Sometimes I just need to be fucked.

Last night was a great example of this. Between work, screaming kids, the time change (GREAT idea, that), and everything else, I was a stressed-out walking zombie. There was really only one solution. Fortunately, it wasn’t difficult to communicate it to M.

Which is how I found myself biting his shoulder while he fucked me. I alternated between wrapping my legs around his back to pull him further inside me, and holding my feet back so that he could grind against my clit. Meanwhile, he alternated between plowing me unrelentingly when I pulled him deep, and slowing his pace to grind me more slowly when I grabbed my feet. Do we know each other or what?

It didn’t take long before my heart was pounding out of my chest, and I was fucking back at him harder than he was thrusting at me. My orgasm was long and powerful, running the risk of waking the kids, and left me shuddering and panting.

Eventually my breath slowed down and my heart slowed down. I drifted off to that deep, anesthesia sleep where you wake up almost immediately, but it’s been several hours.

I so needed that.

What is it about someone that first attracts you? Is it mile long legs, a tight round ass or full perky breasts? Or is it something more subtle like the way his eyes widen with an inner recognition the first time he sees you?

Standing in line at Starbucks waiting for my morning shock of caffeine, I like to people watch. Mornings are especially fun for this because there are two basic types of people: morning people and those who hate morning people. The violent combination if those two groups is a Molotov Cocktail just waiting for a spark to fly, and it frequently does.

This morning my attention was riveted on the older intellectual man whistling Beethoven’s 9th totally oblivious to the hung over Goth girl standing behind him with murder radiating from her murky eyes. I was wondering just how long her self-control would last when I saw him.

And everyone else faded away.

He was at the front of the line and had reached out to take his Venti cup. As his fingers closed around it, I felt my nipples pucker as if it were my breasts his hands were cupping. Achingly slow, he raised the cup to his lips, not yet tasting, as he breathed in the scent of his coffee. I could almost feel his breath on my neck.

I moaned when he opened his mouth to take that first sweet taste, and imagined his lips moving over mine, his tongue probing, exploring the depths of me. I felt a flutter in my abdomen and wanted more than just his tongue inside me.

His smile of pleasure after his long drink nearly undid me. I wanted to melt into a puddle at his feet and beg him to fuck me, right there in the middle of the Starbucks.

“Hey Lady, are you going to move up or keep staring at Loverboy?”

I was jolted out of my reverie and embarrassed to be caught lecherously staring someone down. Praying that Mr. Crabapple’s voice didn’t carry over to Loverboy, I mumbled something resembling “sorry” and closed the wide gap between me and the next person in line.

When it was finally my turn I was still flustered. I no longer needed the caffeine rush after the big jolt of lust and adrenaline, so I ordered a bottle of juice instead of the coffee.

He was gone by the time I got my juice and headed out of the store. He got away, but it was a great start to my day. Breakfast of Champions.

We closed on Friday. The business is now ours. The day was spent signing contracts, handing over a large sum of money, making announcements to employees, calming those who wanted to quit because they don’t like me, calming those who were afraid they were going to be fired, and firing one woman out of the 12 women and one man group. Yes, she deserved it, but it still sucked. Today the previous owner cleaned her office out while I closed out the month for our biggest client as my two year-old ran wild pillaging the post it notes and various other office supplies. This has only just begun, but I feel a sense of accomplishment. Owning my own business has been a dream of mine for a long time.

So last night M got to sleep with an executive. Yep, that’s right, he put his cock in a president! And 12 hours later, he put it in her ass. Considering the fact that he made it a point to whisper in my ear that the president was getting her ass reamed, I think he enjoyed it. I suspect that he’ll want to put it in her mouth soon. Well, it is time that we tried that pineapple experiment. You know, for science.

Hannah is out of pocket today, and I’m closing on my new business tomorrow, so the sex talk will have to wait just a little bit longer.

It’s now public that Blue Eyed Vixen has taken over the task of putting together Tits for Troops from Dirty Couple in Virginia, who have retired their blog. The new home is here, so be sure and check it out. I’ve been a frequent contributor in the past, and will be sending pictures to Vixen for her to use soon.

I realized today that my blogroll is missing a number of blogs that I read regularly, so I’m in the process of updating it. Be sure and check them out; there’s some good stuff out there.

Yes, we finally took some new pictures! They’re available at the ‘My Pictures’ link on the right sidebar. Hopefully I won’t be quite as tardy with the next pictures, and as always, e-mail me your requests at stickandgiggle (AT)gmail.com.

Speaking of pictures, some of you are probably aware that I have been a contributing pictures to Tits for Troops at another, recently-shuttered blog. Well, a little blue-eyed birdie tells me that she’s going to take on the task of posting the Tits for Troops pictures at a new site. I don’t know if this is common knowledge yet, so I’ll let her unveil it in her time, but watch this space for links.