Hot and Heavy

‘This is a man's world, this is a man's world, but it would be nothing, nothing without a woman or a girl’. It was my ring tone, the song blurted out loudly from my phone that was buried at the bottom of my bag. It was early afternoon and the sun was blazing, burning my skin as I did my garden in just short shorts and a vest top. My skin was turning red and I was hoping with more sunshine it would morph into an olive brown tan. A nice tan, I decided, would look good against my dark hair and even darker green eyes.

As I struggled to retrieve my phone from the labyrinth of compartments that is my handbag I knew who was calling. After pulling out a lip gloss, not what I wanted, and pushing past my keys and purse I found my phone as it vibrated away, the ringtone getting louder and sounding more urgent. I was right, it was my research partner calling and I knew what he wanted before I pressed the green button on my phone to accept the call. Once I answered my phone we exchanged cheery hellos and quickly my research partner got to the point of his call. As I suspected he was calling to book himself in for a phone sex session later on, in the evening, when the sun had gone, when it was cooler and crucially when he had finished work. I agreed to his request and we continued our brief chit chat about nothing in particular. We talked for a while about the glorious sunshine, how we were both hot, both working on our tans, him having more success than I as he is naturally dark skinned. He was quick to point out he wasn’t just hot from the blazing burning sunshine but also from the permanent horniness that is in his makeup. I have taken to calling him ‘frisky’ because he is after sex in one form or another. It is exhausting being his phone fuck as he is insatiable but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

So no, I didn’t mind my research partner’s call, it was a welcome distraction from doing my gardening in the searing heat. Bruises on my knees were testament to how long I had spent bent over, on my hands and knees, crawling the floor on top of stones and gravel forever pulling out a mass of never ending weeds. It was my own fault, through my neglect the weeds had thrived and flourished in my back garden. So no, I didn’t mind this booty call at all. A good hard phone fuck would be a fun way to end a perfect sunny day. In fact, I began to look forward to it; the dull ache between my legs confirmed this. As I continued to chat to my partner in sexual misconduct I wished to be on my hands and knees once more, the way I had been in my garden, this time doing things that were decidedly more sordid and ever so naughty. A thought occurred to me, my research partner has turned me into a sexual deviant, engaging in role play, fantasy, phone sex with him and other girls, dressing up to strip off. I have even started to wonder and imagine what it would be like to be with another girl, what it would feel like to have my skin touched gently by a feminine hand. Yes, in the nicest possible way I am a sexual deviant now, eager to experiment and play, inspired and encouraged by the sexual adventurer that is my research partner. I have changed through this friendship, become something of a naughty minx and what’s more I am not entirely sure I don’t like it. I have never had so much fun sexually; it’s so much fun I have to share my tales which is why I write this blog.

The sun disappeared but the hot and heavy air remained in the twilight of the early evening. My research partner was due to call as soon as he finished work and had something to eat, eager to get up some sexual high jinks. I dressed in black knickers that felt silky and soft against my bare freshly shaved pussy. I also wore black hold up stockings and high heels. The hold ups felt good against my skin and they covered the bruises on my knees that I had incurred while gardening. I checked myself out in my full length wardrobe mirrors and I liked the reflection staring back at me, slim and tall with impossibly long legs I decided I looked like an expensive call girl. That’s a girl I thought, very glad I have lost 12 pounds recently, and it showed in that reflection, I looked good. With thoughts of looking like an expensive call girl fresh in my mind I decided the role play I wanted to play out with my research partner was one of the call girl and her client. Looking the way I did, all leg in glossy hold ups and expensive feeling knickers I wanted for both of us to pretend that he was paying for my time and my exquisite worth every penny sexual favours.

When the phone rang later that night with my research partner on the other end of the line he was happy to play along, to indulge me in this new fantasy. So here we were at the start of the fantasy, him paying for my time and titillation while I waited to be ordered around promising satisfaction for my high fee. He got the ball rolling by asking for a sex show, for me to lay on the bed and pretend I was touching and pleasuring myself for his viewing alone. I did as I was told and enjoyed stroking my nipples and squeezing my pert tits. He groaned as I described what I was doing, groaned deeper as I told him that I was touching my thighs with my fingertips, fingers feeling both smooth freshly tanned flesh and the soft lacy material of my black hold ups. I continued to do as I was told, enjoying performing for my paying ‘client’, enjoying the sounds of his excitement as I touched my pussy over the satin knickers I was wearing. The ache I felt earlier between my legs had returned, this time, half naked dressed for seduction, the ache was more profound and pronounced, it was deeper, harder, my pussy was now wet to the touch and wanted attention. My clit was hard and swollen and it felt divine stroking it side to side over my knickers, waiting for permission to peel the fabric away from my wet pussy. Waiting for this permission was a delicious tease, a delectable torture, I wriggled on the bed, enjoying the build-up, relishing the pressure building in my stomach and aching wet cunt. I was very much looking forward to my client’s next request.

As if reading my thoughts the next orders from my client came quickly. He wanted me off the bed and to move closer to him, to come to him and undo his belt, slipping off his trousers and underwear revealing his raging hard on. He wanted to play and I wanted to play along. So I described for him in rich dirty talk that I would take his balls in my hands and stroke them. And with my tongue I would lick them lightly teasing his cock as it twitched wildly. I described how I would run my fingers along his perineum finding a path to his ass as I sucked the head of his cock, lightly sucking until I was ready to take all of his huge cock into my mouth sucking deeply and tightly. This filthy talk excited my client; so far he told me I had been worth my high fee. I was turned on too by being such a naughty and seductive call girl. Hearing my client cum for the first time down the phone line I knew what I wanted next, I wanted to be fucked, and for the aching in my wet pussy to be satisfied, to feel my tight cunt filled. My mind flashed back to my gardening were I had been on my hands and knees, I knew as I stroked my clit I wanted to be in this position again. I bent over my bed and on my hand and knees I reached for my toy and began to fuck myself hard from behind.

The toy slipped into my pussy, the toy was new, fresh, powerful, pretty, pink and perfect .It vibrated well and it felt good as I pushed it inside my pussy, it felt even better as I began to pound myself with it. My panting and cries got my research partner going again; I could hear him furiously wanking as I slammed my toy in and out hard and fast. The pressure was building inside my stomach, the desire to piss becoming overwhelming, I wasn’t surprised when I squirted thick sweet juice and felt it flow down my toy to my fingertips. It felt good, better than good, cuming hard felt like a relief as much as a pleasure. The familiar floating feeling post orgasm engulfed me. I was thirsty from panting so hard and heavy but I was enjoying lying still on cushions of bliss, I was enjoying that feeling so much that I didn’t want to move to get a drink. My research partner orgasmed at the same time I did, the more phone sex we have the better he has got at timing his orgasm so that they coincide with mine. As he got off the phone so he could ‘clean up’ I reflected upon the day, as hot as the sunshine had been the evening had been even hotter. As I lay on my bed I was a very happy content girl and so I drifted off to enjoy a perfect eight hours of sleep.

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.

Starting the New Year with a Bang Bang.

It was New Year’s Eve and I was settled warm and snug in my bedroom waiting for the phone to ring. I was dressed in my new favourite purple figure hugging dress. Just because I wasn’t going out to play didn’t mean I couldn’t look good. For whatever reason I like to make the effort for my phone sex sessions, to dress the part even though my research partner can’t see me. It helps me get into and stay in character.

The character I was playing this time was a girl at a New Year’s Eve house party who was to catch the eye of my research partner. So for this role play I pretended to dance the night away in the middle of a room, drink in hand, celebrating the forth coming New Year. At this point a stranger, my research partner spoke of staring at me, eyes buried into my flesh, watching intently as I shook my slim body in time to the music. For a while I imagined letting him stare at me, playing it cool, paying him no attention whatsoever as he undid my dress with his eyes to reveal a sleek set of black underwear. As my research partner got into character he told me he was imagining watching me, all smiles as I danced away, thinking that he liked my dress, a dress, he said, that would look good on his floor.

Not ready to take my dress off just yet I told my research partner he’d have to wait to hear me strip. I told him instead he needed to approach me, as the girl at the party and do his best to seduce me. This was the only way he was going to separate me from my dress and indeed my silky soft knickers. I was intrigued at this moment, curious to see what lines my research partner would use to chat me up. I know he has a particular strategy he has used in the past. This entails talking to girls and then whipping out his mobile phone to show the girl or girls in question a picture of his huge cock. Suffice to say for my research partner seduction consists of ‘how about it?’. Still on the plus side at least he is upfront about what he wants which is lots of hot and heavy sex in whatever form he can get it. I like this about him, his gruffness, and his ‘no beating around the bush’ mentality. Better that than a charmer, full of empty promises and deceit. I dated a charmer once and he broke my heart into a million pieces. He told me whatever he thought I wanted to hear, not because he meant a word of his professed love but so that he could keep me in his bed until someone better came along. Hindsight, as they say, is wonderful thing.

Still the misadventure of that relationship is a whole other story and not the one I am telling you now. The story I am telling you now is about my night of phone sex passion that took place in my bedroom last night. So I, in character, pretended to dance the night away, hot and glistening in the room of the party. In our imagination my research partner and I locked eyes passionately. As we watched each other we drank in the sight of each other, my inhibitions diminishing with each sip of my drink. Soon my research partner spoke of making his way over towards me, two glasses in hand, his approach capitalising on the fact I had nearly finished my drink. He handed the extra glass to me and told me I looked beautiful in my dress. It was a good chat up line, every girl, including me likes a bit of flattery especially if the giver of this flattery is hot which my dear friend happens to be. As we shared our drinks we imagined dancing together, hands wrapped around each other’s bodies, fingertips stroking one another’s flesh with lips meeting and deep, sensual, hot and heavy kisses shared. In character we broke from kissing, the air thick with anticipation, we held hands and led each other out of the room. We made our way into the hall and up the stairs to an empty bedroom. My research partner told me that he would lay me down onto the bed and bringing his body so it was close to mine, kissing my lips and then my neck. I love having my neck kissed, to feel smooth lips on my skin and hot breath on my flesh, sensations that make my spine tingle and pussy ache.

By this point in the role play my dress was hitched up around my waist and I had my rabbit toy pressed hard against my clit. As I got wetter and wetter my clit throbbed, aching with anticipation as the role play continued. As we kissed and kissed in our imaginations my research partner slid his hand down my dress and undid my zip, pulling the material over my head to reveal acres of bare skin to discover and explore. My research partner spoke of touching my entire body and I told of my desire to undress him, to undo the buttons of his shirt, stroking his hard muscular chest and for my hands to gently pull at the material of his clothes to release his body from its fabric confines. Soon I described my hands moving lower, fingers stroking his thighs and lightly touching his hardening cock. As I was imagining touching his cock he told me how he would stand up from the bed, taking my legs and pulling my whole body to the edge so that he could lick my aching wet cunt, slipping off my knickers so that he could take his tongue and run the tip all of my clit, enjoying the sweet taste of my hot burning juice. As he talked of licking my clit he said he would take his fingers and push them deep inside of me, hard back and forth so that I moaned hard with pleasure and delight. His hot breath against my pussy driving me wild with lust.

Now I was possessed with desire. My toy was slammed hard against my clit and as my pussy began to squirt with thick hot sticky juice I knew I would come from clit play alone. I did as my research partner instructed and rode out the intensity of my ever building orgasm. The more I played the more I was over whelmed by the sensation that I was going to piss myself. It was strange but I was so turned on I just had to carry on using my toy to play with my clit. My screams got louder as did the moans of my research partner, his groans tipping me over the sexual edge as I continued to play with my rabbit eyes rocking gorgeously against my clit. I needed something inside me, something filling my cunt as I was about to come in place of the big hard cock I desired. I used my fingers that slid effortlessly inside my soaking wet pussy. Fingers inside me, toy on my clit, my body rocked up and down as I fucked myself hard, the need to piss was growing ever more intense, ever more urgent but I didn’t care as I screamed with pleasure, I didn’t care if I pissed out an entire pool of sweet hot cunt juice. I just went with it, rode the pleasure waves as they came thick fast and hard, flooding my body and making me shake. All I wanted to do was fuck myself, to hear my research partner down the phone line wank his cock hard as he got closer and closer to coming.

In time we both dramatically exploded, coming one after the other with immense sexual satisfaction. I did piss so much cunt juice that there were wet thick stains on my bed sheets but as my body floated on a soft fluffy post orgasm cloud I didn’t care. I was in utter bliss, starting the New Year with a fantastic bang bang and I fully intend to have started the New Year as I mean to go on.

Happy New Year!

Santa’s Sexy Little Helper

Christmas may come but once a year but I and my research partner came many more times than that when we enacted our festive role play. The scenario was this; he played a frazzled, tired and frustrated Santa Claus, exhausted organising and wrapping presents for all the children, big and small around the world. I, on the other hand, played Miss Santa Claus, his eager, happy and hopefully sexy little helper whose job it was to look after Santa and to put a smile back on his face.

Dressed in my red transparent Miss Santa outfit compete with knee high patent leather boots the phone rang. It was my research partner calling as he always does of late, in the middle of the night. I had waited up for him, aware that it wouldn’t be difficult for him to play a stressed out Santa as his job is hectic and complicated at the moment. His voice sounded tired down the phone line as he got into character and bemoaned the stresses of being Mr Claus, as he said he just had far too much to do, too little time to do it all in and could I please help him to unwind. As Santa’s sexy little helper I began to help him do just that, asking him to slip off his clothes, switch the TV channel to Babe station, light some candles and lie naked on his bed. As he lay bare in his softly lit bedroom, warm from his heater I requested that he take some massage oil and rub it into his thighs, to press his fingers deep into his flesh and begin to ease the tensions in his tight aching muscles. As he rubbed away I encouraged him to focus only on massaging his thighs and the sound of my voice, forgetting everything else, passing the time chatting away, giggling and deciding which Babestation girls we liked best. By this point he was beginning to sound better already.

As the discomfort eased in my research partner’s thighs and his muscles relaxed I instructed ‘Santa’ to carry on massaging his body with sweet smelling oil. I asked him to run his fingertips to his balls, cupping and massaging them and as he did so he informed me playfully that they were full and heavy. He went on to state that he needed a really long phone sex session, ‘ a real session’ as he put it to satisfy his physical needs. Being Santa sexy little helper I said I would do my very best to help, I giggled as I spoke these words, my own aching wet bare pussy testament to my own needs and desire for good long hard phone fuck. As my pussy got wetter and wetter with my own sweet cunt juice I took my own pot of massage oil, a blend of Jasmine and Patchouli and poured some on my fingertips which I then placed on my hot swollen clit. I rubbed it side to side with the oil and ‘Santa’ did the same with his balls, massaging away as his cock grew hard and eager for play, his hard huge cock now showing off his new silver piercing.

As I played with my swollen sensitive clit I instructed ‘Santa’ to move his hands lower to his arse, to massage his oil into his cheeks, to really squeeze and press down at his flesh. As he moaned I encouraged him to take his new toy, a rabbit just like mine that he got because he had heard with his own ears just how much I have enjoyed this toy, and place it against his arse and let the ears of this toy vibrate against his arse. When he did this he groaned, a deep guttural moan that seemed to come from the very pit of his stomach, a sound that turned me on so much when I heard it down the phone line that I squirted instantly and felt sweet sticky cunt juice run down the length of my fingertips. I began to groan myself, hard and deep, when I next took my rabbit and placed its vibrating ears against my clit. The speed and intensity of the ears vibrating against my hard clit tipping me closer still to orgasm.

With both of us highly turned on soon I was asking ‘Santa’ to imagine what it would be like to have Miss Santa Claus’s mouth wrapped around his cock. To pretend that her long hair was tickling his stomach as she first licked and sucked on his balls, then licked his hard cock up and down until eventually took his whole cock deep inside her mouth and sucked long and hard. As he imagined this he wanted me to play a game of pretend too, to think about having ‘Santa’s’ fingers running up and down my body, finger tips on my pert tits and then down to my stomach soon making their way lower still until they tickled my thighs, finding their path to my red knickers and touching my clit through the material, fingertips getting wet with the mix of sweet cunt juice and sweet oil. These fantasies along with the steadfast rhythm of my toy continued to make me moan hard, I was desperate to slam my toy deep inside my pussy, to push it inside and feel my cunt filled and scream as I pushed it back and forth. As much as I wanted to do this ‘Santa’ insisted that I wait for that particular present, to play with my hot burning clit some more so when I did eventually cum it was loud and powerful. Loud being the key word in that sentence because it is how loud I am that really gets my research partner off. The louder I am the more he calls me a ‘filthy bitch’ and he loves me being that way. I, for one, also like how loud he is, he really loves what we get up to and he shows it which adds to how turned on I get.

I was a good girl and did as ‘Santa’ asked, taking my rabbit and placing it against my clit a while longer until I could no longer stand it and pleaded to be allowed to push it inside my cunt. After some time ‘Santa’ relented and let me fuck myself hard with my toy deep inside my tight dripping pussy. It was exquisite, all the better for being made to wait. With one hand I slammed the toy deep inside me and with the other hand I rubbed my hard swollen clit. I was screaming with pleasure, moaning hard and loud as I fucked myself forcefully, intent on cuming hard, encouraged by my research partner’s cries of pleasure that I heard down the phone line. I’ve been a good girl I told ‘Santa’ and ‘Santa’ agreed, asking if I liked my present. I screamed as I came and told my research partner I couldn’t think of a better present. ‘Santa’ said he could, that and even better present would be the pair of us coming many times over. So that’s what we did, fucked until the darkness of the night broke and I could see glimmers of light from my bedroom window. Merry Christmas everyone, I hope you are having a festive period that is as naughty and nice as the one I am having.