Between The Times (2)

The between times. Beginning to understand that when a one in 8 million chance occurs, there’s probably a reason. Learning that while heads might be coincidence, tails is likely fate. Absorbing that your moral compass might not be true and wise in different environments and changing times. You only learn when your mind is open to different views and perspectives.

This is a series on our young Marty. Some of the stories that laid the foundation for who he is … or perhaps more accurately, who he thinks he is.

Should you have missed the two introductory pieces, you can visit them here and here.

The loud drone throughout the passenger area made it hard to talk. Thinking wasn’t even that easy either.  But the plane was full. It was Loftleidir. Full with people like me.

It was the student airline. The cheapest way from America to Europe. Loftleidir (Icelandic Airlines) flew from JFK, stopping to refuel in Iceland, then continuing to Scotland, on to London, and finally terminating in Luxembourg. While the world’s airlines had all converted to jets, Loftleidir still employed turboprops and refueled to cross the Atlantic. Their slogan “We’re the slowest but the lowest” resonated with all who had more time than money. It wasn’t for nothing it was nicknamed Hippie Air.

But I wouldn’t be going all the way to Luxembourg (where was and what was Luxembourg anyway?), Scotland was as far as I could afford. And I had no plane ticket home. Money was a critical issue. I only had what I had been able to squirrel away from my summer job, working in a resort town. It sure wasn’t much, but I was not going to let that get in the way of what I was seeking … independence and adventure. But without a ticket home, I was worried British Immigration may not let me in. There were lots of stories of how strict they were with young, itinerant vagabonds. And nothing defined me better than those 3 words.

Sleep on that flight was negligible. The noise, the excitement, the bonding of youth. Early in the morning we touched down at Keflavik, the international airport for Reykjavik, Iceland’s capital. It was a NATO airbase too, and as we walked down the gangplank to the tarmac for the plane to refuel, I could see military jets parked in the distance. This was at the height of the Cold War, and a military presence was almost universal.  Never more so than in Germany which I would later witness.

Iceland wasn’t the darling of tourist destinations then, as it is now. The view from the tarmac was stark. Barren. Little vegetation even in the distance. The wind was blowing, and the temperature was cool. I was happy I had decided not to stay in Iceland, but to continue on directly to Scotland.

After a leisurely breakfast in the small terminal, once the turboprop was refueled, we reboarded. The flight to Scotland would not be long.

As we touched down at Prestwick International Airport the excitement was reaching a crescendo. I felt ready. Ready for anything. What would I do? What would I find?

I was soon to find out.

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A Weekend for Blowjobs (2)

This is the second part of my weekend away with Rachel. A weekend that would be filled with blow jobs. In case you missed it, the first part is here …

As my body lurched upward in ecstasy, suddenly I realized I needed to turn the wheel hard and brake as quickly as I could in this unfamiliar car! Unknowingly I had floored it and goddamn it but we were headed for a big curve and I had obviously missed the warning signs to slow down dramatically …

Remember neither of us had our seat belts fastened and Rachel was part way in my lap. I extended my arm out to hold her back. I braked as hard as I could without throwing the both of us into the windshield. I used all my strength in my left arm to turn the wheel into the curve. Luckily I didn’t have time to worry about what the first responders would think when they saw my dick cut into pieces from flying glass.

Rachel was super cool. She said nothing. No screaming, no crying, not even a gasp. Perhaps it all happened too fast.  We sailed into the turn and made it through! Not even into another lane or a fish tail. Even now I can remember how great my post orgasmic joy was. Different of course from the usual, but no less satisfying.  Now I realize how fortunate I was to not have my road head displayed on a splattered platter.

After we straightened out and I had the car comfortably under control, Rachel sat up and put on her safety belt.

“Oh, that almost ended badly,” Rachel quietly said.

“No kidding!” I replied.

We drove on in silence for several minutes, undoubtedly both realizing how close our cravings had brought us to near disaster. Then Rachel broke the quiet.

“I did love sucking your cock though. A lot.” And then she giggled. The air was lightened.

Not too much time passed and we came off the interstate, then on to a local expressway, down a ramp, and into the edges of the core of the city.  I had never been to my friend’s new apartment, so I was trying to remember his directions. It was now after midnight. We finally got into the area near his apartment. It was a bit of an older, upscale neighborhood, with short streets and lots of stop signs. The older street lamps weren’t particularly bright, so seeing the names of cross streets was somewhat difficult … this was long before GPS … heck we didn’t even have mobile phones back then … and my frustration was beginning to rise.

Drive 75 yards. Then stop. Try and see the name of the cross street. 75 more yards. Stop. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat …

“What’s that street?” I asked Rachel.

“I can’t really see,” she sighed.

“Grrrr,” I growled.

“Ok,” Rachel said. “Pull over. We’ll figure this out. You need to be calm”.

Somewhat reluctantly I edged the car ahead and pulled off to the side.

“Turn the engine off,” Rachel said.

Then she reached over, unzipped my pants, and sucked me off right there on the city street! I have no idea how she got me erect and had me cumming so fast given my mood. But she did. And I did.

That was two blow jobs in the car before we had even arrived at my friend’s apartment.

 

To be continued …

 

 

 

She Strips The Boundaries Away … The Black Bra

I certainly don’t take it for granted. How could I when I’m not even aware it may be happening? The woman just likes to please. As in ME, moi, mich. And I couldn’t be happier.

Take the other day for instance. Late in the morning I received this from her …

“I masturbated this morning thinking about you. You made me cum hard.”

Oh, I really like that,” I answered. “What were you thinking?”

“About our first time.”

“Mmmmm,” I answered.

“Our first kiss. Then you made me strip. And kneel.”

She continued “Then, of course, I pictured my favorite. Me sitting on your face. Arms tied with your belt.”

I smiled. Then frowned because I had to rush off to an appointment.

“Later!” I typed.

We were back on texting in the afternoon about several different things. Some fairly mundane. Several items less so.

I remember asking her “Did you get yourself off again?”

“No. You?”

“No, but I’m horny.” I might have mentioned that fact earlier in the day, too. “Send me a pic, please.”

“Of what?”

“You,” I said.

“My face?” she queried.

“Face. Or ass. Or tits.”

60 seconds later in came a pic of her beautiful … smiling face.  I was thrilled.

“Gorgeous,” I replied.

She has pushed my boundaries. Normally you might expect I would be disappointed by only a picture of her smile. But not at all. She has got me just where she wants me. Has me being more patient even. I puttered around for a few minutes on various things before maybe “you know what ing”.

17 minutes after that … a video.

“How’s that?” she asked.

I watched my screen transfixed. There she stood smiling.Tall, lean, in a black sweatshirt and dark running shorts. She ran her hands through her soft mane. Cross armed, she slowly lifted off her top. Swelling breasts were barely contained in an alluring black bra. I intently watch her taut stomach muscles flex, then relax.

I’m not relaxed at all. Far from hit. Eyes burned to the screen, right hand dipping into jeans.

A dip of her head coupled with her ravishing smile, then thumbs into shorts.She teases me as the shorts get lowered, momentarily half off, then slipped completely down. A quarter turn to deftly flash the side of a tight ass cheek. I’m getting very hard.

Then a three-quarter turn back toward the camera. My eye catches her trimmed pussy patch of bush, so delicately balanced between her strong, firm athletic legs.  My right hand begins to stroke. My gaze moves up from her pussy, past her taut abdomen, to lust longingly at that black bra.  And the D-cup  treasures it supports.

Her delicate hands slowly unclasp the black supporting garment. She smiles and teases with her slow, deliberate movement. My hand movements accelerate.

Her hands move up to the top of the cup, gently following the edge, then along the length of the bra straps, pulling them part way down. Next she moves to the covering black cups. Slowly they are lowered, briefly caressing her nipples that are obviously now hard..

Her tits dare me to stare, her nipples pointing upward. The beautiful black bra, now hanging useless in her left hand is carelessly tossed. She stands but for a brief mini second, fully displayed before me. Proud. Mine. Her boundaries now expanded.

I finish what I’m doing.

 

 

 

You’ve Still Got Marty to Kick Around

It almost slipped by unnoticed. I had kind of forgotten about it. Perhaps senility is catching up with me, though I do try to keep well ahead of it.

But you see last Sunday was my 2nd anniversary here. Two years ago was my first post.

So thank you all you terrific people for taking the time to view my ramblings. I do enjoy having you around. I’ll drink to that. You’re the best!

So the Dude is back. I love him.

0veCE0G[1]

I’m On Elust!

Elust 79 header
Photo courtesy of Marie Opens Up

This is my first foray on elust and I am pleased to report that my post “Midweek Fantasizing – The Portrait” is one of “Molly’s Picks”. Can you say woo-hoo! in Martian?

Enjoy the wide selection of great reads.

Welcome to Elust #79

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #80? Start with the rules, come back March 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

The Joy of Sucking Cock

Making Porn

My Valentine

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

The One

Midweek Fantasizing – The Portrait

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*

Marionette
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

 

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

A kiss is just a kiss
Turning Corners
Another Day, Another Planned Parenthood Visit
My first vanilla date
Want, Need the Power of your Masculinity!
I don’t know how to date.

Erotic Fiction

Soft Lips
The Introduction
Erotic Fiction: “Words”
Darkness and the Rose
Taste
THE SESSION THAT WENT WRONG
Be Careful What You Wish For
Motivation
porn
The Tube

Erotic Non-Fiction

For You, It’s Always Yes
Gawan: Intro to Flogging
The Talker: An Introduction
My wildest fantasy: Ship slut
Marionette
Time for something quick…
Spread Legs and Open Mouth
My Girl in Havana
Let’s Watch some Porn

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

An Artist’s Story: Tails and Portholes
Sleeping With Our Future President
To Dude Who Was Offended By Lack of Escort
Try Love, Not Anger
Risky Sex
Why Cosmo is the worst (again!)

Writing about Writing

Condoms: fictional contraceptive of choice
Writing Fat Characters In Erotica

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Masochistic Mastermind
Take me to where I need to be.

 

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When Marty Has to Make Choices (1)

A pic of some thong choice Dec 21_15Her simple, classic beauty sucks every breath of air from my lungs each time my eyes set focus on her. And trust me on this, my eyes and my total being are focused when I see her.

We have agreed I will select the thong she is to wear each day.  She lays out the choices for me. Blue, navy, red, charcoal, and the purple. This day I select the purple as she has two important functions to attend and I want her to feel confident that she is dressed regally right down to her flawless bare skin. It wasn’t a tough choice for me.

And I watch as she puts it on. Her grey sweatshirt drops to cover her hardening nipples, and exposes just the bottom half of her tits, before falling to cover them all. But I zero in on her tan line and remind her how much I adore the small trimmed patch to her pussy.

“I love making you happy,” she says.

“With all my perversions about you?” I smile.

“Especially with those,” she winks. “You know how much it turns me on knowing I’m turning you on.”

“Noted,” I respond.

As she slowly pulls the purple piece up above her knees I marvel at the smoothness of her tummy. The thong up, she turns for me so I can appreciate the perfect turn of her ass. Gently rounded, yet firm from every angle. The line of her crack gives me shivers.  No wonder every male she passes stares intently as she slips by them, seemingly not to notice, but I know full well she tracks every man’s eye movement on her.

Cheeky_Bum_Purple_Rain_front_dd39f726-aac3-4a9c-8351-cd73ec05a528_1024x1024[1]Yes, purple was a good choice today. Marty can pick ’em.

 

A Weekend for Blowjobs (1)

This is another story about Rachel. You can learn more about her here and here should you be interested, or may have forgotten about her. I sure haven’t.

We had been been dating for about 6 weeks or so, and the sex was building, and commencing to be quite good.  I invited her to come along with me to a weekend in a large city about 6 hours up the road. Some old high school and college friends of mine (both genders by the way) had planned a rather wild weekend, and I thought Rachel would fit in rather well.

She was very keen to go along but under the proviso that we take her brand new car. It was a stick shift, you see, and her skills with a manual transmission were a little rusty. I was a bit taken aback, but also flattered, that she was anxious to trust me with her major new purchase.

We headed out after work on a Friday evening, fighting the traffic out of the city, and knowing we had a long drive ahead. But no matter; this was our first weekend away together, and despite staying with an old friend in his new apartment, I promised her we would have fun and it would be a sex-filled two days.

As we drove along the interstate I tried to describe several of my friends and their various idiosyncrasies. Like “Tall One” (6′ 5″) who only dated girls 5’2 ” or shorter, “Memory Stick” who had a photographic memory of every Hustler magazine he had ever seen (and he had “read” them all), and our host who was a big fan of strippers. In fact, his bedmate this weekend was a rather busty dancer we had befriended the month previous at a particularly notorious establishment, (but perhaps that’s TMI?)  All these characters only served to tantalize Rachel’s innate curiosity. She could hardly wait to get there.

We were not far past half way in our voyage, darkness had begun to set in, and I was feeling a stirring in my cut off jeans. I casually mentioned this .. cough … fact to Rachel and she didn’t miss a beat. Unbuckling she glanced over and with a wink … sigh … she said, “I guess I better get busy then.”

I followed her example and unlatched my safety belt. “That would be good!” I replied quickly.

She sidled towards me and deftly undid my pants’ belt. Another quick move and she had the button undone and my fly down. With her left hand on my shoulder, her right reached in and began to stroke my stiffening cock.

“That didn’t take long” she chuckled.

“I’m all about anticipation, Rachel” I replied. “And I’m anticipating feeling very good real soon.”

As Rachel began licking my length I needed to concentrate. Not on her, though I wanted to of course, but on my driving. We were doing more than 70 mph, plus even though dusk was setting in, I knew the truckers we passed would have a pretty good view.  I didn’t exactly want the toot of horns from 18-wheelers to disturb my concentration, nor Rachel’s.

Over the past 6 weeks we had been working on Rachel’s technique. She was certainly a keen student and was a very quick learner. Sometimes too quick I think. For 15 to 20 minutes she teased me. She showed me no mercy. She had me at the brink oh so many times. Either because of our passing a trucker, or purely from the sinister pleasure she was deriving, she’d lift her head from her perch and momentarily look like a good girl in the passenger seat. I couldn’t stand it.

I don’t beg, but if I were honest, I’d have to say I was pretty close to very serious pleading. Rachel was enjoying every second of my discomfort-pleasure. Dare I say she was lapping it up?

Finally neither of us could postpone the moment. I cried out with a yell as I dumped into her sucking mouth.

As my body lurched upward in ecstasy, suddenly I realized I needed to turn the wheel hard and brake as quickly as I could in this unfamiliar car! Unknowingly I had floored it and goddamn it but we were headed for a big curve and I had obviously missed the warning signs to slow down dramatically …

To be continued

 

 

 

A Bridge in the Cosmos

the-real-bridge-yours[1]I don’t know.

Sometimes I really know. You know?

But sometimes I don’t. Right now I really don’t. I mean I can feel it. Yes I can. But do I truly know? No, I don’t think I do.

Cosmos. The greatest unknown. I’ve always loved that word. We call our humans in space astronauts. The Soviets called theirs cosmonauts. Don’t you think those damn Ruskies captured the breadth and the emptiness and the loneliness and the breath taking wonder beyond this little blue orb contained in the English language word cosmos so much better than our bureaucrats in Houston and Washington did? I mean, astro vs the cosmos. C’mon … there really is no comparison.

But I’m digressing. But maybe not. The cosmos is so unknown, don’t you know? And did I mention, I don’t really know.

Because there’s this bridge. I’m building. Well, it’s kind of built. Partially. A little rickety right now to be honest. In my mind it’s pretty old and tentative. And I feel it’s out there in the cosmos. Nothing fixed at either end. Because when I get it almost attached at her end, before I know it, it’s drifting again.

All this time she thought I was a wedge. Coming between the important things in her world and us. I don’t know (there’s that thought again) how many times I’ve tried to explain it to her. But as of yet, she’s not a believer. I thought it was getting through that gorgeous noggin of hers when I said it was a bridge, and not a wedge. That made her consider.

Which was progress.  But today the bridge is very much adrift.

So I don’t know.

There’s a theme here.

One thing I do know.

I don’t like I don’t know.

 

Midweek Fantasizing – The Portrait

f69bb7a5004e07fb8630c02b4eb07c0aShe was at the coffee shop. Catching up on some writing. One of those incredible beauties, don’t you know. Shoulder length blonde hair, slightly tussled. Maybe she had come from a workout because she was wearing exercise clothes that hid her figure. But didn’t really, because they actually revealed a lot. That her body was likely as close to perfection as you could imagine. She could have been in her mid 30s, but looked younger. Beauties have a way about them, they always look younger than they are.  She was probably a stay at home mom, hence the afternoon Starbucks break on the way home.

She frowned into her laptop as she reread something she had written.  Absently she looked away from her screen, to the right. He was staring at her, but looked down when she saw him. He was sort of cute, in a nondescript way.  Dressed casually in jeans. Short brown hair. Maybe about her age.

She went back to what she was doing. Though after a minute or so she couldn’t help but look out of the corner of her eye. He was definitely staring.

She pulled out her phone. She texted her lover

“I’m in Starbucks and there’s a guy staring at me”

“That’s not unusual.” her lover texted back. “You’re a stunning woman.”

“I think he’s drawing a picture of me … ”

“Cool!” the lover wrote back.

After several seconds the lover wrote, “I have an idea for you. This is what you’ll do.”

After she read his next text the woman wrote him, “You’re terrible. No wonder I love you. I’ll do it.”

She pushed her chair back and got up. The young man watched her in anticipation as she walked over to his table. He shuffled his papers away.

“You’re drawing me, aren’t you?” she asked, looking down at him unemotionally with her big grey-blue eyes.

“Yes … yes … I … am”, he stammered.

“Well I want you to know something.”

” … yes?” he whispered.

“My lover told me to tell you I am his very hot submissive. You think I’m hot don’t you?”

“Yes … I do.” he managed to get out.

“And he’s older.  A lot older. But oh sooo … ” her voice trailed off as she was momentarily lost in thought.

“And when I wake up in the morning the first thing I think of is sucking his beautiful cock.”

The artist’s eyes opened wide, and his face flushed.

“My Dom just thought you should know. It might better infuse your art. He thought the sketch would be so much more intimate if you better understood your model.”

The artist smiled wanly, and nodded as he looked up at her above him. He didn’t say anything.

She turned and walked back to her laptop. Started writing again. Smiling secretly. She was a good girl.