Bungee, Tea, Clay

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.