All Shook Up

My research partner and I had an argument, an almighty argument. It started because he sent me a video to watch on my laptop. It was a sex tape; a gang bang if you like, featuring him, his ex -girlfriend and two other guys. When he first told me about the tape I laughed and giggled about his antics with his ex, just another example of just how far he would go to get his next sexual high I chuckled.

Seeing the video however was another matter entirely, it left me feeling sick. I still don’t know why. As my previous post ‘21^st Century Vera Lynn’ documents I have been party to group sex, granted not in person, certainly not actually having group sex but I did very much enjoy what took place down the end of phone line. I am not sure why my research partner’s gang bang left me so sickened, the only thing I can put it down to is that there was certainly a different tone to the two different sexploits. When I had phone sex with my research partner and two other girls the tone was fun and flirty, there was no pressure, everybody got on as friends and there was mutual respect. The tone of the gang bang I watched was very different, far from fun and flirty it was seedy and dirty, with other men jeering and leering as my research partner fucked his then girlfriend, cheering him along as they waited for their turn to cum. It wasn’t a nice video to watch, filmed on a mobile phone it felt cheap and desperate.

After I had watched as much of the video as I could my research partner called. ‘Well?’ he asked ‘what did you think?’ Despite the churning in my stomach I tried very hard to be diplomatic at first simply telling him the video wasn’t my cup of tea. My stomach continued to churn as he told me more about the video, how it was all his ex-girlfriend’s idea and how she had a become a porn actress on the back of making that video. What got me was that he had gone along with the whole thing, watched as his then girlfriend got fucked by other men, went along with it as he fucked her and they cheered him on to the sexual finish line. The more details he gave me the more repulsed I felt until I snapped. I told him ‘You have no standards.’ The moment the words left my mouth I wanted to swallow them back, it’s not my place to judge my friend, not my place to tell him what is and is not acceptable. I think what made me snap was the comparison he drew, his ex does porn, fucks on film for money, I write porn, for him he argued it was all the same thing. And yes, he is right I do write porn, I enjoy telling all about my word bound sexual adventures. What I don’t do and would never do is shag random people for money and certainly never on film. I like to titillate with my stories, not have gangbangs on film. For me the latter crosses the line into something dark and sordid, something that feels wrong.

After my spiteful words of ‘You have no standards’ my research partner, his temper flaring, he hit back just as hard if not harder. He said ‘It could be claimed you have no standards for carrying on fucking your ex-boyfriend after he hit you’. To my shame this is true. I was in a violent relationship with a guy; I stayed for a year despite the abuse, despite the pushing and shoving, the slaps and the head-butting. It was a while ago now and I don’t often think about the relationship, he was older than me, had his own place, I moved in far too quickly believing that I loved him. It wasn’t long before I saw his violent temper. I cowered as he flew into rages over the smallest of things. For me the worse thing about domestic violence isn’t being hit, it is waiting to be hit, walking on eggshells trying desperately hard not to offend but realising the futility of this, that yes , you are going to take a kicking, it’s not a question of if, simply of when. I became terrified of him, frightened to breathe; I was living in his flat and didn’t have enough money to leave. I didn’t know where to turn so I stayed, I carried on having sex with him and I tried to make it work. It didn’t work, I dropped down to seven stone, my skin looked grey and my hair began to fall out. It was a horrible time, not least when my abuser would comment on how terrible I looked. He would sneer that when he met me I looked glamorous, ‘what’ he asked rhetorically ‘had happened to me?’ He was what had happened to me, his violence had drained me of all my spirit and almost all of my fight. But not all of it, thankfully, as I found a way out and another place to live in the end.

Bringing up this terrible chapter in my life was a low blow by my research partner, a cheap snipe that equalled the spite of my comments. All’s fair in phone sex and war. Clearly. So we were even, both as bad as each other as we each held our phones to our ears in complete stunned silence. For a long time we said nothing, there was nothing to say until the deathly air of silence was cut by my research partner’s laugh. He chuckled ‘I bet you are wet.’ I couldn’t help but laugh, laughing at the cheek of the devil that he was displaying even though I was still mad, I told him ‘I am definitely not checking.’ ‘Go on, check’ he said, coercing me, daring me to have fun with him despite our argument. I took him up on his dare and I checked. I placed my hands down my trousers and my fingers found their way underneath my knickers. Sure enough, the heat of the argument had left me wet, as I touched my pussy my fingers were engulfed by sweet wet juice. I had to taste it, all the while being mildly annoyed that my research partner had been right, the argument had left me horny, wet and willing.

With my fingers buried down my trousers and underneath my knickers I touched my clit that was lightly throbbing and was grateful for my touch. I felt a familiar feeling of desire cutting through the anger and harsh words of moments before. As my fingertips stroked my aching clit and I heard my research partner undress, I heard the zip of his trousers undo and this made my cunt ache all the more. Soon I was undressing myself, I slipped off my trousers and my top until I was sat half naked in my room in just my underwear. My knickers were becoming even wetter, I slipped them to one side as I lay back on to my bed and vigorously rubbed my clit side to side. I enjoyed the feeling of my juice on my finger tips and I couldn’t resist another taste. I was horny, both of us were in a sexually wanton state after our disagreement, just as love and hate are different sides of the same coin, anger and desire can also overlap. Both demand passion. So we passionately continued, fired up with an urgent need to phone fuck.

As I stroked my clit hard and fast I reached over to my bedside cabinet drawer and grabbed two things. First my toy, on which I had turned the dial up to full power, secondly some tingle lubricant. I squirted some on my fingers, rubbed it onto my clit and then placed my toy on this most sensitive of areas. The sensation was explosive, white heat, furious fire, my clit pounded with need as my toy rocked against it. I pressed the toy harder and harder into my clit, rubbing it around and around and side to side, I couldn’t get enough of the pleasure. So turned on was I that with my free hand I started to stroke my arse and I encouraged my research partner to do the same. With sheer delight we both moaned, loud and with pleasure. I took another squirt of the tingle lubricant, running some of the cooling liquid on my throbbing clit which by now felt like it was on fire. With what was left of the lubricant I rubbed some on my arse, I massaged away until a finger found its way inside. The fire that was my clit continued to burn away and to satisfy it I continued to press my toy hard against it, feeling my desire rage. I could hear sounds of pleasure from my research partner and this only added to my sexual wantonness. As my legs began to shake I knew I was going to cum from clit stimulation alone, I didn’t need penetration from my toy or my fingers, not this time anyway. I just needed to carry on doing what I was doing and so I did; a finger inside my arse and my toy on my burning, raging clit. My body continued to shake; the shaking became ever more violent, I was overcome by waves of pleasure and the building of pressure that was to very soon become orgasmic. All shook up does accurately describe the experience. As I came I began to float on clouds of exquisite ecstasy, as I squirted hot sweet thick juice my body became like jelly and my head spun leaving me feeling lightheaded and a little bit disorientated. I had cum hard and fast. In fact it’s true what I have said in a previous post, the best part of fighting is making up.

Back For Good

‘Have you missed me?’  The first words uttered to me by my research partner after months of silence. He has been away working with the army and for over two months I haven’t heard a word from him. As I said ‘silence’, He admits himself he could have called but he said he didn’t want to, to paraphrase his words he didn’t want to wind himself up sexually. As he explained he had no private space where he was and therefore no private space where we could conduct our usual sexual shenanigans. Just as he apologised for his absence I will apologise to you, my readers, for mine. I am sorry I haven’t posted anything for months but really truly in my research partners absence there was nothing to tell. I am not the sort of girl who shags around so I have no tales to tell you of elicit one night stands and brief flings. Please don’t misunderstand me, I haven’t sat by the phone for months on end waiting for it to ring, I have been out and about enjoying myself. It’s just that enjoying myself doesn’t, for me, extend to shagging around.  I know the score with my research partner, he comes and goes from my life depending upon his work, he calls when he can and periods of silence are part of the deal. With that said I was pleased to hear from him when he did call last Saturday night.

As much as I was happy to hear from RP the conversation was slightly awkward at first. It’s difficult to know what to say or where to start when you haven’t heard from somebody for a while. RP soon complained that I wasn’t as chatty as he had hoped I would be. However that awkwardness soon evaporated, within ten minutes we were chatting away about everything and nothing like no time had passed between us.  The impression I got from this chat was that my research partner hasn’t enjoyed the last few months; all I know about where he has been is that it was cold, it rained a lot and that he was none too happy about the lack of privacy. Furthermore he was even less happy about the lack of female company; with no women around RP has been quite the frustrated bunny. For months, he lamented, he has had no action whatsoever so pretty please could we do something? ‘Pretty please’ he continued ‘could I make a special effort to make it super good?’ With a smile spread clear across my face I told him ‘of course, what are friends for?’ I told him that yes, we could have phone sex and yes, I would try my best to make it really good for both of us.

Indeed his phone call couldn’t have come at a better time. I was eager, ready and all too willing to get up to some phone sex fun, to fuck myself hard listening to the familiar and much missed soundtrack of my research partner’s  encouragement and groans. After the day I had had the expression ‘up for it’ doesn’t come close to covering just how willing I was. Hours before I had been to see my mother and now I am no longer fat the only thing she has to pull me apart over is the fact I smoke, how I will most certainly develop cancer and age terribly. While she has a point about smoking being a horrible habit and to use her words she is only saying such things because she wants the best for me I find her sentiments infuriating and empty. If she did, as she claims, simply want the best for me not allowing my elder brother beat the shit out of me for seven long years would have been a better place to start. Yes I smoke and yes I am thinking about quitting but it will be on my time table, not because of the hollow concerns of my mother, concerns that, for me, have come far too late.

So it was my mother’s ‘concerns’ that had put me in a bad mood the day my research partner called. Maybe it was my simmering resentment with her that made our conversation awkward at first. By as we talked, chatting away, I felt my spirits lift and the mood shift into naughtiness. In fact the mood shifted into one that was tense, sexually charged, primitive and urgent. This wasn’t a time to play out an elaborate role play, instead the sexual tension down the phone line dictated that we band on Babe station in our respective rooms and get down to it. Hard and fast. It was clear from my research voice, the sexual need his tone betrayed that he didn’t just want an all-night session; he physically had to have one. That he needed to release all his pent up sexual energy that had been hot housed during his two months away in the cold, wet wilds of wherever.

With Babe station playing in the background I slipped off my knickers and throw them across my bedroom floor. I took my toy and placed it against my throbbing clit. I was horny. As the toy vibrated against my clit I felt my pussy get wetter. As my fingers moved lower so I could stroke my cunt lips they became slippery with burning hot, sweet wet juice. At the other end of the phone line my research partner lay naked, baby oil to hand as he followed, to the letter, my instructions to massage oil into his thighs, then higher to his chest were I asked him to play with and tweak his nipples. I wanted him relaxed for the phone sex fun that I was planning.

We continued to verbally play with one another’s bodies, to touch and tease, stroke and play, laughing and giggling with anticipation of good hard and rough phone fuck that was to come. The sexual tension was cut monetarily with hard belly laughter when a porn film came on Babestation featuring a guy in a gimp suit being dominated by a kinky latex clad nurse. The sight of the man in the gimp suit cracked me up and my research partner was in stiches himself. After the laughter subsided we switched channels temporarily to find something that was hornier rather than hysterical as the gimp and the nurse had been. That task accomplished we got back to it. I asked my research partner to take some oil and massage his arse, to play gently and once relaxed use his fingers to feel for his G spot and to stroke it back and forth. As he did this, stroking this most sensitive and satisfying of male intimate areas he instructed me to take my hand and with vigour rub my clit hard side to side. Rough, hard and steady were his commands that I followed obediently, enjoying being bossed around sexually. As I got more and more turned on and my cunt got wetter and wetter, hot and sticky with burning hot juice I longed to slam my toy deep inside pussy. I longed to force my toy inside my tight cunt and feel it fill me as I pounded it hard, hard in, hard out, fast and rough.

For once my research partner did not make me wait for my pleasure, he wanted to hear me scream and moan as much as I wanted to hear him cum. Eagerly I slammed my toy inside my pussy, pushing it hard inside as I began to fuck myself, with one hand I had the toy and with my other hand I rubbed my clit fast and hard side to side. The whole experience was driving me wild; I panted and moaned loudly much to my research partner’s delight. He said he loves it when I act slutty. I came hard and quick; my whole body shook from my thighs to the bottom of my legs, to my arms and hands. As I continued to shake my research partner insisted on more, I took little persuading. He demanded that I continue to fuck myself, to pound my pussy hard with my toy and use my other hand to play with my clit. It was this dual stimulation he informed, that was responsible for my full body orgasms. Within minutes of hard and fast slamming of my toy and much vocal panting and moaning I had cum again, this time squirting hot sweet juice. This juice engulfed my fingers that were stroking and rubbing my clit.

By this point my throat hurt from all the panting, it was dry so I momentarily took a break and had a sip from bottle of Pepsi Max that was on my bedside cabinet. In no time at all I was back on my bed and back on my back, naked with my hand on my clit and my toy back inside me being slammed hard. I just wanted more of the same exquisite orgasms I had been experiencing and RP wanted more as well. So vigorously had he been wanking that he had hurt his cock, not that he was going to allow a little bit of pain stand in the way of cuming once more during this night of long awaited pleasure. The night drew on in the same blissful cycle of fucking and cuming and only ended after countless orgasms when both of us really were too sore to fuck any more. Suffice to say it was quite the session, much awaited and longed for and to answer my research partner’s question- yes I did miss him. Just a little bit.