sex diary

…well, as far as I am concerned, he can just go to hell.



No, fuck. I don’t mean that. But why, Eric, why did it have to be with her? That big-tittied brunette bitch that works in the same bookstore I do? Fuck you, Clara!



I miss him. I miss the way he held me and caressed me. The way he would look in my eyes and smile. Hmm- I guess I could have fallen in love with him, but I didn’t. I just loved having sex with him. Ugh, back when we still had it. What has it been now? God on a toilet, like three months since we broke up! “I just thought we should expand the boundaries and definition of our relationship” WTF does that even mean?!?! I still can’t believe he said that! Well, he can just fuck that little bitch instead and expand her. Fuck, she doesn’t deserve a cock like that. She probably has no idea what to do with it. I hope it splits her in half.



So I guess it is back to batteries for a while. Sigh. Why is just so hard to find a good guy to fuck in this town? And he was the first boyfriend I had that was really taller than me. They are so hard to find. I hate it when girls idealize me as “oh… you are 6-foot tall blonde girl with big boobs, you must get any guy you want!” But it’s not true. Only the assholes. The nice ones are too intimidated. Or are too short. Damn these Scandinavian genes!



It is 3am and I can’t sleep. Damn him for that too. I need to work tomorrow. I just should stop thinking about this, he isn’t worth it. I have to be up in 3 hours. I hate my job. I should just get out of San Francisco. It is not like I can’t be a bookstore barista anywhere.



Thursday, July 7, 2011



There are good days and bad ones. This was a bad one. Work sucked. I was exhausted from no sleep and the customers kept coming. I am so sick of hearing that latte machine.



Clara came over from the bookstore to the coffee shop today on a break right in the middle of the morning rush (as if we didn’t have real customers to serve right now?!?) all bubbly and flushed like she had just been ridden long and hard and had the cross-eyed orgasm of her life that morning fucking my Eric.



Yeah, yeah, hon, I know. I was there once. It was me that used to fuck in the morning. What? Let me guess… Did he wake you with kisses while caressing your tits, playing with your nipples through your pajamas? Did you feel his hard cock pressing up against you? Have you ever had a cock that big, so thick that you could barely get your hand around it? Did he rip off your clothes and fuck your tits? Did he pull your head forward by your hair, and did you stick your tongue out to try to lick the tip of his cock with each thrusting appearance between your tits?



Did he then drive it deep into your little pussy and make it quiver as he pumped his thick cock in and out of you slippery hole? Did he have you screaming, begging him to not stop… begging him to fuck you harder? Did then pull it out and slap it against your clit to tease you? Did he plunge it back in, making you bite your lower lip with the intensity? Did he start thrusting faster and deeper?



And now, yes, he started talking dirty and raspy, didn’t he? “Your tight little fucking pussy is so fucking hot! Does it like that, does it love fucking cock inside of it? Oh fuck yeah! I’m going to fucking cum!” And did he call you by my name? “Open your fucking mouth, Dax!” Did he pull out and make you finish him with your mouth? Did he? Huh? And you took it, didn’t you, you little slut! He came in your mouth this morning! Did you flick the tip of his cock with your tongue at that instant, feeling it squirt into your mouth? Did you open your mouth to show him, just like he likes, just like I used to do, then let it slide out of onto those tits of yours, rubbing all over your body?



Or did you just make a squeamish face and swallow as quick as you could?



“Iced chai tea, pleeeease!” I caught a glimpse of the silver barbell on her tongue as she said it. Ooohhh! That little bitch! Teasing Eric’s cock with her tongue ring until he couldn’t hold back any longer… and now…it was as if she was saying, “Oh, be a dear, and get me something cold to wash this thick gooey mess down!”



I was so pissed… I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing, and the next thing I knew- and it was like slow motion now- I was handing her tea to her, and the lid popped off, the sides of the clear plastic cup collapsed, and the cup tipped forward… A brown tsunami of ice cubes flew out and splashed right onto the creased crevice of her exposed cleavage, sliding down into an ice dam against her shirt. It hung there for just an instant, and then disappeared down that dark abyss between her breasts like Moulin. Yeah, I spilled her iced chai all over her!



Really, it was an accident. Okay, so a happy accident. I was initially shocked and embarrassed, but when I saw all the ice go down her shirt, I was trying not to laugh… but I couldn’t help it. That’s what she gets for leaving so many unbuttoned buttons just to advertise her boobs to the world. Yes, Clara, everyone knows you have huge tits! Now go cool the fuck off! Haha! I guess she picked the wrong day to wear white- she looked like a spring break college student in a wet T-shirt contest- the soaked fabric and streaks of wet brown hair clinging to her hardening nipples. Gah. Really, there she is, everyday, prancing and bouncing around the bookstore, trying to tease the world with those girls of hers…”Oh, were you looking at these? Nice, huh? I bet you wish you could see the rest, huh?” Now I just gave everybody what they have been waiting to see.



I guess I shouldn’t hate her. Though we both kind of worked in the same place for a few months (her, the bookstore, me, the coffee shop), I don’t really know her, and I have to admit, writing what I wrote above, that I really liked fucking Eric, too. I miss him. I miss coming to work flushed, and feeling thoroughly fucked and completely slutty for the porn star sex we had. God yes, those were nice mornings. So I can’t blame her for enjoying fucking him. It just sucks that now she gets the hot morning wakeup session and I don’t anymore. And though I blame her for stealing him, she probably didn’t even know we were together.



But, ugh, of course she is going to tell Eric, and then Eric will tell her about me, and I’ll seem like a catty bitch that spilled her drink on her on purpose. I’m the bitch. Me?!? Okay, so maybe I am a little. And that makes me feel like crap. Because I’m sure she’ll think I am so petty and now I will have this awkward war with her at work. Ah fuck, it is late again. I got to get to bed. I have to be up early again and work a fucking double shift. I couldn’t say no to “Mr. Manager of the Month Mike” after he was so pissed at me for the scene I caused.



Shit, and tomorrow is Friday. I really have to try to find something to do. It has been a bad week and I don’t want to be alone and miserable. I want to go dancing or drinking or something, but I don’t feel like I know anybody. My whole life was wrapped up with Eric and his friends. It has been 3 months now, but I just can’t seem to move on.







Friday, July 8, 2011



Fuck I am drunnnk. And horny. But it feels good. I don’t wnat to be alene. I wish … wish… she didn’t have to go and tonight would never ever ever ever end. Mmmmmmm She is soooooo awesome and soooodefinietly baet beua beautiful!!! I can’t belevie what happend today- but I ll have to wtire write more tomorw. I’m in teh mood for somethig else other than this journal rite now.



Saturday, July 9, 2012



Oh God on a toilet… Why did I drink so much last night? You’d think my Scandinavian genes would be good for something and allow me to handle alcohol better. First weekend off in forever, and now I am just going to sit around the house and recover. But it was worth it!



Yesterday started off rough. Double shift. Clara was glaring at me. I tried to apologize, but, it sounded false. It is too obvious of a story- I was a vengeful bitch, and was trying to get back at her for stealing my boyfriend. How do I apologize for something like that? How do I convince her it was an innocent accident? I was just watching the clock waiting for the day to end.



But then, right at closing, Estefani came in. I haven’t seen her in like 5 years since we graduated college. She looked amazing! Some people just don’t seem to age. She looks exactly like she did the day she sat down next to me the first day of creative writing class. Latinas! No fair! Haha! But how I missed her and it was so good to see her bright face and big smile. Now she has red and purple steaks in her hair. Crazy chica! I wish I had the guts to do something like that!



Funny, she didn’t even recognize me at first. Well, I guess my hair is much, much longer now, and I had the lasik surgery so I don’t have the glasses anymore. But when she realized who I was, me standing there speechless with my mouth open in shock, she exploded “Dagmar??? Oh my GOD!!! How is my Daxi?!?” It felt so good to hear “my Daxi” again!



She said I looked “so incredibly cute.” I know she had to be lying; I was at the end of a 10 hour shift, in my fucking brown work uniform. I must have looked like a dried-up turd! That’s how I felt at least. But she has a way of saying it that made me believe her. I love the way some people just make the room feel alive and she is like that. It was always that way. It didn’t matter how down I felt, or how terrible my day, she always made me feel happy and warm inside.



She sensed that something was wrong (am I that obvious?), and so she dropped her plans for the night and demanded we go out for drinks. “Don’t think I don’t know you, even though it has been so many years. You’re my Daxi and will always be! We were going to have a girls’ night out, just you and me, and you are going to tell me all about it. We’ll just let the boys eat their hearts out!”



What a relief to see her now, after the week I have had. And what a relief to have something to do on Friday night! But I had to go home and change first, and Stefi followed me to my place. I was so embarrassed for her to see what mess my place was. I have been too busy and depressed to care. I never really unpacked after moving out of the place I had with Eric.



Stefi is such a sweetheart- she even did my dishes and picked up my place while I was in the shower. I had to take a shower because I reeked of coffee, but it also gave me an excuse to shave my legs, and, what the hell, the rest too. I love the feeling of being smooth and clean. It is like being naked and free even under my clothes. And it felt good to be attractive again—yeah, to be fucking damn sexy again—I can’t remember the last time I felt that way.



I really miss having a girlfriend like Stefi. How did I ever lose touch with her? We were such good friends! But when I moved to SF with Eric, I guess we just talked less and less and eventually lost touch. And she is still writing stuff, poetry, prose… even has a book coming out! She is SF to promote it and just happened to come into the coffee shop where I work. What are the odds? There are like a fucking million bookstore/coffee shops in SF! And I can’t believe she has a book! Wow, and I have been wasting my time with this barista gig. I don’t know why I stopped writing! Now I just keep this fucking journal and don’t do anything creative anymore. But I should try to be more creative, and maybe this journal is a good place to start.







Like nostalgia reborn, two friends who had missed years but never missed a beat, there, embodying the spirit of the mojito, lime and sugar, pucker and sweet, and the cool mint that flows to the rhythm of the salsa, we danced the floor.



Through the haze of the silky sweat, the turbulent waves of the salsa bass notes, we held the eyes and desires of all the hungry dancers in the club with our grinding step and synchronicity. Turning and spinning around each other, through the growing fray of my light hair, wearing the neon colors of the dance floor lights, flinging in a riotous whipping storm, tossing and mixing with hers in black, red and violet, into one tornaduous cyclone of energy(!) of here and there and left and right and the eyes and mouths and minds and lust sucked in from the others, generating its own momentum, spinning up and enveloping us in a cacophonous fury. No way now to sort out whose flirtations were whose, whose lust sprung towards whom, whose desires were whose: the room was alive and offering it all to our hungry gale!



Our gyrations grew and intensified in drama and daring, and… Then! the ultimate intensity of a simultaneously willed and extended… pause… holding an embraced pose as the music pounded on and the room continued to whirl around us. Her arms clung firmly around my waist, her thin bangled wrists resting and wresting alternately on my hips. And mine clasping her back, cradling her in my frame, my hands exploring her shoulder blades, her angel wings so graciously exposed by her open backed outfit. My black skirt stretched tight against my hips, her bright green skirt stretched tight against hers, pressed and slid together as one; two frail scraps of cloth the only barrier to skin on skin, to melding into one as we took each other’s hands.



My breath was swallowed in my chest, my breasts heaved up, their weight pulling me into her. I could feel my nipples taught against the black satin, like a microcosm of myself, locked rigid against the caressing flow of a wave of energy flowing across me, hypersensitive to every twitch and movement around me. I was looking down at her full cheeks, her glossed-red lips reflecting in the flittering spotlights, her eyes looking through mine as if to ask me something that I was asking for at the same time. I stared closer and deeper, not daring to blink, not daring to exhale, and not wanting this delightfully uncomfortable moment to end. It was that instant—where I swear—I could see my own wild blue eyes reflecting in hers.







God on a toilet, that fucking sucked! Fuck, I am really trying too hard. I guess am really out of practice! And what is wrong with me that the first creative writing I do in years is so sexually charged, and about a re-found best friend, nonetheless? But honestly, I can’t stop thinking about what it would have been like to kiss her then. I wonder what she would have done? I guess with the excitement of seeing her again, what she did for me last night, the alcohol, the way she danced, and the sexual energy of the room… who wouldn’t have wanted to kiss her?



Haha, I hope she never sees this!



Sunday, July 10, 2011



I’ve got to be crazy! I quit my job! I have no idea what I am doing, but I don’t care anymore. Because I am now on a plane to Costa Rica!



Stefi called me today. I am writing what I can remember of the conversation, because if I never return, I want to be able to look back at the conversation that kicked my butt out the door.







“Daxi, I decided. You are coming to Costa Rica with me. We leave tonight! Pack your bags!”



“Huh!??! Costa Rica? What the hell are you talking about Stefi?? I can’t afford to go to Costa Rica. Plus I have to work tomorrow! “



“Yes, you can, and no, you don’t. Look, Daxi. You need to get out of here. You said so yourself Friday night. And you hate that fucking job. I am planning on going home to Costa Rica to see my family anyway, and after flying all over to hell and back promoting my book; I have enough miles to take another person with me. You don’t want me to have to go alone do you?”



“Stefi, you can’t be serious? This is crazy! I can’t go to Costa Rica tonight!”



“Dagmar. Marie. Sørensen. Do something spontaneous for once in your life, will you? It’ll do you good. You don’t want to look back when you’re old and not have any memories because nothing was worth remembering. And, Daxi- we are going to make some fucking memories!”



“Um… I don’t… Um… oh what the fuck… okay! OKAY!”



“Good, because I already booked your ticket. You didn’t really have a choice. But I am glad you saw it my way.”



“What?!? You bitch!!” I laughed.



“I know, I know, I can be a bitch, huh? But you will love me for it. Besides what else were you going to do this weekend? I’ll be at your place with a cab at six o’clock. You’ve got three hours to pack! Get moving! See ya soon Daxi! It is going to be so much fun, even if I am bitch! Haha!”







So here I am, on a plane to San Jose. I hope I have everything I need, but I have no idea. Almost all my clothes were dirty; it has been ages since I have made it to the Laundromat.



And there is Stefi, next to me in the middle seat sleeping. It is so amazing that we could be the best of friends, lose touch for years, and then pick back up like this again. She looks so sweet when she is sleeping. Not the gregarious energetic, bouncing, confident, off-the-wall, in-your-face, Stefi that the world has come to know and love, but a sweet, vulnerable, curled up, delicate and fragile Stefi that you can’t help but want to cuddle with.



She is so petite, really. Because her personality is larger than life; I never really noticed how small she really is. Her little butt is pushed up against the arm rest, her knees drawn up, her arms hugging them, so that she is falling over sideways in the seat, her head resting against my shoulder and her cradled legs are against my thighs. I find myself staring perhaps longer than I should. Maybe it is creepy or weird, but I can’t help it. I am just so thankful to be here with her.



Maybe it is all the wine we drank on the plane, but I am a little confused, because maybe I am attracted to her more than just friends. I don’t remember feeling this way toward her before. Is it weird to have such a good friend that I also find sexy? Is it the loss of contact that has allowed me to reconsider how I see her? Though I have had mostly innocent girl crushes and definitely fantasized about being with a woman, I’ve never acted on it and don’t ever remember feeling like this, that I just have a need to start kissing her and exploring her body.



Her face is facing mine, and if I concentrate, I can feel her breath on my cheek. Her lips are barely parted, as if she were whispering a secret to me. I sit here so close, looking at her lips, so close, and wonder what it would be like to wake up in the morning and see that face on the pillow greeting me. I could just lean in and kiss her right now. But no… that would be too weird.



Fuck, I am so turned on right now! Traveling always does this to me. Here I am grinding my hips and squeezing my thighs together. At first, I was just trying to keep Stefi’s legs warm. But I am so horny and wet now, I can feel it. Damn! I can’t help it! I’m glad I wore loose pants… Maybe, this paper thin airplane blanket they gave me will give me enough privacy so I can have a just little bit a fun! I’ll be back! ;-)







Mmmm… this is so naughty, like the solo mile high club, but it feels so good, the vibration of the plane, Stefi’s body pressed against mine, her breath on my cheek. The darkness, and secrecy, the heat coming off of me and wetness… (fuck it has been so long!) I can’t go all the way, but it is nice to just caress and squeeze my smooth outer lips back and forth along my clit. I have to admit, sometimes, I just love having a pussy.



But forcing myself to keep my breath still; it is almost too much to bear. I had to stop. Fuck fuck fuck I need to cum so bad… I am squirming here, panting, shivering and sweating at the same time. Damn, this is so frustrating!!



Well, to be continued… I guess. Whenever I can get some privacy, that is, and maybe, if I am lucky a nice cock to fuck. Or hmm… maybe even… god on a toilet, I am not sure I even want cock right now. Well, I have to admit, I have been fantasizing more and more about women lately.

And now I am here staring at Stefi, her olive skin, her perfect complexion, her straight shoulder length hair falling in purple and red streaks across her cheeks, teasing the cute freckles on them… and her gently parted lips, so full and pouty, curled in an adorable cupid’s bow. Such a contrast: how different people’s lips are. Mine are so thin and firm, hers like delicate out-turned rose petals… or… how did Shakespeare put it? Kissing cherries! Yes! Haha, exactly! Like she is sucking on a pacifier or something! Okay, so maybe not a pacifier, maybe something else… But how I wonder what her lips would feel like to kiss…



Oh fuck, her lips parted just so- if I could freeze time, I would so gently lean over and kiss them, and slowly run my tongue along them. Then take off my shirt, undo my bra, turn just so, the curve and weight of my right breast resting in my hand, I’d cradle her head, look down at her face surrounded in a tent of my blond hair, and place my jutting nipple right along her now moistened lips, sliding it back and forth across her bottom lip… And then time would start again, she would wake up and I would just be sitting here quietly and innocently, and she would wonder why her mouth was wet with my soft kisses.



Holy shit my nipples are so sensitive now, aching… I can almost feel her lips on them! I feel clutched in my throat, a sinking in my stomach, and weight in my pussy, a fire on my clit…I feel like I am falling over forward into myself! And what would those lips feel like sucking my clit? Is it true women are better at pleasuring a pussy like my more adventurous girlfriends have told me? And lips, I wonder if her pussy lips are like her mouth, soft and delicately out-turned?



Ok ok ok. fuck. I gotta stop!



!!!! I can’t believe I am writing this with her next to me. I kind of like the thrill in a way, of looking at her softly closed eyes and imagining they would suddenly open and catch me staring at her, or that she would wake up and groggily ask “Hi my Daxi, what are writing? Can I read it?”



But honestly, if that happened, I would be mortified!



Monday, July 11, 2011



Stefi and I got in really late last night, and her father picked us up and drove us to the place where she grew up. It was so nice that they accepted me into their home as a last minute surprise, and offered to put me up in Lucia’s (Stefi’s sister) room. I kind of wish they hadn’t moved Lucia onto the sofa in the family room, and that I would have to share a bed with Stefi, but thanks to their hospitality, I was alone in my own room. Funny, I finally had that privacy I wanted so bad yesterday, but as soon as I was completely alone, I was not as excited about pleasuring myself. Maybe I was just tired or it was too weird being in some teenage girl’s room. I’m still so frustrated, though. God on a toilet, how long has it been?



I slept in today. I guess I didn’t get much sleep on the plane last night, haha. Stefi and her family were already halfway through breakfast when I got up. Today, we spent the day relaxing at her house with them. Her father and mother are quite pleasant, always smiling and super hospitable. It is clear they want me to feel very welcome here. Stefi’s younger sister, Lucia, is an adorable little hellion, but so funny, and I can see big things coming from her. It is like a young version of Stefi and I wonder if Stefi was like that when she was a teenager.



Her family is very sweet, but her parents don’t speak English and I felt a little weird about Stefi or Lucia having to translate everything for me. I should have learned Spanish, but I guess I didn’t have much warning about going on this trip. It is nice that they translate, but I miss out on a lot of the jokes and humor.



And I have to admit, I find myself staring more and more at Stefi in a not-just-friends way. Sure, she is a best girlfriend a girl could ever want: the way she smiles, the way we laugh at us being bitches, and the way she makes the world feel so right and such a happy place to live in when I am near her. And fuck, she took me to Costa Rica! How awesome is that?



But here I am thinking of her in a different way. So small, with her thin little legs and wrists, but distinctly curvy hips, that she swings seductively in a confident rhythm when she walks. Perfect posture! Latinas! Haha! It is like they are pop out of the womb doing the fucking merengue! I wish I had hips like that, but I guess I got the boobs instead!



Not that Stefi doesn’t have boobs- they are so cute and petite, and she tends to wear low cut shirts that accentuate her collar bones and breast bone, and the gentle beginnings of the curves under her breasts. She doesn’t necessarily need to wear a bra- they are so firm… she wasn’t this morning. When she leaned across the breakfast table, I caught a flash down her tank top, and her little dark nipples sat like ripe berries gently placed on top of her delicate breasts like a gourmet dessert. And then, there I was fantasizing again… at the breakfast table with her family!!!



But I guess I could learn something from her- Here I am naturally endowed with these breasts that other women pay so much money for, and I never accentuate them. But then, I guess they already get enough attention as it is. Haha! Still, I can’t pull off the everyday sexy that Stefi seems to do so effortlessly. Is that why I am so attracted to her?



I can’t believe I have had these bi-curious fantasies for so long and have never even kissed a girl. What was I doing in college when all those other girls were making out with each other, experimenting with threesomes, and all that? I guess it just never happened. I was busy with the boys. All my good friends were guys, that is, until I met Stefi.



Hmm… I should be writing here my first impressions of a country I have never been to before, but since we arrived so late last night, and we are just relaxing today, I haven’t seen much yet. But the sky is overcast, the air is warm, heavy and humid and smells of fruit and blossoms, and I can’t wait to get out and do things.



In the mean time, I am here in the garden with my journal, trying to think of something creative to write. But my mind is blank. And I just feel like a nap instead. Perhaps it is for the best.



Tuesday, July 12, 2011



“Daxi, please. What the fuck is this? Flannel!?! No, wait. I recognize what the fuck this. This is a fucking emergency situation, Daxi. I am taking you shopping. Now!”



That’s Stefi, my endearing little bitch. Yeah, okay, so I didn’t do a good job packing. I had nothing clean, and well, it never gets that warm in SF, so I really don’t have anything I can wear in a warm climate. And thinking back, when Eric stopped fucking me like a month before we broke up, and then it has been 3months since, so I have felt less and less into being sexy, and not really caring what I wore. Fuck, most of the time, I am just wearing a brown work outfit.



We spent the day out trying on clothes. I spent way more than I should, and I don’t really have the money to be clothes shopping, but Stefi knew exactly where to take me in town and clothes are pretty cheap here. Stefi can be rather persuasive. She was completely changing my look. Molding me like sculptor’s clay into something new and sexually charged. I honestly don’t know I can pull this stuff off. Tight white pants? Exposed midriff? Miniskirt with knee high leggings that leave my thighs exposed? Low cut blouse that hangs just a little above my nipples? Then high heels. And high heel boots. I never wear heels, because I feel like I am tall enough. What am I thinking?



But then, as Stefi pointed out, why the hell spend all the time on that hellish elliptical machine if I am just going to hide inside frumpy clothes? Why did I get this belly button ring so many years ago if nobody sees it? Stefi laughed when she saw that. “Oh, my Daxi, so you do have some fire in you after all! Let’s play that up!” she said tickling the ring with her fingers. It sent a chill down my spine. So now I have this dangling sparkling accessory that clips onto the ring. When I said it would get annoying under a shirt, Stefi just insisted on a striped top that exposes my midriff and shows off my stomach.



Back at Stefi’s place, we got ready to go out. Stefi insisted I wear the new striped top. The tight fitting stripes clung to boobs like latitude lines on two enormous globes. Miniskirt, high knee leggings, high heels… Then she made my eyes dark with eye shadow and she braided my hair in two thick braids. She flipped them over my shoulders so the rested on my breasts like a stripper’s fucking nipple tassels. Ha! I felt like she was making me into a stereotypical Scandinavian. She reassured me that I shouldn’t be so self conscious about that. It is funny, things I would try to hide- my boobs, my abs, my height, Stefi accentuated. “No no no, Daxi, you don’t understand- these are your best features. Trust me! You are an exotic goddess here! The guys have been turning their heads the moment you stepped off the plane.”



I hope she is right. While it was nice to have a makeover, I am not so sure. But we are going out dancing soon. Time to put this journal away, Stefi is almost ready.



Wednesday, July 13, 2011



Last night, Stefi and I went out to a dance club in San Jose. But honestly, it wasn’t such a good night for me. I really felt out of place and I wish Stefi hadn’t pushed me so hard. The guys are kind of short, and so I felt that much taller in my heels. They were very forward though, much more than Americans, and kept offering me to dance. But then I don’t know the Salsa… and it seems like they were trying too hard to reach over my head to turn me. I felt clumsy and awkward. And it was too close, I felt like I had these guys faces breathing down my tits, their hips, grinding against my exposed thigh, their little hardening cocks trying to fuck my leg like horny dogs. And I couldn’t communicate with them. I started to feel more and more like an object.



As for Stefi, she was immediately swept up and I felt alone watching her dance so effortlessly, being showcased by one guy after the other. I was envious. I wanted to dance with her like we did last Friday. I wanted to feel sexy like that again. But instead I just felt insecure and self conscious as if everyone were just staring at me with their mouths open.



I was trying to hide in some dark corner of the club when Stefi found me. She looked me over once and with a look of pity and concern, seemed to quickly understand my thoughts. “Oh Daxi, we should go. But you are going to break a lot of hearts here when you leave. Everyone is asking who my amiga guapa is and where you went.”



I told her I just didn’t feel like being the center of attention tonight. She gave me a big hug and we left and took a taxi home. We didn’t say much to each other on the way home. I wanted to apologize to Stefi, but I didn’t know what to say. The taxi driver was chatty, but only spoke Spanish, so Stefi and he conversed while I cast my gaze mindlessly out the windows. I rolled down the window a little for some air. The city night lights of a surprisingly modern San Jose streaked by as the cab raced down the streets.



I wished Stefi a good night, thanked her shallowly for taking me out and went to Lucia’s room to go to bed. I caught my reflection in the full length mirror in Lucia’s room and was caught off guard by what how I looked. I almost didn’t recognize myself. I ended up just staring at my transformation reflected back to me. Could I get used to this? Who am I?



If I squinted and dreamed and pretended I was somebody I didn’t know, what would I think of this person in the mirror? A perfume fashion model? A stripper? I was so ridiculously dressed but somehow it worked if I held myself and projected my confidence just right. I could see where Stefi was going with this. I know I will just have to work on it in order to make it me. I peeled the striped top off of me, freeing my heavy, sweating breasts.



Then I took off the skirt and skimpy underwear, and stood there in the knee high socks, staring at myself. I looked like some type of porn star with the braids and the belly button chain dangling down and pointing its way to my pussy. The socks made me feel more naked than if I had nothing on. Haha… I could totally be a happy slut if I really wanted to!



I was trying to pretend what that would feel like, imitating a stripper in front of the mirror; trying to own this naked body that contained me. Pursing and licking my lips, pushing my breasts up, gyrating my hips, leaning over, sticking my ass out, caressing my body sexily, teasing the mirror with my pussy, spreading the gentle lips and offering them to my own reflection, trying to find alluring yet ridiculous porn star poses. Good practice, I guess. Would guys find this even a little bit alluring? Would girls? Would Stefi? I smiled at that thought, that I would have absolute control over someone’s desires.



When suddenly, there was a quiet knock at the door. “Daxi?” Stefi asked meekly.



Oh shit! “Uh, just a sec!” I scrambled around the room and threw on my pj’s. Great job, Dagmar. Here I am posing in front of the mirror, wondering if Stefi would think I was hot, and then she appears at the door and I freak out. I am a long way from being a porn star!



In my fantasy, yeah, I would have seductively walked over to the door, naked, perfectly comfortable in my hotness, and opened the door confidently, and stood there in full view of Stefi, not saying a thing. Just stare into her dark eyes, and slowly part my lips. And then, well, I don’t know, I guess the fantasy gets even more ridiculous after that with Stefi staring at me with her mouth wide open, not saying a word, reaching up to touch my breast, cautiously at first, and overwhelmed with passion, grabbing it firmly her hand, jumping into me, throwing me on Lucia’s bed, jumping on top of me and passionately kissing me. She would rip off her clothes and straddle my face, grinding her pussy into my mouth with her salsa-rhythm-hips, arching her back and looking up at the ceiling as she caressed her tits and pinched her own blackberry nipples between her index and middle fingers.



Hmm… wow… these Stefi fantasies are getting more intense…



But no. That is not what happened. She came in and we sat on Lucia’s bed. She came to apologize to me.



“I’m really sorry about tonight, Daxi. I keep thinking about it and I can’t sleep and I am really upset at myself. I was just trying to get you a little out of your comfort zone and let you find and reinvent yourself. But I realize I pushed you a little too hard today. I’m sorry, I am such a bitch. I shouldn’t be making a project out of you. Still, you looked amazing tonight. Do you know you were the talk of the club? I would just love to see you get your confidence back. I really just want to help you. But be sure to let me know if I push you too far.”



I realized for a while what she was trying to do. And it is my fault and my own insecurities that are holding me back. But she is right. It is time I start making myself who I want to be. And getting out of this life what I want to get out of it. Like Stefi. I want to “be the author of my own experience,” as Stefi put it. So when Stefi asked if I was willing to try an adventure today, I knew I could not say no to her.



So today we begin our week long trek. It was a travel day into the rain forest. I love her family, but I am glad Lucia can have her room back. It is good to get out of the house and out of San Jose. I am really glad to have some time alone with Estefani. I am also glad she is with me; I would have never made it out here on my own, or even figure out which bus to take with my lack of Spanish. So today, on a rickety, dirty, crowded bus, muddy bumpy roads, rain mixed with sun, we headed off into the wilderness.



This place is amazing! Lush and green, surprisingly cool. So alive with everything, colors seeming to burst forth from the backdrop of the gray sky. Rivers of mud and murky water slither out of the valleys, with cascading streams dribble down them. The trees sigh in the damp air, as if they were in anticipation of a sloppy kiss from Mother Nature herself. It is really indescribable… I am a loss for words.



We arrived at our small lodge that Stefi had booked. A small town is down the road that has everything we could need, but we are far enough away to feel like we are in the wilderness. It is adorable, but quite primitive: thatched roof, creaking floor boards, crumbling stucco and wooden walls with daylight peaking through the cracks. But at least it has a proper toilet and rather primitive shower behind a half wall in the back of the room. I guess that is a luxury here for the tourists.



We actually didn’t get the cabin we reserved, because I guess a river of mud ran through it with the rain today. The only thing they could offer us is a much smaller one with only one single bed. Stefi, who I thought would fight for a refund, just looked at me, laughed, and said, “Well, I guess it will remind us of the dorm beds we used to sleep in!” She asked if it was okay if we shared the bed, promising she wouldn’t take up too much space. I tried to contain my excitement! :)



We unpacked and Stefi was very tired because she said she didn’t get much sleep last night. I feel bad for that, because I know it’s because she was upset about my reaction at the club last night. So she is napping right now, so little and adorable again, curled up on the bed.



I couldn’t be happier with this cabin, though. It sits on top of a hill and has an awesome view from the porch, where I am just sitting now, trying to take it all in. It is humid, cool and sticky here. Sounds of wildlife waft up from the trees around me. I have never been in a place quite like this before or heard sounds quite like this before. The rain forest stretches out in the valley below and there a volcano that shoots straight up in the background, framed by clouds of steam and a pocked gray sky. Postcard perfect. I can’t seem to take enough pictures, but they won’t do it justice anyway.



My god, there is a fucking Toucan in the tree above me! It is the soul and life and pulse and breath of this place that one can only experienced by being here. That kind of thing can’t be photographed. It can only be lived. But I did sneak a photo of Stefi while she slept. I couldn’t help it, it is just too cute. I can’t wait to show her what she looks like while she is sleeping. She will be sure to call me a bitch for it, and, honestly, I can’t wait for that either.



Stefi says she has a surprise activity planned for tomorrow, something else to get me out of my comfort zone. I wonder what it is. I wonder if I am up for it or will I go running scared again. No. No. No no no… I promise, no matter it is, I promise to myself here and now that I will let myself have fun and do it confidently.



I am getting hungry, it will be getting dark soon, and so I better go wake Stefi. We still need to get some sleep tonight, and she’ll be up all night if she naps too long.



Thursday, July 13, 2011



I almost died today. They say in that instant, your life flashes in front of your eyes, but it isn’t true. It is just a mad pleading panic that makes no sense what. so. ever. I can’t even write now, I am still too freaked out. It’s time to get roaring drunk and celebrate the fact that I am still on this Earth. And I realize now there is so much stuff I want to do before I go. I’m looking down at my living skin and my naked breasts that are hanging above the page. There is still so much life in me. My heart beats in my chest still. I am so young.



Friday, July 14, 2011



Wow, I don’t even know where to start today.



I’m alive.



I’m hung over. Again.

And what a fucking crazy crazy fucking dream!



Stefi’s out getting food and has been gone a long time now. I hope she is okay. I feel like I don’t want to be alone right now, that I need her company after what happened yesterday. But I also appreciate the chance to work though all this chaos in my head. Maybe I’ll feel better if I just write it all down.



Where to begin?



The surprise activity was a bungee jump. Stefi didn’t tell me until we got there. Maybe she was afraid I would back out. And I wanted to back out immediately with every fiber of my being, but I promised myself yesterday that I was going to be confident and seek out new experiences. Here we were on this wooden bridge, hundreds of feet above the rainforest canyon with the tiny little stream wayyyy down there that wound through it. It was starting to rain, and the deck was slippery. It didn’t even look like the railings on the bridge would hold if someone leaned on them. I never thought I had a fear of heights, but I was terrified on this bridge.



Stefi even gave me the opportunity to back out, “Daxi, it is a lot of fun and you will feel totally free and it is the kind of thing that feels really good once it is over and you can say ‘I did that!’ But, don’t make me push you into doing something you don’t want to do.” Of course, I said I would. We bought our tickets and were first in line.



Stefi went first. I stood by with the camera. She flew out in a perfect swan dive, the bungee stretching out to her ankles, and fell what seemed to be a few minutes. Her gleeful shriek echoed in the canyon and mingled with those of the primate onlookers in the trees below. Then the bungee runner, a young Indiana Jones type, strapped in, lowered himself down grabbed her, turned her right side up and the other burley assistant powered the wench to ratchet them back up to the platform. The wench! Ow, I still hear it! That clacking sound, the piercing shriek of metal raking metal- it is ringing still in my mind when I close my eyes. It didn’t sound right and I should have trusted my gut and not jumped. But I thought it was just the fear talking.



The operator was busy strapping the harness around my midriff and hips and giving me last minute instructions. I was too paralyzed with fear to even comprehend anything. But in retrospect, I remember, “Be sure to jump out, not just jump off! And, smile! Have fun!” Stefi was back on the platform, panting, face flushed, smiling at me. Yes! It was the same as that “I’ve just been thoroughly and completely fucked!” look that Clara had last week in the coffee shop. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, I thought. Still I was paralyzed on the edge, looking down into the tiny landscape below. It is amazing how rapids don’t seem to move from this high up.



“10, 9, 8…” The countdown numbers were all a blur. “3, 2,” Okay okay… “1!!!” I tried to jump, but I just couldn’t. My legs wouldn’t move. My knees bent timidly, but my feet felt bolted to the decking. I realized my hand was still clenched with a death grip on the railing. I used all my will to force my hand to let go, and when I did, I felt my feet slipping off the edge of the wet bridge decking. I frantically scurried my feet, flailing my arms, as I slid off the wet edge, twisting awkwardly as I fell. The world spun around me in a sky-ground-sky blur. This was not flying or falling, this was tumbling chaotically through space. I reached the full length of the bungee cord, and my head whipped down frantically as I rebounded up. And then after a few wild undulations I was left hanging upside down waiting for the assistant to bring me back up. I was relieved it was over.



But as it turned out, it was only going to get worse. I felt the arms of the bungee runner grab me and turn me right side up as he signaled to the big guy running the wench above. The wench began to ratchet back me back up. I could hear the clanking metal again, even from down there, louder and louder, harsher and more out of rhythm than it really should have been. It was raising me in stuttering jolts. Suddenly, it froze, and heaved, and the next thing I knew I was falling again in measured but unpredictable releases.



I wasn’t expecting it, and as I feel, the ropes tangled around my torso and locked one arm over my head. I’m lucky it caught my arm, because otherwise, it probably would have gone around my neck. I was hanging flat, twisted, tangled and tied so that I couldn’t move. The bungee runner was nowhere nearby and must have been way above me. There were panics and muffled screams from up on the bridge. I wasn’t moving. I was crying. Hanging there in space above the rocks and river below, I was sure this was the end.



I felt the rope slip more and more and I tumbled further and further down, bouncing at the end of each length of release. Finally, after many minutes, the wench started working again, the runner grabbed me and they brought me slowly and cautiously back up. At the top, finally, the runner hopped on the deck and I was on display like some catch of the day wrapped up and twisted awkwardly in a tattered bungee cord. I couldn’t move. It was hard to breathe. The operator and the runner gave me a shove outwards, and then my momentum swung me back on the bridge deck, where they caught me with a bear hug and frantically untangled me. Soon I was released, but continued laying there on the bridge, sobbing. Through my tears, I saw Stefi standing over me, her hands in her mouth, paralyzed with fear.



“no no no… Oh my Daxi! Daxi!! Are you okay!”



I just continued to cry. I never cry. It hurt to cry. I choked. And then I finally got to my hands and knees. I was okay. I was going to be okay. I was alive. Stefi huddled over me, patting my back. “I was so scared, Daxi. I thought I lost you.”



“I am… …okay. Just give me a minute.” I huddled there with my face in my palms, balling. Finally I made it to my feet again. Stefi was raising hell in Spanish with the burly man running wench. She was in his face swearing, and though only 5′ tall or so, probably more than two feet shorter than that enormous guy, but he was the one backpedaling. I was afraid he would cower right off the edge of the bridge, sans bungee (for all the good it would do him anyway), if the operator hadn’t stepped in to pull her back. He caught nearly just as much hell.



It was raining harder now. They closed the jump after what happened to me, and the others on the bridge were already making their way to the ticket booth for a refund.



Stefi stormed off from the cowering operator, swearing. But as she came towards me, her harsh face instantly softened, her eyes turned down, and I knew she was about to cry. She looked up at me and tears mixed with rain, streaked alongside the red and purple hair stuck to her cheeks. She jumped into me and squeezed me in a tight passionate hug, and though she was so much smaller than me, it felt like she was able to make herself big enough to envelop me.



I was still trembling, but somehow in all of this, I felt the vitality and (and um, I guess sexual?) excitement of our wet bodies pressed against each other. I was breathing heavy and my chest expanded outward against hers, our breasts smashed against each others, her tiny waist slipping against mine, her little but enormously strong frame in my arms. She looked at me again, deeply, as if she were trying to see my soul or life in my eyes, as of to convince herself that I was really still alive and not some ghost or specter. “Daxi. My Daxi.” She had a hand on each of my upper arms as if to emphasize the point. “Let’s get the fuck out of here!”



And so we went back to the lodge. I peeled off my soaking wet shirt and bra. Stefi was watching me, waiting for them to come off. So yes, finally, I was standing topless in front of Stefi with nothing to be ashamed of. Near death had finally made me confident about that- what else was there to lose? Yet, it wasn’t like I had fantasized a few nights ago. It was in a much more clinical way. Stefi was examining me, looking for bruises from the rope. Somehow, miraculously, there was only a small one under my arm that must have happened when my arm got caught.



Yet her touch was so gentle as she turned me and looked me over. She gave me goose bumps and chills, making my nipples stand erect. It was as if she didn’t notice, but at the same time, she was very thorough in looking me over. So she had to notice. I sat topless on the bed. I grabbed my journal to write, but I couldn’t write much.



Stefi changed out of her wet clothes quickly and was pacing in and out of the bedroom to the porch. “C’mon, Daxi, get dressed. Let’s go get a drink. I am fucking freaking out right now!” And so we walked to the small town about a km up the road to drink. And drink. And drink. The whole afternoon and evening was a blur, like the rain streaking down the windows, or the haze coming up from the valley below and settling in on the cloud forests that cloth the mountains in the distance. Nothing made sense. I don’t even remember walking back that night. Somehow I was back in the room, it was late, the room was spinning, and I was holding onto Stefi for dear life as she changed me into my pajamas. I fell into the bed and cuddled up against her, wishing I would had had the guts to hold her like this the night before when I was sober. I don’t remember falling asleep.



But I do remember that I had the craziest dream. Never have I had a sex dream so vivid, and so hot. It was so fantastic yet eerily realistic, and I feel it is meaningful right now, so I feel like I must write it down so I don’t forget it.



—-



I was on the circular piece of the wet bridge decking. Pieces of bungee cord wrapped through steel eyelets and tied my arms and legs in a DaVinci spread eagle. I couldn’t move. The platform was spinning and spotlights above we whirled around in a sickly dizzying spiral.



Suddenly a black latex boot stamped down next to my head, stopping the platform I was from spinning. The long heel pinned my hair, and I there was sting on my scalp from my hair being pulled as I tried to look at the 5″ heal that was the cause of the tension. I looked up, and Clara was standing above me in a shiny black latex suit, a silver zipper down the front from her neck to her crotch. The spot lights in the room highlighted her bombshell form in the reflections off the shiny outfit. She looked at me over the shelf of her bust, her chestnut brown hair falling over her breasts and swaying in front of her waist.



“Hmm… well now, what do we have here?” She looked at me, as if I were supposed to answer what was obviously a rhetorical question. She released my hair, but then used her leg to kick the platform, and it did another few rotations, the cool damp air whisking against my naked body. Clara suddenly stamped her boot down on the platform again and I was jolted again as it suddenly stopped. Now Clara at my side, and the boot was next to my hand. She graced the toe of her boot across my outstretched palm. She walked slowly around me, her boots clacking on the tile floor, pacing slowly around my legs, pausing to look at down at my helpless pussy spread before her, unprotected by the pretext of clothing, then around the other side, staring at my breasts, carefully observing her prisoner.



“Ah yes, of course. I do know you: my favorite barista; my favorite clumsy bitch.” She finished her tour around my platform and now stood over my head. She knelt down on the platform over my head, her breasts looming over me. “Oh, so you recognize me, too, then? Am I not your favorite customer? Or do you just recognize these?” she said as she slid her hands smoothly down the lofty slopes of her bust. I couldn’t speak, my mouth was open but no sound came out. “No? Well, maybe this will help remind you!” She grabbed the zipper and gently pulled it down, exposing her cavernous cleavage, just to the point where her nipples were almost free, with her flesh expanding out of the tight outfit, desperate to explode free. She leaned over me. “Now do you recognize them? No?”



She unzipped the latex further, reaching into her outfit to release her breasts, pulling them out one at a time. She leaned over further, her face inches from mine, but upside down, her enormous tits pressing down on the top of my head. She dragged them across my face- I felt like a car going through an autowash curtain, as these glorious mammaries, so soft, supple and cool, slid down my forehead and across my cheeks. I tried to stick out my tongue, licking and turning my head everywhere hoping to catch one of her prominent nipples in my mouth.



“Oh, did you enjoy that, then?” She dangled them over my mouth, cupping them in her hands, showing them off, as if she were a cruel street seller taunting a beggar dying of thirst. She hung her nipple just above my mouth- I tilted my head up- stretching my neck and my tongue to lick it, to purse my lips around it, but it was just millimeters out of reach. “And now I suppose you want to kiss them?” There was a pregnant silence, as she jiggled her tits just above my mouth. “Well, I asked you a question!”



“Yes” I managed to squeak out.



I felt a sudden hard slap against my right breast. The sting sent chills though my senses and my nipple immediately hardened tight. “Yes WHAT???” She slapped my left breast. They were on fire with pain and a warming afterglow of pleasure.



“Yes, Madam Clara,” I somehow knew what to say.



“That’s better.” She withdrew her breasts from my face. “No…. No. I just don’t think you are ready yet.” She got up and walked across the room. I heard the distinct sound of ice rattling in a plastic cup as she came back. She stood over my reddening breasts staring at my vulnerable nipples begging for forgiveness and love. “Payback is a bitch. Just like me.” She rattled the cup for second, swirling the ice in it, and then suddenly, vengefully, she threw it out down on my chest. Ice cubes bounced off of my breasts and flew everywhere. “Well??? How do you like it? Are you sorry now?”



“Yes. Yes, Madam Clara. I am so sorry madam Clara. Please forgive me!” I pleaded. A piercing whistle went off in the distance, and she walked across the room, and came back with a steaming tea kettle. She stepped up on the platform again. Straddling my torso and looking down at my face. “I just made some tea, care for some?”



I was terrified. Ice was one thing, but having scalding hot tea poured on me was no longer a game. She leaned on her knees, and then sat on my down on stomach, her legs straddling my sides. She squeezed her thighs and hugged me with them. She set the tea kettle down next to my side, and disappeared into the corner of the room again. I could feel the heat radiating off of it as steam rose up from its mouth. She returned holding an unglazed porcelain tea cup, the color of the Costa Rican clay, and a matching saucer. She set the saucer on my breast bone, and the empty cup upon it. I tried to struggle, but it was no use, the bungee cord pieces holding me down were fully stretched tight.



“Hmm… you know, your tits aren’t so bad either,” she said kneading them deeply with her black gloved hands. She flicked each of my nipples in quick succession. My nipples were rigid and on fire, in pain, and hyper sensitive, just wanted the touch of soft lips to comfort them. “So, yes then, for tea time?”



“No, no… please no, Madam Clara.”



“Hmm? Oh but why not? I thought you liked tea with your tits? You liked it on mine, no? Pleasssseeee?” She mocked herself. Fuck, this wasn’t fair. It was iced Chai that I spilled on her, not scalding hot tea! She carefully filled the tea cup sitting on my chest. My breathing was now short and shallow, terrified, but also ever careful not to upset the cauldron of steaming hot tea the rested precariously between my breasts.



She grabbed an ice cube lying next to me, and held in onto my aching left nipple for a couple of seconds until it was numb with pain. I was biting my bottom lip and squirming, but still conscious not to move my chest. She picked up the cup off the saucer, and turned it in her hand, blowing steam off the rim of the cup. “Hold still! You don’t want me to spill, do you?”



I could sense I was crying from fear now. What was Clara going to do? Fuck, I knew, I was the one that spilled tea all over her chest, and now I just prepared for the worst. But Clara, she carefully held the ice cube pinched between her fingers on my left nipple, and then poured the hot tea from the cup slowly onto the ice cube. Steam rose in the air, I felt waves of now lukewarm jasmine flow down my breast like lava off a volcano, as the ice quickly melted away. Thankfully, the cup was small enough that the ice cube held out, but was small. “Oopseee! I spilled! Well, it looks like you are not the only clumsy bitch here!”



I tried to protest but nothing coherent came from the sounds my mouth was making. “Shhhh…. shhh… That’s enough from you. Shut your mouth. Now.”



Clara took what remained of the ice cube and balanced it upon my lips. Water with a hint of jasmine tea seeped between them as they numbed. She stared down at the watery mess on my left breast. “Mmm, that looks almost as good as it did on me. Almost. But we really need to do the other one.” She replaced the cup on the saucer, refilled it, retrieved a new ice cube from beside me, and repeated the procedure on my right nipple. When the cup was empty, and that ice cube was nearly gone, she reached behind her, and placed the dripping remains of the ice cube upon my labial lips, just above the shaft or my clit, letting the rest of it melt there while she got up once again and strutted around the room. The melting ice trickled down my moistening lips, and around my clit.



There I was, tied down, one ice cube on the lips of my mouth and one on the lips of my pussy. I felt the ecstasy of utter vulnerability mixed with the enormous relief that I was not scalded with the tea.



Clara stood up, and did another slow trotting lap around my platform, as she undressed the rest of the way, and her enormous tits caught the glare of the spot lights which prominently silhouetted her erect nipples. She wore nothing else but a tiny strap of a g string. She kept her black latex gloves on.



“Well, well… that seemed to melt quickly! Your pussy must be almost ready! Let’s see.” She knelt down beside me, placing her hand over my smooth mound. “Yes, yes, very pretty. Very feminine. You must know how Eric loves a smooth pussy, don’t you?” She gave it a gentle condescending pat. She used her fingers to pinch my labia and slide it up and down against my swollen clit, now no longer numbed by the ice. She pulled and tugged rather vigorously, holding my pussy closed by pinching my lips over them. I was breathing heavy and writhing to her rhythm. I could almost feel myself getting ready to come.



Suddenly, her hand slapped down on my pussy. “I don’t remember you asking permission to come.”



“Sorry Madam Clara.” I cried desperately panting for breath… “Can I please come now?”



“No.” She said tersely. I felt my lips be spread open by her deft latexed fingers, exposing my core to the room. Love juices were running down the wet lines from the melted ice and sliding down my ass. “No, no, I’m afraid not yet.” She gave my pussy another slap with her gloved hand, and left it quivering and glistening in the air.



Oh god yes, did I need to get fucked! She leaned down and I felt her tits pressing against my side. Her mouth hovered just above my engorged slit and I could feel her breath on it. Silky thick locks of her brunette hair flowed down and teased my hips and thighs. She whipped her head around, slapping her hair against my pussy again and again, tossing her mane against my center like a gentle cat-o-nine-tails whip. It was such a small sensation, such a tease, when I wanted something in me much harder and deeper, more certain and definite, more sensation, even if it were punishing. She gave my clit a gentle kiss. Then another. And another – this this time a little longer – and she began to gently suck.

Finally! I gasped! I was about over the edge, and then she gave it a little flick with her tongue. Yes, yes… I was so close, I was going to… SLAP! On my pussy again- it was the shock of sharp quick pain that I longed for when her hair was teasing… I squealed and the stab of pain was immediately replaced by tingling, intense heat. “Not. yet. I. said. You must learn your lesson!” Clara gritted though her teeth.



She sat up, and clapped her hands like someone calling a butler, and Eric appeared next to her out of the darkness. He was naked, and mostly shrouded in darkness. His erect cock pierced into the stream of light and bobbed in the harsh contrast between light and dark that spotlights create. It danced in front of Clara’s face, and she reached up and wrapped her black gloved hand around its thick shaft, right at the base, her fingers not quite reaching all the way around. “I suppose this what you want?”



“Yes, Madam Clara, I want it so bad!”



Clara quickly turned her head to stare at me, releasing Eric’s rebounding cock. She slapped my right breast again and pinched the nipple, holding it while leaning over me and looking at my eye to eye. “I wasn’t talking to you, you fucking little slut!” she said right in my face. She released my nipple and I gasped a deep inhalation, as she grazed her lips across my mine in a barest essence of a near kiss, me inhaling her breath. Not even really touching, but rather the tingle of almost touching. “Little slut…” she repeated, in a whisper this time, then smiled and winked at me. She looked up and turned to the Eric’s erect penis that was waiting eagerly behind her. “Well, Eric? I asked you a question, I am waiting.”



“Yes, Madam Clara.” Clara sat up without a word, and took Eric’s cock back into her hand, and then placed it into her mouth. I watched impatiently as she worked his shaft up and down, turning her head back and forth on each stroke, but breaking occasionally to tease the head of his cock by flicking it with her tongue ring. What was this feeling I had while seeing this? Jealously? No… Envy? No… maybe just nostalgia?



She intensified her rhythm, moving her head so dramatically as to almost be ridiculous. Eric was moaning, his hips were bucking, and I was surprised that he had not unloaded into her mouth yet. Slowly, she was able to work her mouth almost to the base of his shaft, his smooth balls resting against her chin. She held it there, encapsulating Eric’s essence in her throat, as if to emphasize the point to me that this cock, and the man it was attached to, now belonged to her. Anything pleasure I would receive from Eric in the immediate future, was merely pleasure on loan from her.



Clara came off of Eric’s cock, tossed her head, turned to look at me as Eric’s glistening pulsing penis grazed against her cheek. She gave it a quick kiss on the tip of the head, then dragged the back of hand across her lips, wiping her mouth and flashing me a smile in a “wow, aren’t I good?” mocking way.



Standing up, she grabbed the shaft of his cock again, and dragged Eric by it so he was standing over my head. She pulled down and Eric fell to his knees above my head, his wet penis protruding out over my face. Oh I really wanted that cock in my mouth… and I really needed to come! But I could not. If only I wasn’t tied down, I’d sit up and grab it with both hands, put it in my mouth, swirl my tongue around it like I used to, then thrust my hands into my pussy to finish myself off, while I felt Eric’s cock spasm erratically in my mouth, out of control, and liquid love would oozing out of both our sexual centers.



“Eric has a special request, don’t you Eric?” Clara said.



“Yes, Madam.” Eric said surprisingly meekly. And I suddenly realized how whipped he now was. His breaking up with me last week, it suddenly made sense just in the way he said those two words. He was whipped. It was rather pathetic.



“You want a goodbye kiss, don’t you Eric?” There was an awkward pause. A kiss? A fucking kiss? What the fuck? He kneels over my head with his rigid cock trust above me like a half flying buttress, and he wants a kiss? “Well? Eric, I asked you a question.” Clara demanded.



“Yes, Madam.” Eric mumbled. Again, pathetic.



“Maybe, Eric, but first, you have to prove to me how bad you want it. If she can make you come, then you can give her a kiss.” Clara reached down and grabbed Eric’s cock, holding it just above my mouth. I stuck out my tongue to reach it, just as desperately as I had earlier with Clara’s nipple. Clara was nicer this time, and flicked it quickly on my tongue, and I got that pang of nostalgia again, feeling the flesh of his warm engorged penis on it again. All too short. She cruelly pulled it away from my mouth, and jerked Eric up to his feet again by the shaft of his penis.



“Let’s see if you get lucky, Eric!” Clara, gave the platform another kick, and I was spinning again. Clara’s mocking voice spun revolved around me. “Wheel of fortune, Eric! What will it be? Hand job? Blow job? Titty fuck? Or will you get her de-li-cious pussy?” Clara said, impersonating a psychotic game show host.



Finally my platform slowed to a stop, with Eric and Clara directly at my feet. “And so we have a winner!!!” Clara teased, slapping Eric on the back, continuing the game show host persona. Then next thing I knew, she was guiding Eric’s shiny wet cock into me.



“Congratulations, Eric. Now fuck her good once more for old time’s sake! She needs to move on now.” She gave him a slap on the ass as if she were a horse jokey, then stood back and watched inquisitively as Eric plowed into me vigorously; I was writhing and fighting against my bungee cord restraints. I needed to come. But I couldn’t come. I was just there on edge forever, twisting and arching my back, contorted against my constraints. But though it felt as amazing as it always had, and though I felt more turned on than I had ever been, I knew I was over him, I knew this was temporary relief, and only a tease for better things to come.



Eric was grunting as he pulled out, just like he always did, feverishly jacking his cock in his fist, his cock head disappearing and reappearing as if his hand were a flickering cinema shutter. I felt a flood of my juices flowing from my rapidly unplugged hole. Clara slapped his hand away.



“That’s enough Eric, I need to taste those delicious pussy juices again,” and I watched as Clara took his cock into his mouth and the tongue ring flicked here and there on the bottom of his cock as she twisted and turned her head. Eric was bucking back and forth. She gave the table a spin again while jacking him off.



I was spinning quickly, and Eric’s cock repeatedly whizzed by over my head, Clara was sliding her hand up and down the shaft, twisting her hand at the top. Eric was leaning over, losing his balance, I was afraid he would fall on me as I spun.



Then, suddenly thrust his hips forward, letting out a guttural belt. A jet of his hot release flung across my hair, forehead, down my face and splattered on my breasts as I continued to spin. Then across my hand and up my forearm, across my feet, and back again my face, slicking my cheek and running down into my ear. It rained down on me everywhere in pearly droplets, slinging everywhere unpredictably. I opened my mouth, but it was like trying to catch rain- some precious drops might have made it in my mouth, but it was too little now to be fulfilling. When my platform came to rest, I was dizzy. I was a slick mess, still hungry, still unfulfilled, still lacking, still needing. Perhaps insatiable. It was eerily symbolic.



“Well, I’m sorry, Eric,” Clara lamented in a teasing singing voice, “but I am afraid it is me that makes you cum, not our little barista slut here. I hope you remember that in the future when you ask to kiss an ex-girlfriend goodbye. My answer is still no.” Eric walked off dejected. Sad, really.



Clara leaned over me. “You’ve been a good sport, and I suppose we are even now. Oh, Eric wanted me to give you this message.” She leaned over my face and pursed her lips. She held her head there, just in front of mine, staring into my eyes. Our lips were millimeters apart. I could feel her breath against my face, the heat on my cheeks, her hair tickling my face. She closed her eyes, cocked her head, and moved in…



—-



I awoke with a start, to see Stefi’s face inches in front of mine on the single pillow we were sharing on the single bed. She was staring into my eyes, stroking my hair and ears, kissing my forehead. “Were you having a bad dream? You were shivering and moaning.” I was so confused. And then I realized how hung over I was; and that the room was still spinning. And yet I was still so horny. Fuck. Being hung over and horny at the same time is a bad combination. Stefi sighed. “I was just laying here thinking about getting up, but I felt like I had to comfort you after the day you had yesterday. I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost you, my Daxi.” I smiled, reached up and patted her cheek. Funny, if a casual observer jumped in at that moment, they would swear we were lovers. And there we were so close that we could have kissed, but we didn’t need to.



She said I didn’t look so good and that I should sleep some more while she went into town to get us brunch. She kissed my eyes shut, stroked my hair, then got up and went into the shower. I fell back asleep, desperately trying to get back into the dream, desperately trying to let myself have some sexual release, even if it were just in dreamland. But alas, the dream was gone. At least the room stopped spinning after sleeping when I awoke a few hours later. I am now coherent enough to write all this, and I feel much better. Time to take a shower!







Wow, amazing what a long hot shower can do. Maybe it is silly to shave my legs and re-groom myself out here in the forest, but it makes me feel better. Plus I took the chance to finally give myself that much needed orgasm. I feel alive again! But I feel like I am tingling everywhere now, like I have been awakened and I am only looking for more stimulation.



Stefi is back now with food, and I feel like I can probably hold something down by now, since it is, holy fuck, the afternoon now. I have written quite enough for today. I wonder where she has been all this time…



Saturday, July 15, 2011



Wow, what a wild night; almost déjà-vu from last Saturday! But even better!



I got laid last night! Yes! I knew my sexuality was reawakened! I had forgotten how much I needed it. And fuck it. I have to admit that it felt good to be a dirty little slut again.



Stefi is getting out of the shower now, and we are going for a hike today. I’ll have to save the details for late tonight. We are off!



—-



What a beautiful hike! Perfect weather today! We must have backpacked like 20 km or something. It was a cathedral of trees and mist, of life shrouding us. So peaceful, so vibrant! Life. Life. Life was everywhere: hiding, small and fragile, yet together, bursting out of every shadow and crack of daylight through the dark canopy above us.



I am exhausted, but I thought I would write a little before crawling into the tent and into bed. Stefi is sitting across from me writing also, too. Funny, I didn’t think she kept a journal. I wonder what she is writing. A new book, probably, that fucking little brilliant mind of hers.



But oh, Stefi, I got to love her still trying to get the details out of me all day about my fling last night. I guess I was uncomfortable telling her, I don’t know, because perhaps I have admitted to myself that I have a thing for her, and so it felt weird. And then she was really quiet about what she was doing yesterday when she was gone for so long.



But honestly, I don’t like this. I don’t know what happened. It all feels wrong and the energy between us is awkward or tainted somehow. And she seems to be looking at me in a different way and I am not sure what it means. Is still freaked out about the bungee jump accident? It doesn’t make sense? Why are we hiding things from each other all of the sudden? It is so weird. We went from nearly kissing yesterday morning, to not talking. I just wish I could go over, sit behind her, and wrap my arms around her little body, and feel the weight of her head lean back on to my shoulder. I would run my fingers through her hair, sticky and sweaty, and feel the warmth of her forehead.



Anyway. I meant to be writing about last night…



So we were dancing last night, for our one week reunion. This was much better than it was in San Jose. Maybe, I had a more confidence with my near death experience or something. Stefi and I were at the local town café that had open air dance floor under a tent in the courtyard in the back. There weren’t a lot of people there, but the music felt right and everyone there was having a such a good time and was into just having fun and dancing. Stefi and I were dancing together in the center of the floor, the center of attention again!



A guy came up to Stefi, and pulled her away, and starting passionately dancing with her as if he were her long-time lover or something. I was thinking he was kind of cute, and Stefi is so lucky to be able to whip all these hot guys into a fury… that’s mi chica! But after a bit, they were talking, and then I saw him and Stefi looking and pointing at me. What was going on? Was he really interested in me?



And so it was, he came up (Como?) with his short dark hair, and caramel eyes, dark features that made his boyish smile sparkle. Ahhh… I don’t know what it is, I wouldn’t normally be attracted to Latin guys particularly, but being here, I guess I just get swept up. We couldn’t really communicate. Carlos. That is all I could really get. And well, I guess I felt awkward if Stefi had to translate all his advances to me… and unnecessary. It became abundantly clear what he wanted, and it was definitely his lucky day to catch me in slutty mood. So we danced, and he ground his swiveling hips on me, and I could feel his excitement. It was as if he automatically knew that he was going to be fucking me that night. Honestly, it was a bit cocky in retrospect, but I guess I was enthralled by his confidence.



Anyway, my sweet Stefi winked at me, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and said she was going back to our cabin early because she was tired. Yeah, well, she was up early. And that girl could read Carlos’ intentions, and whispered in my ear… “make sure he fully satisfies you!” and gave my butt a little pinch. I squealed and jumped forward into Carlos, his arms springing closed around my waist and resting on my ass where Stefi pinched.



“You little bitch!!” I laughed.



“I know, my Daxi!” she smiled and cocked her head sideways. What a great friend. “Take care! Just be back before morning, we have a long hike tomorrow.”



Hmm… what happened next? Well, Carlos had pretty much figured out he was going to get to take me home at that point. He tried to be a gentleman, though, returning from the bar with two beers. But he couldn’t keep his eyes off of my chest. Horny bastard! Oh well, I wasn’t much better… and since we really couldn’t communicate verbally, what else was there to do but just undress each other with our eyes. It was awkward though, and so we danced a little more, before he took my arm and led me out of the café and into the steamy darkness.



He led me down the road to his small house, pulled me close under the palm thatched roof of the porch, and kissed me passionately, driving his tongue in between my lips. “Ah, fuck it,” I thought. I’m alive and I am in Costa Rica. I pulled off that alluring striped shirt on his porch, my breasts breathing free in the pale evening light, and slapped my shirt across his face playfully, smiling at him in a “Well, here you are!” type of way.



He cupped his hands under them then slid his arms around me, kissing me again, my chest tight up against his brown silk shirt. I pushed him away to arm’s length, carefully unbuttoned it, and slid it off of his shoulders. Carlos was skinny, yet toned, a smaller-framed and shorter man than I was used to, but still quite an attractive fit body. I traced my index finger slowly down his chest, then his abs and continued further down to where it rested on his waist line. He swiveled his hips a bit in anticipation.



I couldn’t wait any longer. I dropped to my knees, and rested my ear against him, as if I could hear his heart beat through his pants. I couldn’t, of course, but I pretended I could hear that impeccable Latin rhythm that seemed to pump through his veins. I undid his pants, reaching in, unleashing his penis and greedily shoved in my mouth. No sense prolonging this, it had just been too long. I mimicked the Clara of my dreams in this blow job, thrashing and turning my head, slobbering and slicking his cock with as much as I could give, grasping it with both hands and sliding up and down on his shaft. I was moaning as I his penis fulfilled my mouth, sliding the head against the inside of my cheeks, and then swallowing it down my throat.



God! Who was I? I was like an actress on a set! But I felt so alive, and so real, and so me for once. I was like someone gorging themselves on a fountain after a week of thirst in the desert. Carlos was obviously enjoying himself, moaning and bucking his hips in sensation and bliss. I am glad I got to represent us gringos well!



He picked me up and laid me out on the table, dived his head under my skirt and I felt the elastic band of my underwear (the sexy lacy pair I packed just in case) being tugged at awkwardly. My god, was he trying to remove them with his teeth? Sure enough, after arching my back to get my ass off the table, he appeared from out under my skirt, smiling with my lavender panties in his mouth. He shook them like a dog shaking a play toy, and threw them over on top of my discarded shirt on the ground. His head disappeared beneath my skirt again, and I inhaled surprisingly and his tongue worked its way between my wet pussy lips.



I was already so hot, and his lips and tongue were so soft and wet as he suckled my pussy, gently sucking on my lips and tracing his tongue along the creases and crevices of my core, before finally settling in on that magic area just below my clit. It was driving me wild, and I struggled to pull away to reduce the intensity of the sensation but at the same time my thighs had a mind of their own. They were clasping down on his head to make sure he wouldn’t go anywhere. My legs were trembling, and it seemed to reverberate into Carlos’ head and back into me. I couldn’t take anymore… I bit my lip, grabbed my breasts, pinched my nipples, and heaved forward in ecstatic convulsions as the waves of my orgasm washed over us.



Carlos let up, and I could feel my pussy flowing like a dam with a hole in it. I needed to be filled! I lost track of time as I laid there, basking in aftershocks, each sending another flush of fluid out of what seemed to be an endless reservoir of liquid sex.



When I came to my senses a little more, Carlos was above me, his eyes locked into mine. I looked down, and his cock was in a condom, resting on my pussy, waiting for an invitation. I shifted my hips forward, and felt the pressure from the head of his cock as it requested entry into me. God it has been so long, and I was so tight, but so much hot slippery fluid was flowing from me, my pussy just seemed to pull him in.



Carlos danced me in a swirling rhythm, his hips gyrating and pulsing at just the perfect tempo. It was as if his cock searching out and find new places deep within inside me to pleasure. These were places that I didn’t even know existed, and here they were being stimulating in stinging and sweet rhythmic pulses, they sensations growing until it was as if my whole body were humming in harmony.

It happened then, something, I don’t know what. I never came like that before. It started at my core then spread throughout my entire body. Carlos was still locked into my eyes, and I was seeing into him, he into me. My whole body felt as if it were falling, but much more freely than ever, much more freely than the bungee jump. I was falling into myself. I couldn’t tell where one orgasm began and where one stopped, or if they were even distinct, everything came all over me, and it was as if I were there in a higher plane of consciousness and bliss. I was crying.



Carlos stopped. He looked concerned… maybe he thought something was wrong. I just smiled… with my lips, my eyes, with everything… Carlos smiled back. I couldn’t take anymore. I was still convulsing, but I fell to the seat of the bench, grabbed Carlos’ cock, and began to work the condom off. He helped me tug at it, and snapped off and hit me in the nose! I looked up and giggled, and Carlos was laughing. He seemed to take all of this in stride.



I gave him part duex of my blow job, working it even more intensely before, looking up in his eyes, begging for him to release into me. It wasn’t long before Carlos was trembling with his whole body- those magical hips somehow finally lost their rhythm and were bucking chaotically. I moved down and took his balls in my mouth, and it turned me on so much to think that what was in them would soon be coming out. Carlos couldn’t take it anymore, grabbed his shaft, and rigorously pumped it. He paused just a second, a second that seemed to take 10, and then I felt him tighten up. I looked up at him, and his cock above me, as his orgasm jetted out into the air and on my face and open mouth. It flowed down my face and onto and ran in streams down my breast. I took him in my mouth and let him finish his pleasure there, coaxing the last of his joy out.



I was thoroughly fucked, sitting there, with sex all over my body, and tingling sensations everywhere. My body seemed to be thanking me, it was just what it needed.



And now I am here, writing this, looking over at my beautiful Stefi as she writes in her own journal, and I am not satiated at all. If anything it has lit a fire in me. I need more! What will I do?



Sunday, July 16, 2011



We had a late start this morning. I woke up in the tent, Stefi’s sleeping bag spooned up against mine. It was chilly and damp. I buried myself in my bag further and pushed myself into her. How I wish we could have just shared a sleeping bag and we could share the warmth of our bodies. At any rate, I slid up next to Stefi and placed my face at the back of her head, smelling her sweet scent, the remnants of her tropical shampoo and the sweat from yesterday’s hike.



Finally we got up, and things seemed much more cheery and playful between us than they did yesterday. I feel much more confident and alive after the flood of sensation I had gotten Friday night. Stefi is silly, and maybe it is my imagination, but… flirty? Maybe she has always been this way and now I am finally getting back in tune with my senses.



After breakfast, we hiked all morning, down into lower altitudes, as the day heated up and the clouds burned away. It is rare to see such blue skies here, and the direct sunshine on our bodies felt exhilarating.



About an hour ago, we arrived at the spot Stefi wanted to show me: a fantastic pool with a waterfall that glistens of sparkling crystals in the early afternoon sun. We had lunch then a short nap on a sandy area next to the water. Here I am now, the scene played out so many times already, staring at my darling Stefi as she sleeps next to me.



I should tell her how I feel. Or fuck that. I should just show her. I could just kiss her now. I could. Oh, but she is waking.







Ugh! She asked me what I was writing. I almost said it. Almost. The words just didn’t come out. I wanted to say “YOU, Stefi! I am writing about you! I want you! Here, look! Read it! Read it all! I don’t care anymore, I just can’t stand it anymore! I want to feel your body next to mine. I want to stare into your eyes and kiss your lips. I want to hold and caress you. I want to make love to you. I want to experience what I experienced Friday night again, but with you!!!”



Instead, I just said “Oh, nothing, you know.”



Stefi stared at me a second and gave me a little knowing smirk. Yeah, she is definitely flirting with me. I summoned the courage to say “I’ll show you when it is done, though.”



“I’m looking forward to it, my sweet Daxi,” she said, giving me a pat on the back and a quick kiss on my forehead. “Now, I am hot and going swimming. Finish up what you are writing and come join me.



I didn’t bring a bathing suit… Oh, Stefi didn’t either. Wow she is amazing!



Yes, I’m coming, my sweet Stefi!



Saturday, July 15-



My Daxi,



Here we are, together, at the camp after our hike, only a soft hello apart, but now separated by the vast distance that only the shame of secrets can create. Indeed, I have something I must confess to you, my sweet Daxi.



But first, allow me to tell you how happy I am to have you here. I see your face concentrating, the thoughtful way you put the back of the pen to the corner of your mouth, the breath in your chest, your life, your energy flowing off of you in waves that you fail to even recognize. I am filled with so much unquenchable joy that we are here together- and what a wonderful cosmos that surrounds and conspires to draw two friends back together after all these years, all these turning of the seasons, all the sunrises, sunsets, and coffee spoons that filled the days between these two chapters in our lives. After all that, we rekindle a paused friendship, and then recreate, expand, and make more beautiful what we had before.



I had kept and orchid once- it would bloom such brilliant flowers. Sometimes, perhaps I would neglect to water it, and eventually the petals would dry up and fall, leaving only a lost network of sinewy stems. I would mourn the potted plant, and wonder if it was really gone. Life’s distractions would go on, and there would be the pot, unkempt and forgotten. One day I would remember, and see this pathetic thing, dried up and needing attention. So I would trickle a little water on the desperate crumbling soil, but nevertheless despairing that the flower was gone forever.



It was at that moment, the point which all hope was nearly lost, that a new little growth would appear, and within days, the orchid would bloom its brilliant fuchsia, impossible, that this little pot could hold so much vibrant life in it still, and that this flower would return to bring such dazzling vivacity into my world again.



Perhaps, then, I get overly excited, and I can over tend things, instead of letting them breathe naturally. It is just, Daxi, when I almost lost you, I couldn’t bear it. I still can’t. I also can’t bear to see your confidence shattered on the surface, but bubbling up under your skin like a volcano ready to erupt. It is just as painful to see you doubting yourself, when I know you, and I know what you have inside of you. Of course you know I can’t help it, I just feel like I need to fix anything I can, especially someone as special to me as you.



That night, I was so relieved that you were not gone forever. I lie next to you in that bed, staring at the thatched ceiling in the darkness as you passed into sleep. Tears of relief streamed down my cheeks. I didn’t sleep at all that night. I just lay there, the room pulsing with your warmth, as if your heart was beating in my chest, your breath heaving my breasts. My mind was going a million miles an hour in no particular direction. I would roll over and watch you sleep, your sturdy ribs expanding to take in the life-giving breath, the powerful muscles that create a graceful canyon along around lower spine, your skin so warm and your vitality radiating off of you. Do you how much life energy you have in you?



By morning, you were intensely dreaming. At first, I thought a nightmare haunted you, and I was going to wake you. Then you were talking, and I realized, this was no nightmare! You were having a sex dream weren’t you, you horny little bitch! It started me thinking… how long had it been for you my Daxi, since you had really just gotten that which drives us, fulfills us, makes us feel like a woman, feel alive? Or, to use your words, how long has it been since that shaved, quivering little pussy of yours had a hard throbbing cock thrusting deep into it?



So that is my first confession. I read your journal. I know I shouldn’t have. I should have respected your privacy. I came back alone from that dance after you met Carlos, and there it was lying on the bed, and my curiosity got the best of me. You had been writing so much, and I was wondering what was going on in your head. What would someone say that had a near death experience? What could I do to help you rediscover your confidence, especially after I almost killed you? I was just going to take a little peak, but once I started, I couldn’t stop reading.



And Daxi, my God, was I right. It has been too long, hasn’t it, my sweet Daxi. You little erotic slut! You know, you may have a talent there! I admit I did feel moderately guilty perusing your sexual fantasies and particularly your fantasies about me. Honestly, though, of everything you wrote, that’s what turned me on the most. My second confession is that I couldn’t help but play with myself, sitting on the bed alone where we had slept, reading your fantasies about making love to me. Now I am left wondering if you will do something about it. And if you do, if you finally decide to take that risk to seduce me, my Daxi, I’ll know you are back.



Now for my last confession: You wondered where I was and what I did that morning. Carlos. Flat out, I fucked him. After I saw you writhing in your sex dream, I thought I would help you get some sex. Daxi, not just any sex, you needed a hot experience, and you needed a skilled lover that could pleasure you and get you back on your feet again. Since I tried unjustly today to get the details out of you, I thought I should share the details of my day first. I’m not nearly as talented at writing porn as you are, but nevertheless, I am going to try to adopt your writing style, because I figure I owe you some steamy account of that morning. If anything, we can be even again, and so you know, sincerely, I enjoyed your sordid little fantasies in your journal. You little slutty bitch!



I went to town that morning on somewhat of an auditioning mission. I did it for you. It was the least I could do, given that I almost killed you.



You might remember the first guy I met. He was the assistant on the bungee jump: that stalky built guy. What are the odds that I would see him repairing the motor for the bungee cord lift? There he was sitting in the back of a flatbed truck, sitting on the coiled bungee cord, hunched over this greasy contraption, like a jack in box without the box. I figured with his the size of his frame that he would probably be well endowed and not be intimidated by your sexy Valkyrie body.



Plus, after nearly killing you with his wench, I figured he owed you something in return. And me after nearly killing him on the deck that day, I figured I owed him something in return. I trotted around the truck, asking if he remembered me. I made flirty eyes with him. But he just sat there stupidly and then looked back down at what he was doing. Huh, Daxi, I guess I have lost my touch. Ironic, really, all this traveling in the US, I never had to work so hard to get some guy to fuck me. Now I come back to my home country, and nobody notices me! I had to be more direct, so I asked him if he was good with his tool. Then I looked obviously at his crotch.



Oh Daxi, it is so pathetic, I have completely lost the art of seducing Latin men. He looked up with his squinty eyes, the sun reflecting his dark skin from too much time outdoors. Aye, it was then I noticed that he was not exactly el guapo. I was going to call it all off and run away, but my advances worked too well now, and he probably thought he was dreaming, having an adult film set land on his lap.



He tossed his wrench aside, swooped towards me, stretching out an enormous hand that could span my midriff. His massive arm caroled me and slung me atop his broad shoulders, and like a caveman, he carried me giggling nervously into his tool shed. He was so big and powerful and I felt so small and vulnerable against him. He placed me down on his dusty work bench. He towered above me and pushed my head down to his crotch. I grabbed the silver belt buckle engraved with “Marcus”, dutifully undid it and the fly to his jeans, reaching in and grabbing the thick trunk of his hard on, and releasing it from its confinement in his trousers.



It was enormous, throbbing in my hand. I was right about that, befitting of his body. I think it had been quite starved for attention. His hand still rested on the top of my head, and he flexed his fingers, palming my skull like a tiny melon. I was a little nervous, I admit, but no matter the man’s power, holding his penis in your hands is such a great equalizer, isn’t it? Here is his essence, his pleasure, his fantasies, his attention, a direct superpleasure highway to his brain, and he is in your control. And it all belongs to you. You ever notice that, Daxi? I love that. Yes, fortunately, for Marcus, he was impressively endowed.



Unfortunately, for Marcus, his superpleasure burst just seconds after I took it my mouth. He forced my head down on his cock, his stiff member demanding I part my lips and grant it entry into my mouth. The nerve. And when I did relent, opening my mouth, he thrust the full length of his shaft in, ramming against the back of my throat! I was gagging and choking, I could barely breathe, sucking in air from the precious little space around his cock, and my saliva spilled out of the corners of my mouth. I was trying to push him away, but he held his hand firmly on the back of my head and bucked his hips forward.



Within seconds, this trembling monster in my throat was spewing forth its voluminous offering, cascading in two rivulets out of the corners of my mouth, slicking down my neck. Finally, the snake slithered out of my throat, but my hair was still held in a death grip. He slapped his deflating manhood around my face, whisking it through the slime that was clinging to my chin and neck, sliding it around until the entirety of my face was evenly coated with a lacquer of ejaculate.



No, no, not good enough for my Daxi, though I know now, after reading you journal, you might have enjoyed that more than I did. I know how much you get off on having some guy explode in your mouth. You little cock slut! ;-)



Finally, he was physically spent, as if he shot all his manly strength and power through that little opening, and rubbed it into my complexion. He collapsed against the workbench. I stood up, scooped the drying goo off my face, and smeared it on his shirt. I was somewhere between a little pissed and a little turned on. I looked down, and there was long his sputtering manhood, sticky and glistening, spasming uselessly in aftershocks, drooping and swinging helplessly in the air. I grabbed it firmly at the end, the head of his cock filling my fist, and gave a quick yank down, as if it were a bungee cord. He doubled over, dumbfounded, and at that second, I ran out, leaving him standing there, wondering what the hell just happened.



Ah well, they can’t all be good, and that is why I went on this mission. While it was fun to be overpowered and adopt the role of the submissive little slut sometimes, this didn’t do much for me, and I knew you deserved better. At least it awakened my inner slut, and I knew I could find someone for you.



The next contestant for the “who wants to sex up my Daxi?” contest I met at the food market. He was handsome, and tall, with long hair, and silly name tag that said Lucas. I thought he would be more your type. I followed him to the stock room in the back. When he turned and saw me and said I couldn’t be back there.



I didn’t bother with porn pick-up lines this time; I just shut the door, pushed him in a corner, and started making out with him, feeling his crotch stiffen against me. That is more my style anyway. I laugh now, and wonder if he could taste what remained of Markus in my mouth. If so, he didn’t seem to mind. He laid me down on top of a pallet of boxed teabags and they crushed like a so many eggshells under my weight. An aroma of tiger spice filled the air. He hiked my skirt revealing my underwear-less essence. No sense wearing anything down there when on a slutting mission, right?



But he was excited, and dived right in, licking and lapping like a thirsty golden retriever. Poor Lucas. What girl taught him that, or how did he think that was supposed to feel good? I struggled out of my dress, and lay there naked on the boxes of tea. He pulled his pants down, his already stiffened member bouncing in the dusty air. I helped grabbed his shaft, ripped open the condom package with my teeth and free hand, covered him up. I took the initiative to guide him into me. Luckily his golden retriever technique left plenty of lubrication dripping down my lips, and he was much slimmer than the penis that had been in my mouth earlier that day, so I was able to slide him in rather easily.



Ah, but Daxi, poor Lucas just didn’t have much technique. Just a jack hammer thrusting, I felt like the pavement after a road crew pummels it to dust. He was completely non-sensual, not bothering to touch or caress me anywhere. He had no presence what-so- ever. My pussy was just a penis receptacle; he fucked me like he was stocking shelves.



I was getting turned off, drying up, and the latex was beginning to chafe my insides. I had to remove him or I would be too sore to find you a real lover, Daxi. I pulled him out, dropped to my knees, pulled off the condom then stroked him off with both hands while I wrapped my lips around the head, swirling my tongue around the crown of his staff. My god, Daxi, some guys take forever! Here I was actually longing for Marcus’s cock! At least that thing spewed forth quickly and it all was done with.



This thing in my mouth was had all the life force of a silicone dildo. No response! Maybe my technique is rusty, because my jaw was so tired by the time his orgasm popped out. It actually took me by surprise, no signs from Lucas that he was actually enjoying anything. All of the sudden, Lucas pulled my head back by my hair, as if he was going to shoot all over my face like some porn star popping a gooey money-shot, but instead, it just kind of dribbled out on to my chest in little drips as if it were some leaky faucet. So much for Lucas. It was a relief that he was an easy mess to clean up, but at the same time, I was getting nervous. So far, two guys in one day, and two duds. Neither good enough for you, Daxi.



What a relief it was to meet Carlos. The third I tried out that day, and the best I could find; actually one of the better I have found in a while. Sex with Carlos, it was everything casual sex is supposed to be. Hot, sensual, awakening, caring, passionate…



I am sure he treated you well, and (how did you put it?) “reawakened your tingling little pussy.” At least I hope so, he made mine feel pretty good! :-) There he was, so cute and proper in his pottery shop, wearing a potter’s apron, arranging pots and vases and tourist trinkets. I wandered in, and he looked at me in a way that revealed some passion in his spirit.



It caught me off guard. Here I was ready to slut him up, and he was stealing glances and looking at me as if he really wanted to meet me. I decided to put my dominance aside for a bit and let him make the moves. I told him I was looking for a gift for a friend of mine. He asked me what she was like. I told him that she is beautiful and vivacious, immensely precious, and deserving of only the best. He suggested a decorated pot, something that could grow and nurture life. He reached over and handed me a clay pot. I took it, and our hands touched, almost innocently, but deliberately and unmistakably. We both held onto the pot, our fingers mingling around it but neither of us looking at it. We stared into each other’s eyes, when the crash of the clay pot interrupted the moment. Shards of broken clay and red dust lay over our feet. “Aye Shit!” I said.

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