Cum on a Toaster Strudel [FM]

The idea for cum on the strudel came from a younger lover I had that didn’t take advantage of the opportunity when it was presented to him. Fast forward to now, I’m comfortable in my sexuality and try whatever I think of, within reason. The lucky contestant for the strudel extravaganza was a long time and still is a long time friend of mine. He started off as a mentor to me when I was a freshmen. Older Russian man, early 50s, nice thick beard, and a complete bad ass.

At the time I was solely focused on what I was told to like: young bachelors my age. I listened to that advice until about two years ago. That’s when I ran into my mentor and he looked better than ever.

This man went from 230 plus to a smooth 160 lean muscle machine. I couldn’t believe my eyes! He told me his name when I didn’t initially recognize him. Actually he didn’t even have say his name. I knew who he was once I hear his voice but didn’t comprehend the fit man in front of me. He reached his hand out for a handshake and I denied it with a hug. I wanted to feel his warmth. There was always an energy about him. Now that he felt confident about his outward appearance it only radiated brighter. Needless to say this was no stranger but a dear dear friend and now lover of mine.

Plugged, edged, and sweaty [FM] repost

Weeks ago I had my first Hip Hop spin class. I️ wasn’t sure if I️ was ready for it to be honest. I was encouraged to go by a previous Dom. Fitness is important to me and while working out on day at the gym I was invited to a class. I have taken spin classes before but never danced while riding a bike. My previous Dom liked to be kinky when he couldn’t be around me. I enjoyed his company but often had to settle for Skype because of his schedule. We are no longer together and this story was posted awhile ago under our joint account. Now that I’ve decided to record some of my favorite encounters I chose to include this as well, enjoy.

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My Dom enjoys it when I write filthy things on my body to show that it belongs to him. He likes branding his slut. Last time it was his initials with the actual word “slut” underneath my boobs. Besides branding we also enjoy a bit of exhibitionism and often mixed the two. The invitation to the spin class not only provided me an extra opportunity to burn calories but also a new play place for my Dom.

Thanks to Mrs. D for sharing [FM]

One of the guys I’ve been playing with is an older white gentleman named Mr. D. Well educated and dressed, face of his company, and a great family man. His wife knows about me and even encourages our relationship; she poly as well. When I first met Mr. D I wasn’t sure of his capabilities. Being older either gives you a bonus or a set back. Either you’ve learned how to fuck or can’t last long enough to fuck. I even explained this fact to Mr. D boldly on our first date. He reassured me he would “try his best” in the sweetest softest tone. This provided no assurance for me but our attraction was what kept me interested in him.

For our first meet he suggested a hotel that we both agreed on. I arrived to the hotel anxious about the meet. For me, if the sex doesnt satisfy me then you have to leave my life. Yes, you have to leave my entire life; we can’t be friends. Bad sex leaves the worse taste in my mouth.

You [M] cheat on her with me [F]

Your hands twist the cold knob into the quaint coffee shop, no one looks up at you. Each head is busy but I catch a glance of you. With a couple ahead of you, you decided to take the opportunity to peruse the funky chalkboard menu. Now I can stare at you longer.

Silver adorns your checks and head like royalty. When you’re working you always look dandy and dashing. Your watch changes with your mood but they all are analog; you’re old school. I love that. Though you have kids older than me I don’t feel that way when we’re together. As stuffy and “business-y” as you may appear to the world I’ve seen you let loose. I know how wild you can be.

Not sure what the joke was, I get lost in you sometimes, but I’m instantly smiling from your laughter; our eyes meet again.

“Sir, are you ready to order?” squeaks the mousy barista.

She steals you from me and those piercing eyes are no longer mine. No reason to be jealous; you will come back to me. You always do. No one seems to “help you” like I can. Flashbacks of our rendezvous rip through my mind.