My Sex Diary – Part Nine!
August 1, 2016
I rubbed my clit through my jeans and underwear while I made sure that no one would catch me touching myself, which only made me hornier. However, my masturbation was brought to a quick end.
It was at that moment when I stood still a little, for the girl getting fucked was someone that attended the New Year’s Eve party, and the guy fucking her was Marcos.
Thursday 18th January
I still couldn’t get the image of Marcos fucking that girl the other night; I don’t why I thought it was surreal. But what’s more surreal is the fact that he hasn’t stopped calling me since Tuesday.
What reason would there be for him to call me? From what I know of, I don’t have any affiliation with him anymore. Does he want to apologise to me for getting his cock out in the ladies toilets? Does he want to ask me if I liked what I saw that night? Or has the sight of me triggered something in his brain that needs to be said?
Whatever the reason may be, I don’t think that I’m eager or interested enough to hear what he wants to say to me. Besides, I have Andreo now.
I have a Spaniard who has just given me one of the best massages that I’ve ever had. Yes, my dear diary. The massage did come with a happy ending.
I pulled a muscle when I was carrying my old artwork from university up the stairs to my apartment; I should tell my old art professors that bigger isn’t always better. Andreo saw me coming up the stairs and saved me as if I was a damsel in distress. I didn’t look like a damsel, but I was in distress.
Now, out of all of the times that I’ve hung out with him, I’ve never seen Andreo as the ‘sensual’ type. However, since our mini break in Granada, and our ménage-a-trois on New Year’s Eve, I’ve learnt that Andreo is the ‘unpredictable’ type.
Anyway, after an hour of moaning while letting a bag of ice sit on my right shoulder, my boyfriend covered the dining table in a white translucent cloth, before he brought out his collection of scented lavender and rose oils. Hmm, now I know why he smells like a bunch of flowers on some days.
He poured me a glass of red wine, took the bag of ice away from me, and slowly undressed me with his soft fingers. There wasn’t a single piece of clothing hanging from my body. He wrapped his warm hands around me and nibbled on my earlobe softly, before he pulled me to the table. Every motion he made me think of a married man who was reminding himself how beautiful his wife was.
After letting him examine the wound on my shoulder, I slid my stomach onto the table while Andreo poured droplets of oil on my back. I felt his hands explore my body as he caressed every inch of my skin. And by every inch, I mean every inch.
It wasn’t long until I felt his fingertips touch my swollen clit, where droplets of oil trickled down my slit and tainted the white cloth. I don’t know what he did to me, or what he put in that oil, but he made me feel paralysed to the point where the only thing I could do was moan hard. His hands were that good.
The way that he rubbed my clit made me grind my pussy against his hand, whimpering at the feeling that every touch sent a small electrical pulse down my spine. To add to that electrical pulse, I felt Andreo’s tongue searching for the pathway to my asshole. It was at that point where he started to act like a married man who was reminding himself how big his sexual appetite was, and how beautiful is wife was.
Before I knew it, I was moving my oily ass up and down my boyfriend’s face, and I was enjoying it. In fact, it made me forget about the pain in my shoulder, and only made me think about the pain of not cumming as fast as I wanted to.
The moment that I let my juices squirt into his mouth, was when he let his hot, throbbing cock claim his territory on my body. From then onwards, he turned back into Andreo.
Sunday 21st January
I can honestly say that last night was the first time I’ve had sex while being high on weed. Even though the thought of fucking during a trance may sound appealing , I don’t know whether I want to have that kind of sex session again or not.
I have to be honest with you, my dear diary. I haven’t used many condoms with Andreo since New Year’s Eve, and last night, I’ve bought 3 grams of marijuana from Ilaria with the money that was supposed to go towards my contraception. Andreo always wears a condom when I ask him to, or when I mention the word ‘condom’ to him, but he never instigated on using a rubber when we would have sex.
After eating dinner and finishing a piece to send today, I rolled a joint and let the smoke fill my mouth and lungs. It wasn’t my first time smoking weed, but I’ve never been a huge fan of it either.
I don’t know why, but I just felt like getting high with Andreo yesterday.
After we both let our bodies fall onto the bed, we leisurely stared at the ceiling before rubbing our hands on each other’s ass and hips. The light bulbs started to change colour, and everything was moving in slow motion.
The first ten minutes was pure bliss, when me and Andreo took off each other’s clothes and warmed each other’s private parts slowly. We stroked them slowly, caressed them slowly, and rubbed them slowly as we started to get wetter and wetter.
The sensation of Andreo pushing himself inside made me gasp for hair and clutch onto the pillows behind me. The slow thrust made me concentrate on the heat of his cock warming up my pussy, and the feeling of his tongue on my breasts made me think about Marcos. After those ten minutes, the high turned into a trip.
I had to tell Andreo to stop and make me some green tea to balance my brain out. And while he was boiling the kettle in the kitchen naked, I received a call from the last man I saw fucking in the ladies toilet.
Wednesday 24th January
What am I doing, my dear diary? Or, what is the whole world doing to me?
Marcos continued to try and establish a communication line with me by sending me multiple texts as well as calls. I gave in and listened to his voice echoing down my ear drum. The phrase ‘please, can I see you again?’ kept getting repeated in the conversation, and it only took me 3 minutes to say yes in the end. I hate repetition.
We met in the Lambrate district, at the famous microbrewery that a lot of architecture and politic students go to get their beer-fix. He looked good. He lost a bit of weight since the last time I said goodbye to him; the sex he was having may have helped him decrease his waistline.
Anyway, we ended up walking around the streets where the streetlights were dim and the summer flowers were in bloom. It was strange a for me to feel a surge of romance travel down my back, which made me move a little bit closer to Marcos. I knew I was stepping into a dangerous territory, but I continued to pursue it. I still felt very strange when I was with Marcos; it was as if I was hanging out with a friend that’s wearing a different mask, a different body.
Marcos kindly took me to the tube station when I told him that I wanted to go home. But once the metro arrived and opened its doors, he yanked my arm and forced a kiss onto my lips. I should have fought him at that point, but I didn’t.
His kiss electrified me and switched my body into ‘ON’ mode. I didn’t get on the metro until the early hours of this morning, after I went back to Marcos’ place to do the same things that I do to Andreo.
We tore each other’s clothes off and let our juices drip on each other as the night got older. I remember sitting and grinding on his lap while he was grabbing my ass and slipping his tongue in and out of my mouth. Sweat was trickling down my back, and juices were dripping from my pussy.
I wanted to be an animal with him. I wanted him to rub my cunt hard until I climaxed all over his fingers. I got into the most exotic positions that I could think of to keep Marcos hard all night, and he fucked me in the roughest way that he could think of to keep my pussy wet.
Last night was ecstatic but immoral. And do you want to know what the worst thing was, my dear diary? I didn’t use a condom.
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