MuniDiaries.com is a place for Muni riders to read and share tales on the bus. They publish submissions from anyone who rides SF’s beloved public transit system. The idea is: If you have something to say about a ride, about a route, or even about politics surrounding public transit in the city, Muni Diaries is your forum to let the world know.

The site has been in existence for two years and most recently they were the audience winner of Best Local Blog from the San Francisco Bay Guardian Best of the Bay contest.  This time they’re holding their own contest, and an erotic short fiction one at that!

About MuniDiaries.com’s first Erotic Short Fiction Contest:

This summer we’ve received a number of photos of used condoms on the bus, which beg the question: how did this condom end up on the bus? To encourage people to write and be creative, we are holding our first erotic short fiction contest. We are challenging Muni riders and writers to answer the question, “how did the condom end up on the bus?” in 250 words or less. The winning entries will be read on stage at our second spoken word party, Muni Diaries Live! Under the Influence at the Make-Out Room on Friday, Oct. 30. If you’d like to get an idea of what our spoken word parties are like, check out this summary from our first event in June.

Details of the contest: http://www.munidiaries.com/2009/09/24/contest-how-did-the-used-condom-get-on-the-bus/

So whether you enter or want to attend the event on October 30th in SF, do catch up on MuniDiaries.com (who also run BARTdiaries.com) and join the stories which make public transit so rewarding.

About Cam Shot, by Éric Falardeau:
Cam Shot (2008, 4 min.) is a black and white erotic and fetishist film. I wanted to pay a tribute to the amazingly gorgeous women in expressionist film. Therefore, it is a visual essay about lighting, contrast, texture, and make-up. It was filmed in front of a black velvet backdrop with a single spot on the actress (a Lowell 500W). She has dark and white make-up over her whole body so the contrasts are really visible. I think the ratio is almost 16 to1!!! I almost exclusively shoot my projects on Super 8 mm film for two reasons. First, it gives a ‘’professional’’ look to the film simply because the viewer’s eyes are used to watching real film in theatre and they associate video with TV and documentary.

When shooting Cam Shot, I decided to use Kodak Tri-X black and white reversal film 7266. I wanted high contrasts: deep black and high white. This film stock enabled us to shoot with low lights while getting all the sharpness, fine grain and details needed to achieve the look wanted.

For Cam Shot, I asked the laboratory – Exclusive Film Lab in Toronto – to push the film one-stop to heighten the contrasts between black and white. It was easier and more effective than using a red filter. It really darkened the black and blast the white, thus giving the film is high contrast, expressionist and fetishistic visual. It gives the leather costume and body make-up more texture, reflectance and visual impact. We also shot the film at 18fps to give the shot an inner little slow motion effect. It adds to the film’s sensual and erotic aspects.

GV: How did you find out about Good Vibrations Independent Erotic Film Festival?
Éric: I’m living in Montreal. I did my master thesis at the university on porn film, so I knew
the Good Vibrations shop’s website from the research I made at that time. After I made
Cam Shot, I was looking for great erotic art films’ festivals and remembered reading
something about the GVIXFF on there website. I decided to bite the bullet and gave it a try!

GV: Is this your first film? Did making an erotic film come out like you anticipated?
Éric: In fact, it is my fourth film. But it is my first erotic film. I was really proud of how it
turned out, but I owned a lot of it to make up artist Véronique Dumas and actress Cyan D.

GV: What do you hope audiences will get from your work?
Éric: I just hope that people will have a lot of fun watching Cam Shot because it is a little silly
movie. I made it for the pure pleasure of watching black and white film. And as a weird
homage to the climax of Behind the Green Door!

GV: Were there any funny or unexpected moments while filming?
Éric: Yeah, doing the close-ups from under the breasts was kind of weird for me and the actress. Also, we laugh a lot because the actress had a hard time removing the paint used
for her body painting. I think it took her a week or so.

GV: What is your favorite sex toy to use in a film?
Éric: Film itself!

GV: What advice would you give to first-time erotic filmmakers, or filmmakers in general?
Éric: Inspiration is everywhere! First thing of all, I think that one must read a lot to find inspiration. Books are a good guideline for plots’ structure and storytelling’s devices when one writes his script. As a DOP I tried to look closely at how light is worked in paintings and photos. Of course, as a director I want to see as much films as possible! A writer reads books to write better and a filmmaker watches films to make better ones. The bad ones are sometime the best to learn from to see what not to do or just find good, badly or unused ideas.

GV: How does the film you submitted reflect your views on sex, and was there anything you learned in the process of making the film?
Éric: Sex is a playful thing. It has to be fun. People take sex too seriously. I think my film is about that. Please, be silly!

GV: What projects are you working on now/next?
Éric: I’ve just finished my new short, Le Cycle (The Cycle). It will have its premiere in Spain
in November. I’m also raising funds for my next short film, a stop motion animated film
entitled Crépuscule (Dawn). It will be shot in HD for a subsequent 35 mm blow-up. I’m
looking for ways to fund my first feature length film, Thanatomorphose, which I want to
shoot in 16 mm or Super 16 mm. Both are art-house horror films. The first one is more
fantastic and mythological while the second has a realistic plot and setting. When will
they be done? It all depends on funding!!!! But one thing is sure, I’ll make them
whenever happen. If there’s anyone out there interested…

Thank you and best of luck to Éric, who’s film will be premiere at the Good Vibrations Indie Erotic Film Fest competition screening at the Castro Theatre on September 17th (for more details and tickets, visit gv-ixff.org).

The shoot was one of the best experiences I have had in a long time, an experience I am still trying to analyze and digest. Often I get approached to work on projects, but people have a tendency to flake, which is why I am always careful about what I get myself involved in. But when you meet the right people collaboration is amazing, allowing each other to feed off of the others creative energies and feel secure and free to create in a safe environment for the good of sexy artistic achievement. WooHoo!

We met a few times prior to the day of filming–to pass ideas, I gave the director full access to any thing on the blog, but beyond that I was unsure of how useful I could actually be to the project, it was nothing I had ever done before, but how could I pass up taking part. I had to be in; I had to be at that filming. The deadline closer and closer, we settled on a shoot date which just happened to fall on Pride Fest weekend, which is both good and bad timing. The sexual energy of the weekend was definitely present and in our favor, but also there was an extreme lack of people needed for extras. Those who did end up helping were the porno angels.

I am not going to spoil the plot, because you will all just have to come the Castro for the big screening. I will say, the only dialogue that was used in the film were from two of my pas posts, The Beg and Grab. When the main actress/model/porn star read my words in her hot Russian accent I nearly melted. When the word “cock” and “thumping pussy” rolled off her tongue I nearly fell out of my chair she sounded so fucking luscious. It was so hot to hear someone else; especially a woman dressed in a tight fitting naughty librarian outfit reading my thoughts.

Night one: The realization that everyone on location was going to have to be on film if we were going to make this thing happen was became very apparent. I had not planned on being in the film, but we had no choice. There goes my City Librarian position. Fuck it. My role was to help grab and capture the author, which included stroking and caressing her body, unbuttoning her blouse and running my hands up and down her half-clothed body. I pinched her nipples through her bra, I stroked her bare belly, and I pressed my fingertips into her pussy through her skirt. Then I helped to lift her on to a desk where she was to be further ravaged.

Observations: What I came to learn is there is a lot of down time on a porn shoots, whether it was getting set up for the next shot, or explaining the set-up for the next shot, getting the actresses to understand the next shot, make-up application, smoke breaks…whatever. It took a great deal time for us all to get there and be working on the same page. Then on top of the time factor– there are the problems, the snafus, the downright disasters. The actress playing our “Johnny Keyes” role was somewhat of mess; she was not really there mentally, kept asking someone to go get her a Red Bull and a beer to chase her hangover away, and kept missing her cues. But the actress playing the author role made up for the others lack of character or ability. She was cute, willing, and had very little boundaries; I love a cute woman with no boundaries.

We finally get to the point in filming when it was time for the group ravage and our main girl on girl action. The tension and anticipation was hanging in the room. That oh my God, I cannot believe I am about to see two women fucking each other with various toys and implements–and I get to help. I get ravage her too. HOLY FUCK!

The director is talking to the girls about what is going to happen and what they want to happen and how the ravage should go down. They pull out the toys; dildos, impellers, strap-ons, ball gags, restraints. Fabulous goodies in which to fuck by. One of the dildos is the suction cup variety, allowing it to stick to various surfaces for fucking and sucking purposes– well it makes that suction cup popping noise every time someone touches it. This become very funny and animated the rest of the shoot. We can all tell when someone has that dildo because they just made that incriminating suction “pop” noise and then they are standing there with that guilty look and the fleshy dildo nervously in their hands. My favorite was the Excalibur style dildo, a nice handle, long black, not too think, not to firm fuck me stick. I had to be at the end of that thing. I wanted to strap it to my hip and pull it from my sheath and fuck her (or anyone) silly with it. But–that’s another movie.

The time comes where we run through the scene and the author is on the table knees up, the crowd gathered for the viewing and group ravage, our female Johnny Keyes is in place. We begin the run through, group ravage–stroke, caresses, suck, lick, pinch, ravage, feed her the Excalibur–as simultaneously the Lady Keyes spreads her legs and rips apart her panty hose from her pounding pussy. Not filming–we begin the practice run–ravaging, rubbing–the tension is unbearable–the other actress slowly begins to spread the authors legs wide, running her hands down the inside of her thighs towards her cunt where she is to rip the nylon from her body. When she gets there she exclaims “oh honey, are you bleeding?”

Oh Fuck!!! The author character got her period. Cut! Spirit crushing news. Wow! It was like a big group dynamic let down, I am surprised the whole room did not let out in unison one big Homer Simpson “D’oh!”

We had to stop for the night and everyone commit to being back there the next day at 6PM–prepared, plugged and ready for action. Apparently these are the pitfalls of porn, the girls had things they could use to take care of the flow and promised to be back there the next day.

The best overheard statements of the night were:

“What’s the best way to make you come?”
“Lets interrupt her by shoving a dildo in her mouth.”
“I can’t get the strap-on on…?”

Chapter Two Day Two: the sunshine of porn

We convene to the film location at 6 PM Sunday, already spent from the previous days festivities–the shoot, the drinking the night before, the Pride Parade that morning. We arrive and we begin the wait, the down time. We wait for the two girls to show up. We need that hot chick on chick.
And we wait.

6:30: the woman playing the author shows up. We are now waiting on our “Johnny Keyes” and still trying to hustle up audience extras. We wrangle a few neighbors and friends. We patiently, impatiently wait for girl number two to show,  hesitating to call because we don’t want to jinx it, and we want to be confident that she is going to show up for what she needs to do. Finally we break down and call–and the porno drama begins. Apparently there are cheating boyfriends involved–a love crisis. She is broken. The director explains to her that the best thing for her to do would be to get away from the situation, clear out for some time and what better place than where she is supposed to be–at the shoot. Not only would she clear her head, eat pussy, but gain some time to analyze her situation without being in it. We wait and we wait.

The hour/s pass and it is very evident our Johnny Keyes is not going to do what she needs to do. She is officially a No Show. Now, like the day before, it is apparent I am going to have to be on film. Our director calls me to the office to discuss the situation. He hints subtly or not so subtly, that I may have to play the role of Johnny Keyes . “No way!” I did not really even anticipate being in the shoot, let alone eating pussy naked. “No, not me, not for the camera at least.”

We negotiate between ourselves then approach our small group of extras and our leading lady. Our director with–humor, empathy and pleading worked magic on one beautiful, free spirited (possibly high either on the day or something else), young ray of sunshine extra–the sunshine of porn. She was dangerously cute, long blond dreads, freckles all over her body–the kind that make you want to connect the dots–tattoos in various locations across her body, wearing a bikini top, a princess crown, crazy mirrored goggles, didn’t mind going topless or eating pussy. She was fucking adorable and willing to take over the part of Johnny Keyes. The show must go on.

And so it did, with the help of some fine sexy porn happy people. We eventually managed to get to the action shots we needed. The woman playing the author was placed on the table by her admirers, her pantie hose ripped from her pussy and her body ravaged. This is when I got to participate. Her body on the table, our hands exploring her nakedness, her tits, nipples pinched the Excalibur prop. I want one. I fed it to her, made her suck on it, my hands wrapped around her face as she choked on it, I shoved it between her tits, and I smacked it on her lips with its firm head. It was hot. Then our second leading lady appeared, in between her legs, she glances at the camera, puts her goggles over her eyes and dove into her pussy. We are all over her, stroking, feeling, having our way with, and enjoying her body. She came. Cut!

I must say I was wet and wondering what would happen if we didn’t have to cut.

Final scene: the author is on all fours, taking a dildo until she comes. Our leading lady number two does not let us down. The camera angle has changed to get the view of her ass and pussy, panties pulled aside. We hear the tale tale sound of the suction cupped thick flesh rubber meat dildo pull off the table (smiles and giggles), lubed poured over the tip. Action! Sunshine fucks her, the rest of us with our hands still all over her, having our way, ravaging, and she herself is rubbing her own pussy and clit–until a nice fuck come is induced within. Cut!

We did it, we had the money shot, we pulled it off, with the kindness of sexy strangers. The shoot was such a great experience; I would love to do it again. From there the director did the rest, editing, and getting it prepped for submission. Look for us at the Good Vibes Independent Film Festival.

He grabbed my hips and pulled me back into him – his pelvis rubbed against my ass and I could feel the evidence of his arousal through the layers of our clothing.

He was content for the moment to simply rub up against me – reveling in the sensation of closeness – drawing out each moment like a taste of fine wine – each exquisite sip demanding to be savored and enjoyed. It would be a sin not to really; and there was so much other sinning to be done that night.

His hands began moving again – exploring each curve and movement of my form with agonizing slowness and thoroughness.

He began murmuring in my ear. Telling me how sexy I was, how much I turn him on, how he would like to fuck me, but that he was going to make me beg for it. I closed my eyes and sighed with contentment and warmth. Though his words weren’t particularly original or poetic, they still reverberated through me. Making me feel desired and sensual.

I arched my back against him, encouraging him to focus more time and caresses to my now protruding breasts. I do love to have my nipples played with. As if on cue, he began to unbutton my blouse and let it drop to the floor.

His breath on my back caused me to shiver with delicious anticipation. His rough hands reached into my bra to pinch my nipples, which had become increasingly hard and sensitive – the slightest touch eliciting jolts of heat between my legs.

I could hear each article of clothing teasingly fall away. First his tie, which has tantalizingly tickled my legs with before letting it drop. Then his jacket. And then he unbuttoned his shirt with agonizing slowness. I think I could hear each button as it was released, and then finally it too was removed.

He ran his nails up and down my ribs. A gesture both tickling and gentle – almost incongruous with the carnal violation that we both knew was forthcoming. With the other hand he unclipped my bra and threw it with more than a little drama across the room. He pressed his chest against my back and blew into my ear- creating shivers, and an involuntary arching of my back against his torso.

I sensed him backing away slightly, and then felt the unexpected wetness of his tongue trailing up my spine. His hands gripped my hips and clutched me closer to him. I could feel the bulge of his cock – pulsing, straining, willing me to worship and crave it. He rubbed it against my ass- teasing me with what was sure to come.

I reached back to rub his cock- to take some measure of control in the scenario, but he was having none of it. He reached down for his tie, pushed my hands out in front of me and tied them at the wrists. The feeling of utter helplessness and imminent violation was almost unbearable. I could feel my panties becoming increasingly wet by the second and my breath had turned into lust-filled pants. I was completely his slave. His will commanded exactly how far, how hot, and how rough things would get.

I wanted him to consume me. To pull my hair, and bite me and slam himself into me. To take me as his possession. To be used. To perform each carnal act with utter abandon and loss of control. To treat me as a toy whose entire raison d’etre was for his enjoyment.

I heard the soft slip of his pants easing down his legs. He yanked down my skirt with an abrupt motion and I gasped as I felt his nails scrape lightly down my thighs. Tiny little tell-tale marks of passion, too soon faded.

Only the barest wisp of fabric separated us. Thin sheaths of cotton and lace prevented the consummation of our quickening desire. His enlarged cock pressed against me – torturing me with its taunting presence. An inconsequential slip of material rubbing up against me with mischief – denying me the pleasure of being overtaken and consumed by him.

I was caught- agonizingly suspended in an eternal state of lust-filled anticipation. My cunt dripping, nipples hard, my entire body feverish and shaking. He had absolute command of me, and he teased me by appearing to care more about the journey than reaching the destination.

Finally he acquiesced to my silent plea. He slipped my little lace nothing down over my hips and I impatiently kicked them away. He had already finished stripping himself – and continued his delicious teasing of my ass with his penis, rubbing it up and down the crack.

His hand reached between my legs and rubbed my clit softly – but even the slightest touch caused waves of heat to wash over me.

He gently ran his fingers through my hair, then roughly pulled my head back. I nearly came with pleasure in that moment – it was the definition of sublime bliss. To have my hair pulled; to be handled and taken was all I wanted.

He pushed my head down so I was bent over, and pulled my ass closer to him. He was no longer interested in the journey- it seemed we had arrived.

I felt him plunge into me hard and fast. He gripped my hips bruisingly adding to my delirium. He slammed into me without apology or remorse. No doubt the next day my body would be covered in breathtaking reminders of his possession of me.

My head and breasts rocked back and forth in time to my moans and his thrusting. Pure carnal fucking was the only way to describe the experience. No tenderness or romance. No intimate eye contact sharing an erotic moment.

Related Products at Good Vibrations:
“Frenzy: 60 Stories About Sudden Sex” Book
“Penny Flame’s Expert Guide to Rough Sex” DVD

The minute they closed the door to the bedroom, she set upon the fly of his jeans. His erection was already straining at the worn denim. She unzipped him and swooned over the gorgeous sight in front of her. So smooth and pink, it looked ready for a photo shoot for a glossy magazine.

Instead she went to work, swirling her tongue over his velvety head and spiraling her hands around his shaft. Even though he suggested at one point that she stop if she wanted him to fuck her, she wanted to finish him off with her mouth. She knew how much he liked it and she liked hearing the moans and exclamations he made then that he didn’t make when he came inside her. He didn’t object a second time.

Sure enough, he lost all coherence as she sucked on his hefty balls and ran her tongue up the seam between them. He even let the word “love” tumble out of his mouth at one point, though she wasn’t sure if he said he loved her or just loved what she was doing. She took it all with a grain of salt at this point. She finished him off with a concentrated assault on the head and some vigorous pumping on the shaft as he grabbed at her hair and groaned with abandon.

“What about you?” he asked afterward. “What would you like me to do for you?”

“How about you just lie back and I’ll show you what I like?” she suggested.

They’d had sex several times, and he had been eager to please her each time. But there were always tricks that only a woman knew about herself and what brought her pleasure. And she’d had so little good sex for so many years, she had caught on early that the only way she’d be satisfied is if she took matters into her own hands. Those hands had gotten pretty skilled over the years.

“God, I love seeing you touch yourself,” he said. This seemed to be a new thing for him. Maybe most women didn’t have to do this if they had a guy around. Lucky them. Maybe they just felt self-conscious. Well, she’d gotten past that, hadn’t she?

He was already grinning as she lay back on the pillows, unbuttoned her blouse and revealed a lacy demi-bra, black with pink rosebuds. She ran her fingers over the scalloped edge of one cup, down the gentle slope into her cleavage, already dewy, and up the other side.

She skimmed her hands down over her breasts, leaving on the bra to get her money’s worth out of it. She moved lightly down over her stomach, past her belly button to the edge of her jeans. She scooted the waistband down to show the matching string bikini. She toyed with the lace there and lifted her eyes to him in a tease. He was already hard again and his eyes were dancing.

“I can’t believe you,” she laughed.

She returned to business, slipping her fingers under the panties and up and over her mound, light with hair. She was already aroused from her oral exploration of his cock, so the second she got to her clit, the electricity was on. She knew she had a head start on things and it wouldn’t take long to complete this little lesson for him.

That first delicious sensation was enough to elicit a sigh, and that was all it took for him to spring over to her and start kissing her on her stomach. He kissed around the sides of her breast and pulled down the lace to suck at a nipple.

“You drive me crazy,” he told her.

“Thanks. But just watch for now,” she said.

He leaned back again, and she removed her panties so he could see her hand in motion. She first put two fingers on either side of her clit and rubbed up and down. As the feeling spread, she began making circles around a larger area. In their previous times together, he had always paid attention there, but often he would poke at the thing like it was the on/off button on the TV. It wasn’t quite the action she needed, but she decided to show him a more effective alternative rather than say anything.

As she got more aroused she let her head tip back. In between the circles, she ran a finger down to the entrance of her vagina, circled it, then returned again to her clit, pushing down harder and moving her hand faster. Her hand swept over the whole area now, pushing into the bone that sheltered that exquisite font of pleasure.

She opened her eyes to look at him and saw him stroking his hard cock, murmuring encouragement to her. She closed her eyes for the final stretch, picturing him with his cock in hand and thinking of his excitement growing along with hers. If she were alone, she could conjure up scenes from their previous lovemaking. As she got close, she would often think of him and the things he said right before he came, always full of more passion than sense. That surrender was usually enough to push her over the edge.

But today she just had to think of him there next to her, so excited by watching her, and she felt the warmth start to spread in that wonderful moment when the mind can let go and let the body take over. Her orgasm washed over her and she gave herself up to it, arching her back and pushing into her hand. As it subsided, she removed her hand, wet and slick now, leaving behind even more wetness that – judging from the leer in his eyes – would not go to waste for long.

As she says this, my mind is fluttering full of nonsense, I tell it to stop. I say focus, focus. Telling my mind to shut the fuck up, and then all of a sudden I am having a full on conversation to myself in my head about how I cannot stop talking to myself.

Much  — ok most – of the time, my deviant little mind shifts to thoughts of sex. Either sex I just recently had, or the sex I would like to have, or what sex would be like with some of the people in class, like with Mr. Treasure Trail or with Mr. Knee Injury. Well you can imagine what 90 minutes of sweating, contortion, and mind-wandering will do to a girl. I am lusty, hot, loose, and fucking so horny after yoga.

I often trip into thinking about just jumping on Mr. Treasure Trail right there. While the yoga students watch us fuck as the sweat and tension builds. Perhaps we even start a fuck riot and every one just starts fucking and slipping all over each other in the immense heat of the tiny studio. Our tongues and bodies unrestricted and rhythmic like a yoga flow. Hands and legs gliding over the moisture of our sweat — cock and cunts growing full. We are all so loose and free and Mr. Treasure Trail slides his finger into me.

While Mr. Knee Injury, he forgets he is injured as he crawls across the floor and takes my tits in his mouth, like he hasn’t eaten days. The three of us sliding into a wet, hot mass of flesh, while eyes watch and hands play.

Mr. Knee Injury lays me down across his lap, I feel his stiff dick pressing into the back of my neck. Mr. Treasure Trail’s finger are slipping into my pussy. Mr. Knee joins in, as he continues to massage my rounded breasts, pushing them together sucking and biting, periodically sliding his fingers toward my cunt, where I now feel multiple finger exploring every fold. Unfolding.

Mr. Treasure Trail can take it no longer and dives for my now oozing pussy and begins to eat greedily, drinking and lapping every drop of my succulent spring flow. Overflow. My hips are bucking and rocking off the floor, colliding into his face. Mr. Knee is beginning to stroke his rock hard cock closer and closer to my lips. My eager hot mouth cannot wait, I grasp him with my two hands and begin to suck him down, so greedy, so focused on cock. My pussy is exploding beneath Mr. Treasure Trail’s mouth, I am cumming all over his chin and he just laps it up with bulldog determination.

Twitching and ramming into him, I let loose of long thrusting spasm orgasm, full of sound, salaciousness, and moans fit for an animal. He lifts his face from between my thighs and is dripping and glistening in my juice. He vigorously pulls my pussy up on to his huge cock and begins to propel his hard focused yoga energy into me. I can hear the teacher saying “breath though your nose,” I have no choice, because Mr. Knee, is filling my cheeks and throat with his throbbing cock. I am filled from top to bottom. Each thrust pushed into to me simultaneously, making me a quivering whimpering mess of sexual focus.

I can feel both of their cocks jerking inside of me, ready to blow. Mr. Knee is thrusting deeper into my throat and concurrently mashing my tits, pinching the nipples, pulling them to pink. Mr. Treasure is beating my soaked pussy with his monster cock. My body is ready to ignite. We are lost, focused only on how gratifying, pleasurable, wet, full, ripe, and right it all feels. Mr. Treasure is pushing on my belly as he thrust into me, making my cunt clinch and grab his cock even tighter inside me. Mr. Knee has slowed his cadence and is straddling my face deliberately pushing into my throat as far as he can. I am about to cum again; my body tenses, my breathy pants grow raucous, and I pull inward bringing Mr. Treasure with me.

As I cum my mouth drops open. Mr. Knee pulls out and strokes his delectable shaft over my body; with a rub of his thumb on his tip he erupts onto my tits and belly. I am all covered in white goo, watching his face go from tight to free. Just then Mr. Treasure wrenches my ass up to him and plunges as deep as possible causing me to release a gasp, and he cums so deep inside me I can taste it.

All three of collapse in heaping sweaty mess of yoga sex funk. All eyes in the room are transfixed, cocks hard, pussy dripping.
Focused.

Or has guilt just paved the road to my lifelong fascination with all that is bad? Bad is good. I recall in fifth grade on my Pee Chee folder I, artistically and like the bad ass I was, scrawled SEX, DRUGS and ROCK-N-ROLL on the front cover, proudly for all to see. I was hastily sent to the school principal then counselor, who subsequently called my mother. I was grilled and roasted.

“Do you even know what this means?” my mom said in that shrill shocked and horrified voice of hers. Well I did not know then, but it did not take me long to figure out the astounding virtues of said sex, drugs and rock-n-roll. From that moment on–I was hooked. Bad is good.

When I was in seventh grade, back when you still had to take typing class, a concept so far removed and bizarre that I am completely aging myself in this divulgence, I used to leave dirty notes in the typewriter for whoever was sitting at my machine the following class. In fact now that I recall, this is all I used to type during class, vulgar sex notes, vulgar for a seventh grader. I had only kissed one boy by this time and there I was leaving little pieces of my sex behind for random strangers to find. Hmmm sound familiar, not much has changed, except now I can almost write a complete sentence. Like a typing practice, over and over I would type; I want to fuck you so hard, I want your big dick shoved down my throat, I want to fuck your brains out, I want you dick, I want your dick, I want your dick. Then I would slyly tuck the note inside the casing of the typewriter so you could not see the paper sticking out, so when the next person who came in to load their paper would have to extract my dirty note. Bad is good.

It was in the third grade that I first got a glimpse of pornography. Roberta Gonzalez stole a magazine from her brother and at recess the two of us would hover over the magazine, dazed, not giggly, not amused, not in any way little girlish– just straight up dazed with enthrallment of these giant looking women, with extreme tan lines, hairy wet pussy, with their fingers and hands all over themselves. We never spoke when we looked at the magazine, and barely said anything about it to each other, but everyday we looked though that same rag. We kept hid behind the fence in the furthest portion of the playground and every recess for a long time the two of just remained captivated over these women and then one day the magazine was gone.

That is when I discovered my step-father’s stash. Looking back on it, it was fucking great collection. Vintage 70’s stuff, playing cards, pens, posters, coasters, and a monolithic stack of magazines. Spending many hours after school in the garage trying to locate all his secret hiding places, I became a master of knowing his secrets. Often I would be overcome with guilt, and disgust, for myself and my step-father, and I would pile all the stuff back away, but with a certain amount of revulsion, sloppy slamming, not in order, not like one should handle a prime vintage porn collection. He knew I was out there, looking at his private tits and bush; the stash spot was ever changing along with my levels of eroticism and revolt.

Along came masturbation, one of the bigger guilty pleasures I still grapple with. Ridiculous. I began feeling myself at a very young age, probably around 8 and it has never stopped or really ceased to amaze and delight me on a daily basis, yet I still get that occasional pang of guilt. Say when I have locked myself in my apartment fall day and just sat around in my jammies watching porn, with various fingers, toys, vibes, dildos, magic bullets, lubes, lube container, shoving in and around at my excessively self-fucked pussy. Not sure what this stems from, but I know ever since young girl masturbation has been a part of me.

At around twelve I was obsessed with making myself cum, I could do it anywhere and I did and I still do. Bad is good. Sitting around a table full of people, family dinners, family game night, in the back seat of the car, on the airplane, at the grocery store, at restaurants, in front of the T.V., anywhere I could frantically rub my prepubescent pussy I would. The first inanimate object I used, as a replacement to my fingers or to the all the imaginary cock I had seen in the glossy pages under those fluorescent flickering garage lights, was the remote control. I am true T.V. baby. I love you T.V. and now I understand why. I rubbed it into my cotton flowered panties, feeling the nubs of the buttons clash against my cunt, the whole thing rubbing into my mound, making my clit pop out. I would do this so often I noticed a rubbed away spot in all my panties, the cotton wearing thin forming a circle pattern, which was obviously from my obsessive finger rubbing. I then really began to bang myself, under the panties. Life changed, I changed.

It is about this time that I was allowed to stay home alone after school, coincidentally it was also about the same time we started getting obscene phone calls. My mom answered the first few and always hung up instantly. I tried to get her to tell me what they said, but she never would, just gave some lame ass answer. One magical day after school, I got the phone call. The boy-man on the other side asked me what color my panties were. I told him. I could instantly hear his breath change when I whispered–blue. He hung up. The next day the phone rang and he was there, I told him again what color. He asked me if I liked to touch myself, I mumbled “uh huh, yeah.” “Will you do it now?” “Ummm yes I am.” We never really spoke he just listened to me making myself cum, over and over. Every once in awhile he would call and my mom would answer, she would fume and hang up the phone, I would get mad or hurt or something at how mad she got, because I guess she would be mad at me too. For the entire school year I listened to the caller on the other end, ask me about my panties, then ask me to touch myself, as he listened to me moan, grunt is my young girl way. I could here him too his breath, his rumble, his loss of control. The way he came, the way we often came together.

One night the phone rang, my mom answered. When she hung up, she told us it was the police. Saying they arrested a guy who had our phone number listed amongst a list of numbers he was making obscene phone calls to. I was scared; scared I was going to be in trouble. I felt guilty, dirty, and I felt loss, because I liked coming with this guy, in this fucked up way. I loved it and I think it has had a lifelong affect on my sexuality. I wondered if other girls/women came with him on the phone, succumbed to his phone sex exploits like I did. Then I felt a wave of jealousy. Like he belonged to me, but there was a list of numbers according to the police. My mom asked if I ever answered the phone when he called, I told her yes, but that I always just hung up on him. Claiming he was gross, which meant I was too. Good turns to bad, to guilt, to uncontrollable deviant sex behavior, but why does it feel so good? Bad is good.

I read some blogs, answered emails, posted, but my mind kept drifting back and forth to the day before. My afternoon company–it was kind, frisky, lingering, unhurried, and it felt right, even if perhaps it wasn’t.

I decided to take a hot bath, because I had yet to wash since yesterday afternoon. There is something about keeping the smell of man with me, after he has been all over me, in me, with me. For the rest of Friday night and Saturday morning every time I shifted I could smell you on my body. Remaining. It kept me in that nostalgic frame of mind– and now it was time to move on.

I ran the bath and filled it with bubbles, making sure to set the water for super hot, because it has not been getting quite as hot as normal. I stepped out of the room and let the water fill, gathered my coffee and library book; The Best of Best: American Erotica 2008, and set them on the edge of the tub. Stripping down and stepping into the bath, I was surprised to feel the hot water was back in full force. It was so hot, my skin turned instantly pink as I sunk into the bubbles. I began to sweat immediately. It felt so good soaking, listing to the rain and thinking about how you fucked me, how you bent me over the couch and plunged deeply into me, how your curve dripped with your pre-cum and my juice when you pulled out because you feared cumming too soon. Thoughts, of how your dick tasted with that mixed solution of you and me dripping from the tip, lingered in my steamed out mind.

I picked up my book and continued on a story I had already started, Fleshlight. This is the kind of story I would typically skip, because it started out rather slow and the author was a bit self-absorbed (maybe all sex writers are), but I got hooked and eventually he made laugh out loud with his style. The story is on of a basic masturbation with a sexual aid, hence the title Fleshlight.

As I got deeper into the story I noticed my hand was gently stroking my pussy, parting my lips pulling the hot water up to it, splashing it with heat. The story was becoming more intriguing to me as the author explored, from a male point of view, on masturbation. Simultaneously my mind was churning, thinking about my own reflections on feeling myself. He detailed the thought process of looking at a porn rag and how his cock reacts to this. Imagining what the “virgin girl on page 19, washing her truck” would say to him, “undo your belt sweetie, are you getting a hard-on thumper? Stroke it for me.” He recalls his yoga teachers warning “Be aware of your pud throbbing in its methodical yearning way,” as his “yoga breath turns to a pant.”

I notice my own throb beginning and my stroke becomes heavier, sweat dripping onto the pages below. My breath becomes more heavy than a pant, as I slosh more hot water onto my cunt, grabbing it whole in my palm, like a piece of fruit being rinsed under water.

I go back to the story the author has now turned the page to a layout of a voluptuous Brazilian woman, that he describes as being soft and plump, like a “rotisserie chicken.” I chuckle and am turned on at the same time, because I am kind of like a “rotisserie chicken.” I rub my pussy harder. He compares the fleshlight toy to what it would be like to get a blow job from the Brazilian chicken. I continue splashing the hot water onto me and rubbing my full lips, not rough or hard or soft or gentle, just there running my fingers on the inside and outside taking pleasure in the sensation of hot water hitting my clit.

The writer goes on fucking his fleshlight, “pounding the squish out of the thing till it’s bouncing of [his] nuts” and though he liked the Brazilian, he switched back, to the page 19 virgin hottie, to cum to. He describe that momentary loss of mind prior to the explosion of cum and then the cold feeling when it’s over with his dick still jammed into the apparatus. That urge he has to be held by another, while still gazing at the “frozen” trapped in time smile of the page 19 virgin cutie, staring up at him. Cold.

I set the book aside and begin to drift into my own memories of the day before. The rain, the way the light shifted continually form dark to light and then to dark again. Our time fragmented through shards of light. I thought about the way your curve filled me. My memory flashed to me lying on the floor while you watched. At your request I still had my black leather boots on and nothing else. We hovered around each others bodies in the fading daylight, you spent, sitting slightly between my legs as I began to rub and fuck myself. Old 40s music coming from the speakers as I plunged, explored and rubbed, glancing up to watch you, watching me. I began to moan and you encouraged it, your hands stroked my breasts.

The heat of the water and my increased inflection on my cunt was making my body catch fire; I am sweating in my tub of hot water. I am fucking myself, thinking about fucking myself while you watched. The sounds of the water splashing around increases and amplifies, sweat dripping from every area of skin not emerged into the water. I slid my other hand down, two fingers in and began the push and pull of the full flesh that lives inside my pussy, pressing the spot as I recede out and quickly thrust back in. I become aware of my own “yoga breath” turning to pant. Scooping up more of the hot water on to my clit, handling, maneuvering it, as it popped out more with each stroke. I push further into myself, thrusting on to my fingers.

When I was about to come, you grasp harder on to my breasts and tell me how hot this is, and to cum for you. My mind drifts into my flowing out of stammering sex lexis, “ohhhh oh I’m gonna cum, fuck! I’m gonna cum…I’m gonna cum for you” the moans and the pants released without any control or hesitation, your hands firmly squeezing. My ass lifting of the floor, your hands all over me; I buck harder, my fingers now fully crammed into my pussy, moaning for release. Your verbal stimulation induces and entices, I cum with a last whimpering groan pushed out, filling the air, before my ass slowly drops back to the floor, fingers still in–feel a soaking surrounding them.

Water sounds fill my head as my ear lobes drift below the water line, my fingers relentlessly plummeting my own cunt as the same moans, from yesterday, echo in that underwater sound. My ass and pussy are grinding on to my hand while my other is feverishly flicking hot water on my clit. I cum hard, with deep guttural sigh; like my own, but not. Sweat ferociously and then I cave into my hot bath, feeling the cream of my cum mixed with the water of my bath, wishing you were here to watch.

I looked up at him and smiled. I knew why he was confused. For the past three Wednesdays, we had been having sex in his car after work. We had learned the first time that it was much easier to have sex in his car if I wore a skirt and no pantyhose. Today sheer black nylon covered my calves and knees.

“All day. Let me know when you take first break, I’ll come out and smoke with you.”

“Sure, Joanna, talk to you then.” Ty grinned at me then walked back down the aisle of cubicles to his desk. I tried not to stare at his ass as he walked away. He was twenty-four to my thirty-two, and his attention was exactly what I needed after my divorce. For the last two years of my marriage, sex had been very low on my priority list. I thought my libido had slipped into a coma, while my husband’s was just fine. I refused him often enough that he looked elsewhere. I felt old and plain compared to the twenty-one year old blond he found. But Tyler said I was sexy, and he and the stud in his tongue had proved my libido was in excellent condition.

When break time rolled around at 10 AM, I followed Tyler outside. It was a blisteringly hot day in early August. The few other people taking their breaks at this time were sitting in their cars with the AC blasting, windows cracked to let the smoke out. Tyler and I were the only ones in the little smoking pavilion.

“Now, let me show you that I knew what day it was when I got dressed this morning,” I said as the door to the little building swung shut. I sat on the end of the picnic table facing away from the building and Tyler stood against the wall facing me. I hiked my black skirt, and slowly spread my thighs.

I leaned back on my hands and watched Ty swallow hard as he took in my black thigh highs, attached to a garter belt, with no panties whatsoever. His hazel eyes widened. “My God, Jo, are you trying to get us both fired?” He took a quick look around and then stepped closer to me. My breathing got faster. So far we’d been very careful not to do anything during work. I was his supervisor, and there would be severe consequences if we got caught fooling around.

Tyler touched my knee and ran his hand lightly up the nylon and over the stretchy black lace to my bare thigh. I quivered, but I didn’t push him away or close my legs. His fingers ran up higher and touched my newly shaved and smooth crotch. Now it was me who was swallowing hard as he first slipped one finger, then two, into my very wet pussy. I bit my lip hard, trying desperately not to make any noise as he moved his fingers in and out, making me come twice before we heard the front door open. He stepped back and I closed my legs and hopped down from the picnic table. I gave a direct look at the tent in the front of his khakis and said, “See you back inside.” Tyler sat down at the table, presumably to compose himself before walking back into the building.

The hours crawled by until 4:30. Tyler and I both fiddled around at our desks until about 4:45, so that fewer people would notice us leaving together. I followed his green Camaro outside of town to the golf course/ski resort. We parked at one of the lots farther up the mountain that was abandoned in the summer. I opened the back door of his car, and he grabbed me and pulled me astride his lap.

“Dammit, Jo, you’re making me insane, I could smell you on my hand all day.”

“You’re the one who put it up there. You should trust me to read a calendar next time.” I stuck my tongue out at him.

He ran his hands up inside my shirt and under my bra to squeeze my tits. I leaned back against the front seats and unbuckled his wide, black, riveted belt and starting undoing his pants. I opened the condom with my teeth, and slid it on him. He lifted up my skirt, and I slid down onto him, wet and ready. I bit his ear and ran my tongue over the row of silver hoops there. He bit down through my bra onto my nipple, making my pussy clench around his cock. I sank my teeth into his shoulder, drawing blood. I had enough time to enjoy the coppery taste of it, before he slammed me down onto his cock, pressing up with his hips and grinding it deep inside me. We rocked back and forth; sweat rolling down our faces and into our mouths as our lips met. I came with my head thrown back, Ty’s hands gripping my hips. I rode him until he joined me, crying out and holding me tight. As I peeled my sweaty body from his and sat on the other side of the car I thought, ‘God help me when it comes time to stop this marvelous insanity.’ Because surely it would, it had to. In my experience, nothing this good lasted. That was why I kept it once a week. It was like having one bowl of ice cream before bed at night, rather than climbing under the covers with the whole carton. I wanted this feeling to last as long as possible.

Ty’s voice intruded on my thoughts. “What are you doing this weekend?” Those six words chased away my afterglow like a bucket of ice water had been thrown on me.

“I’m going to be really busy all weekend.” I answered.

“Joanna, we were friends before this started. We used to eat lunch together, chat online at night, and now you barely talk to me. I miss you.”

“You know why I don’t talk to you at work, Ty. Do you want to be fired?”

“No, I don’t. That’s why I applied for the new position in IT. Bob told me today that I got it. Starting next Monday, you won’t be my supervisor anymore. So how are you going to keep me away then?”

“That’s great. I’m glad for you. Work isn’t the only reason we should keep this casual. I’m not ready, and you know why.”

“I know what he did to you, how you think about yourself. You trusted me to be there for you through that, but you won’t watch a movie with me, or have dinner with me. We could be so good together Jo, if you would just take a chance.”

I smiled. “You’re pretty convincing, you know that?”

“Well, let me try a little harder,” he said as he moved onto the floor. The hard silver of his tongue ring ran through the wetness, along the edge of my swollen lips to make direct contact with my clit. As his mouth closed over my clit and sucked, I thought about all the reasons this wouldn’t work, and decided I didn’t care. I gently lifted his head. “My weekend just freed up. What did you have in mind?”

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