WAIT A MINUTE, MR. POSTMAN

I don’t know about you, but since this whole Covid-19 lockdown has been in place, I’ve been spending a lot of money shopping on amazon.com. From acrylic nail kits, hair, leggings, and hoodies, I’ve been buying up a storm. It’s been over a month, and sitting in this house has driven me mad, with a massive case of buyer’s virus. If you’re in the same boat as me, you may have been doing the same. You may have also noticed that the delivery people no longer make contact. Since social distancing started, the delivery people simply knock on the door, drop the package, and keep it moving. I had grown used to this; then, I got a package that required a signature.   

On this particular day, the rest of my household was out. I had ordered a MacBook Air, and I didn’t want to risk missing the delivery, so I decided to stay home. I did a few video workouts and hopped in the shower. Right when I finished, I heard the doorbell ring. I threw on a towel, put on a pair of flip-flops, and ran down the stairs. As I ran into the kitchen to get a knife (something I always did), I yelled at the delivery man, “One Minute.”   

When I opened the door, my breath was stolen. He was tall, had gorgeous blue eyes, brown hair, and a very fair complexion. If it wasn’t for the mask covering his face, I would’ve thought he was Tommy from Power. Lost in the moment, I drank him in, and I could tell he was doing the same to me. He looked at my moist afro, to my still damp shoulders. I felt him visualizing my figure underneath my towel, and when his eyes locked in on my feet, he licked his lips. I felt my body getting hot as he analyzed every visual inch of my body. When his vision reconnected with mine, with a nervous yet sexy voice said, “I’ve got a package for you.” I took a deep breath, I felt my body grow hot, and my nipples began to perk up. With my arousal building, I replied, “I’m sure you do.” I reached for the package, and when his gloved hand grazed mine, it was like a fire was lit. With our eyes locked, he pushed open the door and entered my house.   

He pulled down his mask and began kissing and biting my neck. As he nibbled my ear, he pressed his body up against mine. I felt his muscles underneath his shirt, and I could feel his rock-hard chest pressed up against my breasts through my towel. My pussy was throbbing as I felt his dick grow hard through his uniform. When he sat me on the stairs, my towel fell open. He bent down and took my left foot into his mouth. He licked and sucked at every toe and left a trail of kisses up to my thigh. When he got to my pussy, he licked his lips then began to explore my opening. He ran his hands along the inside of my legs as he sucked my clit into orgasm. With the wood edge of the stairs pressing into my back, my body jerked with pleasure. Aroused, I pulled his lips to mine to savor the flavor of my pussy. I opened his belt and pants to free his hard dick, and god was it beautiful. He was long, with a perfect girth and full of veins. I could tell that he’d been without sex since the lockdown, and I was more than happy to drain him dry.  

I ran to my room to grab a condom, and when I came back down the stairs, he was more than ready for me. He turned me away from him and began licking and nibbling my bootyhole. He delivered my ass cheek a vicious slap, then slid deep into me. Every thrust into my pussy pushed me hard against the wood stairs. The pain was undeniable, but the pleasure of him being deep inside of me felt so good I didn’t want it to end. He wanted to get a better angle, so he pulled me up and walked me to the kitchen. When he sat down on a dining chair, his dick stood up at attention; and with pure carnal lust controlling me, I slid my wet pussy down the length of his shaft. I rode him until my pussy was sore, and as I felt my muscles vice-grip around his dick, I let out an orgasmic roar.   

After I regained my composure, I could still feel his dick hard inside me. As I raised off his lap, I wanted him to finish me in the worst way possible. I bent over the kitchen table, giving him easy access to take full control of my body. I heard him whisper, “fucking perfect,” then he entered me. By this time, all his finesse had left, and all the remained was pure animal. He pounded me over and over, delivering slap after slap to my ass. He pulled my hair back with one hand, while he choked me with the other. Then, right before he was about to cum, he let go of my neck, sucked at his thumb and stuck it in my booty-hole. If he had kept it there a bit longer, I would’ve had another orgasm. But right as I felt it growing, I heard him yell out, “FUUUUUCK!” then he collapsed onto my back.  

After a moment, he pulled out of me with a condom full of milky cum. He went up to the bathroom to freshen up, and when he came back down, we locked eyes; then I noticed his wedding ring. He must’ve seen me looking, but when he went to speak, I stopped him.  

“–Shh! Don’t ruin the moment. If we never see each other again, what does it really matter?” He had just fucked my brains out, delivered me two orgasms, and helped me live out a long-time fantasy. I offered him a bottle of water, which he accepted, then he went on about his day.   

I know a lot of you are probably thinking, “She ain’t shit!” But we were both lost in the moment, and talking about it (after the fact) wouldn’t change a thing. 

SIZE DOES MATTER

No, this is not your typical big dicks are the best rant. If you’ve been following my blog since the beginning, you already know that I despise small dicks (aka gherkins, aka little pickles). The other day I was walking while listening to the Whoreible_Decisions podcast, and they had on Jet Setting Jasmine, a public figure who is also the wife of King Noire (public figure, master fetish trainer, and etc.). During the episode they touched on the topic of his dick size, which is huge. They’re have an open marriage, and she mentioned, in a joking way, that she outsources certain sexual acts, and anal was number one. If you’ve ever seen his dick, it’s clear to see why. So, just as some dicks are too small, there are dicks that some women consider too big. So, I came up with this classification that is not based on measurements but based on personal preference. 

First, I’ll start with GAP.  

No, this is not short for gaping pussy and booty holes. GAP stands for Good in All Positions. This dick length and size may feel better in some positions, but, in general, it’s suitable for all. There’s nothing more annoying than riding a dick that keeps slipping out. Sure, sometimes the pussy can be juicy, but more often than not, the dick is just a few inches shy on the ‘You need to be this tall to ride this ride’ ruler. A dick that feels good in missionary, doggy-style, various riding positions, anal, and fills the mouth just right is a GAP dick.   

The second classification is the DSO dick.  

DSO stands for Doggy Style Only: this is the dick that only feels good in doggy-style because it is trash in all other positions. It is trash in missionary, it’s trash when riding it, it’s trash from the side, and it offers no challenge when getting sucked. This dick only feels good in doggy-style; with your ass high up, lots of lube, and your face so far down, it’s under the mattress.  

The first time I encountered a DSO dick, it took me by surprise. It was attached to a chocolate man with a rock-solid body. He was tall and skinny, so I was beyond confident that his dick would be just as long as he was tall. When I pulled his pants down to suck his dick, I wondered where it was; it was short and fat, in the most unflattering way. I did the best job I could at sucking it, hoping that he was a grower and not a shower, but what I saw was what I got. I bent over on all fours hoping that maybe he’d feel better. I felt him push past my opening then nothing else. He was pumping for dear life, and I felt nothing. My back was arched, and my ass was so high in the air that a satellite could’ve looked into my anal cavity. But nothing I did made the sex feel any better. It was him that first debunked the myth that all black guys were packing because his luggage was definitely lost.  

The next classification is NFA, and that stands for Never Fucking my Ass.   

If a dick can be too small, one can also be too big. A dick that I deem to big will never get the chance to fuck my ass. Now, sure the first time I had anal was with a guy with an 8″ dick, and I loved it; but he took his time. He made sure I was very aroused, moist, and then he slowly entered me. Each and every thrust felt lovely, and when we had our fill, he switched back to my pussy. For almost a decade, I refrained from anal, and then slowly, I was able to find partners that I deemed suitable for my ass. Their length isn’t super-long, and their girth isn’t too thick; their dick is just right.  

The final classification is MLBS, and that stands for Must Lick Before the Stick.  

MLBS is the dick that, upon first sight, seems to lack sustenance, and it doesn’t look like it can satisfy. However, after he eats the pussy and makes me cum when he slides into me, it feels like heaven. Some positions may feel better than others, but none of them will feel bad.   

My first time encountering an MLBS was when I returned from Mexico. I started talking to him via OkCupid, while I was still on vacation. He messaged me that he wanted to eat my pussy, and since I was feeling free, I agreed to let him once I got back. I met him, and we went to his place. He ate my pussy on the couch in the living room and delivered me an incredible orgasm. When it was time for me to return the favor, as stated before, I was less than enthused. Looking at his size, I listed the possible positions that would deliver me the most pleasure while fucking, and I concluded doggy-style. But, when he bent me over the couch to fuck me, his dick felt like it had grown 4 inches. After he ate my pussy, my walls were still clenching, the orgasm continued to rush through my body, and I was soaking wet. After the wonders he worked on my clit, his dick felt fan-fucking-tastic. His dick felt so good that I went above and beyond to get it. I would go to his house before my long runs. I fucked him after work. I even took the train to fuck him during my lunch break. He fucked me from the back, he fucked me missionary, I rode him like a cowgirl, and he even fucked me from the side (a position that’s not my favorite), and they all felt amazing. As long as he ate my pussy first, his dick felt magical. The only reason we stopped fucking was me; I felt that I was lowering my standards, and I ended it. But now and then, when I’m on the west side of Manhattan, I think about his mouth and dick, and my pussy starts to get wet. 

The above is the beauty of a MLBS dick. As long as his tongue delivers you to an orgasm, his dick possesses the same capabilities as a GAP dick. So, because I love getting my pussy eaten, MLBS dicks have become my personal favorite. Now, isn’t that better than grading dicks by measurements?

DAMN SEX INJURIES

I love sex. Something I love more than sex is masturbating. I love the time when I can connect with my body and bring myself pleasure. Even if I find myself in a loving relationship with a partner that dicks me down every single night, the honest truth is that, before I go to sleep, I need to orgasm on my own. Sometimes, I would masturbate in the morning; other times, I would masturbate when I got home after work, but the most convenient time for me to masturbate would be in my bed at night.   

For a good couple of years, masturbation was my nightly sleeping pill. After my shower, I would lay down in my bed, grab my phone, and google whatever porn interested me (mostly Gangbang). I would power up my vibrator and ride the wave to reach my orgasm. With heavy panting, leg spasms, and an increased heartbeat, I would silently climax then pass out. That was my nightly routine for years. Then, one day I heard about the Womanizer. I heard about the sucking-pulse mechanism, and that it would deliver an orgasm I’d never experience before, and I simply had to have it. During a visit to Babeland, I finally made my purchase. When I got home, I charged it up; and after my shower, I laid down and placed the opening on my clit. The orgasm I had was more powerful than anything I could have imagined. The power of the Womanizer was so good that I didn’t even need to use porn.  

Over the next few months, I enjoyed many orgasms with my Womanizer. Then, one night, I went for a second round. My clit was already highly sensitive, but I was determined to push my boundaries. Gingerly, I placed the opening back onto my clitoris, I started it on a low setting, then increased it slowly. My breasts rose and fell rapidly to match my breathing, a tingling started at my toes and generated throughout my body; when I finally reached my second orgasm of the night, with a stifled moan, I squirted all over my sheets. I took a moment to regain my composure, got a blow dryer, dried my sheets, and then went back to sleep.   

As much as I loved the comfort of my bed, having to dry my sheets every night became a mood killer. Luckily, the Womanizer was waterproof, so the next night, I took her into the shower. With my back against the wall, the hot water rolling over my breasts, and my left foot propped up on the edge of the tub, I allowed the sucking sensations of my Womanizer to deliver me an orgasm, then another accompanied with a vicious squirt. In my bed, I never wanted to make a mess; however, in the shower, I was able to let it all go. A nightly shower orgasm had become my routine. Multiple times, I came so hard that my stomach cramped. I was masturbating so much, I worried that my clit would fall off, but there was an injury brewing that took me by total surprise.   

I purchased my Womanizer around June, I started masturbating in the shower in September. At the beginning of October, I noticed a shooting pain in my foot when I would wake up in the morning and after long walks. Every morning, I tried to alleviate the tension on my foot by rolling it on a stress-ball and performing a round of foot exercises; but none of them worked. Because I’m a runner, pain is nothing new for me. From random back pains, butt pains, and foot pains, I’ve encountered them all, but eventually, they all subside. However, this new pain, that was isolated in my left foot, that had no apparent reason for being caught me totally off guard. Then, one night, while I was putting lotion on my leg, I had my left foot resting on my desk chair; when I slightly arched my foot, the pain was instantaneous. Like a lightbulb, it became clear to me where my pain was coming from. I remembered that every time I orgasmed in the shower, I would crouch down during my orgasm, putting irregular stress on my arch. I was finally at ease to know where my pain was coming from, but I worried about my future orgasm routine. What would be the best angle to keep my shower orgasm routine going?   

The next night, I went into the shower and tried a new position. Instead of propping my foot up, I turned towards the wall, allowing the water to cascade on my back. I slightly parted my legs, positioned my clit into the opening, and started the Womanizer. At first, it was a weird angle, then I played a fantasy in my mind. I thought back to my first time at a sex-club (Caligula). And I remembered the big shower they had on the upper level. I imagined myself with the shower on, naked, and masturbating while all the other patrons looked on. Being the sexual center of attraction, on full display for all to see and not touch, aroused me to another level. The fantasy drove me to an orgasm that poured out from my body. I finished my shower then went to sleep. 

Every few nights, I rotate positions, from standing to squatting, to sitting on the edge of the tub, to occasionally kneeling. Thankfully, each and every position still delivers me the same fantastic orgasm I had become accustomed to, minus the pain in my foot. 

SOCIAL DISTANCING FAIL (The COVID Chronicles Part 1)

It was official; states across America were locking down to avoid the global pandemic of COVID-19 (the Corona Virus) from devastating their towns. Luckily, my boss had sent us home early on Tuesday. Like everyone else, I, too, was glued to the news on Wednesday and Thursday. On Friday morning, with the news confirming that this virus was a long way from being over, I remembered I had masks and Lysol at my office. (I had a co-worker that was always sick. One day I got fed up with her germs, so I went onto Amazon.com; I purchased 100 masks, three cans of Lysol, and a big jar of hand sanitizer. She wasn’t sick for the next month. Then COVID 19 came through with a vengeance. I threw on some leggings, a hoodie, my mask, gloves, and headed to the train. I decided to take the Q train because I knew it would be the quickest and possibly the emptiest train— I just had no idea how empty.   

I made it onto the train just before the car doors closed. Unfortunately, I bumped into a guy that was standing in the doorway; he was tall with a lean body. I apologized a few times, and he replied, with a sexy voice, “No problem, beautiful.” Was he flirting during a pandemic? I could feel his eyes tracing the curves of my legs, but I figured he wouldn’t approach me. We locked eyes, and when I saw the shape of his mask wrinkle, I knew I wasn’t alone in my attraction. After 86^th Street, the train came to a slow stop, and the announcer said, “This train is being held due to a sick passenger on the train ahead. Sorry for the inconvenience.” Knowing it was going to be a longer ride than expected, I decided to sit. I turned on my R&B 90s playlist and closed my eyes.  

A tap awakened me; I opened my eyes to see the guy standing over me. 

“I just had to tell you, your body looks amazing in those leggings.” 

“Thank you,” I replied. 

“Your scent is very intoxicating, as well.” 

I couldn’t see myself, but I was sure my cheeks were turning red. “Is that so?” I flirted back. 

“Yes. Coming across a woman with such an intoxicating scent is a turn-on. Can you see what it’s doing to me?”  

I was so busy staring into his deep dark eyes, and being aroused by his full lips, that I didn’t realize his pants were getting tighter.  

“Do you smell like that everywhere?” He asked.  

Thinking what my answer would be, I could feel my body heat beginning to rise. 

“I’ve never had any complaints,” I replied. He smiled in response. 

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to find out.” 

He extended his gloved hand to me and raised me from my seat. Towering over me, he bent over and inhaled at my neck; his facial hair tickled me in the process. His body moved closer to mine, and I could feel his dick pressing against my stomach. He inhaled down the length of my body. When he arrived at my pussy, he used his left hand to caress my ass; then he bent my leg to lift it onto the seat. He lowered down and buried his nose deep into my crotch. I wasn’t sure what had come over me. Maybe it was the pandemic or the fact that I was horny and finally about to live out a fantasy. All I knew was if the world was coming to an end, I might as well enjoy the ride. When he came up, the smile on his face was pure sex.  

He asked, ”May I?” then I slid down my pants.  

He hoisted me up onto his shoulders and, for dear life, I held on to the overhead bar. With my leggings pulled down to my knees, he slipped his head in between my pants and began to devour my pussy. All my push-ups had come in handy because a month ago I could barely do a pull-up. Although it was a struggle, I was able to hold myself up as he licked and sucked my clit to a trembling orgasm. When he lowered me back to the floor, I saw that his dick was rock hard. I pushed him against the car door. I removed my gloves and grabbed his dick from his pants. His dick was nothing short of fantastic. I squatted down, licked my lips, and moved in for the kill. I inched my way down the length of his dick and cupped his balls in my hand. He placed his hand behind my head and pushed my mouth farther down the length of his dick, and with every motion, my pussy grew wetter. Between the sounds of my slurping he yelled, “Fuck” and “Shit”. Inside I knew, I was probably giving him some of the best head he had in his life. 

“God! I wish I could bend you over and fuck you right now!” He said 

I pulled his dick from my mouth, “I thought you’d never ask.” 

He removed his gloves, pulled me up, then groped my ass as he bit at my neck. He bent down to lick at my wet pussy; then he bent me over. I could see our reflections in the window as he slid his dick into me. The welcomed pressure of his dick entering my pussy forced me to close my eyes and savor the moment. I lowered my head like a rag-doll as he took control of my body; with every thrust, my head jerked up and down. He whispered for me to put my mask on, which I did, then he told me to look up. I looked into the glass and his eyes. As his thrusts started to slow down and get deeper, my moans got longer. He would completely exit my pussy to admire the gaping hole he left, then ram it back in, to make me scream in ecstasy. The train had started to move, and he began to pick up his pace. He reached one hand around my neck, and the other gripped my hoodie, and he proceeded to pound into me. In the race for him to have his orgasm, I had become his sexual rag doll. He thrust into me over and over; then I heard him scream, “I’m gonna cum!” With a few more thrusts, he walked back and emptied his dick on the floor. I looked at the reflection of a total stranger in the window and said to myself —What the Fuck! I could tell he was thinking the same. 

I pulled up my pants and eased my body into a seated position. He put his dick back into his pants and sat back down to catch his breath. With the train entering the 72^nd street station, we stared each other down. Before the doors opened, all he could get out was, “Damn! You got some good pussy!” I smiled and said, “So I’ve been told.” He chuckled. When the doors opened, he got up and exited the train, keeping his eyes on me as he left. When the doors closed and the train pulled out of the station, I put my headphones back in and closed my eyes. 

I jolted awake when I heard the announcement and felt the wind from the open door at 42^nd street. I jumped up and ran off the train just as the doors closed behind me. Walking up the stairs, my body felt weak and my pussy was moist. I asked myself, “Did I just fuck a total stranger on the train, or did I dream it?” 

NOBODY CAN SAY I DIDN’T TRY

A few years ago, when I was still online dating, I came across the profile of a cute Latino. His profile indicated that he lived near me and that he, like myself, enjoyed running. Once we started talking the conversation flowed like water. We spoke, consistently, for a few weeks before we decided to meet up. All seemed to be going well, but he kept giving me random reasons why he couldn’t meet me when it was convenient for me. He kept trying to get me to meet him at his house or in front of his building late at night. I made it clear to him that, if he wanted to meet me, he would have to do so at my convenience. Even though he was resistant to meeting, we continued to communicate.  

During one of our conversations, I asked him what he did for work. He told that he was a personal assistant for his cousin (whom he claimed was Jessica Caban, the longtime girlfriend of Bruno Mars). He also said that he was a part-time hairstylist. I made a comment, that I thought would end up being a light-hearted joke. In response to him saying that he was a hairstylist, I joked, and asked if he was also gay. I expected a variety of responses, equating to a no. Although he did say no, when he told me that he was a cross-dresser, I almost choked. Immediately my phone was flooded with messages from him dressed like a woman. Now, don’t get me wrong, he didn’t look half-bad; I simply wasn’t expecting that. I thought about deleting his number and blocking him, but I wondered if I was being too close-minded. There was a party of me that knew I couldn’t get with it. But there was another part of me that considered the courage that it took for him to be honest with me; and, that part didn’t want to just walk away. 

We agreed to meet up one evening and go for a walk in Central Park. He was less handsome in person, but still good looking. I don’t remember what I wore; but I remember he wore a huge multi-colored puffer jacket and NYC Marathon ASICS. —Why do I remember those details, you ask. The only reason why I remember them is because he kept mentioning them. He kept mentioning how expensive his coat and sneakers were, and how much money he had. As he tried to win me over by saying how much money he had, I kept changing the conversation to other topics. We spoke about running, him doing hair, and eventually I asked him when he started cross-dressing. He explained that on one day he just decided to try it and he liked it. He had this cockiness about him that I hated; but his honesty kept me intrigued.  

I felt like dessert, so we walked down to Pinkberry. On our walk, the conversation continued to evolve. I was semi-surprised to think that despite how things began; we were actually having a decent first date. Once inside of Pinkberry, and only because he made such a big deal on how much money he had, I was taken aback when he didn’t offer to pay for my $7 dollar dessert. —If you’ve been following my blog from the beginning, you know how I feel about men that don’t offer to pay on first dates. If a man doesn’t pay on a first date, there will not be a second. I thought to myself, for a guy donning $130+ sneakers, and a coat that he claimed was over $500, the least he could do was buy my frozen yogurt; when he did not, it was an automatic major deduction. I was ready do ditch his ass; but, unfortunately, he lived in my area, and we had to walk in the same direction. He said that he was thirsty; so, walking back uptown, we stopped into Whole Foods. He walked to the beverage station, grabbed a beverage, and asked me if I wanted anything. I said no, and I started walking towards the cash register. I was, once again, taken aback when he turned around and made his way back to the entrance. —Yes! While wearing over $600, this fool decided to steal a seltzer water from Whole Foods. I looked at him like he was bat-shit crazy. Once outside of the store I ripped into him about what he did, and he seemed to not care. I needed to change the conversation over the remaining 15 blocks, so we spoke about movies and TV shows. When he reached his building, he invited me to come up, but I eagerly declined and made my way home.  

Most women would’ve blocked his number. However, there is always (and probably will forever) be a part of me that never knows when to call it quits. I can say it in my mind, but there is always the heart. When the mind and heart align, then along comes the conscience, that convinces me to give a person one more chance. So, after our first meet & greet, where he stole and didn’t even buy me a dessert, we were still talking. A part of me found it interesting having a person that was so different in my life. So, I wasn’t quite ready to sever all ties. A week later, I was with my friends at the bar having wings, and my date came up. I went over all the details of the date and they were appalled for me. When I mentioned that he was also a cross-dresser, they thought that I was out of my mind for going on the date, in the first place. I tried to justify the reasons for us staying in contact, but in the end, I knew it had run its course.  

After a few nights, he went from being interesting and different to classic fuck-boy. One evening, he kept repeatedly asking me to come over and I told him no. He then proceeded to say that if I didn’t come over, he would call someone else to. I guess he thought my decision to talk to him was out of desperation, but I was simply trying to be open-minded. I told him he was well within his right to do what he wanted. This went on for about twenty more minutes. Growing annoyed, I told him that I would block him. When he didn’t stop, I did just that. To this day, I still wonder why I even went down that road in the first place. I knew, the moment he told me that he cross-dressed, red flags went up. After his behavior on the first date, I knew there would be no romantic future. I don’t really know what it was, but I wanted to give him a chance to see if we could at least be friends. In the end, nobody can say I didn’t try.