Britches-n-Prose

Recently I have been talking about a Navy Boy, we shall call this boy KC.

I met KC about seven years ago on a trip to Pensacola, Florida with my best friend and her family. It was never my intent to meet any boys while on this vacation, at the ripe age of 16 I still held my v-card and had no clue how to suck a cock.

KC and I crossed paths one afternoon when my friend flaunted herself in front of his room mate, how gorgeous he was running down the beach, sweat running down his perfectly tanned and toned body…and I’m carried away. Anyway, upon following him into the beach condo he called home we were both pleased to find an additional three men, all equally as gorgeous, all bearing Navy garb.

Having an instant crush on the roommate with the accent, we’ll call him George, I didn’t give KC much thought. I really do owe George a lot, the man taught me to give the head I give today, and I’m pretty sure I give damn good head. My most memorable moments from this encounter were “suck on it like a tootsie-pop” and “shake it like a coke bottle.” These don’t have to make sense to anyone but me, and I rarely give a blow job without thinking of one of these tips.

Shortly after our suck-fest I was quickly reminded that men are complete d-bags, even the cute ones with accents. George informed me that while my blow job skills were better than his girlfriend’s, she was in fact coming to visit the next day, so I was going to have to pretend none of the past few hours had happened. LAME. It was upon leaving the condo that night that I noticed KC.

The rest of the week was kind of an amazing blur, like the kind you would see in a chic-flick. I remember drinking a lot of booze for 16.  I remember Hurricane Isabel was making its way to shore, bringing with it big waves and jelly fish.

One evening right before sunset we were all playing in waist deep water when a HUGE wave came crashing into the five of us standing there. Coming up for air I instantly realized I no longer had a suit top on. GASP! I dropped into the water, cringing a little and wondering how the hell I would get home without a top. As if KC read my mind, or had been watching me the whole time, he came to my rescue. Sweeping me up in his arms he covered and carried me back to the house, kissing my forehead and blessing me with a shirt and shorts to walk home in. Words do not give that story justice. Girls don’t get rescued out of the ocean by a Navy man, who kisses your forehead and makes sure you get home clothed.

The next day wasn’t so magical. I got stung by a jellyfish, on the outside of my leg, where I couldn’t pee on it to feel better. KC to the rescue. Yeah, he peed on me. Yeah, it felt good. Yeah, I used my new found BJ skills on him in his shower. Love.

On our final night together KC too me on a real date, but before I could be seen in public for dinner I had to get a dress. KC handed me some cash, gave my friend and I the keys to his car and told us to find me something nice, and boy did I!

Weeks like this do not exist, but I was fortunate enough to have one. I sometimes wish I could have met him a couple years later, when we surely would have fucked, and fucked good. Which reminds me, I should write my smut version of this story, the only way the week would have been better…

These fond memories are some I wont quickly forget, and since reconnecting with him all I can do is smile.

With the new year there comes the pondering of what’s to come…

So last weekend @sexhero and I made our online porn debuts in an activity we called #SexQuest. Our followers on Twitter were welcomed to send us their fantasies, and we would do our best to film them and put them online.

I was pretty drunk going into the quest, and with the camera and the to-do list the sex was a pleasurable blur. I remember going to bed that night thinking, “wow, somewhere, someone is getting off to me.” That was an interesting concept.

The next morning I was fortunate enough to get to watch the videos again, and have a little off camera play, before being swept off to breakfast. I didn’t watch any of the videos again until today, and I was amazed with some of the things I saw! The first 2 videos have almost 1000 views, so thank you everyone, that’s amazing!

Secondly, my favorite video, which was towards the end has less than 200 views, so I thought I’d take this time to link to my favorite videos from #SexQuest.

#1. Anal Creampie: This has been a fantasy of mine that @sexhero fulfilled, but I never got to see what I looked like until now!! Plus @sexhero’s dick looks amazing in it!

#2. The Female Squirt: I like that I can do this.

#3. Nipple Suck: I love how turned on I get when @sexhero sucks on my nipples, and how hot this video gets me.

#4. Sit on That Cock: I was having problems keeping the heavy, slippery, glass plug in my ass, but sliding up and down @sexhero’s monster cock was so damn good.

I used to work with this girl, who talked about how her and her boyfriend (who was a manager at another store) would have anal sex all the time. I was intrigued by this, partially because I thought she was crazy, but also assumed that she was fairly vanilla in bed. The two of them had nearly a decade in age between them, and she ALWAYS had some story about a fight. I had the “pleasure” of meeting this guy once, on a triple date, it was awkward, and he spent most of his time making a point not to talk to anyone else. Needless to say, I decided, anal sex or not, I didn’t like the man.

Fast forward almost 2 years and I met him again. It was a chance meeting, a flirty exchange, and a quick goodbye. He ended up getting my number from a mutual friend, and he asked me on our first date.

I wanted to fuck him right away, after all, I had heard the man lived for anal sex, and I was a big fan of anal sex. We waited for about a month before we crossed that line, and when we did it was good sex, but not even some anal play. I came to the conclusion that “Can I put it in your ass?” wasn’t exactly a question you ask the first time you have sex. I also realized that I was making excuses as to why a man hadn’t fucked me in the ass, which brought a little smile to my face.

After a few months of dating, and no anal sex, I casually brought up the story that his ex used to tell me, about their anal adventures. At first he just looked at me, and then he said “Oh wait, you’re serious, I’ve never been into anal, in fact, I’ve only had anal sex once and it wasn’t with her.”

I found myself being both very bummed out, and then mad. Part of my attraction to him was the idea that he was into anal, now all he had was his personality, the okay sex, and the fact that he was physically cute. Sadly I have to say my desire for him slowly faded over the next few months, until one day it just wasn’t there. I still think the man is very nice, but I have no desire to touch him ever again.

Is it bad to “unlike” someone when you find out they don’t like something you do? Or is it bad to base your desire on someone based on what you’ve heard?

“Don’t need candles and cake
Just need your body to make…
Birthday sex… Birthday sex ooh
(It’s the best day of the year girl)
Birthday sex… Birthday sex ooh
(G-spot g-spot let me hit that g-spot g-spot girl)”

“Birthday Sex” – Jeremih

My room mate and I celebrate birthday weeks, and since our birthdays are within 2 weeks of each other we tend to have a birthday month. This year we were living together again, and both having a lucky streak with men, so we were both excited to have our own birthday sex experience. Who doesn’t want a smooth talking man to hit that g-spot on your birthday?!

My birthday came, and I got drunk, real drunk, like dancing on the stage to Prince’s Pussy Control drunk (lucky for me my lover was dancing along with me). While dancing I wanted to ravage him on stage, in front of the few other drunks left in the bar at closing time. I wanted to remember my birthday sex, I wanted everyone to remember my birthday sex, but I also didn’t want my room mate to lose her job, at the bar I was dancing on stage at. In the end, all I can really remember about that dance was the battle in my head over wanting to ravage my lover’s sweaty body, and the voice saying, keep it PG.

Arriving home that night I instantly regretted my decision to drink as much as I had, I looked damn good, I wanted to have damn good sex. In the final moments of the birthday night all I could do was fall asleep, and pray my man would start my new birth year off right (and he did, but that’s not part of birthday sex).

The next week was my room mate’s chance at birthday sex. She started the week off a little rough, with a drunk-n-tumble walk home (I recruited my ex to help me get her and the bikes home), ended with a no-so-graceful ass first dive off our stoop. Having put her to bed though I was left with my ex at my house, and I thought why not? Someone should get laid tonight.

Roomie continued her birthday streak, inviting a guy back to our house a few days later, only to have passed out cold by the time he got there. The night of her actual birthday she brought a manager from her work home. Drunk, she busts into my room, requesting a condom, all I had were Magnums (yes, my most consistent lover needs these). I handed one over, praying this would not be intimidating to the man in her bed. Next morning she comes crawling into my bed, explaining it was like a tube sock on a baby’s foot. OOPS!

Needless to say, neither of us had the birthday sex we anticipated, or expected, but at the end of it all, we have the story of the “sock on the baby’s foot” and an endless supply of free drinks in exchange for our silence.

Having sex with your ex, is it a good idea? Bad idea? What happens if you have great sex? What happens if you have bad sex?

I recently had sex with my ex. We had dated and lived together, then had a messy break-up. While together we had great sex, it was the first bring me out of my shell, slap my ass, tie me up, fuck me hard sex.

Within a year of breaking up I had a weak moment, and we had sex, it was scary. He mean-fucked me, making me feel like some sort of object that needed to be punished for some sort of wrong doing (he always blamed the break-up on me). I didn’t know what to do in the middle of it, it didn’t feel good, I wasn’t getting off, our safeword wasn’t working, I just couldn’t wait for it to be done. Once it was I was bummed, we’d been so amazing before, what happened? Why did the break-up cause such a BIG difference in our sexual escapades? I had no answers, and really I didn’t care to think about it anymore.

Fast forward two more years (present day) and I found myself again with my ex in my bedroom, on my bed, beckoning me to join him, forgetting my previous bad experience I complied.

He ordered me to take of my shirt, complying, I lifted my shirt over my head…wondering what was going to happen next I was lost in my own thoughts when I was interrupted by his voice:

“Wow, those things got bigger.”

And with that I started laughing, and not just a sexy giggle, but hysterically laughing. I couldn’t stop. Who says that? His eyes looked like those of a kid in a candy store. I realized in the moment that he may have had the upperhand last time, but this time was going to be mine. Rather than physically “punish” him I was going to make him see how good I was. I was going to make him want what he couldn’t have, and I was going to feel damn good about it.