He's changed

I'm totally exhausted from the inauguration. No time for sex. I forgot to tell you about going home to Seattle to see my crazy family. Mom always wants me to stay at their house, but I like the freedom of having my own hotel room downtown. I did make time to see my friend and former lover Mike, who is still stationed up there. He's gotten married, but agreed to have a drink. Knowing him, I didn't think a wedding band would stop him, especially with the miniskirt I was wearing, and I would get a good submissive fucking like he used to give me. Our affair is chronicled here, here, and here.

Even over martinis, he seemed very different. More mellow, actually interested in me, talked lovingly about his wife. Still, he accepted my invitation to come back to my hotel room, we took off our weapons, and eventually got into a mad makout session on the couch. I kept feeling his big, hard cock through his slacks, feeling my pussy getting very wet. Memories of our affair were bombarding me. I had his shirt unbottoned and loved the feeling of those washboard abs. He was breathing heavily. At any minute, I expected him to throw me to the floor, hike up my skirt and fuck me from behind. But he didn't.

"Come over to the bed."

"Linda...no...I should go..."

"I'm not the morality police, Mike. I can feel your cock. I know what you want." I sure as hell knew what I wanted.

I took his hand and pulled him toward the bed.

He grabbed my shoulders and looked at me a long time. I could see him wrestling with himself. Then he gently sat me on the bed and pushed me down. Getting on his knees, he stoked my legs and took off my shoes. Then he pulled off my panty hose without creating a single run. I was shivering with arousal as he sucked my toes, licked the tops of my feet and ankles, then started kissing and licking up each leg. Just when I thought I would feel his tongue on my pussy, he just brushed it with his face.

"I love your scent," he said. "I never forget that."

"I want you inside me," I commanded, but it probably came out more as a begging whimper.

Instead, he just kept teasing for the longest time. Then I felt his tongue lightly tracing along my vulva. I almost came right then. He could sense it and pulled back, nibbling on the inside of my thighs. When I was cooled down a little, he would lick me again. I had the beginnings of a massive orgasm, my feet burning and seeing colors through my closed eyes. And he backed off.

His tongue came back again, so lightly. I was clawing the sheets, reaching for his hands, but he kept them on my ass, holding my firmly in place. His entire face was hidden by my skirt.

Suddenly, it felt like my whole body exploded. I could hear some woman screaming. It was me. Pulses of orgasm radiated out as he just kept it going and going. When I was completely spent, he tongue-fucked me into another orgasm. Then he licked me gently for a few more minutes as I lay whimpering.

"Fuck me."

"I can't, Linda." He didn't even call me "Sue," as he used to do to irritate me.

"Let me suck your cock.

I reached for his zipper, but he just took my hand and kissed it. Then I heard the door closed. For about an hour, I just dozed, completely satisfied. Well, not completely. But it was pretty damned sweet. His wife is lucky.

The pickup artist

Between work and life it's difficult to keep up with this blog. But I get so many nice emails from men — and some women, that I'll keep trying.

So I've been trying to get my young man hooked up with women his age. We've been to bookstores, art galleries and even bars (which I don't think work that well). I've coached him. Before we go out, I give him a great cock-sucking, but I won't let him come. I want him to be motivated. So far, not much. He's not bad looking. He's smart and emotionally intelligent. We were at one gallery when he started talking to a woman, an attractive brunette, while I hovered in the distance. Pretty soon she's got her hand on his arm. As I paid more attention, I realized she was my age. So I went over and broke it up. He was mad at me, but for God's sake he doesn't need to go from one fortysomething to another. He's got his whole life ahead of him.

It made me call my ex-husband for advice. He reminded me that he never had luck with women his age when he was in his twenties. It was only in his thirties that he learned how to talk to women (get them talking about themselves, be a great listener, dress well) and flirt ("Linda? That's my favorite name"). He said if he could go back to his twenties with the knowledge he learned later he would have "cut a swath through the young womanhood of the East Coast). Instead, he was initiated into the arts of love by older women. "Don't let him fall in love with you," he cautioned.

Back to the problem at hand. I've made him talk about the girls in his classes that he lusts after. I've made him start to go to parties at school. He hates small talk. I'm trying to fix that. Young women don't want to talk about government dysfunction or the demise of the Whig Party. I keep coaching — and fucking him. I probably shouldn't do the latter, but he's safe and fun.

It is still hard for men. I've been hit on since I was thirteen. When I was in college, especially, I was so overwhelmed by the offers, come-ons and my own horniness that it just seemed like a blur of cocks inside me and my legs in the air. But unless a guy has a certain look and way of carrying himself when he's that age, say the cool bad dude persona, he likely won't get easy access to young women. Would I have been attracted to my young man when I was his age? Probably not. I was stupid.

Women talk about sex I

Yes, we do. You men just don't know it. We talk about sex at work, in the gym, over drinks and dinner, driving in the car together. Here's a sampling of what I've picked up: Heather has had 38 lovers. As she's gotten older, she feels chagrin about so many. She claims she had a guy with a 12-inch cock once. "What did it feel like?" I asked. "Different. It hurt at first." Her favorite lover was average sized but thick. She loves his cock, can't get enough of it, loves to suck it. The problem: She can't stand to swallow. My suggestion was that she suck him off after he had come inside her and then spit it out on him if need be. Problem solved. Heather's average-sized lover is a happy man.

Jennifer doesn't suck cock or let her lovers go down on her. I don't get this, but she is adamant and quickly retreats into a defensive silence. Is she afraid of losing control if he licks her? Did she learn "it's nasty down there, that's where you pee...," as my mother told me? I can't figure it out. Beautiful girl. Sad.

Amber (not my sister) is married to a man who fucks her, missionary style, once every ten days. She counts it. Hates it. He comes in about two minutes, then is off to his man cave to watch "motor sports." She stays with him for the children. About two years ago, she started falling in with married men and has affairs. "It's the best sex since college," she tells me, "and they don't want to marry me or be in a relationship. It's just about the sex." She loves being given cunnilingus again, taken from behind and fucked in the ass.

The anal thing was very difficult for Steph. Her boyfriend was after it and she was afraid of the pain. It got to where she wouldn't let him fuck her doggy-style because she was afraid he'd try to take her sweet ass cherry. I talked her through teaching him about her concerns and trying things such as ass-fucking her with one finger while he was fucking her pussy with his dick (she liked it). We talked about positioning her pelvis and having him go very slowly. I learned the sweet surrender over time and now adore it. Well, she gave it a try and it didn't hurt. But she didn't like it. In my experience, only a small percentage of women like being fucked anally. More want it as a one-time novelty or because of the "forbidden fruit" nature. "My boyfriend/husband wants anal sex" is a big conversation topic.

I'll tell more later. Meanwhile, I've been taking the virgin to museums, gallery openings and bookstores — not bars — to let him work on pickups. So far, slow going.

A good angry fuck

I've been out of country and of course my lovers don't understand. This is particularly true of the (recent) virgin. How can somebody who works for the Department of Agriculture be out of pocket and not even reachable by email? Of course, I can't tell him the truth.

He has been watching Homeland and the series kind of creeps me out. I am definitely not Carrie. Her tradecraft is totally unrealistic and she'd be drummed out of the agency in a heartbeat in real life. Still, it makes me uncomfortable. The virgin can tell. I would like to spend the night with Claire Danes.

Anyhoo, the virgin was disappointingly faithful So when we got back together, he game me a good, long angry fucking. I think I came about a dozen times. He doesn't think I have been faithful to him, but the truth is that I didn't get laid the whole time. Hence, my dozen orgasms as he slammed his young cock into me. Afterwards, while he slept, I looked at him and couldn't believe how young he is. Young enough to be my son. But I have taught him how to fuck. Later, he licked me for about an hour until I was quivering and my throat was sore from screaming.

I've got to take him out and teach him how to pick up girls...

Fast learner

The virgin loves sex. Like most young men, I've had to break him of some bad habits he's learned from seeing porn on the Internet. It made me glad to find this site by Cindy Gallop (I bet she does). The New York Times also did an article in the Style section about this cougar. I'm doing my modest part.

The good: He's very eager to learn. So as his stamina has increased, I've taught him tricks such as "riding high" in the missionary position, which lets him apply more pressure on a woman's clitoris. And to swivel his hips when he puts my ankles over his shoulders or takes me from behind. He's become very good at cunnilingus and I reward him with feather blowjobs that make him get very loud. He's a legs man who loves for me to wrap mine around him and run them up and down his back and the backs of his legs. I've taught him how to suck my nipples (hard) while cautioning him that not every woman likes that.

We can go five times in a night. He's very sweet and loving, so teaching him not to pull out immediately and to hold me is easy. And the come...OMG. He's got the strongest stream I've ever encountered and can deliver a big load down my throat even after he's come in my a couple of times. He likes women, a big asset. He's smart and funny.

We fucked most of last weekend. Then I had a Sunday date with another man in my life, who gave me yet more good sex. Monday morning, I was pooped and (nicely) sore.

The not-so-good: I've already had the "Don't fall in love with me talk" and he says he's ok with that. But I'm not sure his heart with hear his intellect. So this may come to tears. In the meantime, I am trying to up his social skills and (hidden) charm so he can leave the sex nest and find women his age. It will be tough. When I was that age, I probably wouldn't have been interested in him. But I was a stupid girl, as some are, taken in by shallow things. And plenty of young studs are lousy lovers. In the meantime, we'll keep going.

With a cherry on top

Girl walks into a bar...

I was in one of my favorite watering holes not far from DuPont Circle, a muggy D.C. night, wearing shorts and a light top, no bra. After nursing a martini, I noticed a young man drinking a beer and reading a book. It was one of Arthur Link's books on Woodrow Wilson. That got my interest. A man who reads! And one of our finest historians! So I took the initiative and soon we were talking about the Progressive Era. He was smart and shy, tall with wavy dark hair.

Nothing happened.

Two weeks later, I happened by the same place. This time I was dressed for work. He was still reading Link. We swapped stories, mine sanitized for civilian consumption. He's in grad school, which brought back plenty of grad-school memories for me (and lots of grad-school fucking, which I didn't get into). Finally, I asked him if he wanted to go back to his place for another drink and we went. He was either one of the shyest men I had ever met or he was gay, but from the way he had been appreciatively noticing my body from the first, I took a chance on the former.

In his small apartment, modestly furnished but filled with good books, we sat on the sofa talking for a couple of hours before he took my hand and held it, just that. His hand was strong and warm. I was very wet. That "I'm going to get fucked" sense was apparent. So I took the initiative and kissed him. Pretty soon, we were making out. He liked kissing, which was a good sign. His cock was punching against the fabric of his slacks and I stroked it without pulling it out.

I led him back to his bedroom and we both fell into his small, unmade bed. Pretty soon, we were naked. He gave me an exquisite fingering while I fondled his penis: average size but with a thick shaft and a prominent, big head. I mounted him and guided his cock inside me, getting that nice, filled feeling. He put his warm hands on my hips and I started riding him.

"Oh!"

Yes, I could feel him coming in me. It had taken all of thirty seconds.

So I just rocked on top and got a nice little orgasm, then lay in his arms. He was chagrined, apologizing. His poor penis was totally flaccid, covered with our mingled juices. He actually batted it back and forth, trying to make it erect again. "Don't hurt it," I said and just stroked his chest and enjoyed the closeness. Men have such a difficult time sometimes...

Of course I wasn't going to leave things at that. Pretty soon, I took him in my mouth and he was hard again. Then I put him inside me and we fucked for several minutes this time, and I had a big screamer that left me totally wrung out. All the time, he was so gentle and caring in his love-making, even if it wasn't an athletic hour-long fucking in every position. Later, he went down on me and it was quite fine. I ran my fingers through his wavy hair as he gave me another orgasm.

Later, when we were talking, I learned that he was a virgin. And nineteen. So, there you go, Linda Sue. This cougar thing has gone too far. He's young enough to be my son. And, sure, I'm a little smug having gotten his cherry. If we play so more I'll teach him moves that women later in his life will thank me for. The danger, of course, is that he'll fall in love with me.

Cheap LA whore

Long-distance relationships are always fraught, the sexual tension and release explosive, and you don't know the person in the same way as if you were in the same city dating every day. Still, I met a man once who made me abandon my caution.

I still remember when we both had business in Los Angeles, and of course I couldn't be truthful to him about what my real business there was. We shared a room at a hotel near LAX that had once been top-of-the-line but was just on the edge of shabby. After pulling off the bedspread, on which ultraviolet would expose countless semen stains of strangers, we were naked on clean, soft sheets. Just the kissing and feel of our bodies totally touching from head to toe had me about to come. Which I did when he climbed on top and fucked me, first in missionary, then with my legs scissored in front of his chest (weird, different feeling!), him leaning close and pinioning my legs with his arms (knees at elbows) and then a long big nasty with my legs over his shoulders as he thrust into me while turning his head to kiss my ankles. Whenever I could, I would look down to see his cock going into me, one of my biggest visual turn-ons.

"I'm a cheap LA whore," I teased, an indeed I was wearing sheer black stockings and garter and being impaled in a crappy hotel room. He wouldn't go there. "You are not," he said, telling me how attractive and wonderful I was. I joked, but perhaps there was something behind the words and perhaps he sensed it.

Yes, I am a slut and must be tough in my professional life. But I had really fallen for this man. He was smart and kind, cleaned up well, had a stimulating range of interests and could always make me laugh with a very dry sense of humor. I had that most dangerous feeling a woman can have: A vision for us. (And maybe some men are as vulnerable). Yet he had been hurt very badly in his recently ended marriage and was wary (even though he never gave me an angry revenge fuck against the ex — he spoke kindly of her). The sex was great and I went with it. But 'though slut that I am, I wanted more. I didn't want to be just his transitional lover.

In bed, we talked until his cock was recovered, and then I worked my way down his chest, kissing his body and rubbing my pert breasts and nipples against him. Stationed between his legs, I licked and sucked him for half an hour until he had another big orgasm. He had the strongest stream of come of any lover I'd had, and even with the second orgasm I got a nice treat.

Then he gave me a working over: Long time kissing and fondling and sucking my breasts. Then I swear he played my pussy for an hour, bringing me right to the edge and pulling back, over and over. At one point, he was lightly rubbing my perineum with one finger while (I learned later) using two fingers to make a "U" motion at the bottom of my pussy, all while tongue-worshipping me. All I could manage was a moan of "What are you doooooing?" before I exploded. It was the most amazing feeling.

We fucked five more times over the next 15 hours before we got on our planes and went different directions. He got married two years later. I won't say/admit it broke my heart. The sex was great and maybe we got the best either had to give at that time.

Where I've fucked...

...On a picnic table in a state park, with a wide sweeping meadow around us and the sky cobalt blue over my head. No splinters in my butt, thank goodness.

...In a compartment of a train (more than once). The gentle rocking motion was very sensual. One lover fingered me to a barely-suppressed orgasm on a half-empty coach car on Amtrak between San Diego and LA. Another was fingering me on the subway in New York and the Metro in Paris. I'm sure people noticed.

...On a rich lover's private jet (no government planes, big no-no). Never did the Mile High Club on an airliner.

...On a sailboat, more than once. When you're a sweet young thing it's amazing how many times you are asked to "help crew" a sailboat. (Sorry guys).

...In the back of a van. I was too long-legged to fuck in a car, although I've given many a blowjob in cars. One lover licked my pussy in his wife's mommyvan — Bad Girl, Bad Girl...

...Against the wall and on the sink of several restrooms in restaurants and bars.

...In several jacuzzis and pools.

...On the beach, careful not to let sand get on our privates. It was night in Santa Monica. I was young.

...In my office, once, very bad judgment but I didn't get caught.

...In a professor's office. I realized a couple of guys in a nearby building had been watching us.

...On the lawn of a prominent national monument. I had on a miniskirt and no panties. Unzipped him, his cock sprung out and I sat down ;-)

...In my parents' bed.

...In the back of an SUV in a blizzard.

...A ski lodge. I'm a bad skier. Better with the sex moves.

...Outside, against the wall of a building, in an alley, him holding me up.

What are some of your unusual sex-spot experiences?

Cunnilingus Avoidance Syndrome

Girl walks into a bar. She has a drink with another girl. The talk turns, as it often does to sex. I'll call her Megan and she was having trouble with her boyfriend. It was about licking her pussy. He wanted to — she didn't want that.

Now, Megan is twenty years younger than me and looking at her is pretty depressing. I still look good. Men still look at me. But this night all eyes were on her tight little body, long legs in short-shorts, perfect ass and small, pert breasts. She could have been me at that age. But the difference is that I've always loved cunnilingus (I hate the term "eat her out").

Yet I have run into this before, including in emails from both male and female readers. Some women just don't like receiving oral sex. Megan says she likes sucking her boyfriend off and swallowing his load. But she doesn't want him to be "down there," and it's become a source of tension.

I have two theories:

1) Some women were very fucked up about sex by their parents. "Down there" is a dirty, sinful place. It's where you pee! I heard all this from my mother, but it didn't stop me from loving cunnilingus, especially when I discovered lovers who were really good at it ("cunninglinguists).

2) Other women don't want to lose control. The more I talked to Megan, I think this was her issue. When a guy (or woman) really licks me well, I have violent orgasms, ones that put me out on the dark side of the moon. It can be so intense I've even ended up crying afterward. Yes, guys, this is one reason you should hold a woman after making love to her.

I'd be interested in your theories and experiences with this in the comments section.

No...

...I wasn't in Colombia. ;-)