Petter Hegre is one of the top photographers of female nudes in the world, and just to prove it, here are some sample shots and some links to some photos and video clips.

PHOTO GALLERIES

Caro—Daydreams in Paris • Alena - Leather Dreams
Klara - Wet Skin • Katya - All the Rage
Vika - Naked Superstar • Yanna - Nightgown
Yanna – Green Shower • Yanna - Red Wine
Yanna - Blue Dress • Yanna – Fireplace
Alya – Fountain of Youth

MOVIE GALLERIES

Stripping for the World Cup • Marketa Pumping
A Day in the Life of Alexia • Mirta Stripping
Caro Blue Sexy Jeans • Yanna Stripping
Mirta Baby Oil • Fabi in Bed
Marketa in the Garden • Elina in Bed
Vika Gets Oiled

Monday, August 28, 2006
In Which There's An Assfuck At Flatrock
A Return To Portland, Pt. III

NOTE: New posts go at the top, as in most blogs, but that means that in a story like this, spread over several posts, you really need to find the first post in the series and read them in order. So, that's what I suggest you do here.

Once again, I met Tim and Erin in the hotel lobby where they were chatting with Mandy, who smiled and waved cheerily as I approached. Tim said, "Mandy says one thing we can do to kill the day is to drive out to Mt. Hood. Erin and I have never been there before. Have you? I told them I had, but that was in Winter (that story is elsewhere in this blog). I added that it sounded like a great thing to do. The last time, I'd gone to the mountain via Rt. 26, so Mandy recommended a different route.

So, before I knew it, we were on the Columbia River highway (Rt 84, I believe) and on into the famous Columbia River Gorge. I've traveled quite a bit, and I know from experience as well as common sense that rivers run in the river valleys, parallel with the mountain ridges. The Columbia is very unusual, if not unique, in terms of running perpendicular to the mountain ridges. I imagine this is the result of a gigantic earthquake opening up a fissure right across the Cascade mountain range. It may also be due in part to the great prehistoric flood that involved a number of states in the Northwestern region of the country.

Tim and Erin were well-supplied with music CD's, so we listened to mostly Texas blues all the way. Lots of Johnny Winter, Albert Collins, Stevie Ray Vaughan, and Fabulous Thunderbirds. I was glad we'd decided to use the day for this trip. The Columbia Gorge is spectacularly beautiful, especially on a day as this one was, when the air is crystal clear and there isn't a cloud in the sky.

The idea was to go to Hood River and thence take the Hood River Highway south to Rt 26, taking 26 back to Portland, a trip around the mountain that with a couple stops should take a good five or six hours, according to Mandy.

As she had suggested, we stopped in Hood River, got some burgers & fries on take-out, and watched the surfboarders for about 30 minutes. Hood River is second only, perhaps, to Hawaii when it comes to a surfboarding Mecca. The Gorge acts as a kind of funnel, concentrating the wind in narrow spots and speeding it up. Hood River turned out to be the optimal place on the river, where the wind most frequently is strong and fast-moving. We watched expert windsurfers scoot across the water and fly through the air doing all kinds of tricks. I'll have to give it a try someday.

Once we were on the highway, we drove through some of the top orchard country in the U.S. The Hood River Valley, through which the Hood River Highway runs, is famous for its apples, pears, and cherries, among other fruits.

I do have to laugh, though, at Oregonians and other Western state people who seem to think that Ohio is a heavy industrial state with wall-to-wall steel mills and plants churning out heavy equipment. In actuality, as you discover if you drive through or fly over Ohio, except for Cleveland and a couple other large cities, Ohio is mostly farm country. In fact, because Ohio lacks any major mountain ranges and certainly has no desert country unsuitable for farming, a much higher percentage of its land is devoted to agriculture than in states like Oregon, Washington, Idaho, or California.

That said, a lot of farm country you see in Oregon looks just like farm country in Ohio. There are parts of Oregon with rolling hills and farms that offer no hint as to where they are. To look at them in a photo, they might be in Ohio, Oregon, Maine, or Virginia.

We stopped at an overlook and got some photos of Mt. Hood from the back (by which I mean you're seeing the side you can't see from Portland). Even in the dead of summer, there's snow on Mt. Hood and it's possible to ski on it year 'round, though not all ski slopes stay open all year and I imagine the skiing involves more and more rock dodging as the summer progresses.

Mt. Hood is a gorgeous mountain, but strangely I find most people back home have never heard of it. It's not the tallest mountain in the lower 48, though it's one of the tallest. Mt. Rainier is much better known and seems to be thought by many or even perhaps most people to be the tallest mountain in the lower 48. Actually, that distinction is held by Mt. Whitney in California, another mountain most people don't know by name. It's just that Mt. Whitney is the tallest of several peaks in an area that's more devoted to hiking and backpacking than skiing. Mt. Hood and Mt. Rainier are much more accessible.

We found a roadside area where we could dangle our feet in some stream water. YOW!...it was ice cold. Tim reminded us that this water had probably been ice just 20 or 30 minutes earlier. It was probably about 35F degrees. Needless to say, we didn't spend a lot of time doing the foot dangling thing. In fact, my feet remained a strange mix of numb and achy for a few minutes after pulling them out of the water.

We wandered upstream from the parking area to where there was a pile of large rocks. By "large," I don't mean as big as pumpkins, I mean as big as cars, as big as rooms, as big as houses. We found a big one that was mostly flat on top with a couple divots big enough for some puddles to form. One puddle was luckily about the right temperature for foot soaking, so we gave that another try and this time with much less discomfort. The water was cool enough to be refreshing, but not so cold as to numb the flesh.

Erin had been behind me and so I didn't realize at the time that she had stripped and was laying on the rock wearing nothing but sunglasses and a lascivious smile. Tim looked at her and then at me and said, "Wanna have some fun?" "Sure!" I said with enthusiasm. I had masturbated for a while after Mandy had left my room, but something involving some flesh (and especially a great big cock) sounded pretty good to me. Erin, now up on one elbow said, "You two have fun. I think I'll just watch."

To Tim, who has a good foot and a half in height on me and easily weighs twice as much, I am but a toy, why not let him just take me? I could put up no effective resistance. Instead, I decided to play a different game, so as he came to me and tried to put his arms around me, I sternly pushed him away. At first, he looked at me puzzledly, but then he got the game: I was telling him this was one fuck he'd have to work for.

Erin was onto it, too, and had already started chuckling.

This rock was big enough for me to dodge and duck him for a while, but with his long stride and reach, of course, he was soon able to snag and then hold me. He held me to him, my upper tummy against the big bulge in his pants.

I beat my fists against his chest in mock protest. He grinned and, grabbing my arms, got them folded behind my back. Because of his huge hands, he was able to hold both of my wrists together with just one of his hands. This done, he curled one leg behind my knees and stepped around me and forward with his other leg and we both tumbled down, with me on my back and with him on top of me facing me.

Now I was helpless. He was able to free the hand that had held my wrists together, and my own body weight combined with the portion of his weight that was on me made it impossible for me to free my hands, the shoulder muscles required for doing so simply not strong enough.

(My now ex Eric had once shown me how easily a man can do this, and he did exactly the same thing. He is not nearly as big a man as Tim, but he did it quite easily as well. I realized then that even men much closer to my size could probably do it, too, given the differences in the male and female body. Apparently, Mother Nature, in her wisdom—or God in His, if there is a God—places continuing the species above female consent, and reserves rape as a means of last resort for replicating the species. But, of course, this was "fake rape" or rough sex, whichever terminology seems best to you.)

Keeping some of his weight on me, Tim unbuttoned the cotton shirt I was wearing button by button, while squirmed in an honest but futile attempt to free my arms. Erin was watching with a knowing grin. Obviously, she had been in my exact same predicament before. If I started to get and elbow out a bit, Tim would just push it back.

After a couple such attempts, Tim slapped my cheek. Not hard enough to injure me, but definitely hard enough to hurt. After being so slapped several times, I decided to give up that tactic.

Now, with my shirt open and my tits exposed, he slid down and sucked on my nipples. And I mean, keeping with the game, he was sucking hard. They say that, pound for pound, the tongue is the strongest muscle in the body, and Tim's was certainly plenty strong, whether it was caressing my nipples or simply pulling back in his mouth to suck a nipple in. He was giving me thrill shivers all over my shoulders and back.

And that was before he started biting. Soon he was pinching my nips between his teeth, then by shifting his jaw from side to side, he would roll my nipple this way and that. I found this to be even more shiver inducing, despite the pain. This was definitely one of those "It hurts so good!" situations.

By now, Erin was laying on her side, her hand clamped between her legs and, from the rhythmic tensing of the muscles in her forearm, I could tell she was masturbating.

Next, Tim came up to face level again, applying his upper body's weight against my upper body, which allowed me to try lifting my hips. This just gave him an opportunity to pull my elastic-topped shorts and panties down to mid-thigh, and so soon his hand was working its way toward my vagina, despite my attempts to stop him by crossing my legs and turning my hips this way and that.

It was hopeless because his hand made incremental gains and never lost ground, so after a few minutes, I was getting my clit massaged by one of his fingers. I loosened up my legs a bit and allowed him to continue doing this.

However, I scored a couple points myself, because as he did this, I was able to get one of his ears between my teeth and clamp down hard enough on it so that he couldn't pull it out without injuring himself. As I did this, he let out a sharp "Ugh!!!" and thrust his hand down further, massaging the outer vagina (or "vulva" as some call it and "pussy area" as others call it).

With my tongue, I massaged the large portion of his ear I held in my mouth.

Then he had a finger in me, then two, then three. Then I let go of his ear, relaxed my legs, and let him finger fuck my dripping wet snatch for a while. At the same time we started kissing furiously. His huge tongue just about filled my mouth, and had it been any longer, I might have gagged on it, but instead his tongue gently caressed and massaged my tongue. But sometimes he'd just lick my lips, looking into my eyes with the steely and icy disinterest that befits a rough sex session.

I was limp by this time. Tim got up, whipped off his T-shirt, stepped out of his shorts and briefs, and laid me across his lap, where he proceeded to spank me. These were hard individual slaps and not just play slaps. They were intended to hurt...and boy did they! But, as you are probably guessing, I responded to these in a sexual way and each one sent a thrill straight from my butt cheeks to my vagina, which was oozing like crazy.

Tim's hand was wet and he now DP'ed me with his finger in my pussy and his thumb way up my asshole. I kind of rolled to one side (still laying across his lap) to make this easier for him.

There was no longer the slightest pretense of resistance. In the words of a classic Bad Company tune of the '70's, I was "ready for love."

By this time, Erin's legs were open wide and she was finger-fucking herself vigorously. She was obviously having a good time. "Come on guys," she called out to Tim and me, "let's have some real sex. You guys are boring as shit!"

So, Tim stood up, his 14-incher straight out in front in full salute. I took off the rest of my clothes and got into a squat in front of him, my hands gripping the backs of his thighs for support. Just looking at the tip of his massive schlong was making my mouth water (how Pavlovian can one get?!!!).

"That's better," Erin said, "now let's get going!"

At first, I merely teased the underside of his dick with my upwardly-curled tongue. Then I ran it around the glans in a circular motion. When I finally took him into my mouth (for which I almost had to unhinge my jaw, like a snake) I could taste precum, which stimulated me so that I could feel pussy juice running down from my pussy to my ass cheeks where, presumably, a little puddle was forming under my butt.

Now, there are a couple things one commonly sees in porn which I personally don't like, because I think they're silly and because I think they signify a dominant role for the male. One is that ridiculous tapping of the cock around the girl's face or pussy. Another is where the girl is blowing a guy and he uses her hair as handlebars so that he can just hump her head. Gee, why not just tell me I'm a Kleenex substitute?

However, this was rough sex and I was playing the passive or "victim" role, so I didn't object when Tim took advantage of my double-ponytailed hair and used each ponytail as a handle. (And as an aside—I'll make this quick—this reminds me that my girlfriends and I disagree about what's a pigtail and what's a ponytail. To me, a ponytail is hair tied up close to the skull and relatively high up on the back of the skull so that it looks and hangs like a horse's tail does, but a pigtail is as far as I am concerned, always braided. I have friends who call just about any of it a "pigtail." What I'm talking about here is ponytails in my sense of the term. And now...back to the sex).

Tim was humping my face and doing his best to gag me, which is what I'd expect from this sort of sex. Tears were running down my cheeks, not from crying but trying not to gag and then gagging. I guess it may be from squinting very forcefully, anyway my eyeliner and mascara were running down my cheeks and I could feel saliva mixed with precum dripping from my lips, down my chin, and neck, and chest, and finally down to my crotch.

Erin was by now masturbating and laughing. "Wow...you're a mess" she said in a delighted tone.

Next, Tim grabbed me at the armpits, lifted me up to a standing position, then somehow (don't ask me to describe the motion, it happened so fast) he picked me up, rotated me 180 degrees until I was upside-down and we were in a standing 69 position. I sucked his dick while he ate my pussy. I think I was as excited as I'd ever been. Well actually, I wasn't sucking him off as much as jacking him off with my tongue slithering around his glans.

This pleased Erin quite a bit and I could tell that she was hovering near the brink of orgasm. She was probably holding it off until Tim's cumshot, which I didn't want to happen while I was upside down. I knew his loads were massive and that they'd come bursting out of my mouth, which I didn't want happening while in an upside down position. Getting semen in nose and eyes isn't my idea of a happy time, so I stopped blowing him long enough to say, "Wanna fuck my ass?"

He didn't take any more convincing so he put me down and I got into the lowest doggy position with my shoulders and cheek against the cool rock and my ass hole presented in a very convenient position.

He salivaed up his fingers and managed to get one, then two, and finally three fingers in, which was pretty much the girth of his tool. He slid right in and shivers went all through me, almost like someone had thrown a bucket of icewater on me. As is my way, I started masturbating, for while I have orgasmed from an assfuck alone, it's much better as a way of augmenting masturbation or toy play. Everyone knows the pleasure of taking a big dump, and I'm told that the rectum is more densely populated with nerve cells than the vagina, so it felt really good to have his big cock in there while I played with myself.

He's so much bigger than me that he can crouch over me and hump my ass by just bending his knees and dropping forward onto his hands. There's no way to describe the sensation of taking a giant cock all the way in to where it's practically pressing against your diaphragm, but it's...unusual, to say the very least. Not an everyday experience.

I was ready to cum at any time. I just needed something to tip me in that direction, and it came when Tim pulled back from deep in my lower bowel back into my sensitive rectum and came. His load felt like a warm enema and that was what I'd been waiting for because first it meant he was about through fucking me and just knowing I had semen in me gave me that "I'm a dirty girl" feeling. There are times when being bad is exciting, and I know that for many, anal sex is thought to be dirty and perverted.

I came a few times, gathered my breath then got up into a low squat, letting Tim's spunk form a puddle about six inches across under my ass. I looked over and Erin had apparently come while watching us. Even so, Tim was gently and lovingly licking her pussy, giving her orgasmic aftertremors. What a guy!

The rest of the afternoon was sexually uneventful. We did drive up to Timberline Lodge on the slopes of Mt. Hood, stayed for a walk around the lodge area, grabbed a quick snack, and headed on back to Portland uneventfully and in time for dinner at Todai, an incredible seafood buffet restaurant. Lots of sushi for those who like the stuff (not me!) but lots of other delicious food as well. Crab, shrimp, chicken, and even beef along with Asian salads, diced fruits, and desserts served up in finger food portions. All of this washed down with Kirin or Sapporo beer of course.

From there it was back to the Blues Festival for the evening acts. After a few more beers, we were all ready for a rest. We agreed to go to bed early and meet in the lobby early to plan our next day's adventures.

|

What would I masturbate to without those perfect-looking SapphicErotica legal teen hotties kissing, licking, finger-fucking...and obviously enjoying it as much as I do when I'm doing that sort of thing. (But I like sexier lighting when I'm doing it...LOL!!!)

PICTURE GALLERIES

Wet tongues explore pussy and anus
Dildos give threesome deep pleasure
See bestfriends pussy fun with toys
See girls in love thrust pussy deep
Threesome dressup then lick pussy
Sweet girls rub pussies to orgasm
Frenzied fingering in secret orgy
See sweet ass and pussy get fingered
Stunning girls in bold pussy play
Girls lose bikinis for pussy love
Cute teens suck deep in sixtyniner
See good friends bond with dildos
See beautiful wet pussy take fist
See sensual girls rub swollen pussy
See fresh teens cuddling and toying

MOVIE GALLERIES

Lesbian takes strapon in kitchen
Three hot teens lick ass and nipple
See intense anilingus in threesome
Teen uses dildo to make friend cum
Yummy teens suck nipple and clit
Tight tender pussy gets fingering
Girls fill each others pussies up
Tender fingers make pussy quiver
Girls gasp from strapon thrusting
Loving friends massage pussy to cum
Teens share secret thirst for pussy
Pussies spread for leisurely licks
See sweet teens naughty fondling
See fingers slip and slide in pussy
Horny teens fawn over friends ass

Wednesday, August 16, 2006
In Which I Blame It On The Retsina
A Return To Portland, Pt. II

NOTE: New posts go at the top, as in most blogs, but that means that in a story like this, spread over several posts, you really need to find the first post in the series and read them in order. So, that's what I suggest you do here.

After a long rest in our respective rooms, we went out for a late dinner. The Concierge was otherwise occupied, but the cute girl at the desk wasn't. While Tim and I waited, Erin asked her for a recommendation and after a minute or two she returned to see if we were up for Greek.

"Food?" I asked. We all laughed at my potty humor and agreed that Greek sounded great

The restaurant, named Alexis, is on Burnside, the main east-west, and is just two or three blocks from the river. The desk girl has said not to miss the Calamari, which she claimed was the best around. Other than that, she had told Erin, souvlaki is what most people go for. She had also told us we'd enjoy dining in the bar area, and that we did.

We were served up some nice homemade bread with our choice of either butter or olive oil and balsamic vinegar. You know, it's become very "yuppie" to serve olive oil with bread but the restaurants forget that many of us really like butter on bread. They should at least offer their customers a choice. We all agreed: we wanted butter.

A little after 9, guess what happened? The hotel counter girl showed up. Apparently, Erin had invited her to join us to thank her for her help (yeah, sure), and as her shift was ending at 9, she had agreed to join us. Her name was Mandy.

By then, we'd ordered a bottle of Retsina (Greece's famous wood resin-flavored white wine). I'd never had it before, just the thought of woody wine sounding repulsive, but halfway through my first glass, I had become a full-fledged Retsina addict. That stuff is fabulous!

We got Mandy a glass (before we knew she was too young and, after all, she had fake ID) and soon we discovered that she liked Retsina, too.

At about the time we ordered our second of three bottles of Retsina, we placed our order for Calamari as an appetizer, to be served with Greek salad, and for dinner, we ordered lamb souvlaki all around. The food was just as good as the wine.

Mandy became the center of attention. I had taken a good look at her when she walked into the bar. She had waist-length dark-brown hair, tied back. She was still wearing her black hotel blazer outfit which also included a white shirt and short gray skirt. I'm guessing that the length of skirt was the employee's option, because most middle-aged women would not really relish the idea of showing most of their thigh as Mandy was, and she showed even more when she sat.

She turned out to be lots of fun, had a great sense of humor, and even joined in with some off-color comments and jokes when our banter took that turn.

She had also just turned 18. I'm 22 and Erin might be a couple years older than me, 26 at most, I'd say. But at 18 Mandy was truly a youth. Perfectly clear skin, small boobs (from what I could see) so firm and high up on her chest that any higher and they'd be more shoulder pads than breasts. We all wanted to do her and as young as she was, she didn't seem to even sense our lust!

She turned out to be a typical teen, whose musical interest seemed to center on pop tunes and dance music. We quizzed her a bit about the blues and it turned out she knew almost nothing. Tim and Erin told us stories about the blues artists they'd met and with whom they were in regular contact via e-mail and telephone. Naturally, we all wanted Mandy to get a taste of the blues, so we invited her and she accepted.

By time we got there, there was only about an hour left but we were in for a treat. A great band with a light-skinned black girl singer was belting out agressive, heavy-duty song in a go-for-broke style much like Janis Joplin used to do. Finally, she stepped up to the microphone and said, "Now for a very special surprise. I have a friend who's a shy little gal, but she can really sing a certain kind of tune in a way almost nobody else can. Here's my buddy—who's not really a member of the band—singing in front of an audience for the very first time. Welcome, if you please, Serena!

There was a round of polite applause as Serena walked up to join her friend at the microphone. She was palpably nervous. "Well, Serena, what will you be singing for us tonight?" This is one of those musical conventions that's used to introduce a guest singer's tune. I'm sure that everyone on the stage was not only well aware of what she'd be singing, but had spent some time rehearsing it as well.

In a soft, willowy voice she replied, "Well, I thought I'd sing 'Confessin The Blues.'" "I love that tune," said the first singer. I was thinking to myself, "So do I!" It's such a plaintive song. We've all felt that way at one time, especially the first time we really wanted someone but they didn't want us.

And then she started singing the opening lines, which are "Baby here I stand before you/With my heart in my hand/I put it to you baby/And I hope you'll understand/Oh, baby.../Please don't dog me 'round/I would rather love you baby/Than anyone else I know." (You don't need to tell me those aren't exactly the original lyrics, because first, it's pretty common in the blues for performers to make lyrics their own by adding slight variations, to sing what feels most comfortable to them instead of what the composer wrote. Secondly, this was a woman singing a song originally written for a man.

At any rate, it didn't take long to determine that Mandy could get into the blues because when I looked at her face right after the lines I just recited for you, tears and mascara were running down her face. I elbowed Erin who had her purse with her and found a couple kleenexes. (I had just grabbed my driver's license, some money, and a couple credit cards, not wanting to carry my purse around with me.)

I was pretty close to tears myself. This singer falls into a category I call "naive singers." These are good singers with untrained voices. Frequently they sound more "real" and are more evocative than trained singers. Astrud Gilberto singing Brazilian jazz comes to mind. One of my favorite 45's in the collection of my dad's that I saved from the trash is Barbara Mason singing "Yes I'm Ready." She really does sound in that song like a young, virginal girl who's ready for her introduction to the tumultuous world of sexual passion.

This singer had that kind of sadness in a voice that while always on key was never sophisticated-sounding enough to remind you it was a performance. Her performance was every bit as good as Little Walter's, whose recording is the Gold Standard.

"I'm sorry," said Mandy, apparently embarrassed. I said, "Don't worry about it; it's a sad song. You have feelings. What's to apologize for?" And with that I hugged her to me in a motherly fashion. Slowly her head settled onto my shoulder and we swayed together with the song that had a long series of guitar, piano, and saxophone solos. I was thinking: "Mandy likes her Retsina just a little too much."

We stayed through the last act and decided to take a midnight stroll, so we continued walking the riverfront. There's a sidewalk that runs all along the river for quite a way. I felt lucky we were in a group since while most of the other people there looked okay, there was the occasional dodgy looking street person doing panhandling or glaring at us like people who could afford a place to sleep were somehow the enemy, and that their voluntary addiction to meth or heroin had nothing to do with their troubles.

At some point I realized that Mandy and I had started walking along holding hands. After walking a bit beyond the Broadway Bridge (you see, by now I've been in Portland enough to know the major streets, bridges, and landmarks) we came to a large wooden deck facing the river and bounded by a steel railing. We stopped and enjoyed the reflections in the river and the view of the Broadway Bridge above us and to the right.

That's when Mandy surprised me by grabbing my shoulder to make me face her and planting a Big Wet One on my mouth. When I felt her tongue against my lips, I opened my mouth and the magic dance of tongues began. Tim and Erin took the cue and soon they were getting all sloppy as well.

"Let's find a place to lie down," Tim said. We all agreed that was a great idea, after about five minutes of cuddly walking occasionally interspersed with kisses, we found ourselves at Union Station, Portland's Amtrak station, and probably the most beautiful train station in the country.

It has a large patch of grass where Mandy and I and Tim and Erin spent a goodly time necking. It was like high school days all over again. All that was missing was the hay ride and middle aged chaperones trying in vain to seem "hip" and "with it" while at the same time making sure nothing happened.

It was clear we all wanted things to go further, but right out in the middle of the train station lawn seemed a bit too public, so we found our way over to Broadway and walked the 10 or so blocks back to our hotel.

The middle-aged man was behind the desk and cast a disapproving glance our way, probably due to seeing Mandy fraternizing with guests. I feel sure an incident report was handed in to the hotel manager's office.

We decided to all go to Ted and Erin's suite because the other option was to go to my room which was just that: a room, not all that big. Mandy was on me like white on rice as soon as the door closed. She dragged me over to the bed, put me flat on my back, squatted over my hips, tossed her blazer to the floor, and unbuttoned my shirt.

Now, usually I'm the aggressor when I'm with another girl but I can just lay back and let things happen when the other person is eager, and so I just decided to let her have me. I rolled from side to side to help her get my shirt off and she went crazy on my tits, not just sucking on them but licking my sweaty skin. As she did so, I undid the clip holding her hair in a ponytail and combed my fingers through her hair.

I looked over at Tim and Erin, who had settled in on the suite's huge couch. His pants were off and she was giving his massive cock the lovin' of a lifetime.

Mandy kissed my lips again, and as she did so, I released a few buttons and was soon playing with her boobs. Her nipples were already rock hard and her breasts, just as I thought, were small and so firm that one could hardly describe them as "hanging," for they seemed to defy gravity.

I could tell she wasn't very experienced. She needed a little training, but she made up for technique with attitude, and she was eager to please. I could push her head a little this way or that or say "No" or "Yeah...now you have it!" and she would get it right from then on. She had a rather long tongue for such small gal. She got it way inside my pussy, and twirled it around in a way that gave me goose bumps.

I tapped her on the head to get her attention, and when her head bobbed up I said, "My turn, sweetie. Get up here and give me doggy. Oh, and take off the rest of your clothes." Her body was perfect. A small little hourglass. The aforementioned breasts about the size and shape of a large orange cut in half, but most definitely natural, and with light pink nipples about the size of a 5 cent piece. She even had a nice little "landing strip" of pubic hair about an inch wide, too. This chick belonged in magazines!

After undressing, she got on her hands and knees next to me. I said, "No, give me the low doggy position." She dropped onto her elbows. I said, "Lower still. Let's see you put your cheek down on the mattress."

She complied, and now her ass was way up in the air, her butt cheeks widely spread revealing an asshole that was virtually a work of art, it looked so beautiful. She had been in the tanning beds. I was amazed: didn't even have a single small freckle. Her skin was so continuous and consistent that you could have taken a patch of skin from almost anywhere on her body and put it anywhere else without noticing any difference.

I was a little jealous along with my admiration. Look at me, the freckly and pale-faced half-Hispanic chick who got most of her complexion from the wrong side of the family...sigh.

I started off by kissing first one of those perfect ass cheeks and then the other while rolling the finger knuckles of my fist slowly up and down between her labia caressing both the vagina and the clit in a way that pleased her immensely, judging by the "Mmmms" and "Ahhhs" emanating from her half-open mouth.

Next, I used a wide, flat tongue on her pussy while enjoyed the slightly musky odor of her asshole, which, due to the position I was in, was right in front of my nose.

Her head bobbed up and I could see that something had caught her interest. It was Tim and Erin. Mandy, saying more than asking, "What are they doing?" I looked. Tim had slumped way forward and Erin was astraddle his thighs facing him.

I suppose my own tone was a bit ironic with an undertone of "What planet are you from?" as I explained, "She's giving him an assfuck." Mandy said nothing. Obviously that cute little brain of hers was processing some new and strange information.

"You mean..." she started and then her voice trailed off. "Sweetie, you give your lover your mouth and your pussy. Why not your ass?" "Does it...?" "Feel good?" I finished her sentence for her. "It can, but you need to keep an open mind and learn how to enjoy it. Let me show you."

She started to say "But," but I had already pulled her knees out from under her so that she was on her tummy. I positioned myself on my side facing her, my face against her face. She just looked into my eyes as I spent a couple minutes relaxing her through my face and by lovingly playing with her ass cheeks.

"Are you ready," I asked, adding "I'll start off easy." She nodded an okay signal. I licked my middle finger and gently pressed my linger a tiny ways in. Probably about half a fingernail. Her eyes at first got wide but quickly became normal.

I explained, "Your asshole has a sphincter that's a bit like the diaphragm muscle you breath with. In other words, left on its own, it works involuntarily, but you can also overcome its autopilot with your conscious mind. Right now, your sphincter is tense and tight and thinking 'I let things out; I don't let things in.' But you can tell it, 'You're right, but this time it's okay.'"

I pressed harder, but still quite gently, until my finger was in as far as the second knuckled. "It's a weird feeling," I said, "but the weirdness of it is part of what makes it exciting."

"It is weird," she said, "but it's not a sexual sensation." "It's an augmentor," I explained. "Now, put your hand down between your legs and masturbate." She did as instructed and I started to finger-fuck her ass. As she masturbated, her ass moved in harmony with my finger strokes. In about 60 seconds, I could see from the expression on her face that she was cumming. I guided her through about, I'd guess, a minute of pretty severe cumming. Her face had turned cherry red.

At last, she clapped her hand over her gaping mouth and laughed into the palm of her hand. "That was...I don't know. Super!" I laughed, too. It's always great to five someone a first time, or even just to be there for their first time.

"Wanna do it again, a little different this time?" She nodded a yes. By now, a smiling Tim and Erin were simply sitting on the couch watching us, big Cheshire Cat smiles on their faces. "Roll onto your back," I ordered. She complied

Meanwhile, I had retrieved a bottle of Astroglide and I lubed up her ass and my hand. "Ready for a more intense experience?" I asked, and the sheer delight on her face was as good as a "Yes!" So this time, I pushed her knees up to her tits and went right in with two fingers. And this time there was almost no resistance from her little sphincter.

In this position, I could massage her anus and also give her head, which is what I did, to her absolute and total delight.

Two fingers became three and three became four and there was an apparent increase in her pleasure, as she rubbed and tapped her clit. With her other hand, she had grabbed my wrist and was helping me pump her ass with great force.

Soon, she got experimental and was starting to try more than one finger in her pussy. I stopped briefly and told her to put Astrogline her hand adding, "With Astroglide, you could get a toaster in there if you had to. We all broke out in gales of laughter. Tim and Erin were enjoying this enough to be engaging in mutual masturbation as they watched.

Poor little Mandy let out a gasp as I got my thumb into the cup of my hand and with a gentle push, got my whole hand into her rectum. I don't know what was bigger, her eyes or her gaping mouth, but obviously I waskl introducing her to brand new experiences.

I told her, "I bet you can get your hand in, too...if you work at it." She already had four fingers in. I told her to cup her hand and fold her thumb in, which she did. She pumped and pushed and pumped and pushed and finally said, "It's because of my wrist."

"Let me, then," I replied. She pulled her hand out of her pussy and I worked first my fingers, then my thumb in. At last, she said, "I don't think my pussy's big enough." "Nonsense, someday you'll be pushing a baby through there who'll be twice as big around. Just close your eyes and relax and let's see what happens."

Sure enough, after about two minutes of alternating hand pumps, my hand popped right in. I pulled my one hand out of her ass and concentated on hand-fucking that little pussy of hers until she almost came.

"Erin," I yelled, "can we borrow Tim a little while?" "Sure," she said, giving him a shove in our direction.

I told Mandy, "Being over stimulated adds to the excitement, so I want you to blow Tim while I do you down here." Her eyes were half-closed with pleasure anyway, so when his stiffening dong tapped on her lips her little pink tongue came out and pranced around its helmet-like glans for a few seconds, probably savoring the mingled tastes of Erins pussy and asshole. Then, she hungrily sucked it into her mouth cavity and worked it so efficiently she could have been a $30 hooker.

Tim surprised me because, even though I knew he had cum not fifteen minutes earlier, he started moaning in he way a man moans when he can feel the orgasm rising within him. And when he came, what spilled out of her mouth was so much it reminded me of back when I was a teen assisting in the breeding of horses. Most men ejaculate no more than two or three tablespoons at best, this was, I'm sure, somewhere between a half a cup and a cup. And after having shot his wad just little while before. What a guy!

Now, I can't say for sure that Mandy had ever taken a load in the mouth. I've seen first timers either lose their last meal when it happens or just wipe their lips and swallow. I've known some who like the taste. I can't say I like it, but I don't mind it when it happens, as long as it's part of enjoyable sex.

I guess it wasn't all that unpleasant for Mandy. She didn't barf, but just expelled it so it ran down her cheek and chin. I think it was the semen in her mouth that was the tipping point, though, because just after that happened she came and came hard, giving out a long series of loud yelps, until at the end she just lay there, in a steaming heap, breathing hard and looking blankly at the ceiling. She was perfectly still, except for one hand which was gently wrapped around Tim's cock, as if to say with what little flicker of energy was left, "I want more."

At last I said to her, "Mandy, let's go. Tim and Erin need sleep, and so do you and I." And with that, I dressed and helped Mandy get dressed. I took her to my room where we showered together, helping each other wash, but not having any more sex. We were both all sexed out for one day.

I invited her into my bed where she pushed herself against my body, putting us into that lovely spoon position that mixes two comforts, the body-against-body comfort and the foetal position comfort.

After a night of pleasant dreams, I awoke to sounds in the bathroom. I found her partially dressed, brushing her teeth with her finger. She had brushed her hair and looked almost presentable for a girl who had had wayyyy to much Retsina and then had had every orifice probed, plumbed, and thoroughly fucked the night before. She had been, as they say, "screwed, blewed, and tattooed."

After rinsing out her mouth, she hugged my waist and looked into my face. "Thanks, I had fun last night and...well...I learned a few things as well. I'm glad we met." I was glad we'd met, too. Someone to look up on a future visit to Portland. I asked her for her e-mail address and phone number, which she wrote down on a pad of hotel note paper for me.

Then, she trotted toward the door and left, saying "I've got to be at the front desk in two minutes." Then, she blew me a kiss and was gone.

The instant she was gone, I missed her.

An offshoot of SapphicErotica, InFocusGirls takes the same kind of wholesome and healthy legal-teen girl but has her playing on her lonesome (most of the time...not always). I like their lezzy stuff, but the solo girl photos and vids are awfully hot, too. I think you'll agree.

PICTURE GALLERIES

Tempting teen gets naked at bedtime
Hot teen plays with her wet pussy
See saucy brunette play with toys
Sultry brunette takes pee in garden
See cute kitchen teen strip for you
See beauty get licked and fingered
Enjoy sassy blondes bold striptease
bikini blonde fondles her wet pussy
Nymphette spreads pretty pussy wide
Enjoy pussy receiving deep caress
Watch as cute horny blonde strips
See hot beauty bang her pussy toys
Blonde works herself to wet climax
Teen fills pussy and ass with dildo
Teen strips and reveals her pussy

MOVIE GALLERIES

Teen slides dildo in from behind
See pens and a dildo please a pussy
Angelic teen slips in toy for you
Watch shaved teen dildo her pussy
Slim girl is fingered and licked
Watch kinky cutie finger her ass
Fresh teen enjoys her first fisting
See beautiful shaved teen with toys
See cute teen take two toys at once
Sweet teen takes her dildo outdoors
Teen gasps as she feels dual dildos
Teen heaven as playmate licks pussy
Cute blonde teen squats and pees
See beauty slide cucumber in pussy
See cute masturbating teen in bath

Saturday, July 22, 2006
In Which I Get The Blues (And That's Good)
A Return To Portland, Pt. I

NOTE: New posts go at the top, as in most blogs, but that means that in a story like this, spread over several posts, you really need to find the first post in the series and read them in order. So, that's what I suggest you do here.

Well, for those of you who've been following my adventures, you may have felt this was coming, but after a few years together, Erik and I have decided to live separate lives. It wasn't a real falling out, just that both of us felt things had run their course and it was time to move along.

Erik is moving out this weekend and I'm writing this from Portland, my favorite city. I've got a long weekend due to July 4th falling on Tuesday this year, so I got a cheap seat on a Southwest jet, speaking of which, Southwest usually comes up with the lowest fare to most of the places I might want to go, and so I perpetually fly Southwest. For what I'm sure are logistical reasons calculated flawlessly by some Southwest corporate supercomputer, you can't seem to get anywhere (assuming it's a long trip and not a short hop) without doing a pretty severe dog leg. A flight to or from Cleveland and Portland may go through Nashville, Phoenix, Reno, Los Angeles, or Las Vegas. Look at a map: none of those cities are anywhere close to being on a direct line between the two cities. Go figure.

Sometimes I think it might be worth it to pay $50 or $100 more to be able to take a direct flight, cutting an hour or two out of the trip. I'll make that a "note to self" for when I'm wealthy. For now, though, $50 to $100 saved will buy me a few nice books at Powell's Bookstore, the largest bookstore in the country, which is just a short stroll from my hotel.

And so here I am, having just arrived at a hotel just a couple blocks from Portland's town square, Pioneer Square, which normally is the hub of most downtown activity. It's where the East-West light rail system, called "MAX," crosses the bus mall which runs North-South. Mostly, in my experience, you have to go outside the country to find a space like this where the square is the real heart of the city, where people just hang out to have a cool drink, to catch some rays, to watch pretty girls, attend a free outdoor rock or jazz concert, or whatever.

And if you're tolerant of tattoos, piercings, and green hair (I am) Portland is chock full of pretty girls. Of course, there's a full complement of suntanned blonde babes and other pretties, too, but Portland has more than its share of punkers and goths. And with more stripper bars per capita than anywhere else in the country and most of the world, sexual attitudes are much more relaxed than they are most other places in the country.

This weekend, however, the center of activity has shifted from Pioneer Square to the river where a park runs all along the river in the downtown area. Typically, this would be a fairly quiet place to sit in the grass and enjoy a breeze while reading a book or listening to whatever has made its way into your iPod. However, this weekend, from Friday night through the night of the Fourth of July, it's been turned into the Blues Capital of the United States, for it's the weekend of the Waterfront Blues Festival, and dozens of blues singers and blues bands will be belting it out beside the mighty Willamette River.

And I do mean "mighty" in the literal sense. In the Cleveland area, our major river is the Cuyahoga, but the Willamette is easily twice as big and has water that perceptively moves toward the Columbia River, the second largest river in he United States, after the Mississippi. The Cuyahoga is also called a "the burning river" not because that was the Indian name ("Cuyahoga" actually means something like "Snake River" due to it's meandering course). It's called "The Burning River" because it burst into flames sometime in the 1960's due to pollution from the oil refineries in the industrial "Flats" area. That shamed the local government so much that they instituted anti-pollution standards. Now the Cuyahoga is much cleaner, though nothing like the Willamette. However, I understand it had a bout with pulp mill-related pollution in its day as well.

Oregonians are so in love with their state that they do what they can to keep it wild, and what they can't keep wild, they try to keep clean and sanitary. I have learned during my several trips here that even conservative politicians here find it necessary to side with the environmentalists on issues with an environmental impact.

Oh, and don't make the mistake of giving "Willamette" a French pronunciation. Locally, it's pronounced "will-AM-it" and don't you forget it, because locals are very touchy about how certain words are pronounced. Early on, I had to learn that Oregon is notpronounced synonymously with "hexagon," rather it's "OR-uh-gun" or "OR-y-gun" with the first syllable given the most emphasis. Other odd local pronunciations are of Glisan, a street name pronounced like the last name of Jackie Gleason, the comic who starred in The Honeymooners, which I've seen in reruns. Couch (another street name) is pronounced in a manner that rhymes with "pooch." Strange but true.

Anyway, for the first time in several years I'm footloose and fancy-free as they say. I can fuck anyone I want, even a guy, and I can fuck him once, twice, or ten times a day until the end of time if I want to without being unfaithful to anyone. Even so, I'm a little blue over our parting of ways, and so coming here during the blues festival seemed like much the right and natural thing to do.

So...let's see what happens. I'll pick this up later. Right now, I'm going out to find a place to eat and to do some after dinner wandering.

Well, I had to set the after dinner wandering plans aside. Here's what happened tonight instead:

I stopped by the Concierge's desk to find a good place for dinner. I was in a mood for Italian, so she directed me to a restaurant that's on the way to the Festival. Named Alessandro's, it's the oldest downtown Italian restaurant, with prices that are steep but not stratospheric. It's not a meatballs-and-spaghetti Italian restaurant, but a place you go for dishes like Veal Marsala or Saltimbocca alla Romana.

The owner/proprietor (an actual Italian with a thick Italian accent to prove it) was also hosting, and he politely ushered me to a window table where I could watch people walk by. I had delicious fresh-baked bread with some olive oil to dip it in. The olive oil was spiced up with, I think, fresh-grated garlic, a little pesto, and coarsely-ground black pepper. Delicious. Along with this, I ordered one of their less-expensive red wines, a Chianti. I was assured that if a wine weren't excellent, it simply wouldn't be on the list, and despite being significantly less expensive than the others, it was quite good indeed, and no I didn't catch the name. I ordered their version of one of my favorite dishes, Tournedos Rossini (which was sublime, by the way).

Shortly after my bread and wine, my Caesar Salad arrived, and along with the salad came a lovely young couple who were seated at the next table. They were very talkative and friendly and I soon learned they were also out here for the Blues Festival. They were from Pittsburgh and attended several blues fests every year, and in fact knew many blues artists, with whom they kept in touch via e-mail.

Their names were Tim and Erin. Tim was basketball player tall and was strikingly handsome in that pinhead way that goes along with the basketball player dimensions. (As people grow taller, and their bones get longer, the head grows at a slower rate, so one clue that you're looking at a short person in a photo is that their head seems somewhat large for their body, and likewise if a person's head seems a bit on the small side for their body, they are probably tall.) He had a full head of dark brown slightly wavy hair.

Erin was, in appearance, about as Irish as could be and had bright red hair like mine. Unlike mine, though, she had it cut short and a bit on the "butch" side. However, nothing else about her was butch at all. She was bright and full of fun and about as "girly girl" as a girl can be. She also had the greatest little ass, like a pair of soccer balls pushed together. No droopy ass there! She was about 5'4" making her at least a foot shorter than Tim. They made an odd couple as far as looks, but you could tell they were made for each other in every other way.

Their musical interests were about as wide-ranging as my own. They were among the few people I've ever met who knew who Baden Powell was. No, I don't mean the founder of the Boy Scouts, Lord Baden-Powell, but the incredibly talented Brazilian jazz guitarist named for him. He is more copied than heard in the U.S. Certainly, much of Charlie Byrd's Brazilian jazz from the Bossa Nova ("new beat") period of the 1960's is influenced by Baden Powell.

Blending classical techniques with influences from Spanish flamenco, gypsy music, North American jazz, and native Brazilian folk music, he, like Pélé the soccer genius, was considered a Brazilian national treasure until his tragic early death from causes related to his alcoholism. While most of his music was instrumental, he sings in about one out of four or five tunes with a voice totally different from Nat King Cole's while being soft and soothing in much the same way as Cole's was. You might compare his voice with Chet Baker's for appeal based more on timbre and emotion than vocal technique.

I like guitar music in general but especially when it's an electric guitar played by someone who has thoroughly mastered it, like Joe Satriani or Steve Vai, both of whom play at a level that really has no generic name. It's based on rock, but it borders on jazz without actually having much of the black (African) "feel" of jazz.

All during dinner we chatted about music and determined that I'd join them at the Festival because going with someone is much more fun than going alone. They were in fact having pity on me. I had let slip a few words about the recent break-up, though I assure you, I wasn't trolling for pity.

That first night of the festival was great! I may have to go every year. We drank a few beers, and between that and the normal tendency of musicians to get better as evening merges into night, the music seemed to get better and more exciting as time went by. Before long, my parting of ways with Erik was about the last thing on my mind. I was thinking a lot more about how much I'd like to see this pair with their clothes off.

Erin's low-rise slacks showed off an incredibly sexy pair of hip bones, and it was obvious from the bulge in Tim's crotch that he had quite a wad going there.

Me? Oh, I was wearing a short white cotton wrap skirt held together by a single Velcro tab and looking much like a tennis skirt. On top, and tucked into the skirt, was a floral print shirt Erik had brought back as a gift after one of his business trips to Hawaii. I had foregone undies just because it makes me feel sexier to be "instantly ready" like that. I was wearing short white socks in my running shoes.

It turned out we were staying in the same hotel, so as the music came to an end, we started to walk back to the hotel. Tim and Erin, at first hand in hand, got pretty lovey-dovey along the way, and we actually had to stop from time to time for a little kissfest. The second or third time, as they were kissing Erin took my hand and pulled me close. It all ended in a big group hug, and thence we all three walked hand in hand. It was no longer a 2+1 situation. We were officially a threesome!

We had been among the last to leave the festival, because we had continued to stay on the grass and talk about the music we had just heard. In fact, it was a nice police officer who asked us if we might leave so that the clean-up could begin. Because of our late departure, the streets had become fairly clear of pedestrians. As we passed a deeply-inset doorway Tim ducked in taking first Erin then me with him.

They began kissing furiously. Erin's arm was tight around my shoulder. Then, she kissed me passionately, saying "We like you, Jill." I replied that I liked them, too. I didn't realize it at first, but Erin had retrieved Tim's cock from his pants. By the time I noticed this, she had given him a magnificent stiffy of at least a good twelve inches. He was certainly ready to rock-n-roll!

Soon, she went into a squat and was sucking him hard, her long tongue going in and out of her mouth at the same time, massaging the sensitive underside of his organ as she did so. He bent down at the same time and we started kissing as well. Wow! What a kisser he was. In the meantime, Erin, who had at first held onto my leg apparently for stability, had started rubbing my thigh high enough to tease my pussy from time to time. Soon, I could feel juice running down my leg.

Erin felt it, too, and in fact would stop blowing Tim from time to time in order to lap some of it off my thigh. Then, it was back to working his cock again.

Tim was leaning against the door, but the goings on were making me rather weak in the knees, so I leaned back against one of the walls. Once or twice people walked by, and even stopped for a few seconds to watch. I can remember getting a thumbs-up from a small group of college boys.

I'm not entirely sure when it happened, but at some point I realized that Erin had found my skirt's Velcro tab and that my skirt was draped over her shoulder. I think it must have been when she began kissing and licking and sucking on my clit. In order to make it easier for her, I arched my back to push my pelvis forward. Tim was enjoying himself, stroking his big cock as he watched his wife working away on my clit.

A few minutes of near-ecstasy went by until she stopped and said to Tim, "Show her that thing you can do." At first he feigned ignorance, obviously more to tease her than to exhibit true ignorance of what she meant.

Soon I found out what she meant as he lifted me up. Instinctively I wrapped my arms around his chest and then hooked my hands over his shoulders from behind. I also wrapped my legs around his hips. Then, he entered me and started ramming with a strength I'd never experienced before. Maybe it was the position, or maybe it was my mental image of what we must have looked like. Maybe it was just my first experience in a long time as a 100% free sexual being, but I just knew that a sheer massive Krakatoa-scale orgasm was on the way.

I quickly realized that Erin was no bystander, and was definitely in on the fun, for we started kissing and it gave me a rush, the taste of Tim's cock still in her mouth. It was all I could do to keep from cumming right then. (I briefly let an image of Mt. Rushmore slip into my mind to fend it off, haha!) Next I knew, she had stopped kissing my lips, had dropped to her knees, and was tongue-probing my asshole, which due to my position, impaled as I was on Tim's cock, was very available indeed.

After a bit, Tim somehow managed to turn me around without fully removing his cock from my cunt, so that now he was doing me from behind. He was so strong! I was like a toy to him, and from this position his thrusts affected my G-spot much more. They also made my pussy available to Erin, who was no slouch at cunnilingus, either. I was getting one major fuck and enjoying every second of it.

I warned poor Erin that I'm a squirter when I knew The Big One would soon be happening, but she said "Okay" and kept at it, so when I finally exploded what didn't drench Tim's pant legs ended up on her neck and chest.

Tim pulled out of me and continued to hold me as the cum-hungry Erin cleaned us both off

Portland is a cool city and this seems to be reflected in their cops, who seem more tolerant of many things than other cities' cops are. As I opened my eyes for the first time in a couple minutes, and as Erin was lapping up Tim's semen, I noted that a police car was in the street in front of us. Seeing that I was looking right at him, a middle-aged gray-haired cop, who had a huge grin on his face, gave us a wink and a thumbs up. Then he answered his radio, and peeled out, turning his siren on as he did so.

There are bad guys to catch, and that's a lot more important than hassling three people making love in a doorway, I guess.

As we entered the hotel lobby, the two counterpeople, a young woman and middle-aged man, stared at us at first, the man finally saying, "Had a little accident at the festival, did we?" "Yep," said Tim. We got on the elevator and after the door closed on us, Erin said, "Why don't you come hiking with us tomorrow?" As I recalled, there was nothing in the afternoon portion of Saturday's festival I couldn't live without seeing, and they were certainly pleasant enough company, so I agreed.

I woke up my first morning to the call I had arranged with the front desk before going to bed. I pulled back the blinds to discover a sunny, cloudless day. A perfect day for a hike.

I schmeared sun block all over my body, put on some tight-fitting cutoff jean shorts and a fluorescent green tube top. I packed some necessities in a day pack, grabbed a cute little fishing hat-style sun hat and my sunglasses. I was in the lobby at 11 a.m. as arranged, and in no more than three or four minutes Tim and Erin stepped off the elevator, equally prepared for an afternoon in the woods.

"Where are we going?" I asked. "A friend of ours has a cabin in the Columbia Gorge. It's inaccessible by car. We'll drive up to a certain point, park our car, and walk about two miles in. "The best thing," Erin said under her breath, "is that it has both a hot spring-fed tub and an icy cold waterfall.

They had rented an Escalade, so our trip to the trailhead was very comfortable. I had brought along some homemade compendium CD's, and so we enjoyed a mix of Baden Powell, Deep Forest, Goldfrapp, and Buddy Guy as we went along. Also included was some Johnny Winter, who was a big hit with them. They had heard of him but somehow had never really listened before, but now understood why he was admired by so many guitarists, and wasn't famous just for the fact that he was an albino.

Just as we were almost there, Tim, who was driving, asked if anyone was as hungry as he was. Erin gave me a look that told me if he was hungry we'd be eating anyway, so we both said, "Sure" in unison.

We found a truck stop, nestled ourselves into a booth with them on one side and me on the other. A waitress descended on us immediately and took our order. It turned out to be burgers all the way around, with Tim opting for the double patty fancy-schmanzy burger that had bacon, cheddar, jalapeño, a fried egg, and raw onions on it.

While waiting for the burgers, we sipped on our soft drinks and played footsie with each other. Oh, yes, we'd be having more fun this afternoon, that was for sure. And...out in the woods as well. I was making what little remained of the crotch area of my cutoffs damp just thinking about it!

Well, Tim can certainly eat. His burger and fries were soon gone and he was looking around to see if Erin and I had more than we could handle. We both gave up with about half our burgers and fries consumed and about 10 minutes later, everyone's plate was clean. Tim did everything but lick them off!

We paid and got back into the car and soon we were on the way. Ever thoughtful, Erin offered Tim a stick of gum and said, "Here you go Onion Breath." He chewed as they tried to feel their way back to the trailhead.

We found it after a couple false starts. The thing is, in order to maintain his cabin's privacy, the trailhead doesn't open right up onto the road. You need to walk into the brush to find it, and he apparently recommends you not always come in the same way in order to keep it hidden from view.

Once we found the trail, it was quite easy to follow. Obviously, someone came through periodically and cleared it off. Tim explained that the owner of the cabin, who also owned a small but very successful software company, had hired a small group of college boys to clear the trail once a month in season in exchange for being able to spend the night there once they had reached the cabin. They could bring in their girlfriends, sleeping gear, goodies to eat, a few six packs, etc., and have a little orgy. As long as they left the place in the condition they found it, they'd be welcome to do it again.

The woods out here are so gorgeous. The trees are so much taller than in Ohio, though I laugh everytime I find Oregonians assuming we don't have evergreens in Ohio. Hell, there are evergreens in Florida and Arizona, just not nearly as many as they have in the Pacific Northwest, were evergreens predominate. In Ohio, it's mostly leafy trees, and they have them in Oregon, too, but whereas leafy trees predominate in Ohio, evergreens predominate in the Pacific Northwest.

It was getting hot, but we were in the shade for the most part and there was a little breeze coming up the little valley the trail followed. About 10 minutes in, though, Erin, who had been walking ahead of me with Tim, took her top off to reveal the nicest little pair of boobs with bulbous pink puffies on them. I have a thing for puffy nips. I was sure going to want to introduce myself to "the twins" first chance I got. I followed suit, stuffing my tube top into my backpack.

Exposing my breasts to the air felt good. I often feel that this "thing" most people have regarding nudity is a sickness. It sure felt good to be in a situation where I felt I had the license to dress as I pleased.

Soon, I was walking along wearing nothing but a hat and sandals. When Erin looked over her shoulder and saw me she, too, was soon wearing nothing but her sun hat and sandals and, after a little teasing, even Tim got nude. Back to Nature, yeah!

The cabin was made of rough-hewn wood similar to the rough-hewn fences you see in the country, only a bit larger. Something like mud or concrete had been stuffed in to close the gaps, held together by smaller twigs and branches. The roof was of shake material. It was off to one side of a clearing that was perhaps 20 feet in diameter, roughly a circle. On the other side was a hot tub with a cover on it, which was quickly removed.

The tub had a tap at the bottom for flushing the water out, and two small hand pumps. One pumped hot water from the natural hot spring and the other sucked water out of the nearby creek. Tim worked the hot pump and Erin and I ganged up on the cold pump and after 15 or 20 sweaty minutes, it was full enough to use. Once we all agreed it was ready, we wasted no time jumping in.

We didn't have to... We were naked!

Erin and I got into a splash fight almost immediately and Tim just watched, wincing from time to time as spray hit his face. After a while he stood up and, using his huge hands and long arms, gave the two of us as good as we gave him.

After a bit, Erin stopped and said under her breath (but loud enough for both Me and Tim to hear) "Look, Jill. He has a bit of a hard on." He did! We all laughed, and I said, "Are thinking about us? How nice! Erin, what do you think we should do to reward him?" She pretended to ponder this, finally saying, "I know! Let's take turns blowing him!"

And so a little BJ competition started, both of us trying to be the one who would get him off.

Now, some guys have ramrod-straight cocks, and some guys' cocks curve upward. A few even curve downward and most point a wee bit to the left or right (depending, I'm told, on which hand they jerk off with). Well, Tim's was of the upward-curving variety and...let's just say that he he must be masturbatorially ambidextrous.

Did I mention how long it was? A good foot long and it was just as beautiful as it was long. It was so long that when I deep-throated him, there was still enough left outside for me to wrap my paw around with about two inches left over!

Erin was stiff competition (pun intended) and, being more familiar with Tim's particular likes, obviously knew what really pleased him. But I'm a quick learner and soon I was getting the same moans and groans she was. I must say, he was a master of restraint because, after a good 15 or 20 minute workout from two highly able and experienced fellatio artists, he had managed to keep himself from ejaculating.

"I think we're going to have to fuck him," said Erin. I agreed, adding "I think instead of taking turns, we're going to have to act as a team." She nodded in agreement, and as she did so, she got on her knees, her butt barely sticking out of the water, her tits laying on the deck, inviting him to do a doggy on her.

Once he was in Erin, I crawled out of the water and got into a doggy position straddling her upper body. This allowed Tim to play with my asshole and pussy while fucking her. He was no sissy when it comes to analingus, his stiffened tongue was going in deep. It's always an odd sensation to feel a tongue going into your asshole. But...it's fun.

I was starting to realize the I was having sex with the same man twice, which I couldn't have done while committed to Erik. I hoped Erik was having as much fun as I was having. I certainly bore him no ill will.

Anyway, while Tim was tonguing me, I was playing with my pussy, feeling like I could be having a monster orgasm pretty soon. Just then Erin said, "Why not fuck Jill for a while? "Sure," said Tim with noticeable enthusiasm, but Erin didn't seem worried or jealous at his eagerness.

I was pretty well lubricated by this time, of course, and so as soon as I got on my back and opened up my legs for him, Tim's cock slipped right in. He did some tease-fucking for a while, fucking me slowly, pulling it out, rubbing my lips and clit, sticking it back in, and so on.

In the meantime, Erin kissed me while pinching my tits and rubbing my tummy.

"You can fuck my ass," I said. I almost said "PLEASE fuck my ass!," but as I expected, he was happy to do it and didn't have to be begged. He knew what he was doing, slowly pressing his way in, not jamming it in in typical clunkheaded male fashion, and my sphincter soon agreed to relax.

There's no way to adequately describe being fucked in the ass to someone who's never experienced it. And it's triply hard to give them a realistic idea what it's like when that cock is huge. It's kinda like feeling like you need to take a dump and kinda not. Anyway, I love the combination of being fucked in the ass and masturbating, so I was in Seventh Heaven.

Gals, if you've ever got a guy who's stiff and just doesn't seem able to get his rocks off, give up your asshole. I've had guys humping me for a half hour until I was totally sore, but once he's in my ass he'll be laying by my side out of breath and mumbling something about that being the most fantastic sex he's ever had in minutes. So, all you chicks who don't like anal sex (or, more likely, don't like the idea of it and so have never given a go), it's something that needs to be in your arsenal ("arsenal"! I just noticed that arsenal has the words "arse" in it...how weirdly delightful!).

Anyway, soon was making those noises like he would be cumming anytime, and that was how I felt as well, so went crazy on my pussy until a super orgasm washed all over me like a big bucket of ice water.

Tim had pulled out enough so that he could use the grip of my sphincter on the tip of his cock, which I'm sure was deadly pleasurable, but as it turned out, there was another reason, for as he came, he came right in my anal opening. When that was done, he said, "Okay, honey, she's all yours," and with that Erin dropped down and licked her husband's jizz out of my bunghole. Clearly, they had done this before.

After sex, we relaxed a short while drove back into Portland for the evening program at the blues festival. I'll tell you what happened that night in my next post.

More "Wow!!!" Girls From Errotica

Errotica is in some ways a "me to" site to Hegre and Met-Art, but you can't fault how hot the girls are. Click on the girls' photos to go to the main site or click on the links below the photos to view a whole bunch of galleries.

THE GALLERIES

Gallery 1— Gallery 2— Gallery 3— Gallery 4— Gallery 5

Gallery 6— Gallery 7— Gallery 8— Gallery 9— Gallery 10— Gallery 11

Gallery 12— Gallery 13— Gallery 14— Gallery 15— Gallery 16

Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Tall girl, shy girl.

The weather has been nice enough lately, that from time to time and weather permitting, I've been going into the woods behind our office building and taking lunch there. Not many other employees know about it, and in fact I only found out about it when I went behind a utility box one day to pee and saw the vague hint of a path. Once I pushed myself past the initial scrub, the path became more distinct. I followed it and found clearing with a mix of sun and shade, very handy for spreading out a blanket for lunch, a quick, nap and possibly some masturbation.

We have a new worker named Terry in the telephone sales office. Tall, slender, pretty, hair as read as a California sunset. She was also very quiet. After seeing her sitting alone in the lunch room for lunch or break time several days in a row, I sat down with her and introduced myself. I did most of the talking for a while until I stumbled on a mutual interest. Movies.

Ever since I was an early teen, I've like art films. Terry likes art films, too, and so we had occasional conversations about whatever was currently playing at the Cedar-Lee Theater or on one of the many local college or university campuses.

We had lengthy discussions on Buñuel, Antonioni, Herzog, and many others, and I really came to look forward to those times when we could connect for a break. After a while, I knew I wanted to share with her my little clearing in the woods. So, I broached the subject one day over lunch and she said she'd like to see my special place.

The next day, the weather being suitable, we met behind the building in the parking lot and I showed her the head of the path behind the utility box. We walked in flanked by knee-high undergrowth on both sides, and when we finally reached the spot, she looked around and I could tell she was pleased.

I spread out the big picnic blanket and broke out my turkey and Swiss cheese baguette. She had a little Tupper tub of chicken salad and a baggie with a few broad lettuce leaves. She'd dump a big dollop of the chicken salad, roll it up in lettuce and eat it as a roll-up.

We each had a diet cola to go with and as I had promised her, I brought two pieces of my homemade carrot cake. (I don't cook a lot, but I'm good at it thanks to a mom who believes that even a busy career girl needs some home front survival skills.

Of course, if you know me, you're wondering when the sex would start, and the answer is as soon as the carrot cake was gone. Well, not immediately.

I started up a conversation about one of the new movies I wanted to see, and as we talked I slowly moved in. I had been facing her at a bit of a kitty corner, so it was easy to slide forward to a position where I could plant the first tentative kiss, which I did very gently and gingerly between sentences.

She looked surprised and perplexed and didn't return the favor. "What's wrong," I asked. "I don't know," she replied, adding "I don't usually do it with girls."

"Try it," I said. "It's fun! If you still don't like it, we can forget it ever happened."

She thought briefly and said, "I'm hard to get close to. There's a lot about me you don't know." "Are you carrying a disease?" "No." "Are you married?" "No." "In that case, I'm not too worried." And with that I tried kissing again, but this time she gave in and kissed me back.

For the next few weeks we would go to the clearing in the woods and have a smoocheroo, but it never seemed to progress to anything really sexual. I was thinking, "Is it me? Is it her?" She wouldn't even let me play with her boobs while we kissed. She'd turn her shoulder and pull back. Was she ashamed of her small breasts (they obviously were NOT large!).

At last, after a few minutes of kissy frustration I said, "Okay, what is it, Terry? I know I'm getting hot. You seem to be hot, so why isn't anything going on below the chin?

After a long thoughtful pause she said, "Like I told you in the beginning, there are lots of things you don't know about me. One fact in particular might change everything and change this from a situation I'm enjoying to one that could be hurtful and degrading to both of us."

I asked again, "You're not carrying a disease?" "No, that's not it." "I'm puzzled, then. Aren't we friends?" "Mmm...Yes, but..." "Well, then trust me. If anything happens that might hurt or degrade me, I'm a grown-up and I really want to take the risk, because I like you and I want to closer still."

She closed her eyes and a bit of mascara tear ran down her cheek, which she wiped with the back of her hand. I found a paper tissue in my purse and gave it to her. She stared off into the distance, but as she did so she put her hand on my leg. Then, taking the initiative (which she had never done before), she kissed me slowly and deeply and more passionately than before.

She went down onto her back, dragging me half on top of her in the process, and as she did so, I felt her hand slip up under my skirt. Her hand trembled as she did so, but she knew where to put her hand and what to do with it and soon I was getting a masterful hand job. Her kissing was more passionate, too, and I was really glad I'd confronted the problem.

But I wanted to give as well as receive, so my own hand reached up under her skirt. I love the feeling of stockings under my fingers, so I lingered on her inner thigh for a while, stroking her well-toned leg.

I let my hand slide upward slowly until I felt panty material. I had expected to find a nice wet spot in the vaginal area, but didn't. I happened to glance at her face and the expression on it was that of someone steeling for disappointment or loss. Feeling around a bit, I discovered what she had been hiding. She was a stallion not a mare!

She was clearly waiting for the hammer to drop. I know when this happens to guys, anything can happen from "Way cool!" (rare, I'm sure) to murder. I just played as I felt it, as a surprise. I gave her the raised eyebrow look and started playing with her wang.

She was still giving me the old "deer in the headlights" look, so I said, "Relax: It's no big problem. I'm okay with it: I swing both ways. So, just lay back and enjoy yourself.

It took Terry a little while to get over her nervousness, but I know what I'm doing when it comes to cocks, so it wasn't all that long before she had a nice little stiffy going that was drooling with precum.

Next, I blew her slowly and gently. The sensation of having a cock in my mouth and my hand on a thigh-high was delightfully unfamiliar.

At last I went to work in a major way, moving my mouth up and down on her cock. At the same time her noises told me she had finally gotten into it. Her arms were out to her sides alternately grasping and releasing the grass, her head rolling right and left with her eyes closed.

As I tasted her cum filling my mouth, I kept going, only a bit slower, until I was sure she was done. Then, I swallowed what was in my mouth, licked her cock clean as it softened and, swallowing again, rolled onto my back to savor a job well done.

She rolled onto her side next to me and propping her head on one arm, she said simply, "Thank you." "No need. I enjoyed doing it." "No...I mean thank you for not turning it into a 'situation.'"

I said, "Well, now I understand your hesitation quite a bit better. It was a surprise, but not an unpleasant one. I just had to momentarily switch gears, that's all. Like I said, I swing both ways."

She smiled, more relaxed than I'd ever seen her before. "Well," she said, "I generally don't swing both ways, but I would like to return the favor." And with that she reached up under my skirt and used her hand to appreciate my soft inner thigh skin. Then, she rubbed my clit and labia through my silken panties. I knew my vagina was already drooling like crazy, and so between that and the silk I was pretty wet and slippery down there.

She pushed first my blouse and then my bra up above my boobs, and soon she was not only giving me a hand job, but alternating between kissing my lips and sucking on my nipples.

I suggested we get my panties off, which we did, and soon she was two-fingering me. I was by this time hot as hell.

She then said, "I don't usually do this, but I feel like doing it today," and with that she laid herself down between my legs and started to give me pretty good oral sex, concentrating on my clit while she toyed with my hole with her fingers.

Then, she sat herself between my legs and put one hand under each cheek, lifting. I lifted my but up to help her, and before I knew it I was arching, face up, my weight entirely borne by my feet and shoulders.

This turned out to be a great position for getting an orgasm, but it wasn't such a lucky position for Terry, because I'm a world-class squirter, and I let her have it in the face, and of course I soaked her entire upper body as well.

We both had a big laugh and I told her that she should probably run home and change and that I'd tell her boss she had a food accident at lunch and would be back a few minutes late, which I did.

I've gone back there with her again from time to time. In case you're wondering how she figures in with my agreement with Erik to only have sex with a member of the opposite sex just once, when people of ambiguous sex and sexuality define themselves, I respect that, which is why I referred to her as "she" even as I described giving her a blow job.

It'd be hypocritical of me to treat her one way to her face and another way with respect to Erik.

|

SapphicErotica's hotties go solo

I've long enjoyed dreaming about playing with the red-hot SapphicErotica girls. I've also long wondered why they don't offer those girls solo as well. Apparently, they've been thinking the same thing, because now they are offering a site called InFocusGirls which is many of the same (or same kind of) girls going solo. (Well, okay, in a few cases there's a second girl, but most of these galleries are solo girls.)

x

x

PHOTO GALLERIES

Horny cutie plays in the office
Blonde angel gets her pussy licked
Watch as naughty brunette strips
See young blonde play with lollipop
Gorgeous green eyed beauty strips
Cute pixie bares her pert breasts
Tits pushed together and ass spread
Fingered and fisted in front of you
Blonde cutie does slow striptease
Beautiful bronze beauty masturbates
See teen take fisting and fingering
Blonde cherub plays with her pussy

MOVIE GALLERIES

See pussy tremble as it is fisted
See teen fill her holes for ecstasy
Enjoy delicious pussy spread wide
See teen moan as clit gets sucked
See shower stimulate lustful pussy
Sweet vagina opened wide outdoors
Sweet clit gets teased by tongue
See gorgeous teen fill hungry pussy
Sunsoaked beauty toying to orgasm
Sexy beauty fondles tits and pussy
Teen moans with ecstasy from toys
See beads go up ass and rub pussy

What happened to "A Vegas Weekend"?

I decided to change the name to "It Didn't Stay In Vegas" because I realized a good deal of it (indeed most of it) wasn't actually in Vegas, so I changed the name to one that's more ironically true.

I also came up with some chapter names which are cuter to my mind. I hope you agree. Or at least don't care.

|

Wednesday, June 14, 2006
In Which I Blow It With NW.
It Didn't Stay In Vegas, Pt VIII

NOTE: New posts go at the top, as in most blogs, but that means that in a story like this, spread over several posts, you really need to find the first post in the series and read them in order. So, that's what I suggest you do here.

It's early evening back at NW's estate and we're back in that dormitory-style room. Unlike the weather at his hacienda, it's typical sunny, dry early evening weather. The sun is starting to get low but there's no lessening of the heat. If anything, it feels like it's getting hotter by the minute.

Of course, that's if you stick your head outside. Briefly, we girls tried to go out on the large patio behind the dining room for some drinks, but it was in direct sunlight and between the hot air, the direct sunlight, and the heat stored in the patio tiles, we lasted about five minutes, before surrendering and retiring to the dining room. Not even a Margarita cuts he heat like a good old g&t, so that's what we were all having. NW made them for us and the proportions were roughly 1/2 gin and 1/2 tonic. Instead of lime slices, we each had a half of a tiny bitter orange he cut off several small potted trees he kept for that purpose. An interesting variation I'll have to try at home if I can find the little orange trees.

(My dear dad once said that when he was young, gin & tonic was a tall drink with a shot of gin, a few ice cubes, a slice of lime, and the glass was filled to the top with tonic. You could drink it like beer for, like beer, it was a great hot weather beverage. Today, he noted, the proportion of gin to tonic has crept up and it tends to be served in an old fashioned glass (by which I mean the size, not a style) which, additionally is so full of ice that there's hardly any room for gin or tonic.)

Hilda and her helpers put up a feast for us: Tournedos Rossini with oven-baked halved new potatoes, asparagus lightly drizzled with butter, and a huge bowl of Caesar salad. Several different sorts of pie and cake were available for those with room for dessert. And of course, there was espresso and just plain old "cuppa joe" for those who wanted it the traditional American way.

I had noted on our way to the evacuation plane that I no longer saw NW's horses and I asked him about it. "They were moved to safety as soon as I got word that a hurricane was on the way. Some workmen came and took them far inland to a friend's farm. They'll be as safe as can be. The storm won't be nearly as bad there and there will no chance of flooding."

I told him how much I admired the horses. "Oh, you like horses still?" "Still?" I replied. He laughed, "All little girls love horses, I think. Then most develop interest in other things as they mature. So, you're one of the ones who still loves them?" "Yes! and all of yours looked so beautiful."

"I grew up in (state name withheld to maintain NW's anonymity) and while my family lived in town, many of my friends had horses and actually lived where it was often easier to reach them by horse than by motorized vehicle, especially in Winter. So, I had a horse, too. He wasn't anything special. Nobody was sure what he was. I mean, was he a Morgan? He was a bit too small. But he didn't look like a Quarter Horse, either. Maybe he was a cross-breed. It doesn't matter: he was an even-tempered horse, virtually unflappable in any situation, and he was pretty quick. He beat a friend's thoroughbred in a fair race."

"I wonder why girls like horses even more than boys," I asked. "Oh, my dear, maybe you're too close to the answer to see it. A horse is a gigantic penis on legs, but one that's sexually 'safe' at the same time!" I don't blush very easily, but I did because I knew in my heart that he was right. I had worked in a small stable two summers and for reasons that were now clear I was much more interested in the stallions than the mares or geldings, and more than once had I had a horse's cock in my 15 or 16 year old's hand, amazed at its size and firmness. I had even helped in breeding several times masturbating fiercely in my room when I got back home.

"We can go riding tomorrow if you wish," he offered, adding with a friendly wink "Just you and me." I accepted immediately and without hesitation. I couldn't think of anything I wanted to do more, not just because I love horses but because the last time we had been alone had been so stimulating and pleasurable.

It gave me something to worry about, though. Erik and I have the agreement that we can only have sex with a member of the opposite sex once, and I'm afraid the blow job on the plane counted as sex. I'm not one of those who don't count fellation or finger fucking as sex. Erik had discussed this and decided that if it's sexually stimulating and it involves