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Slutty Ondra's Sex Log Ch. 01

By: PossibleSlut



Keep score along with her as Ondra, a 28 year old slut in denial, graphically catalogs every ounce of semen and every drop of vaginal fluid from her sexual exploits in her remarkably descriptive sex chronicles. She discloses everything to her readers, from photographic details about past and present fucks to her own quirky personal hygiene and grooming habits.

Some women are repulsed by the idea of sucking a man's cock. Not this woman. It's one of the first things I'm prepared to do when I like a guy. At twenty-eight years old and single, I meet men that I find attractive all the time, many of whom become sexual partners. 

I'd say that counting vacations, business trips (although I just quit my job to go back to college full time) and mere random encounters, I'm good for hooking up with about ten to twelve guys a year, meaning that just about once a month I end up with a dick in my mouth that's never been there before.

Over all I think that's a good thing.

Nevertheless, as much as she might enjoy a mouthful of cock, every woman also has a mouthful of questions before she gives head to a guy for the first time. Questions like:

What is this guy's cum going to taste like? 

How much of it will there be? 

How long is it going to take him to cum? 

Just how much effort is this going to require on my part?

Just a few days ago, I once again found myself with the same set of inquiries, as I was about to be intimate with someone new. As I prepared to give him oral sex, it struck me that men have no clue what really goes through a woman's mind when she's sucking a new guy's dick for the first time, that is until now!

The dick in question belonged to a nineteen year old guy in one of my classes. I knew that I was sexually attracted to him, but I didn't realize just how much until I caught myself memorizing the license plate number on his car. I had plenty of time to memorize the number because that afternoon I had agreed to follow him back to his dorm after an off-campus observation assignment. 

We had been flirting with each other a little in the past, but this course was a real pressure cooker, so we didn't really have much time to talk during class. We were able to get to know each other a bit more during the observation and he asked me if I wanted to come back to his dorm room for a drink. After being bored to tears for two hours, I figured I needed a stiff one and agreed to follow him back to the university.

Although I was a full time student, at twenty-eight years old and the owner of a townhouse, I was not about to live on campus, so I had still not set foot in any of the dorms. I felt a little self-conscious about going to this guy's room.

As I drove behind him, I tried to assess just how "okay" I was with doing this. I mean, a couple of months ago a guy invited me to follow him home from a bar and as I drove behind him, my pussy was wet with the anticipation of impending sex. That time, however, I already had a few drinks in me and the guy was my age. 

I'd love to say that I was experiencing the same vaginal wetness this time, but this guy was just nineteen, so all I felt was nervousness. I gave myself a wry smile as I looked at my reflection in the rear view mirror. 

After we were in his room for a while, he made me a vodka drink and asked if he could give me a hug. I thought that was sweet. I put my arms around his neck as he reached down and wrapped his around my waist. Soon we were making out and I began to feel like this guy was more my peer than just some nineteen year old kid.

By now I was expecting him to be grabbing me all over, but so far he had only groped my tits for a couple of obligatory moments. As I pressed up against him, it was difficult to tell if he had a hard on through the puffy coat that I was wearing, so I sat down on his bed and started to unzip his pants. I felt the same eagerness I usually feel when I'm about to see a guy's cock for the first time.

Luckily, up to this point in my life my sexual partners' penis sizes have been perfectly acceptable. None of them have been too small to satisfy me and one was actually rather large. Sex with the large guy was always dominated by doubt. My doubt in the ability of the particular bodily orifice that he was impaling at that moment to accommodate his huge size. Yes, this chick definitely prefers a nice, run of the mill, average-sized dick. 

I could see that this college guy's cock met my size requirements as I slid his pants down and scooted forward on the bed to take him into my mouth. At that point I wasn't even sure if he was looking at this as a prelude to us having intercourse, or if he just expected me to suck him off to completion and leave. 

But, what I did know was that he still had his shoes on, his pants were still around his ankles and I hadn't even taken off my coat. By now most guys would be trying to open my blouse and take my tits out of my bra at the very least. He wasn't doing any of that, so it was beginning to look like our first time together would merely consist of him getting his rocks off courtesy of my mouth. 

I wasn't crazy about the fact that he seemed to take my role in this encounter as a foregone conclusion, but he had been a perfect gentleman up to that point. So, unable to deny that I was enjoying the experience, I began to bob my head back and forth more quickly so that his dick was sliding in and out of my mouth in longer strokes and at a faster pace. I also increased the tightness of my lips around his cock, as I thought he might appreciate a little more friction. 

I know that sometimes men have a difficult time climaxing from just a blowjob and they have to finish themselves by jerking off at the end. I experienced that with the big-dicked guy that I dated. He was so girthy that I couldn't keep his cock in my mouth for more than a couple of minutes at a time without my jaws getting tired. I could never maintain a rhythm long enough to make him cum. He would usually just end up jacking his load all over my face or tits at the end. But, other than that one exception, I've found that I'm pretty good at making a guy cum when I'm giving him head.

My new friend's dick was fully hard by now and I finally had some moisture building between my legs. For a second I almost stopped blowing him to ask him what he thought about us giving my mouth a rest and getting that dick of his inside my pussy. But I hadn't been sucking him for that long, and he was finally beginning to assert himself a little more by grabbing my head with both hands and aggressively shoving my mouth onto his cock.

Having my head thrown around like that was making me feel a bit like a rag doll and I gagged a couple of times as he forced the head of his cock down my throat. His dick was just a little bit beyond the length that I could comfortably swallow to the balls and I felt tears begin to run down my cheeks as I struggled.

In the past, my ability to deep throat a guy's cock has always been hit or miss. That guy I followed home from the bar a couple of months ago is a perfect example. That night, I spent quite a while giving him head before we fucked and I was repeatedly sliding his entire cock into my mouth all the way down to his balls. He shaved his pubic area, so he had a lot of stubble on his stomach right above his dick. I was swallowing him so deeply that my nose kept squashing up against that stubble and getting all itchy. It was actually pretty funny. I probably could have even handled a guy whose dick was a couple of inches longer that night. But when we had sex the next morning, (same guy, same cock) I had trouble deep throating him without gagging. I was having that same difficulty now.

It was getting hot in the dorm room and I needed to take off my coat, so I pulled my mouth off of my college guy's cock for the first time in several minutes. As I pushed away from him, there was a band of thick, stringy saliva from the back of my throat bridging from my mouth to the head of his dick. It finally snapped and was hanging from my chin as I slipped my arms out of my coat. After I got my blouse unbuttoned, he reached down and stretched the lacy material aside as one breast and then the other popped out of my bra. 

I really don't spend a lot of time agonizing over whether or not people would consider me a slut, but whenever I find myself in a certain stage of undress, I always seem to feel like one. I'm referring to having my bare breasts slinging around outside of my bra while I'm still wearing it. It just seems that whenever my tits are in that state, it's always a situation where I'm fucking and running, or I'm GETTING fucked and the guy's running, or where the sex is one sided (kind of like THIS situation!). 

But my slutty feelings really hearken back to something that happened to me in high school. I was fooling around with someone else's boyfriend in my car. We didn't have sex, but he did undo my shirt and pull my breasts out of my bra. After we finished, I buttoned my blouse, dropped the guy off at his house and drove home. Although my blouse was buttoned up, I never pulled my bra up, so my breasts were still out and were bouncing and jiggling around during the whole ride home. I had decided not to bother putting myself back together completely until I got to my house. 

I pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. While still in my car, I unbuttoned my blouse, pushed my tits back into my bra and buttoned up again. What I didn't realize was that my mom had been watching from the second floor window and had seen me do this! 

When I walked into the house I got questions like, "Why were you fixing yourself like that?" and "What are you up to missy?" My mom didn't really press the issue any more that day, but I'm sure she knew that my tits didn't just jump out of my bra on their own. She became a lot more strict with me after that. Her strictness did make me calm down a little, but I still couldn't manage to make it to graduation a virgin!

I still wasn't sure how far this encounter with my college guy would go, but I remembered that I was the older, more experienced one. As I took his dick back into my mouth, I decided to just blow him like I would blow any other guy.

I know that most men like it when I use both my hands and my mouth on their cock at the same time, so I tried this on my nineteen year old. I formed a tight ring with my thumb and index fingers, and kept that hand flush to my mouth as I slid both mouth and hand together along the length of his shaft. Saliva leaked from my mouth, keeping his dick lubricated as I bobbed my head back and forth.

My drool is usually all over the place by the time I'm done giving head and things were no different with this guy. I stopped sucking for a second just to admire his hard dick and noticed that my spit had run all the way down to his balls and was dripping onto the floor. I buried my face between his legs and spent some time licking and sucking on those balls while my hand kept busy on his cock.

If he were lying down I probably would have been licking this guy's asshole by now. I did this for the first time to a guy I worked with a couple of years ago. He was getting transferred and I ended up back at his place after a bunch of us took him out for a going away dinner. 

I was blowing him on his sofa when he hiked his legs up in the air and said, "Lick my asshole." I figured I could at least try it once, so I did. I saw him on a trip a few months later and that would only be my second time doing it, even though I had been with other men in the meantime. These days I'm more willing to lick a guy's asshole as part of oral sex and I certainly would have tried it with my college guy if he wasn't standing up.

I probably wasn't exactly the picture of loveliness at this point in my adventure with him. Here I was, a twenty-eight year old woman sitting at the edge of some guy's bed in a college dorm room with my blouse undone, tits flung out and hanging over my bra, mascara-stained tears running down my face, drool dripping from my chin and gagging out loud as someone I barely knew shoved his cock down my throat. Okay, put that way it doesn't sound so good, but I really was enjoying myself so far. REALLY! Besides, I hadn't been this sexually attracted to someone in months, so it was great to be able to act on that attraction.

There was still one thing I needed to figure out, though:

What was I going to do with this guy's dick when he started to shoot his load? 

As much as I enjoy giving head, I DO NOT handle the taste of bitter semen very well! So, not knowing what my taste buds were in for, I knew that I had to come up with an avoidance plan before this guy started to cum. 

I could bail out and just give him a handjob to make him cum. That way I could maneuver his cock to shoot all of its contents onto my face and I wouldn't have to taste it. But I didn't want any of it to miss, and land in my hair or on my clothes, so I ruled out that option.

Having him jerk his own cock off onto my face didn't seem like a good alternative either, because a girl can never trust a guy's aim in those situations. I can't tell you how many times I've told a guy, "Yeah baby, cum on my face!", only to have them cum on my shoulder, on my sleeve, in the cuff of my pant leg... You get the picture.

I feel like telling guys, "Dude, what about me kneeling at your feet with my mouth wide open and hair pulled away from my face don't you understand? You have my ENTIRE FACE on which to deposit your cum! You can even get it in my eyes -I don't care! Just keep it out of my hair and off of my clothes!"

And yet I always seem to find myself lying to my dry cleaner the next day as he tries to get me to tell him what kind of a stain it is, so that he can figure out how to remove it. I think he has a suspicion, though. I mean, even the sloppiest eaters don't spill food on themselves THAT often. I was tempted to ask this college guy if I could wear one of his ski caps while he came, or maybe a SKI MASK would've been better!

No, the only way I could keep this guy's cum off of my clothes and out of my hair was to swallow it all. Luckily, because I've had my share of one night stands, I already had plenty of practice at keeping a blowjob with an unfamiliar guy from ending badly.

When I swallow cum from a guy I've just met, I prefer to have it shoot out at about the midway point in my mouth. That way, if there's a lot of it, there's enough room left in the back of my mouth to allow me to swallow it at my own pace without choking. Also, if it turns out to be bitter, it will shoot out far enough down my throat that I don't have to taste it all.

This guy had been on the receiving end of my "A-game" blowjob skills for quite a while now with no sign of an orgasm. I knew that if I had any chance of making him climax, I would need to keep using both my mouth and my hands on his cock while continuing to keep his shaft wet with my saliva. 

It took a while, but after several minutes of me mouth fucking him with a rhythm that would rival any metronome and after what seemed like a gallon of drool, I could sense that he was finally getting close to cumming. 

In preparation to swallow his load, I grabbed on to his waist as tightly as I could with both hands. His cock would only have the benefit of my mouth from now on and the friction that my lips provided his dick was going to have to be enough for him. That was my only way to make sure that the head of his cock would stay at exactly the right depth in my mouth. Clamping on to him like that would put me in control and allow me to swallow his load on MY terms.

Thankfully, he announced the moment that he started to cum so I didn't have to guess. While he was climaxing, I had my own moment of truth going on. I had to keep my lips wrapped with sufficient tightness around his cock while continuing the pumping rhythm with my mouth throughout his entire orgasm. Guys hate it if you stop sucking before they're completely done shooting their load. 

Also, as I was drinking down his semen, I needed to somehow coordinate my breathing with my swallowing in order to avoid coughing right in the middle of the whole thing. Pretty tricky stuff considering that I had no idea how many actual spurts of cum he was going to shoot into my mouth.

Although I haven't been with many men that were good for more than about five or six shots of cum, last year I had a few dates with a guy that could pump out more than ten spurts of jizz when he came. And they were the long, thick, ropey kind that come out with a lot of force. However, the first time we were intimate, I didn't have to deal with swallowing anything.

He pulled out after we had been fucking me missionary style and shot his load onto my stomach. We probably had sex less than ten times and when he came he usually wouldn't bother to pull his dick out of whichever hole it was in at the time. That means that he mostly came in my vagina, although he did fuck me in the ass a couple of times. On the few occasions that he came on my face, I didn't have a problem with the taste of it.

As it turned out, I did not with my new guy either! Yes, I did taste some of his jizz as I was swallowing it and it tasted completely fine - no problem. The volume wasn't anything I couldn't handle either. And if I had to guess I'd say that he was about a six shooter.

Blowjob complete, I parsed my lips as the head of his dick exited my mouth so that I could catch any cum that was still dribbling out of the tip. He suddenly pulled on my hair so that my head jerked back. I initially thought that he wanted to see my face, but he really just wanted to shove his cock back into my mouth one more time and squeeze some additional cum onto my tongue. After he cleaned away any remaining traces of semen from his dick by rubbing the tip of it against my cheek, he pulled up his pants and sat down next to me on the bed.

That was probably the most humiliating moment of the whole encounter for me. I mean, think about it. In the relatively short time that I was in his dorm room, I had gone from this guy asking for permission to give me a hug to him using my face to wipe the cum off of his dick so that his boxers wouldn't get soiled when he pulled up his pants. 

Isn't it interesting that men are such slobs with everything else in their lives, but as soon as there's an extra drop of cum left after we've been on our knees blowing them for an hour, all of a sudden they become meticulous and it's perfectly okay to use our faces as toilet paper to clean their dicks off?

He stayed silent as he watched me hurriedly maneuver each breast back into its respective bra cup and then button up my blouse. I grabbed a tissue out of my purse and did the best I could to wipe off my runny mascara and tidy up my face a bit before I put on my coat, gave him a hug and left.

Once in my car, I could still feel the thickness of his semen on my tongue, which went away as soon as I took my first few sips of water. During the drive home, I repeatedly scrunched my mouth up to my nose so that I could smell my upper lip. It smelled like a combination of the guy's sweaty balls, his semen and my own dried saliva. Unlike earlier, this time I would not be giving myself the same wry smile in my rear view mirror. 

When I got home that night, I walked in the door so horny from my encounter that I didn't even shower right away. I just spent the better part of the next two hours fucking myself with one of my dildos and buzzing my clit with a vibrator. I haven't spent that much time masturbating in months, but I was turned on from the tease of sucking that guy's cock and needed to make myself cum over and over again until all of the energy from my frustration was completely dissipated. 

Well, it's anyone's guess what'll happen with this guy in the future. I don't think I'll end up "dating" him, because at twenty-eight I don't see myself hanging out with him and his nineteen year old buddies at keg parties. But, based on the workout that I gave my dildo when I got home, I think its pretty safe to say that I WOULD fuck him if given the opportunity.


Slutty Ondra's Sex Log Ch. 01



By the time I finally jumped into the shower I was a complete mess. My face smelled like a man's crotch, my armpits were all sweaty and sticky and my vagina had been marinating in its own juices for half the day. I felt like a walking petrie dish of bacteria, germs and mold. But, after getting cleaned up I began to feel like myself again and I was encouraged that, with a good night's sleep, I might actually look presentable enough to leave the house the next day!



Slutty Ondra's Sex Log Ch. 02



Keep score along with her as Ondra, a 28 year old slut in denial, graphically catalogs every ounce of semen and every drop of vaginal fluid from her sexual exploits in her remarkably descriptive sex chronicles. She discloses everything to her readers, from photographic details about past and present fucks to her own quirky personal hygiene and grooming habits.

****

So guys, I got together with my nineteen year old college boy for the second time last night. After our hasty brush a week ago, I wasn't sure there would even be a second time. 

When considering what to do for an encore, I found myself craving something a little more on the "tranquil" side. And, with what I've told you guys about my last two encounters with men, can you blame me? So, after lecture one day, I decided to invite my classmate over to my place for dinner. That way I could feel relaxed and present in the moment. 

The day of our date, I stopped at the market after my last class and then went home to get ready. I was rushed, so to save time I began to get undressed as I unpacked the groceries. By the time they were all put away, I was standing in the middle of the kitchen in my underwear! I don't yet have curtains in my townhouse, so I snuck my way up to the bathroom in that instinctually woman-like, arms-crossed fashion (no bra that day), peeled off my panties and hopped into the shower. 

I did the usual soaping and rinsing, then I grabbed my razor to sha...

Oh wait, time out guys!

I forgot to mention that I've decided to let my pubic hair grow out. Nothing too crazy, though, just some "foliage" around my pussy and a little bit of fuzz above my clit. I'm keeping my ass crack totally smooth for now. I'm a girl that's always had a tendency to get really hairy in that region and if I were to completely let myself go down there, I'd have hair around my asshole almost long enough to braid! When I mentioned grabbing my razor earlier, I was referring to shaving my ass hair.

Now, to do this I perform a move that's not exactly the most elegant on my part. I have to squat down like a baseball catcher, then reach underneath myself with the razor and run it along the crack of my ass. I feel really awkward and un-ladylike in that position, so sometimes I'll blow off shaving my ass for weeks. But, with the looming potential of having company down there in a couple of hours, I re-soaped and went at it.

I used to date a guy who got off on shaving my exclusive parts for me. We just threw down a towel and I would lay on top of it on my back with my knees up in the air. Then, I'd spread my legs and ass cheeks as widely as I could and he'd foam me up and shave away. I suppose he thought that if he was the one taking my pussy and ass for a spin, he wanted to do the detailing himself. He tried shaving my legs once too but, no. Besides, I have a fairly spacious two-station shower in my master that has a built in bench where I can sit and shave my own legs in comfort. 

By the way, it's winter now, but in the summertime I go to my "groomer" to have my privates done. That's probably way too much information, but you know there's nothing I don't tell you guys!

With all of the important shower stuff complete, I dried myself off and put on a short (and I mean short) satin robe that would definitely show EVERYTHING if I bent over far enough. I just bought it and I love it because it's soft and comfortable. The fact that it's so short doesn't bother me because, not having dressings for my windows, I just need something to cover me up. Besides, I'm not planning on going out to get the morning paper in it or anything.

Next I had to decide which panties to wear. I glanced over at the ones I had just slipped out of before getting into the shower:

"Hmm, those would have been nice."

But then I thought,

"Naaa, I couldn't put those back on!" and continued to look for a satisfactory fresh pair.

After a few minutes of indecision, I said to myself,

"Oh, fuck it!"

And with that I had officially made the decision to host the dinner wearing my bathrobe. Yes, the same robe that I had originally bought just so my neighbors - in case they happened to be looking in my window - wouldn't see my tits when I got out of the shower.

In the past when I've had guys over for dinner I've dressed in anything from a formal evening gown, to jeans and a t-shirt, to a full Maid Marian costume (What, I can't have fun with a little role play?). 

But seriously (and all my girls out there can relate to this), you know how sometimes you get out of the shower, throw on any old thing and, tongue-in-cheek you think, "Can't I just go out like this?" Well my "this" was that bathrobe, so I went with it (okay MEN, you can uncover your ears now).

In my continued preparation for the night's events, I found that my incessant primping and preening was putting a possible crimp in my ability to fulfill the evening's culinary requirements (Who the hell talks like that? What I meant was that I was spending so much time doing my fucking hair and trying to look cute for the guy, that I was running out of time to cook dinner for him!).

The meal was simple, however, and I had it ready in 35 minutes, right at the time he was scheduled to show up.

About fifteen minutes later I heard him knock and I opened the door to greet him. He was immediately apologetic, saying that he knew not to show up to a girl's (how cute was he to call me a girl?) house when they say to because they're never ready on time and that he waited in his car for a while, etc.

I interrupted him,

"It's okay, you're fine."

He came in, took off his shoes and sat down at the table as I popped open a beer for him. 

We complained about school as I prepared to serve the meal. I could tell that he was preoccupied with watching me slink around the kitchen in my short little robe, with my ass barely covered and my tits jiggling around. I had to keep adjusting the robe's overlap to keep them from flying out.

I walked over to him and leaned in to put his plate down in front of him. As I stood over him he asked me,

"Do you want to, like, go get dressed or something?"

I think he felt badly because he thought I had simply run out of time to get ready. He probably pictured me running around like a crazy woman, frantically trying to get myself together. I quietly asked him,

"Do you WANT me to get dressed?"

So, that settled, I sat myself (robe and all) down to his left at the table. 

During dinner the conversation eventually turned to what had happened between us the week before. This got a little awkward and from his perspective I could see why. I mean, here he was in front of a woman he still barely knew, that came over to his room after class last week, gave him oral sex and left a disheveled mess. 

What was he supposed to say, "Thank you." as if I had just given him change at Starbucks? Or maybe, "I had a great time." Yeah, no shit you had a great time!

So I finally recycled an old joke and said, "Well, last week you made me gag on something and this week I'm making you gag on my cooking."

After a laugh, I got up to start clearing the table. As I walked into the kitchen, my eyes began to well up with tears. My sadness told me that I had some serious matters to reconcile within myself; things that most women have probably had to address at some point in their dating lives. 

On a night that was so pleasant and potentially leading to some pretty incredible sex, I was sad that this wasn't going to be our first time together. I had killed some of the romance with my decision to be intimate with him last week.

If I did end up getting serious about this guy, I suppose that I would always look at this very night as our first date and now that first date had been cheapened a little by the fact that we did some stuff in his dorm room the week before.

I wanted to go upstairs to my bedroom to collect myself, so I ran past him and told him to feel free to come up whenever he wanted. When I came out of my bathroom, he was sitting on my bed wanting to know if everything was okay. I didn't say anything, as I was not yet fully over my "moment".

I was experiencing a wave of ambivalence at that point. The purely physical Ondra was obviously attracted to him and, on a normal night, would not have rejected the idea of sleeping with him, especially since it had been a couple of months since I had gone all the way with someone. Plus, the purely unscripted nature of sex with a new person is always exciting. But the emotional woman inside of me was having a hard time keeping pace with what my sex organs wanted.

I knew that I wasn't going to just put the brakes on the whole evening, but if we were going to be having intercourse that night, I was bound and determined not to have it be a rushed endeavor. I had been throwing my body around like a crazy person lately and that needed to stop.

The belt of my bathrobe had slipped open without me realizing it and my breasts were already pushing the satin material aside as I sat on the bed next to my would-be lover. I stood up to let the robe fall completely off of my body as he pulled his sweater off over his head.

He hadn't seen me like this before. No harsh fluorescent dorm room lighting, no mascara-stained cheeks, no partially unbuttoned blouse, my breasts free and unencumbered by the limitations of a bra, no sticky panties riding up my vagina (although I was the only one who knew about that the last time), no stale body odor that came with sitting in classes all day; just my squeaky clean, naked body standing in front of him.

He started to unzip his pants, but I stopped him. Truthfully, I didn't want the foreplay portion of the evening to be all about his dick. Ordinarily I'm perfectly willing to start things off that way, but I had already done more than enough of that a week ago when I had his cock in my mouth for the better part of an hour. My jaws had already felt the fatigue. My eyes had already shed gag-induced tears. My oral reflexes had already been stretched to their absolute max for this guy.

This time I (over here, ME!) needed some attention and I'm not ashamed to say that I did tease him. I wanted him to fully appreciate the gravity of a woman completely surrendering herself to a man. As he sat on my bed, I made him stare at me while I stood there caressing myself, fondling my tits and sliding my hands in between my legs. I slyly crawled past him to lay down on the bed and spread my legs. As he leaned in to begin eating me out, I needed to feel a desire so strong eminating from him, that if he could have completely inhaled me he would have. 

Well, inhale me he did - and that was ALL I let him do. As tough as it was for me to resist, I didn't allow him to use his tongue on me. I simply wanted him to feel my warmth as I repeatedly pressed my wet pussy with its silky, newly-grown hair against his face. 

The idea of making this guy sniff around down there on me admittedly gave me a rush. I was getting off on making him memorize the unique aroma of my pussy. I wanted him to completely internalize the feminine scent of this woman he was about to be with. 

When it did come time to fuck we took our time with everything, but our sex was less romantic as it was methodical - wonderfully methodical! 

When we were in missionary, I put my hand on his stomach so he would stop fucking me for a second. At that point his dick was still in me about half way. I reached down and used my fingers to gather up some the juices that were running from my pussy down to my asshole and then I smeared those juices onto his dick before he slid it back onto me. He would pause to let me do this all throughout our fuck session. Sometimes my wetness was so thick that it would take a while for me to get it all off of my fingers and onto his cock, but he always waited for me.

It's like we were working together to recycle every last drop of my pussy's lubrication. That's what I meant when I said we were methodical together. We each knew what needed to be done at any given moment. Not in some syrupy, sappy way, but in a raw, "let's micro-manage every detail" kind of way.

I loved seeing my thick, gooey vaginal fluid congregating at the base of his cock. And every time he would pull out of me, it would take on a different look. Sometimes it would distribute itself evenly across the exposed portion of his dick and other times it would form itself into a single, thick, milky-white, dime-sized clump of goo somewhere on his penis. Still others it would blob onto my pussy and make my clit all sticky and wet.

Sometimes I'd rest both hands on either side of my pussy so that his cock rubbed against my index fingers as he was fucking me. Then he'd tease me by pulling his dick out of me really slowly, but only to the point where I could just begin to feel the head trying to squeeze itself past my fingers.

Once he was sure I had gotten a good, long feel of his bulging head stretching my pussy lips, he'd ram it all the way back inside me really fast. We did that so, so, so many times in a row, maybe twenty or more! And I was talking to him about it the whole time too, saying things like, "Keep it there for a second" and "Ok, push it back in me now." 

Occasionally I like to play with my pussy while I'm being fucked, so I drew some of my thickest saliva onto my tongue, licked my fingers and began rubbing my clit with my hand. He kept fucking me in long, fast strokes as he held himself up in a pushup position, so that just his hands and feet were touching the bed. I finally let out a "Fuuuuuck" as I came the first time. It was probably more like "Fuuuuuu", because with all the teeth clenching and breath holding that I tend to do when I cum, I don't think I ever actually finished saying the word. 

Now, I have to let you guys in on something. Before, I sort of downplayed the point about me "sometimes" playing with myself during sex. It's really more than just sometimes; like way more; like all the time; like every second! I don't know if it's a nervous condition or what, but while I'm getting fucked, I always have to be feeling around my vagina, stretching back my pussy lips, playing with my clit, reaching down to check how wet my ass crack is, etc. I think it's some sort of obsessive compulsive thing. 

I have no problem stopping a guy so I can manage some issue with my pussy or assess the current state of my vaginal fluids. I'm always pulling my pussy taught too. Not tugging on the lips, but more like what you would do when you're shaving down there and you want to stretch the skin to get a closer cut (even though you shouldn't do that - bumps).

I'm compulsive about my orgasms also and I'm continually rubbing my clit to give myself one. Of course I can have them without doing that, but I get really impatient sometimes. Not with the person who's fucking me, but with myself.

One guy I dated would say, "Uh-oh, there she does getting greedy again," whenever I would start in on my clit. He called me greedy for making myself cum with my hand instead of waiting to have a natural orgasm. He only said it jokingly though. He was actually a great guy. Hmm, I wonder what he's up to now.

It was nice to be with a someone who got on board with the program quickly and didn't mind me fiddling with myself so much. I'm sure men must have a vision of their ideal lover and I bet that for a lot of men, I AIN'T IT! Looks-wise sure, but actions-wise, I doubt it. I guess guys expect me to be so overcome with ecstacy that I wouldn't have time to do all of my quirky movements in bed.

Not that they're expecting me to just lay there and be taken, but I think I am a bit surprising to some guys the first time they have sex with me. They're probably thinking, "Okay, what's she doing now? Should I stop? Should I slow down?" But this guy seemed to have gotten me right away, which is kind of shocking for a nineteen year old.

Now that I've established I'm neurotic about my pussy and its fluids, I'm sure it's no surprise that I also obsess over the guy's moistural (I think I just made up a word) contributions to that part of my body during sex. I like it when a man pulls out of me and shoots his load all over my pussy. I just love feeling those thick wads of warm cum plopping down in between my legs and into the crack of my ass. 

If I had a sexual fantasy, I guess it would be to get fucked by an endless line of guys while I'm spreadeagle in a gyno exam chair, with each guy pulling out of me and shooting his load right onto my pussy. I'd have clumps of cum in my pubic hair and my hands would be playing around with the cum from all of the previous guys while the next one fucked me. My ass crack would be drenched with all of the excess jizz and it would be dripping off of me onto the floor. 

There was no endless line of guys in my bedroom that night, though. Just my classmate. Before he came, he actually asked me where I wanted it. I didn't answer him and just criss-crossed my ankles against his back. As he was shooting his load inside me, I started having another one of my "moments". I began thinking about how rough he had been with me during parts of the blowjob I gave him last week. I remembered how he had grabbed my head and was literally slamming my mouth onto his cock. For a second I thought to myself,

"Not only did you NOT leave his room the minute he began to get aggressive with you, but you continued to blow him until he came AND you swallowed his load. So, a week later, you make him dinner, let him fuck you and now you're taking his cum inside of you. What the fuck is wrong with you Ondra?"

Angry with myself and him, I wanted him off of me immediately. I kept my composure, however, and politely asked if he minded not staying over for the night. 

"Do you want me to leave right now?" he asked.

"Yes, if you don't mind." I replied.

I threw on my robe as he got dressed, walked him downstairs to the front door and he left. As soon as the door closed I thought I had made a mistake. I felt that way because I was no closer now to knowing how much he really liked me than I was before. I should have waited to see if he would decide on his own to spend the night with me. At least then I would know just how invested he was in me. By asking him to leave, I had given him an easy out just like I had done last week. He probably just went back to his dorm and had a beer with his roommate. Feeling desperately incomplete, I once again fought back tears.

As I sobbingly did some last minute straightening up before going up to bed, I noticed some smudges on the hardwood floor. It turns out that his cum had been running out of my vagina and down my leg the whole time. It had traveled all the way down to my feet and I was tracking it around the house with me when I walked. 

Exhausted, dehydrated, tearful and depressed, I just didn't have the energy to deal with it right then and I decided to go upstairs to bed. As I reached to turn off the downstairs lights, I glanced down at the floor one last time and thought to myself,

"Oh well, I guess I'll have to clean that up in the morning."



Slutty Ondra's Sex Log Ch. 03



Keep score along with her as Ondra, a 28 year old slut in denial, graphically catalogs every ounce of semen and every drop of vaginal fluid from her sexual exploits in her remarkably descriptive sex chronicles. She discloses everything to her readers, from photographic details about past and present fucks to her own quirky personal hygiene and grooming habits.

****

Well, I hadn't seen my girlfriends to discuss our sex lives in a few weeks and for this group of women, that's a lot of fucking to catch up on! Sure I was busy, but I knew that I couldn't continue to use school as an excuse because, why wasn't I around on weekends? So I set up a Saturday lunch to trade dating stories and fill them in on my new college guy. 

Until now you've probably noticed that I haven't mentioned his name. I tend to do this if I really like a guy that I've just started seeing, but I knew that my girlfriends would drag Neil's name out of me eventually. They are the closest three people to me on the planet and we have no, or at least very few secrets.

We all grew up together and were practically inseparable from grades 1 through 12. We sprouted our tits together, dealt with the onset of our periods together, discovered masturbation together and even began fucking boys within a few months of each other. I like to think of us as small town girls with a big city approach to men. That means not settling for the first guy we meet that has a job, a car and doesn't live with his parents. But admittedly, that does also mean that we've all ended up fucking A LOT of guys while searching for Mr. Right. Does that make us sluts? 

Here's who I had lunch with:

Chloe: Remember when I said that I was in my car fooling around with someone else's boyfriend in high school(Ch.01)? She was the "someone else." My family helped hers through a tough time right after that though, and we've been best friends even since.

Cara: SHE was actually the high school slut, NOT ME! She's definitely the "size queen" of the group too. Unlike the rest of us, Cara won't have sex with a guy a second time if his dick isn't huge. I thought about bringing her in for a threesome when I was dating my "large" guy, but Kimberly's probably the only one with which I could have sex in the same room. You'll know why in a moment. 

Kimberly: She's my "talks like a guy" girlfriend. She says stuff like "Man, I have such a boner for that guy" and "I feel like ASS today!" We've had moments together that I may never have with anyone else. 

Amongst us, we jokingly call ourselves the Cock Sisters, because you can spell that word by arranging the first letters of our names. A fitting coincidence considering that we are neither shy about meeting guys nor hesitant to fuck them if we think they're cute. 

Okay, now let's get this question out of the way up front, because I know you're thinking of it.

The answer is YES.

Yes, there is one, just one guy out there that has fucked all four of us - Steve R. He's the boyfriend of Chloe that I was also messing around with back in high school. Chloe's first time was with Steve and I lost my virginity to him as well. Steve and Cara went to the same college, but his dick wasn't big enough for anything more than a drunken one night stand for Cara and Kimberly offered him her "shoulder" when he went through his divorce a few years ago. To this day it still amazes me that the same person has gotten his dick sucked, his balls licked and his cum swallowed by all four of us!

So, we're eating lunch and I'm filling the girls in on everything with Neil that I've already told you guys. Then here came the questions:

"Can WE meet some of these college boys?" From Chloe.

"Can you image the fucking four of us walking into a kegger with all those young frat boys!" Kimberly said.

"Feeding Frenzy!" sniped Cara.

"Us or them?" Chloe joked.

"Is he big?" From Cara.

In our group that question always means is the guy bigger or smaller than Steve, since he's our universal reference point. To be honest, Neil is a little wider than Steve. If he wasn't that would still be okay with me, but I must admit that I do like looking down and seeing my pussy stretching to accommodate Neil's cock when we're fucking.

"Have you guys done anal yet?"

Leave it to Kimberly to come up with the crudest question of the afternoon. But it didn't surprise any of us girls that she was the one to ask about that particular topic.

See, back in high school there was a movement where girls were choosing to make their first sex with a boy be of the anal variety. This was based on some silly notion that if you only had anal sex you would stay a virgin. I'm sure this concept is nothing new to anyone. 

So, Kimberly decides that she's going to jump onto that bandwagon and bring me along with her. We were both still virgins at that point and surely neither one of us had graduated past putting anything more than a finger or two up our butts before. We were apprehensive, so Kimberly decided that for moral support we should attend that "graduation" together. 

Although we certainly knew what they were, we didn't own any vibrators or dildos because we were worried that our parents might find them. Like lots of girls at school, we had already experimented with hairbrush handles in our vaginas, but we were sure that we didn't want to try inserting the handles of any of our everyday styling tools into our asses. They were just too big. Yep, we would definitely need to find some ones with a narrower grip. What followed was an afternoon of teen titillation flanked by a collective comedy of errors!

On the day on question, Kimberly and I set off to the store in search of said narrow-handled brushes. It didn't take us very long and soon we were on our way back to my house all giggly and nervous to try them out. It's not like I had any lube lying around, so we decided to use vaseline to help the brush handles slide into our asses.

Now, picture the two of us kneeling on top of my bed facing each other, high-school skirts hiked up above our waists, panties pulled down around our ankles and getting ready to stick greased-up hairbrushes up our butts! As we kneeled there staring at each other, our faces couldn't have been more than six inches apart. 

"Is yours in yet?" I asked Kimberly. 

"Yeah. Fuck, and these things aren't even that big! How the fuck am I ever going to get some guy's dick in there?" she scoffed as she squirmed and shifted her ass around in mid-air.

"Try moving it around." I told her.

"Wait, is yours even in yet?"

"Oh yeah, it's in."

"How far?" she demanded.

Clenching my lower lip, I said, "Ehh, pretty far."

Kimberly had to see just how far I had this brush handle into my butt, so she slid her own brush out of herself, jumped off of the bed and shuffled around to look at my ass, losing her panties in the process. 

"You bitch! How the hell are you doing that?" she exclaimed in a screaming whisper.

What Kimberly saw as she stared at me kneeling there with my bare ass up in the air, was that I had the whole brush handle stuck into my butt. It was shoved in up to where the bristles started and I was repeatedly sliding the complete length of it in and out of my ass.

"Fuck you!" she said defiantly, as she hopped back onto my bed and assumed her original kneeling position so that she could try hers again. 

Kimberly never did get the whole brush handle into her ass, but she was able to take in most of it and slide that portion in and out of herself with some frequency. As we knelt on my bed together fucking ourselves in the ass, we came to the agreement that the brushes felt better when we were pulling them out than when we were pushing them in. And at that point in our lives we were still clueless about playing with our clits to better relax our sphincters.

Done sodomizing ourselves for the time being, we finally maneuvered ourselves down from my bed. A bit grossed out about where they had just been, we both stood there holding these brushes out at arm's length, with just two fingers touching them and our pinkies pointed outward. It was like they were radioactive. 

I stepped out of my panties and left them right next to Kimberly's as we both went into the bathroom to clean ourselves up. We tossed the brushes into the waste basket and Kimberly sat down on the toilet so that she could wipe the vaseline from her ass.

"Hurry up, my mom's gonna be home soon!" I urged.

Just then, I heard my mother call my name as she was on her way upstairs to find out how my day went!

Kimberly launched herself up from the toilet as I flung open the bathroom door. When my mom got upstairs, she found me standing in the bathroom doorway and Kimberly standing in the doorway to my bedroom. 

I was blocking the bathroom so that my mom wouldn't look into the waste basket and ask me why I was throwing away two perfectly good hairbrushes and Kimberly was blocking my bedroom because - don't forget - we had taken off our panties and they were laying in the middle of my bedroom floor!

I finally gave in and walked into my bedroom, pushing Kimberly in as I went. As soon as my mother followed us into the room, she looked down at the floor and said,

"Ondra, why do you leave your underwear laying around all the time, especially when you have company?"

Then my mom, thinking that the two were mine, picked up BOTH pairs of panties and went downstairs to put them in with the rest of the family laundry! Kimberly and I looked at each other all wide-eyed while trying not to crack up laughing.

That afternoon Kimberly made her familiar walk home from my house pantyless!

When I finally made it into the bathroom to wipe the vaseline from my own ass, I noticed that the hairbrushes were no longer in the waste basket, but the trash that had been underneath them was still there. What in the hell had my mother done with the damn brushes?

I'm thinking that she must have known that we were up to something with them. Heck, she might have even used hairbrushes on herself when she was that age (really don't need that visual). So she probably just took them and threw them in the main trash bin outside. As curious as I might have been though, I knew that I was not about to ask her what she actually did with them. I mean, I couldn't very well say,

"Well, Kimberly had one of them up her ass and I had the other one up mine, so I'm gonna need those back."

I did manage to grab Kimberly's panties out of the hamper and give them back to her at school the next day, though. As I slipped them to her, Kimberly asked,

"Are they clean?" 

"No." I whispered. 

"Eww, gross!" she snapped.

"Well, they're YOUR panties! Besides, I couldn't risk my mom folding them and then discovering that they weren't mine and asking a bunch of questions, so I just grabbed them before she did the laundry." I explained.

Kimberly understood. 

Those were some of the funniest twenty-four hours of my childhood and something that will bond Kimberly and I forever. We ran to tell Chloe and Cara about what we had done. They were fraught with intrigue and eager to try it themselves, although they each did their experimenting in solitude. 

Although none of us are exactly anal junkies, all four of us do participate in anal sex on some level today. None of us use the "with the right guy" condition as an excuse for not doing it with someone. We all figure that if things end up not working out with a given guy, then it's because he was just wrong for us in the first place. He's not going to be any MORE wrong just because he fucked us the ass.

"Oh, they have ice cream." a perky Chloe teemed as our lunch continued.

"Imagine if there was cum-flavored ice cream!"

"I think they have that don't they?"

"Where, here?" 

"No, not here! Ugh, you're such a ditz Chloe!"

Kimberly and I just rolled our eyes at each other listening to Chloe and Cara's exchange, but on that topic, I already think of ice cream as flavored cum in the first place. Doesn't every woman?

"Remember when we first tried vibrators?" Cara brought up.

"You mean vibrator (singular)." Kimberly joked.

See, in high school Cara had talked her big sister into buying her a vibrator. At that age we were, of course, all frequent masturbators already, but none of us had actually used one of those yet. Cara brought it to school with her one day and after classes let out, the four of us spent about two hours circling around town in Chloe's car while we all took turns using it. Kimberly was up front and I was in the back seat with Cara.

I'll never forget it. It was called the "Purple Passion" and it was the exact same shade as a bowl in which my mom occasionally served salad. As soon as Cara took it out of its packaging, Kimberly reached back and grabbed it from her so that she could go first.

"Ouch!" I screamed.

Kimberly had reclined the seat, slamming it back into my knees as she tried to get her legs spread open wide and her skirt hiked up. I scooted over and huddled up with Cara to make more room for Kimberly to lay back. Kimberly finally propped her feet up on the dashboard and pulled her panties to the side.

"Damn girl, you're not playing around are you?" I prodded.

"Where are we?" asked Cara.

"Shhh, let her concentrate!" Chloe scolded.

With the passenger's seat reclined, Cara and I had a clear view in between Kimberly's legs from the back seat as she darted the purple vibrator back and forth across her clit and slid it in and out of her pussy. 

Just then Chloe said "Here," in an offering of assistance.

Kimberly's hands were so busy manipulating herself and delivering saliva from her mouth to her pussy that she was having difficulty keeping her panties pulled to the side. So Chloe took her right hand off of the steering wheel and reached between Kimberly's legs to hold them aside for her. Now Kimberly was free to maximize the efficiency of her work with the vibrator. 

"Ondra, my leg." Cara whispered in my ear.

At that point Kimberly's seat was so far back that Cara and I were practically sitting on top of each other in the back seat. I was leaning into her so that the top of my head was right under her chin and her right leg was draped over my left. When Cara whispered that in my ear, she was bringing to my attention that I had been rhythmically rubbing her knee without realizing it as I watched Kimberly pleasure herself. We laughed about it and for a second our giggles drowned out the muffled buzzing sound.

Kimberly's left leg had worked itself all the way over to the point that it was touching the steering wheel, as she voraciously used every inch of space that the passenger's seat had to offer. Now she had two fingers of her left hand in her pussy while the right was furiously sliding the vibrator up and down, never losing contact with her clit. Chloe's arm was starting to get tired, so she let her forearm rest on Kimberly's inner thigh as she continued to tug Kimberly's panties to the side for her. 

"God you're wet." Chloe said in a soft voice as she took her eyes off the road to glance down at Kimberly's sopping pussy and the resultantly soaked vibrator. 

By now the mood in the car had gone from giddy to quietly considerate and whenever anyone had anything to say, they said it softly. We were allowing Kimberly her own time to field the offerings that the pleasure device had for her and to focus on the sensations that were happening in between her legs. Cara had let her chin come to rest on top of my head as the two of us remained silently intertwined in the back seat.

"O. M. - f'ing G.!" Kimberly let out as she grabbed onto Chloe's forearm.

(Oh yeah, forgot to mention that she also spoke in abbreviations a lot of the time.)

"You done girl?" Chloe asked, finally letting go of the panties as they snapped back to Kimberly's crotch, but still left her pussy partially exposed. 

"Did you cum?" I requested while pushing down on Cara's thigh to help prop myself up in the back seat.

"It was kinda like I started cumming as soon as this thing touched me - shit!" Kimberly offered, as she twisted on the vibrator to turn it off. 

She put it down on the seat in between her legs while she adjusted the crotch portion of her panties so that they once again completely covered her pussy. Then she returned her skirt to the way that it was originally intended to be worn.

"Aww, how cute do you two look?" said Kimberly, seeing us all snuggled up together in the back seat as she turned around to hand either me or Cara the Purple Passion.

"Hey it's my car, I wanna go next!" asserted Chloe. 

Chloe couldn't get at herself sufficiently with the vibrator while driving, so she pulled over, and her and Kimberly ran around the car to trade places. With Kimberly now driving, Chloe reclined her seat and yanked up her skirt, but not before using it to give the vibrator an obligatory wipe-off. 

Offended, Kimberly snapped, "Uh, you're not gonna catch anything!" 

"You know that's not gonna matter, right?" Cara asked.

"Yeah, it's just like sharing a drink. Just go ahead!" I added.

We didn't have anything in the car to give the vibrator a proper cleaning after one of us used it, so by default the decision had been made to take our turns with it while leaving the other girls' dried vaginal juices still on it.

So, with feet up on the dashboard and legs spread, Chloe took her turn.

"Guess you won't be needing MY help." said Kimberly. 

"Whoa!" spiked Cara and I simultaneously from the back seat. 

"I come prepared." said a devilish Chloe. 

While Kimberly had worn a regular pair of panties to school that day, Chloe on the other hand, had left her house with much less coverage that morning. As she spread her legs, we could all see that Chloe was wearing a pair of those micro thongs. You know, the kind that basically just have a string running from your ass to your clit? 

I call them "why bother" panties because whenever I wear them, that string either ends up splitting my pussy lips right down the middle - which is annoying - or it ends up picking either side of my pussy to settle on, which doesn't provide any fucking coverage anyway! But hey, I guess for the task that Chloe was about to perform, they were all that she needed.

Whereas Kimberly had a subdued intensity when she was pleasuring herself with the vibrator, Chloe was more giggly about the whole thing. She would laugh and jump every time it would touch her clit, but she did become a little calmer when she turned down the speed. I could see Chloe's pussy lips glistening as the string of her micro thong panties lay just to the right of her inner left thigh, discarded and completely incidental to the scene that was being played out in between her legs. Indeed, Chloe had made an excellent choice when she dressed herself that morning. 

"I should take my panties off when it's my turn." Cara whispered to me. 

"If you want to." I replied, as I debated with myself over what to do about my own panties when the time came.

Sporting boy shorts, Cara had more material covering her genitals than the rest of us did that day. She usually wore that type of panty to school because the boys would peek up our skirts every chance they got.

Chloe's feet sprung up from the dashboard, almost hitting the roof of the car, while her head raised up from the fully reclined seatback.

"Ah, ah, ah, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!" went Chloe as her head jerked up and down and her right knee repeatedly knocked against the passenger window. She had gotten what she needed from the vibrator.

"It's a good thing it's not a busy traffic day."

Cara was the one who was always checking to see if anyone outside the car could see what we were up to, whereas, to the rest of us, we might as well have been on Mars.




Slutty Ondra's Sex Log Ch. 03



After she dried it off, Chloe handed "Passion" to me, but I gave it to Cara since it was her vibrator. 

"How should I do it?" Cara thought aloud. 

She finally decided to lay down in the back seat. She had her left foot on the floor of the car and her right leg propped up behind my head on that little ledge by the back window. 

"Panties?" I reminded.

"Oh yeah, I forgot!" reacted Cara as she temporarily brought her leg down from behind my head and shimmied out of them with my assistance. 

Cara kept a little more hair in between her legs than the rest of us girls, and as she lay there next to me spreadeagle in the back seat, I could see those hairs straining and snapping back to their original position every time the vibrator passed over them en route to yet another unexplored crevice of her vaginal region.

As I watched her toy with herself, I had no idea that Cara would go on to become such a size queen and that I was staring at a pussy that had the capacity to accept massively large cocks into it on such a regular basis. Today, when I think back to seeing her work that relatively small-sized vibrator in and out of herself, and then I think about all the huge dicks she has had in that pussy since then, I feel sorry for the vibrator. 

"Oh! Is there something we should know Ondra?" said Chloe with a laugh. 

For some reason Cara had screamed out MY name when she was writhing on the seat during the biggest orgasm of her session. With a clueless look on my face, I just shrugged my shoulders.

"I was warning her to watch out for me kicking her." Cara breathlessly interjected as soon as she had recovered enough to speak. I handed her balled-up panties back to her after retrieving them from under my leg.

With Cara checked off, the list was now down to one as I lifted my hips off of the seat and slipped out of my tanga bottoms. The way that Cara had situated herself seemed to work well, so I assumed the same position on my side of the car.

I licked my fingertips and deposited that wetness onto my pussy as Chloe and Cara looked on. During the time that the vibrator spent outside of my pussy, it was set to a lower speed, but I revved it up for its visits inside of me. 

"Looks amazing!" said Cara as she watched my vaginal muscles clenching and releasing in pulsating contractions as I gyrated around on the seat. 

I wasn't as obsessive compulsive about my bodily fluids back then, but still, I was acutely aware of how wet my pussy was getting and how slippery the vibrator had become in my hands. I spread my lips wide as I rhythmically tapped it on my clit. With my right foot now planted on the driver's seat head rest, that tapping became a steady pressure as I held the vibrator firmly against my clit until I felt like my pussy would implode from the suction of its own muscular action.

"You okay girlfriend?" Chloe lovingly asked the still-driving Kimberly, who had been quiet lately. 

"Yeah, I just have to get home soon." she answered sheepishly, clearly disappointed that our sexually illuminating afternoon ride had to come to an end. 

I could have gone much longer, but Kimberly's comment reminded me that I too had to be home soon, so I straightened myself up and stuffed my panties into my bookbag. Kimberly pulled over so that Chloe could get back into the driver's seat.

"What are you gonna do with this?" I asked, as I handed the vibrator back to its owner.

"My sister's gonna keep it for me." answered Cara.

You can imagine how the inside of the car smelled on the way home. It had the combined scent of four girls' musty, wet pussies. Plus, we had been in school for several hours before that, so between running from class to class and peeing a few times during the day, we probably didn't get into the car smelling that fresh in between our legs to begin with.

We were all still virgins on that day, but with us running out of objects to insert into ourselves, I knew that none of us would make it much longer. As we looked back and forth at each other during the drive home, silent with our own thoughts, we could keenly sense that it would not be long before each of our teenage vaginas would be straining to accept some young boy's hard cock inside of it. If I had to pick the one moment that we all decided we were going to start having sex, that would be it.



Slutty Ondra's Sex Log Ch. 04



Keep score along with her as Ondra, a 28 year old slut in denial, graphically catalogs every ounce of semen and every drop of vaginal fluid from her sexual exploits in her remarkably descriptive sex chronicles. She discloses everything to her readers, from photographic details about past and present fucks to her own quirky personal hygiene and grooming habits. 

*****

I once heard a comedienne say that she keeps in touch with all of her ex-boyfriends so that she can always go back and have sex with one of them without adding to her overall "number". 

SHEER GENIUS, and a point of view to which I too subscribe. 

Although it won't necessarily help the environment, I always try to employ this brand of "sexual recycling" and it helped me reduce my overall "vaginal footprint" by at least 1 in 2011. 

Guy #1: Feb - Apr 2011. Tim - Made fun of the way I fuck. 

Although he was never really a boyfriend in the classical sense, Tim is the one guy I was with in 2011 to which the taste, feel and aroma of my pussy was not new. It was Tim whom, as I've mentioned in the past, called me greedy for rubbing my clit during sex. He just couldn't figure out why I felt that I needed to masturbate even though I was presently being fucked. 

His ribbing me about that is a bit frustrating, but as I've said before, Tim is a really, really nice guy. He's just a good person. Why do you think I keep recycling him? My most recent three month fling with Tim was about my fourth or fifth go-round with him over the past several years. 

He's kind of a nerd that's cool at the same time and being a nerd, he hasn't been with many women in his life. In fact, I think I'm one of only four for him. I don't "know" but I "know of" one of his other girls and I'm relatively sure she also comes back to Tim from time to time. 

Ordinarily geeky guys like Tim don't get chicks like us, pretty (I'd rate myself an 8.7286145 on a scale of 1 to 10) and bit on the racy side. That other girl actually reminds me a lot of myself and I'd love to know what the remaining two look like. Tim tells me I give the best head, however. By the way, he may be a geek, but he happens to have a fit and naturally lean body, so no one should feel sorry for me for getting repeatedly fucked by him. 

Tim says he's been called "safe" his whole life. I agree with that, but to me safe doesn't mean harmless or boring. Usually when a woman tells a guy he's harmless she's really saying, "You'll never see me naked." Well, Tim has probably seen me naked as much if not more than any guy I've dated in the last ten years and he doesn't seem so "harmless" to me when his balls are slapping against my clit as he's thrusting his dick into me from behind. 

As far as him being boring, I'll say this: 

Orgasms Aren't Boring - and I've had more of them at the bequest of Tim's fingers, tongue and rock hard cock than I could even begin to count (or could I?). 

To me safe simply means familiar. 

I know that watching me work out on my elliptical machine gives Tim a hard on. 

Tim always seems to be able to figure out precisely how I want my pussy eaten on a given day.

I know the way Tim likes his balls cradled as he's having an orgasm. 

Tim can tell how horny I am just by the sound of my voice, even if we're talking about pomegranates. 

Although our familiarities have made for some pretty rockin' sex since we've met, I can't single out one signature moment that defines our union. So, since Tim's dick has been inside me more than anyone's recently, I decided to attempt to quantify just how much fucking we've actually done over the years. I've never sat and figured out something like this before and I'm dying of curiosity to see the results!

Now, let's assume an average fling between us lasted about eight weeks and that we've had five of them. So that's forty total weeks for the Tim and Ondra Show. We'll say that we had sex ten times a week, with a "time" equalling one orgasm for Tim and, of course, one load of cum. But let's not ignore my own orgasms either and estimate them at triple Tim's total. 

We'll go on to assume that one-half of Tim's loads ended up in my stomach, twenty percent ended up in my vagina, ten percent ended up on my tits, five percent ended up solely on my face with minimal swallowing involved (an outright cum facial), five percent ended up in my colon and ten percent ended up somewhere else on me, like on my back or stomach. We'll forget about the ones that went straight down the drain in the shower after a handjob and those random ones that went into my coffee or some meal I was eating (yeah, we're into that too). 

I'll designate an outright blowjob as a time when a cumshot from Tim was produced absent of any intercourse and came strictly from me giving him head (I was going to say: "...came strictly at the hands of my mouth", but that sounded too strange), and we'll set that number at fifteen percent of the "one-half in my stomach" number from above. Granted that's a loose estimate, because I didn't swallow every single one of the loads that I generated by outrightly blowing Tim, but for the overwhelming majority of them I did. 

So, after crunching the numbers we find that Tim has achieved 400 orgasms through the use of my body in some way, shape or form and I've gone to the moon 1,200 times thanks to him. 

Through a combination of the 30 outright blowjobs I've given him and his finishing off in my mouth after sex, I have swallowed 200 loads of Tim's cum. 

Tim has given me 20 outright cum facials and dumped 40 loads of spunk on my tits. I've received 80 vaginal and 20 anal creampies from Tim and he has deposited his product somewhere else on my body 40 times. 

Doesn't seem like such a geek now, does he? 

Okay, I need to warn you guys up front that June was a very busy month for me (and my vagina). I saw a statistic somewhere that said June is the number one month in which teenagers lose their virginity and I believe it. I mean, with proms, last minute flings before graduation and spring fever, how could it not be? 

At any rate, I am also a part of that statistic and to this day I'd be willing to bet that since I started having sex, I've fucked more NEW guys in that month than in any other month on the calendar. 

That said: 

Guy #2: June 2011. Brian. 

I met Brian through a dating group veiled in the guise of a hiking and outdoor fitness club. I called it the - "Oh yeah, well if you're so into hiking, then hike your ass over here and fuck me" - club, because that's primarily how people treated it. They basically used it to find sex partners. I wasn't any different, but at least I actually hiked when I showed up. Sometimes people would just meet in the parking lot at the bottom of the trail and then carpool it over to Starbucks from there. 

On my first hike with the group I started walking with Brian because he was the only one who seemed serious about it. We immediately developed a mutual respect. Well, by the second hike I realized that respect wasn't the only thing Brian had for me, as I repeatedly caught him staring at my tits as they jiggled and bounced up and down when I walked. On hikes I would wear these tight, white cotton t-shirts that clung to me and closely contoured themselves to the silhouette of my breasts, so who could blame him? 

Only halfway through the second hike I was already pretty relaxed around Brian and was comfortable enough to tell him I had noticed him checking out my tits. We joked about it for the rest of the walk and by the time we got back to our cars, I had made a bet with him over the amount of support I would be donning under my t-shirt the next time the group met. 

If was wearing a bra for Saturday's hike, I owed Brian a dinner, but if I had the guts to show up bare-breasted underneath my t-shirt, then he would have to treat. Kimberly's printer was acting up, so she happened to be over using my computer Saturday morning. 

"Ondra! THAT'S how you're going hiking?" 

Needless to say, I won the bet. 

So that evening, after what was a very distracting hike for him, Brian picked me up at my place to take me out. I was wearing a devilishly low-cut dress and, you guessed it - NO BRA. 

In the car on the way to the restaurant Brian teased me, calling me "Miss Sophisticated" based on the conservative and lady-like way I sat in his passenger's seat. I just took it as a compliment and said, "Why thank you, sir." 

Well, after some very provocative dinner conversation and three glasses of wine, Brian formed a slightly different opinion of me during the drive home, as he found my head bobbing up and down in his lap and detected audible slurping noises coming from my mouth as I devoured his cock like it was a creme brulee. 

He joked and said, "A simple 'thank you for dinner' would have sufficed." I just leaned up and gave him a big wet kiss on the mouth and then went back to sucking his dick. 

Once at my house, our clothes vaporized as soon as we got in the door and Brian went to work on the very set of tits he had been fantasizing about for the past three weeks. I stood over the seated Brian as he squeezed, bit and ran loops around my nipples with his tongue. 

I have lots of little pimples on my areolas, which I think add to their sensitivity, but of course, I don't know what they would feel like without them. He even lifted them and licked the "overhang area" underneath my breasts. That skin doesn't get much attention and it can be very pleasurable to have that spot fondled.

I looked down to notice that Brian was playing with his cock.

"How would you like to have that right in here?" I asked, as I placed my hand in between my breasts.

I wanted to give his dick a really good tit stroking and I couldn't figure out how to get the ideal angle. I ran into my closet and came out with a surprise.

"A step stool?" said a baffled Brian. 

I had calculated that if Brian stood on the second step of this particular stool, that would put his dick precisely at the level of my chest, allowing me to jerk him off with my tits and avoid having to maintain that awkward kneeling position while doing it. 

Kneeling is one thing when you're giving a blowjob, but it's an entirely different one when you also have to support your weight, rock yourself up and down, and keep your breasts smushed together at the same time.

I promptly smothered Brian's cock with my tits, talking directly to it almost as if I were mad at it.

"Yeah, I know this is what you fucking wanted all along." 

"I'm gonna make you cum so fucking hard!" 

Brian kept his fingers pressed on the base of his penis so it would remain comfortably and cozily nestled between my breasts as I slid them back and forth, resetting my grip on them from time to time. 

If you were to listen closely, you would have picked up the faint sound of our body parts rubbing together - Brian's penis, my breasts:

'Whoosh, Woosh, Woosh.'

My step ladder idea was turning out to be the perfect call. 

As his erection continued its euphoric ride, surrounded by its fleshy playmates, I recalled that in the car Brian had stopped me because he didn't want to cum too soon. I wondered if he would do the same now.

He didn't. 

Not only did he not stop me, but I think I still have a dent in my sternum from the force of the first spurt of his cumshot. By the time he finished cumming I had blobs of his thick, white jizz ranging from my neck, across my tits and down to my belly button 

"You're going to need an extra large towel for that one!" Brian said with a laugh as he gingerly worked his way down from the stool and collapsed onto my bed.

I immediately straddled him and gave him a lesson in feminine skincare as I methodically rubbed his cum into my neck, my tits and my stomach, working it into myself as if it were sunscreen. He watched mesmerized as my hands gradually turned his cum from loose and runny to thick and gooey on my skin. It finally disappeared entirely, temporarily becoming a part of my own body until the next time I chose to shower. No towels necessary for cleanup this time!

While still straddling him, I leaned down to whisper in Brian's ear.

"I'm going to lick your balls now."

"I don't know how soon I'll be able to go again." Brian responded. 

"Don't worry about that. I just want you to relax and let your balls enjoy the attention." I said, prepared to take as long as was necessary for Brian to achieve another erection. 

I kissed my way down his neck to his chest and across his stomach. I sucked the last trickling remnant of cum from the tip of his dick and finally made my way down to his ball sac, which I pampered with consistent upward strokes of my tongue. I kept that steady rhythm until I noticed his cock start to twitch and shift around as it began to fill itself with blood for the second time that evening.

I stood up on my bed over Brian and then squatted myself down onto his awaiting erection, which he was keeping perfectly vertical for me with his hands. My hiking partner's cock was inside my pussy for the first time. 

I bounced and bounced on top of Brian while my tits flew up in the air and slapped down against my ribs repeatedly. 

'Thwaap, Thwaap, Thwaap.'

They were a whirling blur of commotion, but Brian knew how to tame them in an instant. With a simple reach upwards, he gave my wayward breasts a temporary home - the palms of his hands.

I was working so hard riding Brian that I was sweating like a longshoreman. The cumload I had rubbed into my skin after reverse tit-fucking him earlier was beginning to come back out of my pores and mix with that sweat to form a slimy concoction on the entire front of my body. I could feel his hands sticking to my breasts as he continued to cup them. 

As I squatted above him, Brian's hips lept up from the bed to meet mine as he piston-fucked me, finally injecting gobs of warm cum into my pussy, which thirstily accepted every drop.

I don't think I've shared this with you folks yet, but if a guy happens to cum inside me when I'm on top of him, sometimes I'll take it upon myself to clean up what comes running out of me after I raise up off of his cock. Not with a tissue or paper towel, but with my mouth. 

As soon as I climb off of him I'll take his whole dick back into my mouth and suck out any cum that's late to the party, then I'll squeeze my lips as I slowly extract it from my mouth, cleaning off the excess spunk in the process. After that I'll lick the cum off his stomach and lap up any secretions that have run down to his balls. Finally I'll spread his cheeks and lick the goop from around his asshole. 

I usually only perform this task for a guy on a night that I feel particularly naughty and nasty.

I was feeling particularly naughty and nasty that night.

By the time we fell asleep, my entire upper body and face were covered in sticky goo, but getting cleaned up would have to wait until the morning. For tonight Brian was going to have to be okay with sleeping next to a dirty sponge.

Brian and I fucked again two days later on our lunch break, then I got all caught up in getting ready to go on vacation and I haven't seen him since June. We still send dirty emails and instant messages to each other, though, and if things don't work out with Neil, Brian will be the first one I call for sex. 

Actually, if things don't work out with Neil, I'm calling Tim for sex first and Brian will definitely be next on the list. I think.

Guy #3: June 2011. Felton.

Although I tried to watch myself at my job, Fel was not the first guy from work that I had sex with, although technically I didn't actually fuck him. The reason I hadn't been with him already was definitely the work thing; and believe me, with his looks, that was the ONLY reason. 

If I had originally met Fel on a non-professional basis, the order of events would have gone: 

1) Spit out chewing gum. 

2) Drop to knees. 

3) Open mouth. 

4) Insert penis. 

5) Wipe cum from chin. 

6) "Hi, my name's Ondra, what's yours?" 

And I mean in that EXACT order.

So guys, you know how when you're about to go on a vacation, sometimes your mind is already there a few days before? Well, that's how I ended up being with Fel. 

See, I had myself booked on one of those four day three night trips geared towards singles at a Club Med. Chloe, Cara and Kimberly originally said they were into it, but it turned out to be one of those deals where, when you initially bring it up everyone's all gung-ho, but as soon as it's time to actually book it, suddenly no one wants to go. I knew I wasn't going ANYWHERE once school started, so I decided to just go by myself. 

I had heard all of the jokes about these places (like calling them "Club Bed" and saying four "lays" three nights instead of four days three nights; and I won't even start with the "all inclusive" jokes), so I was really looking forward to it.

So much so that my vagina had been involuntarily self-lubricating for three days straight in anticipation. I needed to get fucked before I got on the airplane and Fel's dick was definitely at the top of my pussy's Most Wanted list. 

I reserved a hotel room by the airport the night before my insanely early flight so I wouldn't have to rush in the morning and, as I hate being in cold hotel rooms by myself, I decided to ask Fel if he might want to stay with me to keep me company. We had danced around the matter of romance between us several times before, so he didn't seem all that surprised when I invited him into what was an assured self-fulfilling sexual prophecy. 

Car problems caused me to arrive at the hotel later than expected, so Fel was already waiting for me in the lobby when I walked in. I got the key card and soon the two of us were headed upstairs. 

I had so much raw excitement and pre-vacation horniness that when the elevator doors opened at our floor, the elderly couple that was waiting to go downstairs caught me with my arm shoved wrist-deep into Fel's fly, which I had unzipped to stroke his cock. But that's okay, I was never going to see them again anyway. (Wrong! They checked out and were headed to the airport the same time as me the next morning.)

Once we got into the room I immediately pulled Fel's dick out of his pants and attempted to make it a permanent part of my own esophagus. His penis had (or I should say HAS, unless he's had it surgically altered since then) a pretty pronounced upward curve to it. I always find it a lot more difficult to blow a curvy cock without losing control of it at some point and having it pop out of my mouth. 

It's especially challenging right at the end of a blowjob, when I'm mouth fucking a guy at my fastest and most furious pace and his curvy dick is flying around in fifty different directions inside my mouth.

Not to worry, though. Over time I've developed sufficient oral skills to tame even the most unruly of cocks and I was ready to apply the best of those skills in dealing with Fel's man meat. 

On that night, steps one and six from above weren't necessary, but I sure did a hell of a job performing steps two through four on his curved seven-incher, guiding it in and out of my mouth with tact while keeping it drenched in my slippery saliva. 

Well, I must have done TOO good a job, because just as I was in the beginning stages of sucking his balls, I heard, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down!" 

In an instant I ceased all hand action, withdrew his ball sac from my mouth and slurped the excess spit from my lips. 

Whew, that was close! 

But it was too late. 

The cum had already begun shooting out of Fel's dick. 

At that point I knew I couldn't put the toothpaste back in the tube, so I started jerking him off really fast to allow him to finish his orgasm with conviction. Cumshots from curved cocks are even more directionally unpredictable than those from straight ones, so I made sure to keep the head of his dick close to my face the whole time, with most of his cum landing on my forehead, eyelids, nose and lips. 




Slutty Ondra's Sex Log Ch. 04



"Shit Ondra!" said the satisfied but disappointed Fel as he reclaimed his cock and flipped it back into his pants. 

With a dollop of cum hanging from my nose, I grabbed one of the hotel washcloths in an effort to perform step five. I thought I could make it into the bathroom with enough time to prevent Fel's cum from encroaching upon my eyelashes, but I was a step too slow. It had gotten itself all tangled up in them and it took me a while to get them unstuck. 

Before I wiped my mouth, I gave a quick lick to my upper lip and took some of his cum onto my tongue. I wanted to know how he tasted in case there was a next time. It was actually a little on the bitter side, so I was glad that I hadn't taken his entire load in my mouth. 

This time the bad flavor could have just been a timing thing, though. After all, warm, farm-fresh cum that's right out of the chute was probably going to taste a lot better than cum that had been clumped onto my upper lip for a couple of minutes. 

Once I got the mess off my face I proposed, "Let's get naked and watch cheesy pay-per-view!", which we did before cuddling each other to sleep. The next morning there was just enough time to re-pack and race to get the shuttle. 

Isn't it funny how sex is the last thing on your mind when you have an early flight to catch? I mean, even if I knew my plane was going to crash, I think I'd blow off morning sex so that I wouldn't be late getting to the airport! 

Guy #4: June 2011. Cal - The generous (not me, him) vacation fuck.

En route to my vacation, I spent the whole flight thinking about having Fel's dick in my mouth and wondering who's would be next. I landed on the island at around noon and after claiming my bags, I headed for the shuttle to the resort, in which I sat next to a guy named Cal. 

Cal was a slightly overweight, early-fifties, balding but dapper president of a company that had something to do with the oil industry. He was a good 'ol southern boy who wasn't shy about the fact that he was on the trip to get laid and who didn't try to hide his chauvinistic side. With him being quite a bit older and me being by myself, initially I wasn't very confident around him.

He was extremely charismatic and funny as hell, however, and by the time we got to the resort we were laughing like old friends. Less than twenty-four hours after having Fel's dick in my mouth, it became clear that Cal's cock was most likely bound for the same destination. 

When we arrived, Cal took advantage of his VIP status and had his bags brought to his suite by the staff while he went straight to the bar. Meanwhile, I went to my room to put on a bikini. There were a bunch of orientational type events scheduled for the new guests, but I decided to blow them off and join Cal instead. On the walk over, I concluded that I would not immediately jump into a sexual encounter with him and instead take some time to simply relax and enjoy my vacation. 

Well, after two very sweet, umbrella-adorned rum drinks and two very strong shots of tequila, I found myself inside of the very best suite on the property, sitting at the edge of a very luxurious armchair, very naked and with Cal's very erect penis greeting me at eye-level, looking very eager to be sucked. 

I managed to glance over at the clock just before I opened my mouth to accommodate Cal's hard on and saw that it was 2:00 p.m. local time, meaning that it had only been about seventeen hours since the utmost tip of Fel's cock had first crossed the threshold of my lips the night before, time change noted. In a few seconds I was about to become sexual with two different men in a single twenty-four hour period for the first time in a few years. 

Meanwhile, the plane I flew in on probably hadn't even taken off again yet. 

Ladies (and some men too for that matter), you know how some guys' dicks seem to match up perfectly with your particular blowjob style? They're the perfect size and shape to take deep into your mouth without triggering your gag reflex? For me this Cal guy had one of those dicks and I made sure I let him know it by the way I sucked it. 

It was immediately apparent that Cal was old-school and didn't believe in shaving his crotch. I can't say that I've had a ton of experience with unshaven genitals on my sex partners lately, but back in my late teens when I first started sucking cock I sure did. I think it was because guys that age had not yet come into their own as far as their personal grooming preferences, so it was easier to just do nothing and let that area go untrimmed. I didn't mind it then, so why should I mind it now? 

Thus, I was more than happy licking Cal's hairy balls and taking his rough, bristly nut sac into my mouth repeatedly. Not to mention the inevitable plucking of his curly pubic hairs off of my tongue that came with it.

"Goddam, you suck a mean dick woman!" 

I guess he was pleased. 

"Go ahead and lean yourself back so I can eat that thing!" he said, almost unable to control his enthusiasm. 

At that point I was sitting forward with my ass at the edge of the chair. Cal got on his knees and pushed on my shoulder so I would lay back in the seat. Then he lifted both of my legs up in the air by the ankles, spread them wide and lowered his face to begin eating me out. 

"Eh, wait a second Cal." I said, filled with trepidation. 

As drunk as I was, that still didn't keep me from being absolutely mortified about what Cal would think once he put his mouth on me. Remember folks, I did not take a shower when I got up that morning. There was only enough time for me to pack my stuff and scramble to catch my flight. 

In fact, I hadn't showered since the previous afternoon before I left my house to meet Fel at the hotel. I had used the restroom several times since then and even had a bowel movement at the airport before getting on the plane (not out in the waiting area, I went into the ladies' room). Add in the fact that I was sweaty in between my legs from the high humidity on the island and it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that at that moment Cal was NOT dealing with a woman whose private areas were either fresh OR clean!

Seeing as how I was already naked, it would have only taken me about three minutes to quickly duck into the shower in Cal's suite, soap up, rinse off and be back in that armchair with my legs spread, clean and more than ready to have my cunt eaten. At one point I actually tried to close my knees with Cal still holding me by the ankles. But he was insistent.

"You're not changin' your mind on me now, are you?"

"No Cal, I just..."

"Then you quit all your fussin' and get those knees open right now and keep 'em open!" he said sternly. 

Before he even finished the second "open", his face was already in between my legs and he was licking my wet pussy and sucking on my clit. His tongue soon found its way down to my asshole and smothered it with long, wet strokes. 

As dubious as I may have felt about my own cleanliness before, I eventually realized that any remnants left over from handling my bathroom necessities and any stickiness and foul odor that may have existed on me at the start of our encounter, by now had been wiped up by Cal's tongue and washed away by his saliva. 

He had licked me clean.

Free to relax, I surrendered to the toe-curling tongue lapping my pussy was receiving and Cal no longer had to have his hands clamped onto my ankles in order to keep my legs spread apart. 

By now I was doing that on my own. 

Intercourse with Cal was, well, lets say athletic. See, despite having a slight stomach, he was a tall and muscular man, so every time he wanted to change positions, he would lift me up and shift me around like a little toy. At one point he even stood up with me still attached to him and was fucking me while carrying me around the room.

Not to make it sound like he was traversing the suite flipping channels and checking his voice mails with me impaled on him, he wasn't, but we definitely did travel about the room a bit during that particular part of our session. 

He had a hand cupped onto each of my butt cheeks and was using his grip on my ass to bounce me up and down on his cock. I remember feeling his dick really "bottom out" inside of me in that position and thinking,

"Ondra, this can NOT be good for your cervix - SHIT!" 

I've actually never been fucked in this position by anyone before or since and, to tell you the truth, I don't think my insides can tolerate very much of that. With Cal holding me that way, it was all I could do to keep my arms and legs wrapped around him and keep from screaming in his ear every time my pussy slammed down onto his cock. I ended up just making these funny squeaking noises, kind of like the ones you make when you're trying not to let your sneeze escape all the way. 

The whole time he'd be saying stuff like, "Yeah, you're gonna fucking get it now girl." in his misogynistic southern drawl. 

Like what? I hadn't been "getting it" already? What the fuck else was left for him to do with me, toss me out the window? 

With Cal I never got much of a chance to play with myself and to get all neurotic about my vaginal fluids like I usually do when I'm being fucked, because he was one of those men who liked to frequently change positions during sex. You know the type. You just get comfortable and start to concentrate on having a good, intense orgasm and boom, it's on to the next contortion. That's okay though, I came PLENTY during my time with Cal - BELIEVE ME! 

Consistent with his chauvinistic side, Cal was the type of man who liked his lovers to get lost right after copulation, so I quickly got used to scampering back to my room with cum in between my legs.

The resort staff must have thought Cal was literally eating the monogrammed bathrobes, because each time we fucked, I would steal the one from his suite to wear for my walk back to my room and he'd have to call concierge services to request a replacement. 

On the flip side, the staff responsible for cleaning my room must have thought that I had a terry cloth fetish. 

When we weren't screwing, we didn't hang out together for whole days at a time. I'd work out and relax (or drink) in the mornings and afternoons, and then we'd text each other (expensive!) to meet up for lunch followed by sex or dinner followed by sex or both.

Well, now that I really think about it, it was usually for both and one of the days I think we actually fucked three different times. Whatever the number, we definitely outpaced the "four lays three nights" that everyone jokes about. 

The only full night I spent with Cal was my last one. He woke me up at about 8:00 the next morning to get in one last fuck, but pulled his dick out of me after a couple of minutes and said, "Darlin', why don't we finish up in the shower." So in we went. The shower in Cal's suite was bigger than my whole bathroom at home, so it was easy for us take care of business in one area while the water was running in another.

"Oh, so THAT'S how you want to finish up!" he said as he reached to adjust the nozzle. 

I thought he had said, "Why don't you finish ME off in the shower," so I just sat myself down on this little bench thingy that was in there and grabbed his dick to start sucking it. 

He was probably surprised because I really hadn't spent all that much time giving him head during my stay. For all he knew I was like a lot of women who just do the obligatory suck-before-fuck and then don't want the guy's dick anywhere near their mouths after that.

Well, he didn't have my lips wrapped around his cock for more than a couple of minutes before he was "Oh fuck-ing" and "Oh shit-ing" his way to another ball-draining orgasm and depositing his good 'ol boy semen right onto that midway spot on my tongue that you folks already know is my ideal drop off point for accepting unfamiliar cum which I'm planning to swallow. 

With his hand clenched firmly and almost painfully onto my chin, he held my head steady and told me to open my mouth again. As he squeezed the last bit of his gunk onto my tongue, he looked down at me and barked,

"Just what you wanted, that dirty little mouth of yours filled up with a big fat wad of my cum you filthy fucking slut!" 

Hmm, I guess I finally knew what Cal really thought of me. After deriding me, he got right under the water to soap up without skipping a beat.

He was obviously expecting me to leave at that point, but instead I sat down on the floor of the shower with my back against the wall, my knees pulled up to my chest and my arms wrapped around my legs. I could still taste his seminal secretions on my tongue. All I could do was stare at my feet and think about the degrading way in which he had just spoken to me. How could he call me such a thing? 

In my mind I played devil's advocate and attempted to see myself through Cal's eyes:

'I allowed him to completely remove my bikini and was sitting naked in a chair sucking his cock less than two hours after he met me and I willingly spread my legs for him close to ten separate times during my four day stay.'

That covered the slut part.

'I always left his suite sweaty, sticky, wreaking of sex and with his nasty cum oozing from my pussy. This time I would be leaving with my breath smelling like his semen.'

That covered filthy part. 

If there was a case to be made that I WASN'T the "filthy fucking slut" Cal thought I was, I myself was having a hard time seeing it right at that moment. 

I looked up at him as he continued to scrub any trace of me off of himself. The cleaner he became, the dirtier I felt. Was he even going to acknowledge that I was still in the shower with him?

When a woman is naked and curled up into a little ball on the floor of a shower, she's either going through some substance abuse related crisis, she's just received horrible news about her own health or she's devastated over some matter related to love or sex.

Didn't he know that? How fucking difficult was it for him to figure out I was upset about something? 

Finally he looked down at me and said,

"Stop back and say goodbye before you go to the airport, would'ya?"

"UGH!"

I sprung to my feet, picked up a travel-sized bottle of shampoo and hurled it toward him as hard as I could.

"I HATE YOU!" 

I shouted at him as I stormed out of the bathroom, gathered my things and ran out the door.

On the way back to my room, I grabbed a bottled water from one of the service carts. I couldn't wait to rinse the taste of Cal from my mouth. I took a drink but didn't swallow it. I just spit it out right onto the concrete. A hotel employee asked me if I was alright and if I needed any medical attention.

I responded, "Not unless you know how to pump semen from someone's stomach." and kept walking.

As I entered my room I felt ill and reached the toilet just in time to throw up. For the next twenty minutes I sat sobbing on the bathroom floor with my head leaning against the toilet's water tank. 

I was a fucking pathetic mess. 

Add the stench of vomit to the list of valid reasons why any man would have been completely justified in agreeing with Cal's 'filthy' description of me before.

I finally dragged myself into the shower, where I decided I would not be stopping by Cal's suite before I left. However, I changed my mind by the time I was finished packing. I had to make him apologize for treating me like crap both verbally and physically.

When I got there, Cal made no reference to the fact that I had stormed out earlier and instead handed me a pair of dirty panties that I apparently had forgotten after one of our previous romps. The crotch was hard and crunchy with dried secretions, which was normal for me because I usually had a really wet pussy by the time I got back to Cal's room after we hung out together, anticipating receiving another paramount fucking from him. But then I noticed something. 

"Uh, these aren't mine, Cal."

"Oh, sorry 'bout that." he said nonchalantly as he snatched them back and draped them over the back of the same armchair that I first sat naked in three days prior.

My first instinct was to interrogate Cal as to how he found the time and desire to fuck another woman when I wasn't around. 

Was she prettier and sexier than me? 

Did he manhandle her during sex too? 

Did she suck his dick more often and better than I did?

Just what about me wasn't enough for him? 

What more could I have done?

I suddenly realized why he would make me leave his suite right after sex. It was almost comical. I mean, literally the second he would finish his orgasm and his cum was freshly dripping out of me, he would walk toward the shower while saying something like, "Call me later if you want to go to dinner," which meant, "Get out, I'm done with you for now!" He obviously had this other woman coming over.

So, like a fool I would always call and accompany him for a meal. And it's not like he was BUYING me dinner. The place was all-inclusive, so I had already paid for my own damn meals anyway! 

I'd always end up back at his suite drunk and about to get fucked until I was sober again. Cal was so aloof at times that he was basically humping the mattress with my body happening to be in between. Sometimes it seemed as if my pussy was merely there to provide enough friction for his cock so that he could climax. I might as well have been a blowup doll.

After about forty-five seconds, I was so frustrated that I completely forgot why I had come to his room in the first place (Ooo, it still makes me SO MAD just thinking about it!). I decided to simply chalk the whole situation up to a lesson learned and say my goodbyes with a shred of dignity intact.

"Okay, it was nice meeting you." I said, as I offered a handshake.

Cal had his notebook computer fired up and before I left he gestured for me to take a look at the screen.

"Why don't you pick yourself out somethin' nice and we'll get it sent to you." 

I was taken aback for a second as I looked at the prices of some of the stuff (By the way, the Cartier website is a real pain in the ass to navigate). 

"How 'bout one of these?" suggested Cal. 

That particular page didn't have anything less than $5,000! 

"Are you sure about this?" 

"Sometimes a young girl just starting out in life needs a little help. C'mon now, pick yourself out somethin' real pretty." 

At first I felt like telling him, "Fuck you, I don't need any help!" But after the whole "panty incident" the spiteful Ondra figured, 'Why not?'

So, I picked out a $5,700 piece of jewelry, he put in my shipping information and his credit card number and he bought it for me. It arrived at my house a few days after I got back from my trip. 

I'm not really much of a jewelry person, so I just sat on it for a couple of months before selling it online for a little less than the purchase price. I hadn't even thought of doing that until Kimberly brought it up. She's always buying shit online, whereas I'm more of a Costco and Walmart girl. 

I had heard that this kind of thing happens to women more often than one would think, but I never thought it would happen to me. 

All things considered, I guess I picked the right guy to fuck on vacation.

Guy #5: June 2011. John.

Having just returned from my trip on a Sunday, I met up with the girls the following Thursday night to fill them in on how it went. Chloe and Cara had taken the same car and showed up together, while Kimberly came sauntering in a few minutes after that. 

"Hey, that John guy's here."

Chloe was referring to this gorgeous guy who we had seen there before and with whom I had passing conversations a couple of times. We referred to him simply as "That John Guy."

With all the girls assembled, I began to give a detailed account of (almost) everything that happened during my vacation, from the exotic meals I had eaten, to the exotic tropical fish I had seen while snorkeling, to the exotic positions in which I had gotten fucked every day. I left out the "filthy fucking slut" quote and the part about the other woman's panties. 




Slutty Ondra's Sex Log Ch. 04



"Really? Fifty-something years old?" Cara said, wrinkling her nose incredulously.

"You whore!" Chloe chided after hearing about me accepting the jewelry from Cal.

"Shut up Chloe! You know any of us would have done the same thing in that situation." Kimberly snapped. 

"Oh, absolutely!" concurred Cara.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Chloe reluctantly conceded.

"Actually, that gift did kind of make me feel like a call girl, but a least I'm an expensive one!"

That John guy overheard me mention the resort I was at (I hope that's ALL he overheard) and chimed in that he had also vacationed there, so we invited him to join us. The conversation was pleasant enough, but I could tell John was a little nervous in my presence, almost as if he had crush on me.

I recruited Cara to join me for a bathroom break. We entered the restroom and searched for suitable stations.

"No, this one's gross!"

"These two look good, Ondra."

So, it was skirt up for me and jeans down for Cara as we planted ourselves in adjacent stalls.

"Ha, no way!"

"Oh yeah, look at that!"

We could see each other's panties under the dividing wall and got a crack up from the fact that we were wearing the same brand and style that day - including the color. We had gotten them at the same lingerie party a while back.

"So, what do you think of that John guy?" asked Cara.

"He seems nice. I'd like to get to know him better."

"Uh-oh, I know what THAT means!"

"What?"

"It means you want to rub privates with him."

"What? Cara!"

She was partially right.

While washing our hands at neighboring sinks, I said, "I wish I would fucking hurry up and get my period."

"Why, are you late?"

"No, I just want to get on with it already."

"I know, I hate that feeling too." 

Once back at the table, neither John nor I tried to hide our obvious attraction to each other. Although we didn't rush out of the bar together to have sex on the spot, John did offer to take me to the county fair the next night. Thank God, finally a guy wanted to take me out and be nice to me!

Friday night, John and I had a great time going on rides and petting the animals at the fair. Although I managed to resist bringing home a cute little bunny rabbit as a pet, I could not resist bringing home a craving for microwave popcorn, which we started as soon as we walked in my door. John sat on one of the stools at my kitchen island to keep an eye on the popcorn. 

Meanwhile, I went upstairs and slipped out of my jeans and panties, giving way to a pair of yellow, cotton mini-shorts with a drawstring front. My blouse and bra gave way to one of the same white, form-fitting t-shirts that I wear for my workouts and that Brian had been so awe-struck by during my braless hike with him.

While changing I was keen to the fact that there was a guy waiting for me downstairs whom I had taken the initiative to invite inside and with that invitation came a heightened expectation of physical interaction. If I wasn't prepared for some sort of an advance from John, then I had better not go downstairs wearing shorts so skimpy that some of my panties actually did a better job of covering my ass and a top that seemed to magnify the protrusion of my nipples, even when they weren't hard and especially when I wasn't wearing a bra.

After sleeping with Brian twice, sucking Fel's cock in the airport hotel and receiving twice daily power-fuckings from Cal on vacation - all in the course of about ten days - I surely wasn't going to drop dead if John and I didn't end up naked by the end of the night. But that was the rational Ondra. The horny and capricious Ondra that loves to coax warm cum from hard cocks had a different agenda. 

After all, I didn't agree to go out with him just to see how skilled I was at NOT having sex him. So I kept the outfit and decided I would welcome his sexual offerings. That is, if there even were any. Not every guy has the courage to make a move in such a situation. 

In other words, not every guy is like Cal. On the walk from the resort bar to his suite after we first met, I had to hold the cups of my bikini top over my breasts with my hands for the last twenty or so steps because he had already untied both knots in the back. Once in the room he grabbed the top from me, tossed it on the bed and slid out of his swimming trunks. Then he said, "Let's get these off of you too." as he untied the knots on both sides of my string bikini bottom and pulled it from in between my legs. 

With both of us standing there completely naked, I reached up to put my arms around Cal's neck so I could kiss him, but he just ordered me to: "Go ahead and sit yourself down in that chair right there," which I did and you know the rest from there. 

This guy was not nearly that assertive. 

I came back downstairs to the awaiting John and attempted to duplicate one of the exotic drinks I had on vacation, but I must have gotten the ingredients and quantities wrong. I made him try it first. 

"Not bad if you're going for the expired cough medicine taste." he sarcastically critiqued. 

After tasting it myself, my own critique was much less diplomatic.

"Oh God, that's horrible!"

"Allow me." said John as he shooed me aside and took over the reins as resident mixologist. 

I began to feel a slight buzz as we stood in the kitchen enjoying the delicious drinks John had prepared and I thought about how much of a turn-on it was seeing him take control like that.

"Oh, you haven't seen the rest of my place yet! C'mon, I'll take you on the tour." I said, as I polished off the last of my cocktail and John followed me upstairs to the bedroom.

When we got to the top of the stairs John asked me, "Do you still want these lights on?" as he placed his hand next to the switches that turned off the staircase and downstairs lights.

I didn't answer him right away. 

I was hesitating because I knew that my answer would send a crystal clear message as to whether or not John could expect sex from me that night.

"Not unless you're planning on making more drinks. Do you want another one?" I finally replied.

"No, do you?"

John had tossed the hot potato right back to me.

I hesitated again, while trying to decide if I wanted his tour of my place to become a tour of my body. 

After a pause that seemed like an eternity, I finally gave John my answer.

"No, I'm fine."

And with that John flipped the switches that would throw the downstairs into complete darkness. He was now assured that the rest of our evening was to be spent in my bedroom and that, although the skimpy outfit I was wearing already left little to his imagination as to what I looked like naked, soon he would need no imagination at all.

John sat down on the sofa in the lounge area of my bedroom room and finally finished his drink. I took his glass from him and set it down on the table.

"Man, what a lightweight!" I teased, while I stood over him.

"Oh yeah? Come here you!" he said, as he playfully pulled me down onto him and I landed straddled on his lap.

"Thanks so much for tonight. I had a great time." I said.

Being on top of John in those microscopic shorts and super tight shirt was making my below-the-waist water works begin. I corrected myself before kissing him.

"I mean, I'm HAVING a great time."

I wrapped my arms around John's neck as he placed his around my torso. I could tell he was ready for me to let go but I didn't want to move on yet. After my vacation encounter with the woman-hating Cal, I wanted to take some time to enjoy a tender moment with a man.

By the time I finally did let go, John had his hands inside my shorts, initially caressing my bare ass, then working them in between my legs. He stopped himself just shy of inserting a finger in my pussy. 

"No, no, it's okay, go ahead." I consented, as I held his wrist and guided his hand to the proper spot.

My wetness moistened John's finger while I resumed my grasp around his neck, relaxed my body and just enjoyed his touch. Gurgling noises resounded from my private region as my vagina responded to John's manipulation by producing more and more lubricant. 

And then we stopped.

Neither one of us had removed a stitch of clothing as of yet and that was becoming bothersome.

I stood up and pulled my shorts down while John stayed seated, took off his shirt and wriggled out of his jeans. I watched his stiff cock flop against his stomach as he quickly repositioned himself on the sofa in anticipation for my return to his lap. I also took a good, long gaze of admiration at the source of John's semen production - a beautifully shaved and remarkably hefty ball sac.

Throwing off my t-shirt, I rushed to assume my original position straddling John, only this time my vaginal canal would be filled with a much beefier occupant. 

As I rode him, I couldn't help but liken the feeling of having his dick inside me to the way I felt when I had sex with that "large" guy I dated. John wasn't quite that big, but almost.

My eyes became wide and my brow furrowed with surprise, apprehension and a little pain the first time I sat completely down on his cock. 

"Wow, you're not exactly small, are you?" 

"I wouldn't know what to compare it to." a modest John replied.

"Do you want to get in back of me?" 

"You mean I get to watch that booty of yours?"

So, with both of us having one foot on the floor and the other knee on the couch, John took me from behind. My ass smacked repeatedly against his hips as his cock searched for the most profound depths of my insides with each forward thrust.

The leather groaned and the wooden frame creaked as my sofa fulfilled its obligation in supporting our movements. My mom had given me that couch when I got my first place five years ago. It was a studio apartment and the fold out bed was where I slept until I bought my townhome in 2010. 

Needles to say, that sofa was no stranger to my naked body and this was far from the first time it had played a role in making sure I got fucked good and hard. You can imagine, as a horny twenty-three year old girl living on my own for the first time, I was as boy crazy as they come. There were stretches when I'd have five new fuck buddies in one week, sometimes two in one day. Through it all that sofa was my partner in crime, my accomplice in getting me laid so many times and by so many different guys.

Often the sex occurred right on top of it because we'd be in so much of a hurry to screw each other, we wouldn't take the time to open the mattress until we were finished and it was time to go to sleep. So, I've wiped off a fair share of stray cum that has landed on it over the years too, even though I tried to put a towel down whenever I could.

John pulled out of me and began to jerk his cock, so I turned around and knelt down to present my visage to him as a target. I kept my mouth closed as he sprayed my face with a more than generous helping of spunk.

"Sorry about that."

John's product had gone all over the place, including in my hair.

With one eye glued shut I navigated my way into the bathroom to assess the damage. I licked some cum from my finger and was pleased with the taste as I attempted to restore my face to a modestly recognizable state.

"John, could you come in here for a second?"

"Can you just check my hair to see if I missed anything?"

Doing an absolutely terrible job at trying to hold back a chuckle, John said, "I think there's still some right there."

"Could you get it for me?"

John rolled up some toilet paper and wiped the cum out of my hair along with some that I had missed on my neck, but failed to wipe the shit eating grin from his face.

"You're pretty proud of yourself over this, aren't you?" I said with frustration, at the same time trying to hide my own amusement.

John just laughed and said, "There was a lot of it, wasn't there?"

"Okay, out you go mister." I ordered, as I poked on the middle of his chest with my finger.

"You're throwing me out?"

"I have to pee!"

"Oh!" said John as he backed his way out of the bathroom and climbed into my bed.

After several minutes he called in to me.

"Hey, you okay in there, Ondra?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

When I came out of the bathroom, there was something I needed to bring to his attention.

"Um, John, I just started my period. You should check to see if anything's on you down there." 

John went into the bathroom.

"There are more towels under the sink to the right." I yelled in.

"There was a little bit on me, but I got it." he said as he came back to bed.

I snuggled up to him and rested my head on his chest.

"I knew I was due to start any day now. Sorry the night had to end up like this."

"Don't be silly. Are you going to sleep in that?" he asked.

Before I came out of the bathroom and after I inserted a tampon, I had slipped on a pair of regular-cut panties and put a liner in them, which is how I usually sleep during the first couple of days of my period.

"Yeah, I think I'd better." I answered.

"Will you at least take the t-shirt off?"

I had also put my t-shirt back on because I was a little embarrassed about having to discuss my feminine issues with John and didn't feel nearly as sexy as I did at the beginning of our date. 

Poor guy! First he has to help me pick cum out of my hair, then he's got to clean off his genitals after discovering that I've gone and bled all over him!

"Sure." I replied as I slipped the shirt off over my head.

And with that we fell asleep.

I actually didn't sleep very well that night, with having a new guy in my bed and still being a bit self-conscious about the way the night had ended. 

When John initially asked me out, if I had said, "Sure, I'd love to go out with you Friday night. That's the night I'll be starting my period," he probably would have come up with a convenient excuse to reschedule our date for another time.

As the sun came up I awoke first. We had drifted apart during the night but it didn't take long for my cheek to find its familiar groove on John's chest. As I lay there I wondered just what he would think of this strange creature to which he was about to wake up.

Let's see, he would surely recognize I was of the human species and that I was female. Beyond that I bore no resemblance to the girl he had picked up for his date last night. My makeup was off, my hair was matted with dried cum in spots, my sexy shorts had been replaced with pair of granny panties and I had a whole supermarket aisle's worth of feminine products in between my legs. 

When he finally woke up, John didn't pull away from me, but instead held me tighter. In my own little way I must have done something to endear myself to him (aside from letting him fuck the shit out of me, because, as all women know, even THAT'S not enough sometimes).

"Hey, thanks for not freaking out about getting my stuff on you last night." 

"No worries. I understand that's a part of you."

"Yeah, and last night it became a part of you too!" I joked.

John was so sweet about the whole thing, I couldn't help but get emotional. At that moment in time I would have done anything for him. If his cock were three feet long and twenty inches around, I would have somehow found a way to fit the whole thing inside of me. If he shot a gallon of cum, I would have taken it all in and not let any of it leak out.

It's one of those deeply intimate feelings that overcomes a woman every once in a while. I don't know if there's a comparable feeling that men get about women. If so, I can't imagine what it would be. After all, we're the ones who allow our bodies to get invaded by a phallus during sex, not the other way around.

"Hey, it's still very early, do you want to go back to sleep?" I asked John.

"I don't know. I'm pretty awake right now."

"Oh really? Does that mean I get to play?" I flirted, while pushing the covers down to expose John's flaccid penis.

I wanted to utilize my body to give John pleasure and since my crotch area was presently a haz-mat zone, I knew my mouth was the only thing that could be of use to him. I slid downward, leaned across his stomach on my side facing his cock and licked my lips in anticipation.

I haven't mentioned this before, but I just LOVE giving an early morning blowjob to a guy. I love taking his cock into my mouth and getting it hard while he's still all groggy, and then giving his dick a supreme oral worshipping until he shoots a huge - "no better way to start the day" - load of hot, sticky spunk into my mouth. 

Then I, of course, swallow all of it, so he has absolutely no need for any cleanup and can fall right back to sleep while I make him breakfast, leaving him completely satisfied - with empty balls and a full stomach. 

Since I had already determined I was okay with the taste of his cum last night, I knew John would not be needing any cleanup when I was done sucking him off this morning. Every last drop of it would be staying in my mouth.

I read somewhere that men's testosterone levels are at their highest between the hours of 5 and 8 a.m. I don't know if any of the gentleman out there can confirm this, or if your dicks feel any different at that time of the day, but if this is true, then John was about to have his elevated testosterone levels put to good use. 

John could look down and see the back of my head as it bobbed up and down. I stroked his cock with both my mouth and hand, as it began to glisten with moisture. There was a wet spot starting to form on my sheets where my excess saliva had run off of his balls and down his ass crack. I took him as far into my mouth as I could manage, but I knew at that angle I couldn't deep throat him. 

My neck began to get tired, so I shifted into a kneeling position at right angles to John and continued my task. I moved my hair out of the way so he could see the left side of my face with my lips wrapped around his dick and his shaft disappearing about 3/4 of the way into my mouth with each stroke. Glancing up, however, I noticed that John's eyes were closed.

He was doing just what I had hoped and was continuing to allow me to be the aggressor. So many times guys seek to reclaim the aggressor role half way through a blowjob by grabbing a woman's head or ordering her around in some way. If she's good at it, then she knows exactly what it takes to get a guy to cum and some of those actions from him aren't necessary.

Men, sometimes it's okay to just close your eyes, put your hands behind your head, lay back and imagine that you're getting your cock sucked by a Victoria's Secret model or the bubbly blonde who does the weekend weather reports on the local news channel. We like that at times!

I myself like it for two reasons. First, it makes me feel abused and neglected, but safe and secure at the same time. This is the one time, guys, when you have my unconditional approval to make me feel like a completely insignificant piece of shit.

By totally ignoring my presence while I'm blowing you, you're telling me:

'Woman, the only reason why you're even in the room is to jerk me off with your mouth while I fantasize about someone other than you, then be my human garbage disposal and swallow all my cum so I don't have to deal with cleaning up my own mess when I'm done.'

That's hot!

The second reason I like it when a guy drifts off to his own little world while I'm blowing him is that it shows he trusts me handling that particular orgasm for him. Instead of jerking off himself, he's outsourcing that job to me and knows it'll be done right. It's the ultimate endorsement of my oral skills! 

Is there anyone left out there who still doubts how much I love to suck cock?

In my bed that early Saturday morning, John certainly had no doubts.

"Shit! I'm gonna cum!" he cried out just before he started to climax.




Slutty Ondra's Sex Log Ch. 05



Well, two relatively major things have happened in my life since I last talked to you guys.

First, I've ruined another relationship and have broken up with Neil. I'll explain exactly what my part was in ruining it as we go along. 

Second, my sabotaging of the relationship with Neil has finally forced me into therapy to try to figure out my issues with intimacy and sex.

For those of you thinking, 'Uh-oh, here we go with one of these sexless stories where Ondra bores us with a bunch of bullshit psycho-babble about her fucking issues!", stick around. You'll find that it's quite the opposite.

Remember, I went into therapy in the first place because I've spent the last ten years being a chain dick sucker and throwing my vagina at anyone who could achieve an erection, so all of that sex will get discussed right here as I work through all of my shit and open up to you folks.

Also, if you're thinking now that I'm in therapy I'll be "fixed" and stop fucking all these guys, so you'll no longer hear from me - think again. With the things I'm learning and accepting about myself now, thanks to the therapy, if anything I can forsee giving myself permission to take on MORE sex partners in the future, not fewer (You'll discover my reason for saying that shortly).

And, with what I told you the last time, you already know about a certain sexual maneuver that I would like performed on me as soon as humanly possible.

As some of you know from chatting with me here and on YM, that after my breakup I didn't do my typical hooking up with lots of guys on the rebound this time. Neil and I simply became each other's FB's, as his cock would end up in one (or all) of my holes about once every two weeks. But I was with this one guy a relatively short time after the breakup. I had been kinda talking to him whenever I saw him at this salad place I duck into for lunch when I'm near campus.I finally let him take me to dinner one evening and we ended up back at his place afterwards.

By the time I sat down on his sofa, he had pulled his pants down and his clearly raging hard-on was an unmistakable display of just how sexually excited he was. On the other hand, based on the tepid reaction going on in between these legs, I could tell that my own sex organs were not indicating nearly the same level of enthusiasm as were his.

After a couple of minutes of me administering (oh my God, I really am starting to talk like a nurse!) to him some pretty lackluster oral sex, I stopped and just looked up at him. I was sort of hoping that he would ask me if everything was ok, which would have been my opportunity to tell him that I wasn't really into it, but instead he took my stopping as a sign that it was his turn to perform oral on me.

I was wearing a black spandex mini skirt that night, which he worked upwards past my hips until it I was wearing it around my torso up above my belly button and then he pulled my panties to one side to begin eating me out. While he was licking me, I reached down to take off one, and eventually the other shoe and tried to just relax.

I must say that he was pretty good with his tongue, but despite what would have normally been oral good enough to result in at least one big orgasm for me, my pussy was not even getting that wet on its own. At that point, most of the moisture to be found down in my vaginal region was definitely coming from this guy's mouth.

I even tried to help matters along by sticking a couple of fingers in myself while his tongue was working my clit and then playing with my clit with my hand whenever his tongue happened to be someplace else on me. That did help a little. He didn't bother to take my panties off of me before he started fucking me, which ordinarily I would have objected to.

Usually, if I'm anticipating a really energetic session of sex, I'll want to get the most out of it and I wouldn't want my panties potentially getting in the way. This time, though, I really didn't care.

The intercourse itself was pretty standard fare, with me leaning back on the couch with my ass scooted forward toward the front edge of the cushions and him kneeling on the floor while he fucked my moderately wet pussy.

Now, I've been in situations where a guy will actually begin to lose his erection a bit if I'm not sufficiently lubricated for him. This time, however, I knew that would NOT be happening. His cock had been fucking rock hard since well before he released it from his pants, and I knew it was going to stay hard until it had gotten every last ounce of pleasure that it needed from my body, and only then would it be ready to terminate that pleasure in what would no doubt be a very satisfying and ball-emptying orgasm for this guy. I just didn't know when it would finally happen or where on my body, or in my body I would be taking his cumshot.

After a while my natural lubrication did improve, but never to the point that it was enough to match the fast pace at which his dick was traveling in and out of me. I mean, he was really fucking the shit out of me, although it was probably more pronounced because I wasn't "fucking him back", so to speak.

I just wish he was a little more observant and had thought to better match my movements in the very beginning. Then he would have been more gentle with me. I can't blame him, though. He was simply being a normal guy.

Meanwhile (God forbid I should stop talking about my vagina for five seconds), I kept having to wet my hands and deposit the moisture from them in between my legs and onto his dick as it slid past my fingers. He did pick up on my efforts this time, though, and at one point, even had me spit on his own hand to help me out.

Then, with the same fervor he had been using to thrust himself into me, he suddenly yanked his cock out of my pussy and started to cum on me. Remember folks, my panties were still on me the whole time with the crotch material pushed aside and resting to one side of my pussy.

For some reason, my first instinct was to put them back into their proper position covering my vagina. He was orgasming the whole time, so while I was doing this, blobs of his cum were plopping down onto my fingers and onto the front of my panties. He never said anything, but he must have wondered why I had chosen to cover myself up right at that moment. Maybe he thought I simply didn't want his cum on my bare skin.

Well it turns out that didn't matter, because when I went into the bathroom to freshen up, I discovered that the crotch of my panties was wet and slimy on the inside. Obviously he had started to cum before he pulled out of me completely and whatever semen he had deposited inside of me was now oozing back out of my pussy and creating a sticky mess in between my legs. I slid my wet panties down to my ankles, stepped out of them and sat down on the toilet to begin cleaning myself off down there.

I found some toilet wipes and used a couple of them to wipe away most of the cum. I still didn't know how much of it had yet to exit my vagina and I didn't want to wipe myself with toilet paper right away and have it break up on me, causing me to go home with little shreds of bathroom tissue all down in my crotch. Although it wouldn't really have mattered because I was probably going to jump into the shower as soon as I got home anyway.

I also knew I would not be putting my cum-soaked panties back on, and I didn't want this guy's male juices to still be trickling out of me and directly onto my miniskirt while I was driving home, so I reached down and stuck a finger in my vagina so I could coax as much of his remaining cum from my pussy as possible.

As I was washing my hands I noticed a woman's hair clip by the sink. As I looked around further I saw some panties, two bras and a bunch of makeup scattered about the counter. Being a woman, I, of course, had to investigate further. I opened the doors to the cabinet under the sink and found some feminine products and cotton balls.

I slid the shower door aside and saw moisturizers, cleansers and conditioners that obviously belonged to a woman, as well as a vibrator standing at attention at the edge of the bathtub! I couldn't help but pick it up (hey, I was going to be washing my hands again anyway). It said 'waterproof'.

Obviously this guy had a live-in girlfriend or a wife and I wondered where she was tonight while I was receiving the cumshot that should have been reserved for her.

Finally satisfied that I had gotten myself as cleaned up in between my legs as I possibly could without actually taking a shower, I glanced down at my discarded, cum-drenched panties and decided not to ball them up as I retrieved them from off the floor. Instead I would carry them out freely to let them get some air.

I said my goodbyes hastily and walked to my car, panties dangling from my fingertips. I felt awkward having discovered that I had just been an accomplice in this guy's cheating on his significant other.

I tossed my useless undergarment onto the floor of my car and drove home lacking the slightest idea of who the fuck I really was sexually and who I wanted to be going forward.

With my twenty-ninth birthday looming, I knew that if I was ever going to want a conventional romantic and family life, then it was time for me to straighten up and fly right and stop being the (to coin a phrase from Cal) "filthy fucking slut" which I had grown so accustomed to being over the years.

Continuing to be that slut would certainly be acceptable as well, but I suddenly felt a pressing need to make that decision one way or the other, at least in the short term.

Once home, I rinsed my panties out in the sink, flung them across the top frame of my shower door and prepared to get myself wet.

It was during that shower - some time in between scrubbing the previous evening's application of antiperspirant from my underarms and running my soap-filled hand in between my legs to clean away the last remnants of sweat, saliva, vaginal secretions and stale semen left on me after the wanton fucking I had just done - that your girl here made the decision to start therapy.

*****

As far as my actual treatment goes, my therapist tells me that because I traumatically lost my father at age ten, my inner self has never matured past that age and to this day remains deathly afraid of being abandoned and getting my heart broken again - even in friendships. I fear that anyone to whom I get close will eventually leave me like my dad did (although I can hardly blame him for dying).

So, how does this relate to men, their penises and my vagina?

Well, a woman who has a normal balance between her physical and emotional selves will meet a guy she's attracted to, get to know him, slowly develop feelings for him and then have sex with him as an expression of those feelings.

But because of my abandonment issues, I am anything but normal. If I waited to develop feelings that deep for a guy before I allowed myself to be intimate with him, I would already feel too vulnerable and be pulling away from him before we even had sex. I'd end up never having sex with anyone!

Instead, my M.O. has been to pick out a guy I find attractive, become intimate with him right away and then move on before I get too emotionally involved, but not before the guy has received the benefit of fucking my brains out between one and, let's say, a hundred times. That's what happened with Neil. I never gave him a chance to hurt me or make me really happy either.

I've also been known to go through phases when I just suck different guys' cocks and handle the penetrative portion of my sex life exclusively through my extensive collection of vibrators, dildos and butt plugs, but those phases don't usually last more than a few weeks.

Since high school my sex life has consisted of the type of blatant predatory, or some call it "sport fucking", which has historically only been associated with the male species. Well, I must have a lot of male traits because I've done more mindless, recreational fucking in my lifetime than any male I've ever known.

My dating life has been fraught with short to medium-term sexual relationships, one night stands and bouts of oral sex given to random guys on random days - anything which enables me to remain emotionally detached.

Once I touch a dick, IT becomes more important to me than the actual person it's attached to and the basis for my entire sexual identity lies in making sure that particular guy's dick is kept happy, hard and satisfied and that I drain the cum from his balls whenever he needs them emptied. That is the sole purpose of my sex life while I'm with him (I'm glad I have a female therapist, because this is the way I actually talk with her too).

I've always prioritized the physical aspects so that I wouldn't have to deal with the emotional ones. So, sucking cock, licking balls, rimming, eating cum, taking facials - that's where my bread's always been buttered.

Although coming home to an empty house at 6:30 a.m. after a one night stand with my panties shoved into my purse and my bra on backwards (okay, now I'm just being silly; even on my drunkest nights I can still manage to figure out that my tits are in the front) does get a little lonely sometimes, for me it beats the alternative of constantly agonizing over being dumped or spending one angst-ridden night after another wondering if a guy's really into me.

For him, he gets an open, willing sex partner who's cute, loves to suck cock, will accept a dick in all three of her holes without blinking and who won't stick around long enough to become annoying.

Now my sexual beginnings are really starting to make a lot more sense to me. Of the four of us girls, I was actually the last one to have intercourse with a boy. By the time we graduated high school, four or five boys had already fucked Cara, two or three Kimberly and Chloe and I had been with the same guy, Steve R., to lose our virginity. But, unlike my three girlfriends, I was busy giving oral sex to several of the boys from the other high school. I'd say that I sucked five or six of these boys' cocks over the last three months of my senior year, most more than once.

To be honest, my telling you in the past that Cara was really the school slut only told half the story. Although I was not yet as prolific in the intercourse department, I was every bit as familiar with the male genitalia as she was. For those of you who adhere to a high standard of what is acceptable behavior for a teenage girl, by your definition, in high school both Cara and I were total sluts. There's no way to sugar coat it - just complete and utter fucking sluts!

I knew a bunch of the students at that other high school because I had gone to the same elementary school with them years before. I had remained friends with some of the boys since then, but the girls that I knew seemed to change when they got to that other place and as soon as I began socializing with "their boys", I couldn't help but feel like an intruder. It was like something out of the movies when I would go into their territory.

The girls at their school wore white blouses under green sweaters with solid grey skirts and white, knee-high socks, while we wore white blouses under blue sweaters with blue and grey plaid skirts and dark blue, knee-high socks. Although we both wore white blouses, that was where the commonalty came to a screeching halt. The two schools hated each other - especially the girls, so, as you can imagine, after class you didn't see a lot of plaid-skirted asses running around on their school grounds and vice versa with their solid grey mini-skirted asses on our campus. They called us tramps and ho's while we called them stuck up bitches and spoiled little daddy's-girls (Ok, I still fucking HATE them, even today!).

Looking back, I know that we were justified in calling them the names we called them and, in my particular case, I guess their names for me were accurate as well.

Isn't it funny how the stakes change as a young girl comes of age? In sixth grade I was competing with those same girls over who would win the most candy for being the best tree climber. Now in high school, the tree climbing task was replaced with the task of sucking some boy's hard cock and, instead of candy, the prize was now a mouthful of his thick, warm, cum. It was nice to finally be all grown up and I never did care that much for candy, anyway.

Well, if I thought I was popular with the boys back in sixth grade, because I could run as fast as they could and play the same games they played, sucking their dick's, licking their sweaty ball sacs and swallowing endless loads of their gooey spunk made me REALLY popular with them in high school. 

Mine were the very first blowjobs that any of them had ever received and for some of them it was a life-changing moment. Not because I was so good at giving oral (in fact, I really didn't know what I was doing yet), but because the knowledge that they could get a girl to perform that type of an act on them - something that so many of the other girls found disgusting - gave them all a profound confidence boost. I witnessed one boy go from shy and quiet to outgoing and charismatic with a great sense of humor in a matter of days after I started blowing him. I'm glad too, because he was really nice and everyone deserved to experience his great personality.

Although it would make for a more interesting story, I can not tell you that I ever pulled a train, with boys lined up waiting their turn for me to suck them off. It was always just one-on-one, sometimes with different boys on the same day - one right after school and perhaps another one later that night when we were hanging out in the park.

I could do this without any emotion and without having to see any of them at school all the time. As soon as I'd start to like a guy a little, I'd move on to the next one so that my emotions stayed protected. None of the boys seemed to mind.

There I'd be in some out-of-the-way spot, like down on my knees in the bushes behind the school, feverishly sliding some boy's cock in and out of my mouth and licking his fucking hairy, smelly balls (a lot of them didn't bother to shower after gym class), trying to hurry up and make him shoot his load before anyone showed up. Each boy's orgasm was a teaching moment, each cumload swallowed a lesson learned about male ejaculatory fluid and the vast differences there can be in the amount, consistency and taste of it, both from boy to boy and from time to time with the same boy.

Having spurt upon spurt of cum from some willing boy's erect penis explode into my mouth? Those were by far the easiest of the lessons. Other lessons were considerably more harsh. Like discovering how cocky boys can become once they think, or in my case, know, that you're easy. One of them actually acted like he was the one doing ME a favor by 'letting' me blow him and after we'd finish, he would pretend he didn't know me when he got back around his friends. I later found out that he started the trend of everyone at that school calling me by the last name "Swallows", which is a crude and insulting variation of my real last name.

I got a used car for my eighteenth birthday with about a month left to go in the school year (a 1999 Honda Accord), so I no longer had to be on my knees all the time to bestow my oral gifts upon my male friends. But while my knees were appreciating the break they were getting, my mouth, on the other hand, became even more solidly booked during after-school hours, because the boys and I now had a semi-private place to be a sexual with each other.

The first fingers in my pussy, the first lips to suck on and teeth to bite on my nipples (other than my own) were all experienced in that car. But finger me as they may, none of the boys were skilled enough yet with their hands or patient enough yet in their approach to ever bring me to an orgasm.