18
Nov
09

if he were a vampire this would be a turn-on

By That Kind of Girl Leave a Comment
Categories: cunnilingus, hygiene and sometimes we should be happy about the lies we tell each other

He rests his lips on top of her mound and breaths out slow and warm. Her hips twitch upward and he slips his tongue between her lips and flicks his tongue upwards. She locks her fingers into his hair, but does not pull him upward or push him down harder, not yet. His keeps his tongue soft and flat as he licks up again, then brings in down in a harder semi-circle around her clit. She is making the throaty vibrations that precurse a soft moan.

“Oh, hold on,” she says to him, pulling him away from her at one side by his hair. She rubs his lips with the index and middle finger of one hand, teasing him into licking her. With the other hand, she removes her forgotten tampon.

16
Nov
09

but afterwards can we talk about the holocaust for a few minutes? because i have thoughts about it.

By That Kind of Girl Leave a Comment
Categories: awkward pillow talk and doggy-style

She lays on her side, facing the wall, and he pulls her top leg back over his hip while he enters her. There is something gentle about the rhythm, the shallow penetration. With his other hand, he pushes her hair off of the back of her neck and out of his face.

After a few minutes, he becomes aware that her shoulders are convulsing to a rhythm agnostic to his thrusting. She has ducked her face into the pillow and when he pauses, he can hear her sniffling back tears.

“No, it’s okay,” she quavers. “Keep going.”

Afterwards, he pulls out of her and wraps his arms around her from behind until she has stopped crying.

12
Nov
09

to be fair, this was kind of out of his hands

By That Kind of Girl Leave a Comment
Categories: hygiene, missionary and serious affront to masculinity

Her legs are wrapped tightly around his pelvis as he thrusts into her, hard, fast. She breathes out sharp, as though she is in pain, every time his cock drives all the way in. Her breaths have filled the air between them with electric humidity.

“Oh,” he starts to say from deep in his throat but she uncrosses her legs and pushes him away at his shoulders: “Don’t just yet,” she asks him. “Hold on a minute.”

They freeze there in shaking silence, as though he has crept into her and does not want her to notice. A hair blows into her face and she slowly reaches to push it away, then a ripple runs through her ribcage and she sneezes hard all over his chest. His body clenches.

“I’m sorry,” he says not many seconds later.

“No, it’s fine. It’s my fault.”

11
Nov
09

my research reveals there’s no good term for “asshole” so i went with the vonnegut reference

By That Kind of Girl 1 Comment
Categories: hygiene and rimjob

He sits on her face, the backs of his thighs corralling her breasts, and she laps her tongue along the tender skin between his ass cheeks, running the tip of her pointed tongue in decisive loops around the asterisk. Meanwhile, she slides her hand up his well-lubed cock, then twists her palm over the head – fingers cupped snug – before bringing her hand down again.

She gently works her tongue into him, despite the muscular resistance, and as she wavers it slightly, his cock throbs so big it forces her fingers to spread. It feels hot against her palm.

When he cums, ejaculate arcs into the air, rope after rope, and much of it falls on her chest and stomach. When they lay together afterwards, he fingerpaints the cum on her flesh.

“That was awesome,” she smiles up toward the ceiling. “Jesus.”

“I’m starving, though,” he says. “Let’s take a nap and go out for Mexican food.”

A few moments pass, then she pads naked to the bathroom and brushes her teeth twice.

06
Nov
09

can we all agree that we don’t have to take responsibility for weird mental fantasy-tangents?

By That Kind of Girl Leave a Comment
Categories: blowjob, fantasy and ill-advised

She peels back his boxer briefs and his cock springs toward his face. She cups the head in her palm and licks broad stripes up the shaft until it glistens with saliva. He pushes his hips up toward her mouth and she rests the tip of his cock against her pursed lips, like she is kissing it.

He shifts his pelvis up further, but she presses against his cock, lips shut. Then, in one fluid jolt, she pulls her throat over his cock, her lips grazing his pubic hair, his cock disappearing utterly into her face. She looks — he thinks — like a a space alien disguised as a hot chick in a teen comedy, misunderstanding how earthlings eat popsicles.

He is snapped out of his reverie by a heavy electric thrum in his balls, and he cums into her throat with persistent violence.

“Jesus,” she says afterwards, chewing her lip, “Why’d you cum so fast?”

“I was thinking of you,” he says, looking up at the corner of the ceiling.

05
Nov
09

yet another reason i’m happy i won’t have to meet your family

By That Kind of Girl 3 Comments
Categories: awkward pillow talk, dirty talk, legs up (awesome) and missionary

He pins her ankles against the wall and raises himself on his knees to thrust slightly downward, hard, crashing his whole body into the backs of her legs. She moans soft and serrated, a breathy purr. Every time he drives his cock into her, the purr is cut with an impatient yelp. He pulls one hand close to her face, dragging his finger over her lip, and when he thrusts, she pulls her ankles down and crosses her legs behind his pelvis, drawing him into her, deep deep deep. He leans against the wall and pumps viciously.

“Jesus,” she moans, “fuck me” pant “until I’m” oh “blind!”

She clenches around his cock and he cums like a train crash.

Afterwards, still panting, she looks up at him. “I don’t know why that’s what popped into my head to say.”

“I liked it,” he says, rubbing his hand absent-mindedly over her stomach. “My uncle’s blind, though.”

“Oh jeez, I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. We’re not close or anything.”

04
Nov
09

what the hell? plant a second flag!

By That Kind of Girl Leave a Comment
Categories: doggy-style and serious affront to masculinity

Her body, in the early afternoon light streaming through the hotel window, looks to him like something hewn from alabaster: pure and luminescent and exquisitely crafted. She has already slipped off her dress and thrown it over the back of one of those hard anonymous chairs. She slips her finger under one of the shoulder straps of her merlot-red bra and tilts her face quizzically toward his.

He shakes his head, holding her away with his fingertips resting gently on her elbows. Tasting her with his eyes. He considers in this moment the distance between clothed and naked, how easily it is crossed; how momentous.

She, tired of watching him watch her, grabs his hand and pulls him to the bed behind her. She clambers to her knees and reaches behind her to unzip his pants and wriggle them over his hips. Then she falls forward, bracing herself doggy-style on her hands.

He lingers vertical on his knees for a moment, contemplating her marble-smooth thighs, the backs of which are studded with deep purple bruises.

“Jesus,”  he says, gingerly prodding one with his index finger. “What happened to you? Did someone … hit you or something?”

“Oh, those,” she smiles back over her shoulder. “Don’t mind those. You can leave a few of your own, if you’d like.”

03
Nov
09

seriously, sweetie, it’s flu season

By That Kind of Girl Leave a Comment
Categories: blowjob and hygiene

As she thrusts her face forward on his cock again and again, her breathing grows wetter and more labored. She is skewering her throat on his cock, gasping around it for air. He rests his palm on the crown of her head – not pushing, not exactly.

Every time she pulls her head back, she inhales hard and damp through her noise. Thrust, sniff. Thrust, snort. Thrust, slurp.

Urged on by the play of his fingers and the luxuriating little murmurs in the back of his throat, she braces herself on her hands and throws his head toward his pelvis as fast as she can, hair dancing in constant movement, sucking juicily and non-stop through her dripping nose.

“Sweetie.” He curls his fingers to take a handful of her hair, stopping her madcap rhythm.

“Do you want a Kleenex or something?” “I’m fine,” she gargles from around his cock, then shakes his fingers out of her hair. He folds his arms back behind his head and, without noticing, quirks the corner of his mouth into a little grin.

02
Nov
09

at least she made an impression, i guess

By That Kind of Girl Leave a Comment
Categories: 69, blowjob and hygiene

She lays underneath him, catch his cock neatly in her mouth as they 69. When she swishes her tongue over his head, raising her head to take his cock all the way in her throat, he goes down on her maniacally: a juicy riot of flicking and suction and circles with his tongue – now lax, now pointed and vicious.

Sometimes, his intensity causes her to forget that she is going down on him, or to let his cock slip out of her mouth and trail along her cheek while she breathes hard and rhythmic. When she is moments from orgasm, she props herself up toward his cock on one elbow, lightly juggling his balls in one hand, cradling his cock in the other, sliding her face feverishly along his cock. Licking up the shaft, then in a hard twist around the head, down the other side of the shaft, working both hands in opposition to her mouth to create constant movement.

He presses his mouth into her and goes down on her with more intensity, like his whole tongue is somehow inside her clitoris, trying to lick its way out. She grows blind and groping in her attentions. His cock is dripping with her saliva, and she drags her cheeks in the lubrication as she tongues him, swiveling her whole head in time with the grunts he snuffles across the base of her thighs.

Moments after he cums, she drops her head to the sheets, neck muscles aching. Her cheeks are shellacked with, positively saturated with drool. When she lifts her head back up, a moist impression of her profile is soaked into the sheet.

30
Oct
09

maybe consider trimming?

By That Kind of Girl Leave a Comment
Categories: foreplay and ill-advised

She straddles him, arching her breasts toward his face as he kisses her collarbone, grinding her pelvis into the bulge rapidly expanding in the left thigh of his jeans, He tilts his pelvis up to the left, but instead of tumbling off of him and onto the couch, she slides her body down along his until she is curled on her knees at his feet, pressing her breasts into his knees. He starts fumbling with his zipper.

“No,” she pouts. “Let me do it!”

He rests his hands lightly on her shoulders as she leans forward and places her mouth on the button, her breasts now pushing into his groin.

Her breath blows warm on his belly as she works her tongue around the button, unlatching it. She grabs the zipper with her teeth and jerks it fully open. Afterwards, she looks up, giggly-triumphant.

“That’s cute,” he tells her, running his fingers through her hair. “Now can I just take them off?”

“No! Come on, let me do it.” She bites the waistline of his jeans and tugs them down with her cute little mouth. As she struggles the denim down over his hips, she stops to kiss his thicket of pubic hair. When she regathers the denim in her mouth, a single hair is caught between her teeth, and when she yanks the pants lower, it is torn out.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just. Go away for a few seconds. That really hurt.”

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