about to hook up with a guy I hadn’t seen for almost 25 years. Back then, he was very shy, and I was, too. I had found him attractive then, though but had never gotten up the nerve to ask him out. Every day I saw him was torture. He was handsome to the point of being beautiful, but what was even more amazing about him was that he was dark. He was a punk.

I want you so bad. You turn me on and make my cunt juice flow like never before. Just thinking about you makes me want you more. I love thinking about us fucking, because my pussy gets puffy and starts to twitch. I can feel it now. Even though I'm not touching my slit, I can feel all that cum gushing out of my hole and the throbbing feeling. I want it to last, though until I get home. So, I'll wait while I think about you and how you love to tease. Make me picture you on top of me. Let me imagine your mouth on my cunt. I'm fantasizing about you licking me up and down my crack.