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O M G (Spot)! SIZZLE WITH SOPHIA

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We’ve all heard of it, often during blushing, whispered conversations with our closest confidants.  The G Spot: that elusive, mythical place of unlimited, erotic pleasure located somewhere on the exquisitely made female form!

The G Spot is the Holy Grail of Sexual Satisfaction for women.  It’s the Unicorn of Pleasure; the Four Leaf Clover of Ecstasy.  Tales of its existence are the stuff of legend and it’s so elusive, only a small percentage of women can confidently claim to have found it.

But don’t worry, Ladies.  I got you.  I’m about to break all this G Spot business down and give you some tips on how you (and/or your partner) can finally put your G Spot on the map.

Just consider me your G Spot GPS!

What is a G Spot and why is it called that?

I’ll get to what it is in a minute.  First, the G stands for Grafenberg, as in Ernst Grafenberg (1881 – 1957), the German gynecologist best known for inventing the I.U.D.  A successful Jewish doctor in Germany, Dr. G Spot (my nickname for him) was arrested by the Nazis when they rose to power prior to WWII.

Get this, though.  Dr. G Spot was ransomed from the Nazis by none other than Margaret Sanger!  Y’all remember her, right?  She was the famous birth control activist and sex educator who founded the organization that would become Planned Parenthood.  She’s the reason we use the term “birth control”!  She was also a raving racist, though.  So there’s that.

Anyway, Dr. G fled from Germany to the United States, where he set up practice in New York City.  He lived in the US until he died in 1957.

That’s why we call it the G Spot.

But what is this G Spot thing, anyway?

Actually, the very existence of a G Spot has never been proven, though it’s been studied since the 1940s.  While some studies using ultrasound have found physiological evidence of it in women who orgasm during vaginal intercourse, the jury is still out on whether it’s even really a thing.

In other words, you ain’t gon’ find it on your average anatomy textbook diagram like the uterus or the bladder.

That said, the widely accepted definition (Google it) states the G Spot is an erogenous area of the vagina that, when stimulated, may lead to strong sexual arousal, powerful orgasms and potential female ejaculation.

Many claim the G Spot feels like a rough patch of skin.  It’s said to be shaped like a bean and is about the size of a quarter.

Where is it located?

Even though, after 7 decades of study, there’s no “official” proof that it even exists, I can tell you EXACTLY where it is.  The G Spot is 2-3 inches (5-8 cm) up the front vaginal wall, between the vaginal opening and the urethra.  The front vaginal wall is on the same side as your belly button.

G_Spot Diagra

 

It’s that close.  Just 2-3 inches up the front wall of your precious yoni.  And that little quarter-sized, bean shaped, slightly rough patch of nerve endings can spike your arousal like mercury on a hot summer day!

 

crazy-cool-groovy.com

Why all the hype, though?

Here’s the rub about this whole G Spot business (pun intended):  I can tell you exactly where it’s located, but I can’t guarantee you’ll find it.  And that’s because sexual arousal, pleasure and satisfaction are subjective and vary from woman to woman.

You see, a man’s sexual arousal, pleasure and satisfaction (ejaculation) is necessary for the species to survive.  In other words, if he doesn’t get aroused (where there’s often ejaculate in the pre-cum) and/or cum, no babies will get made and we cease to exist.

Not so for us women.  Sadly, even our arousal isn’t necessary for us to get pregnant, much less our satisfaction.  Think of all the pregnancies resulting from forced intercourse or just plain old bad sex!

That’s why for women, the brain (with all our thoughts, emotions, hang ups, proclivities, fetishes, baggage, religious beliefs, etc.) is the most important organ when it comes to sexual pleasure and satisfaction.

Let me say it again, for the people in the back: for women, the brain is the most important organ when it comes to sexual pleasure and satisfaction!

That’s why not all women can even have orgasms.  Just think about it.  Many women can’t even achieve clitoral orgasms and we know the clit exists!  We can see it because it’s on the outside.  Well, part of it’s on the outside.  It’s actually mostly on the inside.  But that’s a discussion for another day.

My point is even though the clitoris, something every human female has at birth, has 8,000 nerve endings connected to 15,000 nerve fibers in the pelvic area, many women still can’t even have orgasms from clitoral stimulation.  By the way, the penis gland only has 4,000 nerve endings and most men have no problem having orgasms.

So, I guess one big reason for all the G Spot hype is that it’s even more elusive than clitoral orgasms.

But, it’s there.

How can I find my G Spot?

Use your fingers and explore (see diagram above)!  Also, there’s lots of sex toys designed specifically for G Spot stimulation.  The best ones are hard (as in not floppy) and slightly curved.  And if you get one that also has a clitoris stimulator, you’ve hit the jackpot!

As far as accessing your G Spot during vaginal intercourse, I find being on top most effective.  Experiment with angles, though.  Try turning around while on top (Reverse Cowgirl), and be sure to adjust the depth of penetration.  Doggy style works really well, too.  But, play around with your partner.  What works for me may not work for you.

Now if you haven’t already found your G Spot, don’t worry!  You’re not sexually inadequate or frigid.  There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you, especially if you can achieve orgasm.  The main thing to remember is that what goes on inside your head is even more important than what’s going on with your body during sex.

Besides, just think how much fun you’ll have trying to find it!

Happy hunting!

The Little Man In The Boat – SIZZLE WITH SOPHIA

Love and Sex Sizzle With Sophia 8 Comments

“Can you still find your little man in the boat?” My friend’s co-worker asked her this, standing in her cubicle.  “You know, as we get older it gets harder to find!”

My friend was confused.  “Huh?  Little man in the boat?  What?”

After much blushing, giggling and talking around the subject, turns out the co-worker was talking about her clitoris!

Wait.  What?

Never mind the obvious question of why you’re talking about your clitoris at your good government job.  But, how do you get a “little man in the boat” from your clitoris?  Okay.  I guess I get it.  Maybe.  If you look at it from a certain angle.  And squint.

Little_man_in_the_boat

I’ve never heard of “little man in the boat”, but I have heard terms like “hooded lady”, “love button”, “reset button”, and “passion jellybean”.  One more nickname doesn’t bother me.

But what the Hell do you mean it gets harder to find as we get older?  I don’t know about y’all, but I have a very up close and personal relationship with my clitoris.  We’re homies!  We go together!

I’m all, “Hey, Clitoris!  What’s up, girl?”  And my clit’s all “Hey, Soph!  We having any visitors today?  No?  That’s cool.  You and I can just chill with B.O.B. (Battery Operated Boyfriend)!”

I just can’t fathom not being able to find my own clitoris!  I mean, the rules of basic hygiene dictate at least daily contact, right?  As I ain’t no spring chicken my damn self, the prospect of one day not being able to “find” my clit terrifies me.  I mean come on – this is the only human organ whose sole purpose is sexual pleasure.  I don’t wanna lose it!

So I did a little research.  And I mean a little research.  I ain’t got time to spend hours scouring the internet, setting up interviews with doctors, and whatnot.  I gotta live.  But I did dig a little deeper.

First of all, the little man in the boat is really a thing!  Google it, and you’ll see.  Lots of people use this expression, apparently. There are memes about it, and even T-shirts!  Who knew?

But the big news is that under normal circumstances, the clitoris never ages!  Glory be!  My hair may turn grey, my boobs may sag and my eyesight may fail … but my glorious clit will never age!  Yasss!

Not only will it maintain its sexual peak for the rest of your life, but that little pleasure palace actually grows!  With the onset of puberty, your clit starts growing.  By age 32 it’s almost 4X bigger than it was.  And by menopause, it’ll be 7X bigger.  (Source: 9 Interesting Things You May Not Know About The Clitoris by Chiara Laurie, 2/11/13.  Alternet.org)

But some women do lose clitoral sensitivity, and while the reasons aren’t necessarily age-related, they can be.  For example, certain medications impact hormone levels, which can affect sexual arousal and pleasure.  According to HerbalLove, an online herbal remedies and sexual health guide, some birth control pills, can lead to a deficiency of the neurotransmitter acetylcholine, freezing up testosterone and causing dysfunction or insensitivity.

Also, other hormone levels, which change with age, can diminish sensitivity.  As we get older, our hormones go a little nuts.  This can lead to a declining sex drive, vaginal dryness and yes, lessened clitoral sensitivity.

Some experts say that vibrator overuse can decrease sensitivity due to damaged nerves, too.  But using that argument, so can too much oral stimulation.  I’m definitely not about to tell you to stop receiving oral sex or throw your vibrator away.  But if it takes more and more pressure to get off, then nerve damage might be the reason.

So yes, your clitoris can become less sensitive over time, but usually only due to a decrease in certain hormones or from nerve damage.  Thankfully, hormones can be regulated medically.  And if you’re vibrating so much you’re damaging nerves, you might want to chill a bit.  Maybe take up knitting.

But barring any major health challenges, your precious little love button should work just fine for as long as you live.  And as for not being able to find it?  Well, if it gets bigger with age, I don’t really see that being an issue.

That brings me to another point about our hooded ladies.  Most people, men and women, think of the clit as just that little nub near the top of the vulva.  But as the medical community has known for decades, it’s so much bigger than that!

That little man in the boat that we see on the outside is just the tip of the proverbial iceberg.  Granted, it’s quite the sensitive little button, containing about 8,000 sensory nerve fibers.  That’s way more than anywhere else in the body, and its twice as many as are on the head of a penis.

However, most of the clitoris is on the inside!  According to the Museum of Sex, another cool site I found, “(M)ost of the clitoris is subterranean, consisting of two corpora cavernosa (corpus cavernosum when referring to the structure as a whole), two crura (crus when referring to the structure as a whole), and the clitoral vestibules or bulbs.  The glans is connected to the body or shaft of the internal clitoris, which is made up of two corpora cavernosa. When erect, the corpora cavernosa encompass the vagina on either side, as if they were wrapping around it giving it a big hug!”  There’s more, but I’ll spare you the anatomy lesson.

Bottom line is all these vaginal orgasms we brag about may really be internal clitoral orgasms.  Or maybe not.  Whatever.  All I know is they feel damn good.  Look.  Your clitoris runs deep, and as it’s the only part of the human anatomy that has no other function than your sexual pleasure, that makes it pretty darn special!

Whatever you call your clitoris, I hope you know yours well.  If you don’t, it’s not too late to get acquainted with her.  After all, as long as you’re healthy and can manage your hormone levels, your “little man in the boat” will likely be the only organ left that’s working properly when you get old.  I don’t know about you, but I find that comforting.

Photo Credits: flickriver.com and redbubble.com

Rest Well, SWEET PRINCE – A Tribute To Prince For His Birthday, June 7 – By Sophia Ned-James

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On April 21, 2016 my heart, along with the hearts of millions of others, shattered into a million little pieces.  Our beloved Prince, the innovative musical genius and icon, died suddenly.  That haunting falsetto was silenced forever, those sexy hips would gyrate no more.

Of all the celebrity deaths in recent years, this one hit me hardest.  I’ve been a hard-core Prince fan since his debut album, For You, was released.  It was 1978 and I was a 13-year old Black girl attending an all-white, private suburban Detroit school where I felt keenly out of place most of the time.  The early stages of puberty hit me hard, filling my head with ideas and images that both frightened and excited me.  I was also a precocious reader, devouring “adult” romance novels by the truckload, earmarking the sex scenes to read to my friends, and trying my hardest to understand the changes in my body.

Then, along came Prince and the song “Soft and Wet”.  Back then, I didn’t fully understand the song was about his girl’s pussy.  Not at that tender age, anyway.  But it felt “naughty”, much like the images in my head.  The song struck a chord, and suddenly I didn’t feel so out of place.  What followed was a 38 year love affair with his music, filled with live performances, dozens of albums and a deeper understanding of myself.

It’s significant that Prince came along at the advent of my sexual awakening, piquing my curiosity and titillating my senses.  Through his music, I was exposed to ideas about sexuality, sensuality and spirituality that ultimately shaped my identity as a woman and later, as an erotica writer.

Prince Rogers Nelson (June 7, 1958 – April 21, 2016)

Young Prince

Born June 7, 1958 in Minneapolis, MN, Prince Rogers Nelson was a musical prodigy.  He signed his first record deal with Warner Brothers at the tender age of 18.  Prince would go onto enjoy one of the most successful musical careers in history, eventually putting his hometown on the musical map.  A prolific writer and producer, Prince was also a mogul, developing long-lasting, lucrative careers for other talented musicians.  And his epic battle with Warner Brothers in the 90s, which played out in the public eye and prompted him to give up his own name for a few years, ultimately changed the way the music industry treats its artists.

The man’s influence is undisputed.  He was an icon, a true musical genius.  Artists from all genres and generations clamored to work with him.  He’s written and produced hit songs for some of music’s biggest stars, and won 7 Grammys, a Golden Globe and even an Oscar.  And he’s also a big part of the reason you’re reading these words today.

You see, Prince taught me a lot about sexuality through his lyrics and music.  He gave me permission to be curious, to explore and experiment.  His artistry helped me to reconcile my growing sensual nature with my religious up-bringing, bridging the gap between sexuality and spirituality in a way that made me feel whole and acceptable.  Bottom line: he’s one of the reasons I write about sex.

My parents hated him and his blatant sexual prowess.  Of course, this made me love him more.  Prince made me a rebel, allowing me to expand my horizons within the safe confines of his music.  His posters freaked my father out and made my mom blush, but they gave me a sense of belonging, a place to pour my fantasies without any real risk.

His 2nd album, Prince was released in 1979 and it blew me away.  The song “Bambi” was my introduction to gay sex and love.  This was the 1970s, decades before the internet, Google and Pornhub.  In my little sheltered corner of the world, people didn’t talk much about any kind of sex, much less gay sex.  While I cringe at the anti-lesbian messaging in some of the lyrics today (“Bambi, can’t you understand/ Bambi, it’s better with a man”), back then the mere notion of two women loving each other was revolutionary for me.  It prompted me to ask questions and explore.  And in those days, that meant a lot more than just typing a few words in a search engine.

Whenever I’m Around You, Baby … I Get a Dirty Mind

Prince 2

It was Prince’s 3rd album, Dirty Mind that really rocked my world, though.  My older sister owned the album and I blatantly stole it from her.  Without remorse.  Without apology.  Without hesitation.  I took it.

You see, this was the album through which my burgeoning sexuality was really brought into focus.  If his first 2 albums were my introduction to sex and sensuality, Dirty Mind was my Master’s Class!

The opening beats of the title song still make my heart race.  I can’t help but bob my head, tap my feet and sing along when I hear it.  Prince put into words all the “dirty” thoughts swirling about in my adolescent imagination.  Then he set those words to a blazing hot beat that still makes me squirm in my seat to this day.

But it’s “Head”, that funky, up-tempo ode to oral sex that was the real revelation!  Here was this tiny little half-naked man bellowing “Morning, noon and night I’ll give you HEAD”!  Man, I was hooked!  Those lyrics, that baseline, that beat all came together to give women permission to want, request and enjoy oral pleasure.  Hell yes!

And that’s the genius of how Prince wrote about sex.  He was this virile, hyper-sexual man writing and singing about women who were unafraid to ask for what they want in bed.  It wasn’t just about the man’s pleasure, anymore.  It wasn’t just about the man’s sex drive.  Prince’s woman, in song anyway, brazenly asks for what she wants (“I must confess, I wanna get undressed and go to bed”).  And Prince, with his diminutive, falsetto little self, is all too happy to give it to her.

“I Just Can’t Believe All the Things People Say”

I can go on and on about those early albums and my sexual development.  There was “Do Me, Baby” from the wildly successful Controversy album (released in 1981).  Not only did we hear Prince simulate an erotic scene which ends with one of the best recorded orgasms in history, but it’s also the song to which many of my contemporaries lost their virginity.  And yes, my friends and I can still sing along with every single moan, sigh and gasp to this very day!

“Sexuality” from the same album became another anthem during my blossoming adolescence.  He says it plainly with this lyric – “Sexuality is all we’ll ever need”.  Yes, my dirty little mind screamed!  Prince gets me!

Following 1999’s “International Lover” (released in 1982), no real Prince fan can listen to a pilot’s announcements on a plane with a straight face ever again.  Especially when they tell us “your seat cushion may be used as a floatation device”.  And don’t even get me started on the aggressive sexuality of “Lady Cabdriver” and “Let’s Pretend We’re Married”.  In the latter, he says “I sincerely want to fuck the taste out your mouth”, and I ain’t been right since.

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“I’m in love with God, that’s the Only Way”

I could do this forever, taking you through every single sexually-oriented song and drawing parallels to my own sexual development.  Suffice it to say that Prince’s straight-forward lyrics about embracing our sexuality played a huge role in creating the woman I am today.

But I’d be remiss in not speaking to Prince’s ability to connect the sexual with the spiritual, which was truly genius of him given the era during which his career took flight.  The year was 1984 and the album and movie that would launch Prince into the stratosphere, Purple Rain, was released.  The AIDS epidemic had exploded and was quickly going from a gay, white man’s disease to a worldwide crisis.

In the US, political conservatives were evolving into the GOP we know today, thanks to Ronald Reagan and the enormous push-back from the women’s movement of the previous decade.  The free loving 70s had given way to the greedy, consumer-driven 80s, and ironically, religious fervor was on the rise.

And here was Prince, brazenly sexual, pushing boundaries, not caring if anyone thought he was Black, white, straight or gay.  He had the nerve to sing about God and spirituality in the same straightforward manner, mixing religious iconography and erotica effortlessly.  From “Annie Christian” to “God” and so many other songs, Prince touched upon spiritual themes throughout his long career.

Prince taught me that my sexuality wasn’t diametrically opposed to my Christian upbringing.  He taught me that my sexual curiosity was connected to my spirituality; that I could love God and good sex, and not burn in Hell for it.  He took the shame of my precocious sexual nature and re-cast it as a spiritual awakening, and I’ll always love and appreciate him for that.  I know of no other artist, from any generation, who had the ability to connect sex and religion in such a beautiful and reverent way.

Prince_with_cane

Sometimes It Rains In April

I was a precocious little girl with a wild imagination and raging hormones when Prince burst on the scene all those years ago.  His music and lyrics gave my innermost feelings and desires a slammin’ sound with a funky backbeat.  He made it easy for me to feel comfortable in my own skin, and gave voice to all the thoughts and fantasies swirling around in my adolescent brain.

Prince provided the backbeat and baseline for the soundtrack of my youth.  His lyrics were the syllabus for my sexual education, and the balm I needed when I felt out of place.  Listening to Prince allowed me to shed the shame of my desires and cloak myself in the confidence it would take for me to pursue my passion.  I wasn’t alone when I listened to Prince.  I wasn’t strange or weird or a freak … I was a woman, spiritual and sexual and blessed.  I’ll always love him for that.

Sleep well, sweet Prince.  You’ve earned your rest.  I hate that your life ended the way it did: fighting the pain that so many years of vigorous entertaining caused.  I pray you know how much you were loved and are loved, still.  Happy Birthday in Heaven.

~Sophia

Old Flame, New Beard – SIZZLE WITH SOPHIA

Love and Sex Sizzle With Sophia 8 Comments

Last night I broke The Women’s Sexual Code of Conduct Rule #46, Section F, Sub-Section ii: Never, EVER, hook up with an ex who broke your heart!  Because even if you hit it and manage to escape with your heart intact, you’re STILL gonna regret it later.

Now I can always justify even the most random sexual encounters, as long as they’re consensual.  But getting back into bed with someone who already broke your heart?  Even I can’t justify doing that.

Well, I’m almost ashamed to admit it, but last night I hooked up with a guy who broke my heart years ago.

“What Had Happened Was …”

Not that I’m making excuses (okay, maybe I am), but this whole thing only happened because of a new beard and brown liquor!

I’d just finished a very productive meeting with a client at a new downtown bistro, during which I’d abstained from alcohol.  I’d learned the hard way not to mix drinking with business, but that’s another story for another day.

Anyway, I was feeling pretty good about myself after my client left, so I decided to stay and treat myself to a slice of Key Lime pie.  What I didn’t realize was that my ex-boyfriend Dante* had been sitting at the bar the entire time.

Dante’s not his real name, of course.  But it’s the name I have him listed under on my phone, even though I know damn well I need to delete his triflin’ ass.  Think Dante’s Inferno.  Now picture whatever you imagine Hell to be.  That was my life with this guy.  I went thru Hell with him.  Then I went thru Hell trying to get over him!  But that was a long time ago.  I’ve run into him a handful of times over the years, and while I doubt we’ll ever be friends, we’re at least cordial.

So there I was, eagerly anticipating my pie, when Dante walks up to me and says “Hi, Sophia.”

Yeah, I was surprised to see him.  But what had me sitting there, a forkful of pie halfway to my open mouth, looking like an idiot for I don’t know how many seconds was Dante’s beard!

Dante’s a nice enough looking guy.  He may be an asshole, but he is handsome in that clean-cut, looks-like-the-kind-of-guy-your-mom-would-want-you-to-marry kind of way.  But in all the years I’d known him, he’d always been clean-shaven.

Well, now he has a face full of hair!  And it looks really good on him!

When I recovered from the shock of seeing him, I did the polite thing and asked him join me.  I didn’t think he’d accept though, convinced he’d do the polite thing and decline.

But, Dante sat his ass down and ordered me my favorite drink: Jack and Diet Coke.  (Don’t judge.  I honestly like the way it tastes.)

Old_Flame_beard_side

That beard, tho!

I don’t know if it was my good mood, the sugar rush from the pie or the calming effect of whiskey, but I found myself actually enjoying Dante’s company for the first time in many years.  He’s naturally charming, and if you ignore the deplorable way he treated me years ago, he’s fun company.

I was halfway through my second drink when I found myself obsessing about his beard and how it would feel against my thighs … which, of course, got me remembering how good he was at giving head.

Dante’s tongue game was always strong.  He knew it, too.  He was cocky about it, and with good reason.  Dude ate pussy like a champ.  He was so good that even now, if I’m struggling to cum, I’ll conjure up memories of him down there doing his thing to help me get there.

So, he’s talking and I’m staring at his beard, trying to calculate exactly how I’d position my thighs to best feel the tickle of those thick, coarse whiskers.  And I’m drinking and getting hornier by the second. Of course it doesn’t take long for Dante to pick up on my mood.

“Whatchu thinking about, with that naughty look on your face?”

I’m thinking about “what that mouf do” and about that sexy-ass beard, I thought to myself.  But he already knew.

Less than 10 minutes later, I’m in my car, following him to his house, where he has more Jack Daniels.  And a bed.

Look.  I knew when I got in my car that I had no business messing around with Dante again.  Not that I was worried about getting my heart broken … that wasn’t going to happen, because what I wanted from Dante had nothing to do with my heart or his.

Besides, my heart is spoken for … kind of.  Remember Royce**?  My boyfriend?  Well, we’re sort of on a “break”.  Again, that’s a story for another day.  Suffice it to say, I wasn’t technically cheating on Royce. Royce is still Bae.

Anyway, I’m over Dante.  He no longer has any power to hurt me.  However, he may not see it that way, since I was currently driving 80 mph on I-75 for a chance to ride his face again.  The thought of what this was doing to his already huge ego was almost enough to make me turn around and take my ass home.

Almost.

Dude can really eat some pussy.  Plus, the beard.

More Liquor (or “Lick Her”)!

Why bother with pretense and pleasantries when we both knew why I was there?  Dante grabbed two glasses and a fifth of Jack from his bar.  I grabbed the ice bucket, and we headed straight to his bedroom.  He’d redecorated since I was last there, so to make small talk, I complimented him on his new furniture.

But that thick, kinky thigh tickler had me thinking all the nasty thoughts!  Two strong, but quick drinks later, I was grinding on that sexy beard like a maniac.  It felt damn good, too!  Holding on to the headboard as I rode his face, I kept my thighs opened just wide enough for the hair on his face to gently scratch me.  Sometimes I’d grind harder, and my legs would automatically open wider.  But then I slowed down so I could feel his beard again.

Between those prickly whiskers and that brilliant mouth of his, I came twice in mere minutes, and was immediately ready to leave!  But, knowing that would be rude and genuinely grateful for the orgasms, I did the right thing and reciprocated, sucking his mediocre dick like the cool chick I am.  Thankfully he also finished quickly.

And here’s where the regret kicked in … one look at that cocky, satisfied look on Dante’s face and I wanted to erase the last hour!  I could tell that he thought I was still into him and that this latest escapade was a “win” for him.  And as much as I wanted to make it perfectly clear that for me, it was all about that beard and too much brown liquor, I didn’t even have the energy play that game.  It mattered that little to me.

To add insult to injury, I was too tipsy to drive.  So now I was stuck at this arrogant jerk’s house for at least a couple of hours and he really thinks I’m feeling him.  Ugh!

Well, it didn’t make sense to waste a perfectly good beard and tongue, so after a few minutes of rest and awkward small talk, I climbed right back up on Dante’s face!  I figured hey, if I gotta endure dude’s company until the whiskey wears off, I might as well get something out of it!

Was I wrong, though?  Anyway, Rule #46 still stands: stay away from guys who’ve hurt you in the past.

Still, beards.

 

Photo Credits:  Instagram.com and juergenland.tumblr.com

*Again, not his government name, but it’s the perfect pseudonym for this dude.

**Also not his government name. 

SIZZLE WITH SOPHIA: That Good Ol’ “Act Right”

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My day was horrible, starting early with a boring business meeting full of boring presentations by boring, old men.  Even worse, I was wearing the under garments from Hell!  Two hours in and my Spanx failed and the underwire of my favorite bra escaped and stabbed me relentlessly in my armpit.

Thankfully, I had time between appointments to run home and change, but after 4 hours of undergarment Hell in a freezing room full of boring old men, my mood was set for the day on “Bitchy”.

Running home to change meant that I’d have to skip lunch because of course, my fridge is empty.  Bae called to check in, but I wasn’t feeling him.  All I wanted was sweatpants and a burger, but I still had appointments.  A girl’s gotta hustle, right?

Still hungry and barely civil, I walked out of my third appointment to a flat tire.  Ugh!  Food would have to wait until Triple A worked their magic.  Only now, compounded by hunger, impatience and the oh-so-timely onset of the dreaded pre-period cramps, I was in Full Blown Bitch Mode (FBBM).

Y’all know what I’m talking about, don’t you?  You may call it something else, but we’ve all been in FBBM: that point where your mood is so dark and dangerous you swear if one more fool even LOOKS at you wrong, you may end up in jail.

So by the time I got to Bae’s for dinner, I had reached the highest level of Full Blown Bitch Mode: angry, hungry, crampy and tired.  I felt bloated and ugly.  And I was mourning the loss of my favorite bra.  Because let’s face it, once that underwire pokes through, there’s really no going back.

Anyway, Bae let my evil ass in, not really knowing just how far into FBBM I was.  Had he known, he might not have opened the door (I have a key, but still like to knock when he’s home).  His house smelled like he’d been cooking for hours, and my stomach grumbled with anticipation.

The food would have to wait, though.  Less than two minutes after my arrival, Royce* could tell something was wrong.  I don’t know if it was my scowling face, the snarky way I barely responded to his kiss, or the fact that I’d started whining about my day, but he knew.

Now some men in Bae’s situation would do one of two things:

  1. Shut up, feed me quickly and pray that a good meal would chill me out; or
  2. Take my bitchy bait and let the evening devolve into a huge, unnecessary fight.

Royce chose a third option: That Good Ol’ “Act Right”.  For those of you not acquainted with this Miracle Cure for All Things Bitchy, keep reading.

We were standing in his living room and I was mid-rant.  All of a sudden, Royce yanked me into his arms and shut me up with a hard kiss.  He roughly grabbed my ass and squeezed.  I was instantly wet.

When he ended the kiss and I leaned in for more, he shook his head.  “Uh-uh,” his voice was low and raspy.  “That’s not where you need to be kissed.”

Before I could even blink, he had my jeans unzipped and at my ankles.  I braced myself on his shoulders as he knelt down and helped me step out of my shoes, jeans and panties.  Then still kneeling, he pushed me roughly onto his plush sofa and pulled my legs onto his shoulders.

“This is where you need to be kissed.”

I started to speak as he lowered his head, but the look in his eyes made me stop.  He said, “I don’t want to hear you say shit else until you’re begging me to let you cum.”

From the first lick of his magnificent tongue, I was putty in his hands.  Y’all already know my Royce can lick some pussy.  I’ve written about it before: how he takes his time and reads my responses … he’s the Real MVP when it comes to giving head.

Maybe it was the tension of the day or Bae’s complete mastery of my clitoris, but it wasn’t long before I felt that sweet build-up of pressure.  I needed to cum, and knowing how good Royce can lick pussy, I just knew my bliss was near.

I was wrong.

Royce wasn’t playing when he said he wanted me to beg for release.  Dude played my body like a fiddle, taking me to the brink and then pulling back before I could get there.  He kept licking me to a frenzy and then would stop, leaving me panting at the edge.  He kept this up until I actually begged him to let me cum.

But he wasn’t ready, though.  Instead of ending my torture, he stood up, flipped me over and slammed his thick dick into me from behind so fast my head spun.  And then he started slapping my ass just hard enough to give me that sweet little sting that I love so much.

“I’mma let you cum, Baby,” he assured thrusting harder.  My face was practically buried in the sofa cushions and I could barely breathe.  But his dick felt so good and was going so deep, I didn’t even care.

He continued his barrage of smacks and dirty talk.  “But you can’t cum just yet, Sophia.  Unh-uh.  You need to take this dick and wait.  Wait for me to tell you when to cum!”

Then he grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled.  The force made me arch my back, letting him go even deeper.  My arousal spiked and once again, I was at the brink.

But Bae still didn’t let me cum.  Without any warning, he pulled out and backed away from me.  When I turned to look, he was watching me, stroking himself hard.  He smacked my ass again before pulling me to my feet.  My legs were like jelly.

“It’s time for you to take a ride on your dick”, he said, sitting down.  Then he pulled me onto his lap and onto that glorious cock of his.  Ladies, y’all know there ain’t nothing that feels quite as good as when you first climb onto your man’s hard, throbbing dick!

Relieved, I started bouncing and grinding my way to glory.  Only once again, Royce took control.  “Don’t cum until I tell you to,” he moaned.  I kept going, though … bouncing and rocking even harder.

As good as his dick was, my nipples felt neglected.  So I and pulled one out for him to suck.  But he only gave me a few little licks and stopped.

“Please,” I begged.  “Suck it so I can cum!”

“Nope,” he panted.  “I wanna watch it bounce.”

Watching my one nipple bob and weave so close to his tempting mouth was more erotic than I could stand.  I felt sexy and wanton.  I felt dirty and naughty.  A huge orgasm was building and I was powerless to stop it.

Bae knew it, too.  Just as the first waves hit, he finally said those magic words: “Cum, Sophia.”  Then he took my nipple into his mouth, gave me two more hard slaps on my ass, and that was it.  I was cumming, screaming and crying.

Yes, crying.  I came so hard, real tears rolled down my face.  All my nerve endings tingled with electricity.  Relief was blissful.

Bae got off right after I did.

“Sorry I was so bitchy before,” I said, kissing his face gently.  I was still on his lap and he was still inside me.

“I know.” He kissed my still-exposed nipple.  As he gave my ass one final slap, he continued.  “You just needed you some of that good ol’ Act Right, that’s all.  You good now?”

I nodded.  “Oh, I’m real good!”

“Then let’s go eat!”

Dinner was great that night.  And so was my attitude.

*Royce is an alias, of course.  Gotta keep Bae’s government name a secret for his own protection!

SIZZLE WITH SOPHIA: Turned Out

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Everywhere you look, folks are talking about being “turnt up”.  Well, turning it up is fine every once in a while.  But if you ask me, I’d rather be turned out!

No, I don’t mean turned out on drugs or by a pimp!  I mean turned out in a good way with some good, old-fashioned, mind-blowing, head-banging, thigh quivering, toe-curling, slap-yo-mama sex!

Do you remember the first guy who turned you out, sexually?  Not the first guy you slept with, because everybody talks about that one.  This isn’t about your first time.

I’m talking about the first man to take your sex game to a whole new level.  You know … the first guy who had you speaking in tongues and praying to deities you didn’t even know existed.  He’s the one who had you making those ugly faces in bed, and not caring if you sweated out your hair.

I’m talking about the one who made you get so nasty you couldn’t even look him in the eye afterwards.  He had you doing things you’d only heard about and you loved it!  In fact, he probably taught you things about your own body that you’d never even imagined.  And to this day, you still get compliments on the skills you learned under his patient instruction.

Remember him?  Yeah, that’s the one.  You know exactly who I’m talking about now, don’t you?  What was his name?

Mine was Orlando*.  We met when I was young and getting over a break-up.  I wanted to enjoy my freedom, but wasn’t looking for a serious relationship.  Besides, Orlando wasn’t really my “type”.  It’s not that he was ugly or anything.  But he was a lot older than me, and seemed so serious all the time.

We met through mutual friends and I could tell he was interested right away.  But I really wasn’t feeling him.  I was young and carefree and he seemed so mature and … well, boring.

Boy was I wrong!  Boring?  Not even a little bit.  He turned my young ass all the way out!  Dude had me crawling out of my skin and climbing the walls!  And all the men I’ve been with since owe him a huge debt of gratitude.

It started at a small party.  I was in a horrible mood when I arrived because I’d just found out my ex had moved on to a new girlfriend.  Not that I wanted him back, it just sucked that he’d gotten over me so fast.

My friends insisted I go to this party just so I wouldn’t sit at home feeling sorry for myself.  So I got there pretty late and socialized just enough to not seem rude.  And then I sat at the bar to drown my sorrows.  I was on my second drink when Orlando made his move.

Maybe it was the brown liquor.  Maybe it was my crappy mood and my bruised ego.  Whatever it was, Orlando didn’t seem all that boring that night.  He was attentive without being pushy, and he even managed to make me smile.  I was surprised to find myself enjoying his company.

In hindsight, I realize Orlando played me like a fiddle.  Anyone with eyes could read my mood that night.  He just bided his time and then said all the right things.  The alcohol didn’t hurt, either.

Anyway, it didn’t take much for Orlando to convince me to go to his place that night.  Mind you, I wasn’t drunk.  I knew exactly what I was doing.  Still, driving was out of the question and I’d had just enough to be able to blame any later regrets on the alcohol.  Plus, he was doing wonders for my ego.

What followed was a night so satisfying I still fantasize about it to this day!  Orlando rocked my world from the moment we stepped into his 2nd floor apartment until my walk of shame the next morning.  I went to his place expecting nothing more than a little pick-me-up from my bad mood.  What I got instead was a lesson in all night passion and mind-blowing sex.

Orlando was so good because he was patient and attentive.  He took my body to paradise slowly, paying close attention to what worked and what didn’t.  For the first time in my young life, I was with a man who was more concerned about my pleasure than his own, and that was a revelation.  He introduced me to erogenous zones I didn’t even know existed, and made every single nerve ending in my body come alive!

He also taught me how to make a man writhe with pleasure.  He tweaked my blow job style, patiently talking me through new tricks and skills.  Because he made me feel so good, I wanted to please him.  So I was more than willing to let him guide me.

Nothing was forced or rushed.  It didn’t feel like a race to the finish.  In fact, Orlando showed me how good it can be when you delay your release, staying right at the precipice of nirvana for as long as possible.  Under his patient tutelage, I learned how to enjoy the journey to the orgasm as much as the orgasm itself.

Speaking of orgasms, that night I had several.  For the first time, I knew how it felt to be multi-orgasmic and it changed my life!  Even better, I learned how to make them last, riding wave after wave of pleasure until I was breathless and weak.

I still get chills just thinking about it.

It wasn’t about love or romance that night.  It was about pure, unbridled pleasure.  I’d grudgingly gone to a party to nurse a bruised ego and stumbled upon a generous, skillful lover who totally rocked my world.  I don’t know where Orlando is now, but I’m grateful for everything he taught me.  He truly helped make me the woman I am today.

So ladies, let’s raise a glass to our sexual Svengalis, the ones who gave us our first real taste of ecstasy.  We owe them at least that much.  After all, without their patient coaching, we wouldn’t be the sexual divas we are now, would we?

*Y’all already know that’s not his real name, right?  Names and details are always changed to protect the not so innocent!

 

Originally published on SexySingleMommy.net

SIZZLE WITH SOPHIA: My Adventures With Grapefruit And YouTube

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I know it’s been a minute, y’all.  I’m taking a brief break from writing to focus on a few personal issues.  Not to worry, though.  I dug up a fun piece I wrote back in late 2014 about an attempt to add a little “juiciness” to my sex game.  I hope you enjoy it!

There are lots of reasons I love the internet: this blog, Facebook, Twitter, and the ability to research any topic from the comfort of my home.  Yeah, it has its flaws.  But if used correctly, the internet can be a vast ocean of information and ideas.

Despite my erotic posts, I’m not an official sex expert.  I don’t know everything there is to know about sexual pleasure, so I’m always open to learning new things.  And now that I’m booed up, I have a vested interest in finding new ways to keep things exciting in the bedroom.

So when some friends suggested a certain YouTube video about a new blow job technique involving grapefruit, I was all over it.  Not only do I trust these women to give sage advice, but I also love any excuse to learn something new about sex.  Besides, every woman needs to up her BJ game every now and again, right?

Have y’all ever watched any of Auntie Angel’s YouTube videos?  I hadn’t.  So, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect.  But I was told that this new grapefruit technique was sure to have my man climbing the walls, so I watched.  And then I watched it again.  And then I went to the grocery store.

Let me pause here to tell you a few things.  First of all, the video is just over 3 ½ minutes long, so it won’t take much of your time.  And Auntie Angel is clear and succinct.  She’s not pornographic or nasty, either.  It’s just a straightforward, instructional video on how to use a grapefruit as another tool to please your man.

I wasn’t prepared for the sound effects, though.  That’s why I had to watch it twice.  I don’t want to ruin it for you, but after the first time, I wondered “am I supposed to sound like that when I suck dick?”  Trust me, I’m not a silent sucker, but damn!  I wasn’t ready for all that!

Anyway, the bottom line is that you cut off the ends of the grapefruit (preferably a pink or ruby red one), then cut a hole in the middle of it approximately the size of your guy’s dick.  Then, while sucking his head, you use your hand to slide the grapefruit up and down his shaft, twisting and turning it as you go.

Oh yeah.  I almost forgot:  you’re supposed to blindfold your guy first.  I mean, what man is going to just let you come put a grapefruit on his dick, right?  And you’re also supposed to warm the grapefruit up in warm water before you begin.  I forgot that last step.  But, I’m getting ahead of myself.

I watched the video twice and decided that this was a fairly easy trick I could try with my Boo.  Since he always goes out of his way to please me sexually, I thought I’d treat him to something new.  So before he was scheduled to come over, I ran to the grocery store to pick up some ruby red grapefruits.

That’s where I encountered my first problem.  At my favorite market, all of the grapefruits were huge!  I’m talking really big, like the size of a baby’s head!  They were way too big for my hands.

I started to panic, digging through the pile of grapefruits like a madwoman.  And y’all know how delicately fruit is stacked at the store, right?  If you pull one from the near the bottom of the pile, the whole thing comes tumbling down.

So here I am, squeezing one giant, obviously genetically enhanced grapefruit after another, trying to use my entire body to block them from spilling all over the floor.  A few escaped, so now I’m chasing these big ol’, rolling grapefruits up and down the fruit aisle.  I’m cursing and mumbling and sweating … and to make matters worse, I damn near knocked over a sweet old lady shopping for lemons!

Did I mention that I got to the store about ten minutes before it closed?  And that Boo was due at my place within about a half hour?  So going to another store was out of the question.

I was just about to give up, thinking I never should have waited until the last minute to do this when I remembered something Auntie said in the video.  She said if you can’t use a grapefruit, a large navel orange would work.  I looked to my left and there they were: bright, beautiful navel oranges that were just the right size.  They could easily accommodate my man’s girth and yet were small enough for me to squeeze with confidence.  I bought three.

Getting the Boo to allow me to blindfold him was even more challenging than the trip to the store.  He’s pretty open to new things, so when I broke out one of my scarves, I was shocked that he hesitated.  I really had to talk him into it.  This threw me off my game which is why I forgot to warm the orange up before slicing it.

Had I really been thinking (and not so hurried), I would’ve had the orange soaking in warm water before he even got there.  But, hindsight is 20/20, right?

Anyway, by the time I convinced him to let me blindfold him, I was nervous and felt even more rushed.  So I quickly cut the ends of the orange, made the hole and joined him on the bed.  And then I started.

Thankfully, despite all the mishaps, it was a success.  It wasn’t the mind-blowing success I’d anticipated, but he liked the way it felt … a lot.  I think he would’ve enjoyed it even more if he hadn’t kept asking “What is that?  What are you doing?”  I finally let him remove the blindfold and he relaxed.  We went on to have some pretty amazing sex afterwards.

Word of warning, though: if you’re in a stable relationship where you don’t use condoms, be sure to rinse him thoroughly before he penetrates you after the grapefruit or orange.  Raw citrus burns!  And keep plenty of towels handy because you’re both going to get sticky.

Overall, I’d recommend this technique as a fun way to “juice” things up in the bedroom.  Check out the video and decide for yourself if this is something you’d like to try.  Just Google Auntie Angel and grapefruit and you’ll find it.  Shout out to my friends who recommended it to me.  I ended up having a great night and the Boo is even open to letting me blindfold him again!

Me, My Boo, And The FC2 – SIZZLE WITH SOPHIA Brings You Female Condom Pleasure One More Time

Contraceptives Opinion Reproductive Health No Comments
Femme Fatale

So last year, after reading the SuzyKnew! post about the female condom (FC), I thought two things.  One, how come I didn’t know that September 16th was Global Female Condom Day?  And two, where can I get me some of these?

At first I kept these thoughts to myself because I figured that maybe it was just me.  Maybe I’m the only one who had no clue about female condoms.  I mean, sure, I’d heard of them.  For years, I heard talk of a female condom that was supposed to revolutionize protected sex.  But until last year, I had no idea they were actually on the market!

So, I thought I’d tell you my story again so you’ll be ready when Female Condom Day rolls around on September 16th.  My Boo back then (yeah, I’ve kind of settled down with just one guy) called me on the phone and asked if I’d read the post on SuzyKnew!  He’s good about supporting the blogs that publish my work (mainly because he likes when I write about him).  Anyway, he was all excited and decided that we just had to try these right away.

“They’re non-latex,” he raved.  “So you don’t have to worry about latex allergies!”

“I’m not allergic to latex,” I said.  He didn’t hear me, though.  He just kept talking.

“And did you watch the YouTube video?  It showed how I can even put it in for you!  That sounds so sexy!”

He finally stopped raving about FCs when I promised to do some research as soon as we hung up the phone.  So I did.  And the more I learned, the more excited I got about trying them.

The only bad thing is that you can’t buy these things just anywhere.  These days you can buy male condoms at the grocery store, the drug store, the liquor store and even the gas station!  Oh come on, don’t act like you and your date haven’t rolled up to a 24-hour Shell station and grabbed you a pack when the other stores were closed!  Y’all know exactly what I’m talking about!

Well with female condoms, the easiest way to find them is to go online.  I decided to go with the brand mentioned on Suzy Knew: the FC2.  Some Walgreens stores carry them, but only at select locations.  I checked my area and no one had any.  Bummer.

But according to www.fc2femalecondom.com, you can order them from Walgreens online.  They cost just under $7.00 for a box of three, though.  Ouch.  The cheapest I found were from the Conscious Contraceptives online store.  They were just under $5.00 for a box of three, but they were also out of stock.  Finally, I decided to order a box from Drugstore.com for just under $6.00 for a box of three.  That way, I could pick up a few other items and reduce the cost of shipping and delivery.  Then I just had to wait for them to arrive.

I’ll skip ahead to the good part.  Royce*, my Boo, was even more excited than I was.  Even though he was eager to put the FC in for me, I wanted to try myself for the first time.  So, we re-watched the instructional video together and carefully read the instructions that came in the box.  And after two false starts, a little fumbling and quite a bit of laughing, I successfully got it inserted.

Ladies, let me tell you.  Sex with an FC is fantastic!!  See, there’s this outer ring that holds it in place.  It sits just outside of your vajayjay.  And when ya’ll get to strokin’ and grindin’, that little ring just hits the spot!  I mean, no matter what angle he was hitting it from, it felt insanely delicious because my clit was constantly stimulated.  I came twice with the first FC we used!

Now, removing them can be a little tricky.  The first time, he was on top and I was lying on my back.  The key is to grasp the outer ring, twist it and pull.  It went as planned at first.

But a little later when we used the second FC (he put it in this time, which was hot), we ended with me on top.  I wasn’t thinking and started to reach down to pull it out while I was still hovering above Royce.  That was a mistake.  We made a bit of a mess.  So remember, lie on your back to remove it to avoid spillage!

Overall, my experience with the FC2 was a good one.  We’ll definitely be using them again.  I just wish they were easier to acquire.  I know that some local health clinics and Planned Parenthood facilities have them.  But with so many of these clinics closing, even that isn’t a guaranteed source.  Ordering them online was pretty painless for me, but may be more difficult for others.  It would be so much better if we could just run out to the nearest gas station and grab some for those unexpected, last-minute adventures.

Here’s a thought: basic economics says that demand drives supply, right?  The more we spread the word and buy FCs, the higher the demand.  And the higher the demand, the higher the supply.  This will presumably improve accessibility and drive down the price, too.  And then more women can enjoy the benefits of this “new” form of contraception.

So let’s spread the word.  Let’s increase awareness and educate ourselves and others.  That way, when Global Female Condom Day rolls around again next year, we’ll not only know about it beforehand, but we’ll be able to really celebrate!  More importantly, more women will have another tool in their arsenal against STIs and unwanted pregnancies.

Royce and I still have one more FC left to use and he’s been waiting patiently while I type this review.  So I’ll sign off now and go put it to good use!  See ya!

Source: fc2femalecondom.com, drugstore.com, and SuzyKnew!

*Royce is just my Boo’s online name, not his real one.  I always change the names and a few details to protect the not-so-innocent.

First published September 24, 2014

The Other Night, Part 3 SIZZLE WITH SOPHIA

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I snuggled deeper into his arms, feeling drowsy.  But he wasn’t having it.  “Don’t get too comfortable, Baby.  I’m not done with you, yet!”

“I would hope not,” I quipped, even as my eyes started to close.

“Oh no you don’t, Sophia.  Keep those eyes open for me.”  Before I could respond, his hand was on my pussy.

“Don’t you need a few minutes to recover?”  I asked, opening my legs wider.

“I can recover just fine like this,” he said as he began to slowly stroke me.  “Now, like I said.  Keep those eyes open for me.  That’s it.  Damn, you look so sexy when you’re turned on!”

His voice, his fingers … it wasn’t long before he had me going again.  “Tell me, Baby.  Does that feel good?  Hmm?  You like when I rub your pussy like this?”

“Yes,” I moaned.  Damn, his fingers felt good!  How did he know exactly how I love to be touched?  Those featherlike strokes coupled with stronger, more purposeful ones … it was so easy to just give in to the sensations.

I felt him shift a little, and then his mouth was on one of my nipples.  I held my breast in place for him, while he worked my body like a pro.  He went to switch nipples, which meant he was half laying across my body, now.  I loved the contact, feeling more of him on top of me.  I loved being skin-to-skin.

Now his fingers moved a little more aggressively, as if urging me towards another peak.  Mid-stroke, he lifted his eyes to mine and said, “That’s it … get into it.  I want you to feel good!”

That voice, again.  Those words, encouraging me to feel good did the trick.  I could feel the beginning of another orgasm.  “I’m getting close,” I whispered.  Or maybe I yelled it.  I don’t know.  It was a struggle to even form words at this point.

“Good,” he said, kissing me on the mouth now.  “I want you to get close.  Just don’t cum, yet.  I don’t want you to cum yet, Baby.”

“Why?”  I was getting closer with each stroke.  I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop the inevitable.

“I want to be inside you when you cum,” And then his hands were gone.  He was gone.  Well, not gone, but we weren’t touching, anymore.

Disoriented, I started to sit up.  But he was still there.  “Lie back down, Baby.  I’m just getting a condom.”

Thankfully, he was quick.  Before I knew it, he was hovering above me, spreading my legs apart with his knees.

Our eyes met, again.  He held my gaze steadily as he slowly entered me.  And as aroused and wet as I was, it hurt a little.  I winced.  “You ok?”  I nodded, and opened my legs wider.  He pressed slowly and steadily until finally, he was balls deep inside me.

He felt sublime!

After a few seconds, he began to move those sexy hips of his, and I was completely lost.  Feeling his weight on me, breathing in his scent as he rocked and rolled on top of me was hypnotic.  Somehow, as fluid and rhythmic as he moved, with each and every thrust he managed to hit my spot.  It’s like his hips were in total control of every pleasure center on my body.  Even my fingertips felt good.  I got goose bumps on the soles of my feet.  Every thrust and parry was like a mini orgasm in itself, he was just that damned good.

I was so lost in feeling, I almost didn’t hear him when he whispered in my ear.  “Can you cum with me inside you, Baby?”  The way his breath felt on my neck took me right back to the edge.

“I’m close, now.” I don’t know how I managed to speak.

“Good,” he whispered.  “I wanna feel you come all over this dick of yours!”  And then those magical hips went into overdrive!

I clutched and scratched at his back.  He shifted his weight a little to my left and hit the jackpot.  “Yes,” I moaned.  “Right there.  Don’t stop …” He didn’t stop.  He hit that spot again and again, allowing me to grind against him with all my might.

That little tingle at the base of my spine, that little tremor that always signals a big finish let me know that my end was near.  He must’ve sensed it, too.  Because now he was encouraging me, urging me to “Let go and cum, Baby!  Get that nut!  Come on.  Cum for me!”

So I did.  With a scream.  And the release was so intense, it almost hurt.  He only stopped moving when I clamped my thighs around his waist and continued to grind against him with abandon.

As I caught my breath, I glanced up at him.  He stared back at me with intense eyes.  I smiled at him and said, “Your turn, Daddy.”

Without saying a word, he pulled out and was on his knees in seconds.  He flipped me onto my stomach so fast it almost knocked the wind out of me.  I knew what he wanted and was more than ready to give it to him.  Lifting my ass and spreading my legs, I braced myself.  In one motion, he was inside me, hitting it from the back.

His thrusts were frantic, yet still controlled.  But I could tell by how tightly he held my hips that he was very near the edge.  Dropping my shoulders, I began to move with him.  Now he wasn’t just taking it, I was giving it to him.  I felt submissive and sexy and powerful, all at the same time.  And that got me going again.

I didn’t realize he could tell just how freshly aroused I was getting until the said, “Damn, you just got even wetter!”  Then he hissed “Shit, I’m ‘bout to cum!”

I arched my back and spread my legs even more.  Now I was getting close, too.  But I wasn’t as close as him.  I still needed to catch up.  So, I pulled away from him … just enough to break his rhythm.  He wasn’t pleased, and growled to let me know it.

He roughly pulled me back and slammed his dick back into me.  Yes!  That’s it!  I pulled away again, this time even further.  And again, he dragged me back hard.

I pulled away one last time and finally got the response I needed: a quick, stinging slap right on my ass.  And then, SLAM!  He rammed his dick back into me and started pounding me hard.  And with each down-stroke, he had something to say.  “Oh, you wanna play, huh?”  Another slap.  “Get yo’ sexy ass back here and take this dick, dammit!”  A few more hard thrusts.  “Gimme my pussy!”

And then it hit me, almost out of nowhere.  I came so hard, my toes curled and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.  He came right after, growling so loud it was scary.  Then we both collapsed onto the bed in a pile of tangled, sweaty, limp limbs.

I saw stars.  I really did.

He caught his breath first, and pulled me into his arms.  We smelled like sex and happiness.  He purred and murmured sweet little words into my ear.  The last thing I heard him say before I dozed off was, “I’m so glad we did this.”

 

Read The Other Nigtht, Part 1 and The Other Night, Part 2

 

The Other Night, Part 2 SIZZLE WITH SOPHIA

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I hadn’t really looked when I helped him out of his boxer-briefs.  Now, as he eased me back onto his bed, I got a better look.

I gasped.  I don’t know why it surprised me that he was so big, so thick.  If he heard my reaction, he didn’t let on … he just quietly climbed onto the bed beside me.

Pulling me into his arms, he kissed my lips, my face and then my neck.  They were soft kisses, yet insistent ones, as they moved lower until they finally landed on my breasts.  As he firmly took one of my nipples into his mouth, he moaned.

I’ll admit, there’s a part of me that was oddly detached from what was happening.  I think it was sheer disbelief that I was lying naked with the man who’d been the star of my fantasies for so long.

By the time he’d kissed, licked and sucked his way down my body, I was shivering in anticipation.  He looked up at me with those intense eyes of his and asked “Is it okay if I taste you?”

Too aroused to speak, I could only nod.  And when he lowered his head, I tensed.  Nerves, I guess.  But he was quick to calm me.

“Shhh,” he whispered, kissing me in just the right spot.  “Just relax and enjoy, Baby.  Mmmm, you taste so good!”

And then he stopped talking … and started licking … and sucking … and stroking … and before long, I was awash in pure pleasure.  My hips seemed to have a mind of their own, moving almost involuntarily.  He followed my lead, somehow knowing just when to lick a little faster here, or a little slower there.  And just as the pressure began to build, he reached up and squeezed my aching nipples into submission.

But the pleasure was so intense, he couldn’t hold them.  I arched my back, grabbed his head and pulled him even closer, as if that were even possible.  Mercifully, his tongue never let up its relentless assault on my clit.  Even as I writhed and wiggled, he kept at it, keeping the rhythm set by my trembling hips.

And then the explosion hit, taking me a bit by surprise.  Floating somewhere between paradise and ecstasy, I completely gave myself over to wave after wave of intense pleasure.

When I opened my eyes, I was back in his arms and he was watching me.  His goatee and lips were coated with my juices, which made me blush a little.  He smiled, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.  That’s when I noticed how hard he was breathing.  He was aroused and barely in control.

“You good?”  His voice shook with desire.

Finally finding my voice, I answered “I’m very good!”  Emboldened by the heat in his eyes, I reached down to finally claim my prize.  I have to admit, I was a little worried … I wanted so badly to make him feel as good as I felt.

While I slowly began to stroke his big, throbbing dick with my hand, I began kissing all over that magnificent, chocolate body of his.  I teased his nipples with my tongue and got lost in those fabulous pecs and abs.  He moaned when I licked him, and hissed when I gave him a little nibble, just inside of one his muscled thighs.

Finally, I’d reached my destination.  Ladies, is there anything more beautiful than a great big, erect dick awaiting your mouth?  I think not!

As much as I wanted to ravish him quickly, I held back so I could savor it.  I kissed it.  I licked it.  I traced my tongue over every ridge and valley, circling his head like my favorite lollipop.  He enjoyed my teasing exploration … but not for long.  By the time I finally took him deep into my mouth, he was begging me to suck him.

Now it was me who followed his lead … going slower or faster based on his moans and movements.  Once I hit my stride with a nice, long stroke, using my mouth and my hands, I knew he wouldn’t last too much longer.  Out of the corner of my eye, I watched one of his hands grab and twist the bedsheets.  The other hand rested gently on the back of my head, holding me to the pace I’d set.

Closing my eyes, I settled into our rhythm, relishing the feel of his steely hardness against my tongue.  Again and again, he hit the back of my throat, and yes, I gagged a bit.  But I never stopped.  I just kept sucking and stroking, only occasionally pausing long enough to show his balls some love.

Now the hand on my head held me just a little tighter.  I gave in and let him guide me, climbing up higher onto my knees so that I could take it all in.  His moans were almost growls, and his hips began to tremble.  I picked up my pace, adding more suction action.  This drove him wild.

“I’m ‘bout to cum,” he mumbled.  But I already knew.  So I added a little more tongue action on the up-stroke and finally, he exploded with my name on his lips.  I swallowed with relish and pleasure!

Sitting comfortably beside him, and feeling quite pleased with myself, I watched as his tremors slowly subsided.  This time, when our eyes met and he smiled, his eyes smiled, too.  Wordlessly, he reached for me and pulled me back into his arms.

“You good?”  I asked, trying not to sound too smug.

Chuckling, he grinned.  “Oh, I’m real good!”

Stay tuned for the finale – Part 3 – coming soon!