Friday, February 08, 2013

Blind Dates and Old Books

Written by Leesa (the blogger for this site)

When I walked into the restaurant and was led to the table of my blind date, I was a bit surprised. He was supposed to be 49 years old, which would make him 5 years my senior. During the first few minutes, I don't know exactly what we talked about because I was trying to figure out how old he was. But then we started talking about books, about traveling, about all sorts of things, and I enjoyed myself.

The gentleman was well-known at the restaurant, so I thought he probably eats out a lot. And it was such a nice place . . . I was sure he had money. That, plus him being well-read, and I knew he was intellectually my equal. The only strange thing was that people at the restaurant called him Henry, and he introduced himself as Hank. I was not sure why at the time. I assumed it was to make him seem younger, and I was wrong.

During the evening, he said he had a rare book by Kafka,"Die Verwandlung", or in English, "The Metamorphosis". He was impressed that I did not site the first lines incorrectly - most people think the protagonist wakes up as a cockroach. It was actually an unidentified vermin.

By the end of the evening, I suggested that I would very much like to see this near 100-year-old book of his. I knew he had others, and other older books, but this is one of the most important works of the 20th century, and it is in its original German.

I normally don't go in dates homes the first date, but I guess it seemed less like a date than a meal with a friend. When we got inside, he showed me immediately to the library, and as I was admiring his large collection of books, he brought two tumblers of a dark liquor. It was oaky and strong, and I drank it in small sips.

I kissed him after handling "Die Verwandlung"; I guess I just appreciated the book so much, and it was better than an awkward kiss while by my car door later that evening.

After appreciating several rare books including the one I asked to see, I pardoned myself to use the restroom. The downstairs restroom was immaculate, but it definitely had a man's touch in the design. After washing my hands and looking in the mirror to ensure that I didn't need to touch up my makeup, I particularly liked the way my hair was framing my face. And then, on a whim, I stepped out of my dress, took off my shoes, paused for a moment, then removed my panties and bra.

I exited the bathroom completely in the buff and found Hank in the library. His jaw dropped, but he had the biggest smile on his face. I started kissing him, and he had his hands on my bottom as he returned my kisses. With almost no words, he led me upstairs into his bedroom, again pristinely clean. I could smell the faint scent of cigar smoke . . . I am particularly sensitive . . . but it had to have been smoked on a previous day. The light scent hung in the dark drapes.

He pardoned himself for a moment, and he entered his own restroom while I was on the large bed. He came out of the restroom, having taken a pill and was smiling. He asked if he could tie me up slowly, and I agreed, partly because I assumed he was stalling to allow his pharmaceutical helper to catch up to his desires.

He placed leather wrist and ankles restraints on me, and just the thought of being helpless excited me. I wanted to have this older man inside of me so bad. He placed restraints on the bed frame, telling me how sexy I looked, and then using hardware to clip me to the restraints. I tugged on them, and I could tell I was held tightly in place. I was not going anywhere.

He kissed my breasts tenderly, but I could feel the scratching of his whiskers. The stubble may have been fresh, but it was rougher then my ex's stubble ever got. He then did something curious. He plugged in what I thought would have been a vibrator, but it looked more like a back massager that you would get from the mall. He then took the massager, which had a rather large, almost garlic shaped attachment, and placed it on my pelvic bone.

Deftly, he turned on the massager, and I thought to myself that this stimulation would never get me to orgasm. I started planning on whether I would fake it, and then he grabbed an edge of the massage head with one hand, and with that same hand, inserted his index finger inside of me. Well, the massager was moving his finger inside of me, and in short order, I was cumming. I arched my back as I got close, and with his strength, he pushed me into the bed again, making my orgasms come fast and hard.

Inside of ten minutes, I must have had nearly a dozen orgasms, and I could feel tears leak out of the corners of my eyes. "Yes," I was practically screaming, "you can do anything to me, Hank!"

After another minute, and another two orgasms, he turned off the massager, and I was almost glad of it. I was weak, vulnerable, and I started wondering if I looked a mess.

He left me, tied, for a moment, and he returned with a towel and some oil, wipes and some condoms. He placed the towel under me - me assisting by lifting my butt - and then he wiped my vagina, moving his hand down towards cleaning the anus, like I might do if I were on the toilet. I recoiled a little, but he cleaned me off. He then put a liberal amount of oil where I could feel it on my pelvic area, him ensuring it kept me wet. He then slipped on a condom, and he asked if he could "fuck my ass."

I said, "Fuck yes!" And he asked me to repeat myself, which I did. Then he started kneading some of the lube into my asshole, and I realized he thought I meant anal sex. I had assumed he wanted to cum inside of me.

"Hank," I said, a bit of fear in my voice, "I am not that experienced in such matters." He said he would be right back, and he had a syringe. He unscrewed the cap of the bottle of lube, stuck the syringe in, and filled it full of oil, which he placed inside of my asshole. I was embarrassed and excited.

He placed the head of his hard cock inside my butt, but only the head. And then I started squeezing his cock with my ass. As I squeezed, he seemed to squeeze as well, his cock's head getting bigger inside of me. But he did not push his cock deeper; he let me squeeze him.

"You are squeezing your anal sphincter and your pelvic floor at the same time. Try squeezing your sphincter only."

I tried but could not really control one without the other. His cock, however, was getting squeezed and he was getting near. He began pushing into me more and more, and then when I felt my anus open slightly, he pushed his pelvis, thrusting his cock deeper inside of me.

"Deeper," I asked, and his reply was shocking: "I am all the way in."

He did not move in and out immediately. He stayed in, and I continued doing my exercises. And when he got closer, he started moving slowly in and out of my asshole, not coming all of the way out. When he came, I really wanted him to be inside of my pussy. I could feel him erupt, and it made me feel good. Complete. I held him on my chest for a few minutes afterwards. I was spent, and so was he.

He untied me and I cleaned myself away from his prying eyes. Although the anal sex did not hurt at all, the first time it didn't, I wanted to dress quickly. I was embarrassed.

The next day, my ass hurt during my first two bowel movements. I looked for blood, but there was none. And the pain I felt in my ass made me think of that evening. I loved everything about the experience, how I was the aggressor early on, how Hank took over, how it was a new experience that turned out to be positive, and how I enjoyed him being older than me. I still smile about this.

Sunday, September 16, 2012

Label Me "Leesa, June 2012"

Written by Leesa (the blogger for this site)

I had been divorced for about three months, and my girlfriends were worried about me. I had not wanted to get divorced, but once it happened, I did not start dating again. It wasn’t that I still loved my husband, but that I was very out-of-practice. Before, guys would ask me out and I would go out. This is a new world, and most of the guys I knew were married. Anyway, a good friend set me up on a dating site, to help me meet men.

The first man I had a date with was at least ten years older than me, but of the people on the website, he seemed to be smart, interesting, and well, he was probably quite well-off. Most of the other guys seemed desperate. Even a thick dick is less enjoyable when the guy is desperate.

Since it was the summer, I wore a fairly conservative red dress to dinner. – cut right above the knee, and the neckline did not plunge like a few of my other dresses. It was something I could wear to church, even. Again, he was going to be 10 years my senior, as well. I wanted our ages to seem closer.

Dinner was nice . . . we went to a really nice restaurant, and I was able to order something tasty and light. We both drove ourselves to the restaurant, so I limited myself to one glass of a red wine that my date recommended.

We actually had a lot in common - we were both avid readers, and we both collected books. He collected more first editions and 17th century Bibles. 90 minutes of dinner conversation just flew by, and I even ordered desert to extend the dinner, something I don’t do on a first date.

He walked me to my car, and before I turned to open the door, he kissed me, full lipped, close mouth. A very appropriate first night goodnight kiss. As our lips parted, I cracked a smile, and we talked for a few more minutes.

As I opened my car door, I turned to say, “I would really like to see your books some time.”

He looked at his watch, and said, “Follow me home, and I will show you. I have about an hour before I have to be somewhere else.”

Along the way, I called a girlfriend and gave her the license plate of the car I was following. I have no idea why, since if he was going to murder me, having the authorities catch him would be a sad consolation for my cold, dead corpse.

We arrived at his house, and he pulled into the driveway first, pointing where I should park next to him. The car was in full view of the neighborhood, and I felt safer. He lived in a rather large home, and after entering through the front door, the library entrance was on the first right. And oh, did he have a wonderful library.

I was immediately drawn to some leather-bound books, many of which were in series. The books were well-cared-for, and some of the were rare. All of them showed good taste. Though it is hard to show bad taste when purchasing old books. Tasteless books tended to be printed on inferior and they tended not to survive the march of time.

After handling some of the books with care, I thanked him for the tour, and we kissed again. This time open mouth and a long kiss. His hand wandered to my ass, and I moved them to the small of my back again. We continued to kiss, and his hands moved southward again, this time, his index finger was rummaging around near my asshole.

As soon as it touched my hole, I recoiled and slapped him. I don’t slap men, but the surprise just brought out something instinctual, and I remember feeling my fingers hit his face.

He looked at me, and instead of apologizing or showing me to the door, slapped me back. I slapped him again immediately, much harder, and I could see that it stung. He slapped me again, and then I paused.

My adrenaline was working, I suppose. I was breathing hard but instead of trading slaps again, I started kissing him passionately. We kissed for a few minutes, and he looked at his goddamned watch again.

I slipped off my panties, and announced he was going to fuck me right now, damned his appointment.

He took a condom, and dropped his pants nearly immediately, I began taking off my dress, and then he almost commanded, “The dress stays on.”

There was no more foreplay, but I was surprisingly wet. He entered me quickly, and I can remember staring at the book, and the library ceiling. I remember seeing the start of grey stubble on his face and chin, and it dawned on me that he may be older than he said he was.

Before long, I could see the pained face of ecstasy, and I help his ass with my hands, keeping him deep inside me afterwards for a bit. I had not cum, and I did not think it was possible with this gentleman.

When he came out of me, he gently said, “Your turn,” as he began manipulating my nether regions. My eyes were closed and I was feeling good. All of a sudden, I had a weird feeling, and opened my eyes to see him stuffing my panties up my vagina.

Afterwards he started slapping me, something I had seen in pornos but was unaware that people really did. It was not really all that thrilling for me, but I did feel dirty. I ended up faking a really intense orgasm for the man.

Afterwards he took out my panties and kept them. I was wondering if he kept the panties of all of his conquests. He had enough room in the house to have a small room of hooks, panties hanging off of them. My panties would be labeled Leesa, June 2012.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Dirty Little Secret

Written by Leesa (the blogger for this site)

Okay, I never thought I would be writing again, and for my friends, well this is not the type of blog entry that you would expect from me.

For those few of you that know me well, I occasionally visit a porn site. Shocking, I know, but that’s what I do. Anyway, the site (it is not XVideos, but it hosts some of their content) sometimes opens up a window for XVideosLive.

Anyway, I usually just watch my porn and shut down the window when I am finished viewing the porn of which I originally visited the site. I don’t like popups, and I generally ignore them.

Well, I was going to close this as well, but there was a very attractive woman who was sucking her finger. More interestingly, she was asking her male viewers to suck their fingers. It looked interesting, and she hooked me.

Well, I did not know where she was going with this (I figured it had something to do with BJs, but I was wrong), and I continued to listen. Well, one thing led to another, and pretty soon, she instructed them to place the by then well-lubed finger inside of their asshole. Then she started asking for how the men felt after inserting their finger.

Reactions were like:

Feels like prison.

It hurts.

I feel dirty.

She was making the point that anal sex hurts. Well, her point was also that different people have different sexual preferences.

Anyway, there was something called a gold show – they need your credit card information because, well, that’s how everyone gets paid. Anyway, inside of five minutes I had given my credit card info to see the show just because of her attitude.

I mean, I like guys, but I am also attracted to certain women. Most of them are relatively flat-chested, brunette, short and cute. Well, this young woman (28ish) is more full-figured (but not fat). She has caramel-colored eyes, and she is a bit addictive.

Her name is Nakita Lynn, and I can’t help but continuing to say she is addictive. She is from Lake Stevens, Washington, she blogs. I suggest you taking a look at her. I am $21 cheaper because of her.

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Lecture and Dinner with Grady

Written by Leesa (the blogger for this site)

I went on my first date in months, and the guy I went out with took me to a lecture and then a movie. The lecture was on the science of attraction – and I went out with him mostly because is was not the typical dinner-and-a-movie date. Let’s call him Grady for the sake of the story.

Right before I left for the date, I changed purses – I have a small clutch that does not hold much, so I had to prioritize the contents: cell phone, mints, mascara and lipstick made the cut. I took my ID and primary credit card out of my wallet, and wrapped them with the bills (and a rubber band). I couldn’t fit much else, but decided on the Kleenex pack.

He called me right before leaving, and as I was looking at myself in the mirror, I thought, “condoms.” I have no condoms. Since this is a first date, the odds of me needing condoms were remote. But I always like to be prepared. I stopped by a grocery store on the way to his house, and I picked up a 40-pack of Lifestyles. I tell myself it is because it is cheaper that way, but really it is because I don’t have to purchase the item very often.

I open the box in the car, and because they are a 40-pack, most of the condoms are in rows of 6. Since I am late, I am not going to search for the rows of 4, just replace my Kleenex with a 6-pack of condoms. Before I get out of the car, I think to myself, “6 is way too many” and I tear off two. That looks much less slutty, on the unlikely event I need a condom.

I place the rest of my condom purchase under the seat in the car, check myself in the rear-view mirror, and get out of the car.

The talk was fascinating. The speaker used genetics and Darwinism to describe how certain things we see in the dating world are still evident. Men look for women with certain hip to waist ratio (better for child bearing), and women look for men who are good providers (will help raise their children). There was also talk of why women sometimes pick scary mates (adrenalin has something to do with it, but it got a bit science-y, so I don’t remember the particulars).

Afterwards Grady took me to a nice meal, where we discussed the talk.

The date was going well, but not “pull out the condoms” well. He drove us back to his place, where he invited me in for drinks.

We started kissing on the couch, and the kissing turned into fondling. His strong hands clutching at my breasts, him breathily complimenting me, oh, things took a turn for the better.

As I was reaching for my purse to ask him to put on a raincoat, he looked directly in my eyes, saying, “I want to try an experiment.” He then explained that right now, I am controlling everything in the date. When he touched me, I let him and he continued. He was intrigued by fear and its relation to pleasure, suggesting that if he tied me to the bed, he would have the control but the pleasure should be intensified.

I was really wet at that moment, not thinking straight. And it seemed as if he was tying some of the lecture into practice. It seemed so natural and it was easy to agree to the terms.

He returned from his bedroom with a matching pair of leather wrist and ankle cuffs. He suggested I strip and put them on while he readies the bed. I did not know what he was doing, but I agreed to the measure. The wrist cuffs were empowering – I felt a bit like Wonder Woman, and soon I shyly interred his bedroom.

He had placed a medium blue mattress covering over his bed. It reminded me of a tarp for when you camp, but there were places where he could attach the cuffs to the fabric, immobilizing me.

“You need to use a condom; I have some in my purse,” was my one request. I was excited and a bit scared at surrendering to a virtual stranger.

He used four identical copper-plated padlocks to secure me to the bed, and I joked that he better know where the key is. He assured me he had several keys.

I was surprised at how comfortable the wrist and ankle cuffs felt. They were good leather and felt soft. No binding and pinching, and then I wondered, “These much have cost a lot of money – I think bondage is something he is used to.”

He brought in a camera, saying that we will film the event, then watch it and erase it. I said it was fine, but we would need to erase the movie afterwards. I also said I wanted his cock inside of me, that my pussy was aching for him. I wanted to feel him enter me – I was trying to make the evening more memorable.

He started disrobing and his cell phone rang. He smiled at me, but he left the room to answer the cell phone.

He returned, completely clothed, and said he had to go home to his wife. She needed him. He admitted that he was borrowing a friend’s house, but that his wife would not need him long. And then he left with me still tied to the bed.

He came back about an hour later – I was a bit scared now, but very excited as well. For some reason, I still felt I could trust Grady.

He entered again and kissed me upon greeting me. I could taste another woman on his lips, and I am sure that was the point of the kiss. I think this was supposed to be sexy, but it really wasn’t.

“Hey, it is getting late,” I offered. I was trying to figure out how to talk myself out of the cuffs. Certainly Grady has been satisfied for the day.

But then Grady just smiles and informs me that he wants to show me a good time, that he will satisfy me until he is spent.

When he strips, I compliment his body, and again, I beg him to satisfy me. I know that as long as I play the game, I will be leaving well-satisfied. The more I think about the evening, the more I know this is turning into me playing the less-than-willing-submissive.

He goes into my purse – and I actually see that is much more of a violation than being tied to the bed – to retrieve the two condoms. He places one on himself, talking about how he is going to plow into me. I am a bit scared, a bit excited, well, a lot excited.

Grady is a bit larger than most of the men I have had, and the thing I remember more than anything is that my hands and legs are bound, and I can do little to help this fuck along. No caressing his back, digging my nails into his back. I still remember the bindings, the smell of the leather, but not the fuck. Grady came after a few minutes, then he left me, returning with a beer.

Then he took off the condom, tied the end together and placed the condom in the trash. He re-suited up, and then he announced he was not finished. He was much more deliberate with this fuck, and he kissed me, his mouth tasting of beer and his wife’s pussy. I felt dirty, used and well satisfied.

Afterwards, he takes off the condom, similarly ties off the condom, and finished the beer that he started.

He laughs and says that he needs a bit more of me before he is satisfied, but he can’t find any more condoms in my purse.

He then says that he has a surprise for me, and then he goes to the bathroom, returning with what I thought at first was a butt plug with almost scissored handles. I later learned it was a product by Aneros, made for stimulating the prostate. He lubes up the product, and places it in his own ass, which was a comfort for me. I thought that toy was for me, and I don’t like anything near my ass, so I was initially relieved to see him using it on himself.

He starts talking to me, clenching his ass, and soon I can tell that whatever is in his ass is pleasing himself. It is the first time I have seen a guy not touch himself get hard. He continues to do this for a while, and all of a sudden there is a little drip come out of his cock.

He tells me he is going to have one last go with me, and I tell him to untie me and let me go. I don’t want an unsheathed cock near my pussy, and he just laughs.

He enters me, and I start bucking, trying to get him loose. That just makes him enjoy this all-the-more, and he started fucking me harder. I am struggling, he is fucking me, and he has something in his ass. I start feeling a bit bruised when he finally comes inside of me. He comes harder than I have experienced in years. I am scared, but also love the amount of cum he has shot inside of me. My feelings are all over the map – I feel betrayed, violated, excited, naughty, satisfied, and strangely, even a little loved. I did not orgasm, but I was really close. Part of me wanted to yell at him to continue, but that would have sent the wrong message.

Afterwards, he places a small pill between my lips and says, “Morning After Pill.”

I swallow the pill, and then say that I didn’t really like that last bit. I am lying to him and to myself, but it was something I had to say. He says he would never hurt me, and I ask him to untie me. He says he will once he goes to the bathroom.

I hear him in the bathroom, washing up. The toilet flushes as well. I yell to him to hurry up, that it is getting late and I need to get home. A wave of exhaustion comes over me.

He comes back and says I look amazing. He is looking directly at my pussy, and I feel his come inside of me, some of it wanting to come out. I force out some of it, and he surprises me by licking it up.

He asks if I have had enough, and I just ask him to get me out of this. That was the last thing I remembered that night, as he had given me a strong sleeping pill. I woke up the next morning in a sex swing. But that is another story.

Monday, October 04, 2010

A Young Demi Moore

Someone told me that Demi Moore was actually a model in a pornographic magazine, but I did not believe it. I mean, I know she does not shy away from nudity, but I am talking about Vanity Fair, not some other magazine. Apparently when she was younger and less famous, she did pose for some photos in Oui Magazine.

Check out these links for other Demi More images (Sheen thanked me for a link that I never really provided until this edit).
Image 01 | Image 02 | Image 03 | Image 04 | Image 05 | Image 06 | Image 07 | Image 08 | Image 09 | Image 10 | Image 11 | Image 12

Monday, September 06, 2010