July 14, 2008 | Posted in Pornstars by
Look, we only have a moment. So let's make this fast: Today's high-speed tour of some of our favorite sex blogs peeks in on quickies, those moments between this and that when we grab for that and this. Duck into the basement for a blowjob from someone else's girlfriend, get right to it in the hotel room, or squeeze in some loving on your lunch break. (And speaking of lunch—beware of shoplifted salamis, delivered tongue in cheek.)
Hurry, 'cause time's a-wastin' with Jefferson after the jump.
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Sex Blog Roundup
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Jenny was a Southern girl. She was a petite little blonde whose soft hair came just above her shoulders, and it was only the experience in her eyes that gave away her age as just shy of thirty. She had a small tattoo on her ankle. She was truly pretty, and a shamelessly perverse man who might dress her in a schoolgirl uniform could well find the results more frighteningly disturbing than just merely erotic. Jenny was cute.
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I was about fifteen minutes into cleaning when the football player walks in the store. His face wore a big smile which made me smile in return. I knew why he was smiling, because when he was walking in the store I was bending over with my ass to the door picking up items I knocked over. He was very talkative and complimentary to me. He remarked a couple times on the dress I wore to work. I took the opportunities presented to rub against him. My plan was to get him back to my place and have some fun. This plan ended up changing because the more I "accidentally" rubbed up against him or flirted with him while I cleaned, the hornier I became.
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He cants his hips slightly, stirring inside me, searching my sensitive spot with the ridge around the head of his cock. Our eyes lock.
"Did you . . . fuck him?"
I couldn't lie even if I wanted to. And I don't want to.
"Of course I did," I reply. Smiling. A flicker across his face, almost of pain, and he closes his eyes. He wants to appear wounded, but I can feel the twitching inside me, giving him away.
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When we got to his place, I reminisced for a moment about how I remembered that house (it really is a small town) and then headed upstairs to his bedroom. We kissed, and decided that clothes were unnecessary. He sat on the couch, and I assumed my position on the floor. He smiled as I took his cock into my mouth. It was so fabulously dirty, taking a break from contracts and spreadsheets to enjoy some delicious cock.
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Words were unnecessary. Just a look was all it took to have my thighs opening and my gusset moistening. He was a veritable love god, stood before me, hands on his solid hips, groin jutting forward, proudly displaying his gaudily stained, yet impressively full, Y-fronts.
"Is that a salami in your underpants or are you just pleased to see me?" I bantered, lustily.
"It's a salami."
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He sounded nice—thirty five years old (a bit older than me but his profile pic looked hot) and he said that he had a pair of speedos that he would wear.
Eleven this morning, we decided to hook up at his hotel room. I know the hotel and he said he'd be waiting.
I knocked on the door and I heard "Door is unlocked, Dave," and there he was: on the couch is his speedo clad glory.
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See also: Sugasm #139: The best of this week's blogs by the bloggers who blog them (sugasm.com)
Previously: Sex Blog Roundup Archive