The Australians

She came from halfway `round the world, with red hair, deep eyes, a sweet mercurial smile, and an Australian accent that made my loins ache.

She is the lover of a good friend who I met through work. She had come to the `states with him, to go camping with a bunch of our mutual friends, at the crazy event known as "Burning Man". The camp and the event worked out great. The two of them both bonded more warmly with everyone else, and started friendships that continued as the months passed.

And so, a year later, she flew in again to meet up with him (who had arrived many weeks before) and the rest of us, and again, we all headed out into the Black Rock Desert.

And after a long, exhausting, and rewarding stay, on one of the last nights we were there, the 3 of us left the camp together, walking and laughing and talking together. We walked deeply out into the dark, our discussions getting much more private, much more intimate.

When we got back to our camp, they invited me into their tent. Me and him first, waiting for her, stripping off our dusty clothes. We talked, felt comfortable with each other, and then she crawled in with us, stripping, showing off lovely curves, and delicious pink and pale skin.

And then and there, covered with dust and sweat, we made each other very very happy...

Bites and Bruises

I had my teeth into her.

Into the muscle of her chest, right over her left breast, crushing down hard.

There were already a row of three clear bite circles over her right breast, and two over her left, and I was finishing the series.

One of my hands was twined in her hair, barely grown out long enough to hold, in a fiercely tight grip, and the other hand was holding her down.

She was twisting and gasping in pain, and giggling between gasps, taking pleasure from the sensation. With each giggle, i would chew harder, causing another wave of struggle.

Just a little bit harder, just a bit deeper, and my sharp canines were going to fill my mouth with her blood.

The next afternoon, she showed me. The indentation had already faded away, and the bruises were already healing.

Maybe next time, harder.

A Hot Shower

She is just barely on this side of half my age, but was blessed with the gleam of mischief in her eyes, and the satisfying savor of high intelligence in her words.

We had met twice before. The first time at Burning Man, where she served me (and hundreds of other people) a bowl of soup, just one of the many many tens of thousands of pretty and interesting looking people there. I met her the second time at a costume party, where she was dressed in a role that perfectly fit her build and affect.

From that encounter, we exchanged enough tokens to find each other online, and from there, chatting back and forth, and of course, flirting

So one of my weekends home, one cold rainy night, I invited her for a hot soak and a comfortable chat.

"And what are your intentions?" she asked me.

"To soak in the hot water, chat with you, and then return you safely home," was my answer.

And thus, an hour later, we were standing naked in the rain, lifting the lid on the hot tub. And discovered, to my horror, that it was *cold*! I had chem'ed it earlier, but hadn't put my hand in.

Shivering, we returned to the house, and to warm our cold feet and shivering bodies, shared a hot shower and scrubbed each other's backs.

Noticing the the flight attendant

This flight attendent is very cute. And well over 50. Still, very
cute.

And is wearing a sparkly obvious wedding ring.

That's probably why her spouse gave her just such a ring.

Chocolate Whore

It's a nickname she chose for herself.

She has very smooth pale white skin, very dark straight hair, and a ready smile, spiced with touches of acerbic wit.

I met her a a bowling alley, of all places.

Weekly, a bunch of weirdo hipsters gets together to go bowling. We aren't very serious, don't worry at all about team or league scores, and have a lot of silly fun.

A coworker of hers brought her, as part of a fumbling effort to get into her pants.

After a couple of weeks, I invited her to a games party at my house.

As the party wound down, the survivors ended up in the hot tub. And when that wound down, it was just her and me, gently teasing and flirting. I invited her to stay the night.

She thought for a moment, and then said yes.

Nude, body was made of the same firm gentle curves and pale flesh as her face. Our coupling was slow and powerful, her desire hungry and shameless.

Some time later, as we were resting, she was on top of me, our bodies still joined.

"How old do you think I am?" she askes, with a wicked smile.

"Um, 25?"

She laughs. "Twenty-two. Fuck me again!"

So I did.

A flogging, an odd reaction, and a date made.

I was at Burning Man this year.

Despite it's reputation for whirlwind relationships, easy and promiscuous ravers, and hot dirty Burner sex, I did not fuck anyone there.

I did do something outside my usual envelope: I got flogged by a pro-domme.

I hooked up with a cluster of my friends, at a wine bar on the Esplanade by the name of "Spikes". There I was subjected to what was, I am not making this up, the worst wine I have ever had in my entire life. It was all harsh bitter dry sourness. While swallowing this swill at my friends' urging, I joined them in flirting with a rather dirty and very sexy burner woman, chattering with many of the other burrners around, and watching the people taking turns
poledancing and flogging on the stage over the bar.

I eventually found myself on that stage, shirtless, head down and on my knees, while a very nice prodomme flogged my shoulders and back.

My internal reaction was somewhat idiosyncratic, in that the pain and mild humiliation did not make me hot. Instead I found myself getting enraged, wanting to seize the flogger from her, and start beating people with it. That made me hot.

I think I scared her a couple of times, because twice she cut it short, and asked me if I needed to stop. Most people taking a flogging like this either moan and wiggle, or go off in an trance.
Usually not growl through clenched teeth. Each time she stopped and checked in, I told her to keep going.

When it was over, my back was covered with nice hot welts, and I had learned something new about myself.

Later, when I told a friend about it, a wonderfully twisted and
perverse friend, her immediate reaction was an eager "When you come
visit, can I flog you?"

"You heard what I said? If you do that, I'll try to take it away from
you, and beat you to your knees with it?"

"I heard you. (giggle)"

Ok then. This will be fun...