The Beautiful Kind

We were flying back home. We had already spent six hours in the airport, and were in the middle of a 13 hour flight in an enormous double-decker airplane.

The lights were dim in the plane, the window shades were down, and most folks were dozing in their seats. That was Beau’s cue to bring up Belle’s Mile High Club request.

For some reason I thought this was a fanciful idea, and not to be taken seriously. Personally, I hate going into those tiny airplane lavatories and avoid it if at all possible. In fact, I tend to avoid most cramped, germy places thousands of feet in the air. So I decided to take a pass.

But Beau would not be deterred. He told me he was going to go stretch, and that I needed to go into one of the bathrooms and not lock the door, and that he would slip in after me. I was definitely nervous someone would see us. “What’s the worse that can happen?” he asked me. “A flight attendant knocks on the door? We get kicked off the plane?”

Fine, I had nothing better to do. I got up and nervously did as he instructed. I stood in the tiny loo and he stepped inside. Wow, we both fit. We locked the door and started making out. Then he pulled up my shirt and sucked on my tits. I sat on the toilet and he yanked down his pants and I sucked his cock, which was already rock hard with excitement. Then he switched places with me and sat down and I lowered myself on his cock, facing away from him. Success!

I rode him for a few minutes like that until my thighs quivered, then we called it quits. Shaky and out of breath (not to mention GIDDY) we pulled up our pants. He took his leave, then I followed suit. We met back at our seats, all grinning and glowing. I’m so glad I did it. Even without orgasms it felt great, and really did break up the long journey, way better than The Bucket List movie. And I guess we can cross that off our list, ey?

I know, I know - you’re getting sick of rape stories. Well, I’m not.

Beau skipped breakfast one morning, but I went down to feed my face. (They had chicken feet on the buffet, but they spelled it “chiken fede” on the accompanying card.)

I came back to the hotel room and was about to tell him what he missed, but before I could, without a word he grabbed me and slammed the door. He immediately blindfolded me with a towel and the strap of my purse. Then he roughly stripped me and proceeded to tie me to the writing desk that he pulled out from the wall and cushioned with pillows. He used the belts from the terry cloth robes they provided.

I was tied down tight, he wasn’t talking, and he started spanking me. If there was ever a time to whip out the safe word, it was now, and I steeled myself up for it. He spanked me until my ass was bright red and I flailed my legs at him to keep him away. I knew he wanted me to cry out, but I refused to. Unless he smacked me a few times in a row. Then I hollered and whined.

I heard him turn on the camera, and take pictures of me all exposed and vulnerable. It wasn’t a very flattering pose. Then he went to fuck me, and I fought him best I could on that. I squirmed my lower half around, moved up and down, until he grabbed me hard by the hips and guided himself into my pussy. Every time his cock head entered and he was about to push his way in, I bore down my vaginal muslces and spit him out.

He tried over and over. Sometimes he would get all the way in, and get a few pumps in before I pushed him out. Whenever it happened he would spank me more, and I would laugh instead of cry, and it turned into some intensely pleasurable feelings. It was a fun game, but frustrating for him, and he started to go soft. I thought about heckling him for not being hard, but decided I didn’t want a lamp up my ass. So instead we both dissolved into laughter and the game was over. He untied me.

Later he told me what a challenge it is to “rape” me and not be able to really hurt me. You know, punch me in the head or choke me until I pass out. That made me think - what if I had suffocated during the session and died? How would he explain that to the Chinese police? What would the tour group think? Would visions of chicken feet flash through my head at the last moment?

I still haven’t had to use my safe word yet. One of these days I will.

We had hiked all day and were settled back in the hotel room for the evening. After we showered together he gave me double prizes (oral twice in a row!!) and frankly, I was exhausted. But I gamely tried returning the favor. I was lying there sucking his cock when…I drifted off and fell asleep.

At first he thought I was just pausing for a moment, so he enjoyed the feeling of his cock in my mouth. But after a minute he finally gave me a nudge and realized what was up. “Hey, what’s going on down there?” he asked.

“Hmmm?” I pulled away and rolled over and went to sleep.

The next morning he “got even” with me. I was lying there dreaming when all of a sudden I heard a gasp from far away and then felt something hot and wet ooze all over my face, hair and pillow. He was about halfway through ejaculating on my face when I opened my sleepy mouth and he shoved his cock in and finished emptying his balls. Take it from me - it is way bizarre to have someone cum on your face while you’re sleeping.

“What a wake up call!” I giggled.

“Do you want a towel?”

I said in my little girl voice, “Aren’t you going to make me eat it?”

He shoveled the rest of it in my mouth with his fingers lovingly, saying, “Here you go, little cumslut.”

Later we discussed how other people might have reacted to such a thing. “What would your wife have done?” I asked him. “She would have been PISSED!” he assured me.

OH and then later that day I gave him a blow job on the tour bus while everyone else shopped for shitty souvenirs.

Speaking of fun, our best hotel on the trip (the only one that had a soft bed - all the others felt like they were made of bamboo and cement) had a shower with a big window to the room, so you could put on a show. I swear that hotel catered to posh gay men - it was so fashionable and had anal bead lamps and vibrating condoms available in the room for purchase. It was called The Golden Tang Hotel. Hee.

We were staying in Jiuzhaigou (do you see the smiling face in the mountains?)

which was humid and tropical (saw my first monkeys in the wild!!) Our hotel was right next to a national park, which was steeped with these awe-inspiring mountains.

One night at midnight it started to lightning and thunder, so we dragged our blankets out to our covered balcony that overlooked the courtyard with the pagoda and pond. It was pitch black, and the sound of the rain and thunder surrounded us. Every time lightning flashed, the mountains looming overhead would illuminate. It was so fucking surreal, as if a bunch of silent craggy giants were peering over the walls spying on us.

So we gave them a good show. We made intense and sweet love on the balcony. The energy from the storm inspired us - we kissed passionately, our hands roamed, my back arched, I sighed. He was on top, and it felt delicious to be pressed between his body and the tangled blankets cushioning the hard balcony floor.

I kept seeing the giants over his shoulder, and images of the Golden Whip Stream, monkeys in the trees, and the breathtaking views from our day’s hike kept dancing in my head. I felt so alive to be celebrating such a beautiful act in such a beautiful, outdoors setting. It was truly a goddess moment. After we finished, we drifted off to sleep until the dewy air blushed with dawn.

The whole thing was incredibly romantic. Except for the part where I had my finger up his ass and he dumped his copious load in my ear.

That’s what I thought of the moment I laid eyes on this scene. I’m just sayin’.

We were in Nanjing the night he raped me.

We were with this lame tour group of about 30 people, mostly conservative couples in their 50’s and 60’s, and everyone knew what room we were in since they made us all stay on the same floor. I’m not sure why Beau decided to get his freak on in this setting, but next thing I knew, we were in for the night and he was working me over in our hotel room. He threw me into a plate glass window overlooking the balcony and my head made a nice, deep smashing sound.

He growled in my ear, “This is what you get for dressing so sexy today, you tease.”

I tried not to kiss him, but every time I turned away, he bit my cheek. Motherfucker!

It was the hardest he had been in a long time. Every time he slapped my face, his cock would jerk and strain. (He says every time I resist or say no, he has to fight the nice guy mentality and keep pushing on, trusting I will use my safe word. And here’s a funny thing - he says he doesn’t understand all the rough sex, but that he does it for me because he knows I like it. My response: WTF? If he “doesn’t get it”, then why does he get so goddamn hard?? Excuuse me for allowing him to exercise his inner rapist.)

I was screaming into the pillow when we heard a tentative knock on the door. !! Well, I didn’t hear it - I was screaming. But he did. He paused for a moment, and the person went away. Then he proceeded to pummel me.

The next morning as we walked down to breakfast hand-in-hand he asked me, “So do you think we’ll get a reputation with the group as the couple who has loud sex?”

With a devilish grin, I replied, “I dunno, but I’m going to save face (”mianzi!” ) and act scared of you from now on.”

I got back from China last night, and will be posting all the details in the upcoming week. Of course it will be TBK-Hunan-style (I can’t decide if we had more fun in the hotel rooms or on The Great Wall and Tiananmen Square.)

And we took Belle up on her sub tasks! She gave us two orders on our trip:

- carry around a picture of her and pose with it at all the places we visited

- join the Mile High Club.

We did both.

Stay tuned!

PS: Oh and I commented on the past two week’s posts - had to catch up!

The other day when Beau and Belle had sex, Belle feigned unconsciousness as Beau had his way with her until he finally came on her chest. That scenario is definitely on my fantasy wish list, so they inspired me to come up with my own sleeping beauty fantasy. Shouldn’t be too hard to turn it into reality, ey?

Tonight when I go to bed, you will come visit me after I’ve fallen asleep. I will leave the front door unlocked, and you will let yourself in. You will be stealthy. I will be lying on my back, sleeping innocently. You will enter the bedroom, all hulking and silent. Unconsciously, I will smell you and be aroused. You’ll pull back the blanket. My nipples will stiffen under my nightclothes, and I will sigh softly.

You watch me sleep for a long time, and then finally you barely stroke my hair and face. I turn my face into your cupped hand. You trace my closed eyelids and lips with the tips of your fingers. My mouth parts involuntarily. Your fingers trail across my soft jawline, and your hand moves down to my slender neck, and rests there. All you have to do is squeeze…

You unbutton my shirt, one by one, until it falls to the sides and my small breasts, creamy torso, and concave belly are revealed. You watch my breathing for a while, and then you place a hand between my breasts, barely touching. I can feel your heat, and I am stirring just a little, but I keep my eyes closed. I can hear you breathing.

Your hand will dip down into the valley of my belly, down to my hipbones. You go back up and place your huge hands on my breasts, your fingers spread. You can feel my hard nipples poking into your palms. You keep one hand on a breast and let the other one snake down to glide over my pubic mound. You can feel heat through my pajama bottoms.

You slowly pull them off of me, working them over my round ass, down my legs, past my ankles. You caress my silky thighs, calves, the arches of my feet, then work your way back up. You rest your head on my thigh and inhale my scent. You move in closer and my pubic hair tickles your nose.

You sit up and shed your clothes. I still don’t open my eyes, but am aware of you. I hear the rustle of your clothes. It’s only when you are naked and covering me with your hot body that I reach for you and pull you close. I feel your chest hair tickling me, you nuzzle the crook of my neck, my long hair filtering through your fingers, cool and soft. Angel hair. I feel your erection pressing against me. One of your big thighs parts my legs, and you still aren’t close enough. Yet.

I have not actually talked to Beautiful or Beau since they left for their trip to China, aside from fleeting and hurried instant messaging sessions

They had to endure a 24 hour flight to get there. I sure hope they joined the Mile High Club. According to Wikipedia, some people attribute the allure of the club to the lower atmospheric pressure in the flight cabin, which they claim increases the intensity of orgasms.

I’ll give Beautiful or Beau honorary Mile High Club memberships if they masturbate.

I was talking to a friend about how The Belle and I have such different looking pussies. He said, “So you’re a lily and she’s an orchid?”

I said, “Noo, I don’t think so.”

He tried again. “How about snapdragon and peach?”

“Hm, that sounds about right.”

Belle thinks my pussy looks like a pink straw mushroom. You should have seen her poking around in it the other night. As for her, her lips are really stretchy. Like ball skin.

I made her come
in the bathtub
by hitchhiking on her g-spot.

Still wet
we scampered into the living room.

She pressed her face against my pussy,
awash in the dim light
of a television playing static.

The dog was watching.
He kept his distance.

-Belle

Dudes, what happened to all of the posts from May 23? I think I had a glitch. Anyway…

You’ll never believe what I found surfing www.bmezine.com the other day. I’ve found someone who is more sexed up than Beautiful.

I know what you’re saying. You saying, “Yeah right Belle. It’s not even freakin’ April Fools. You are so full of it.”

I might be full of it but not about this fantastic lady:

Here is an excerpt from her interview with BMEzine…

“I will betray anyone, at any time, to have sex with men or women. When I tried to fight my addiction and not have sex with people, I got myself jailed three times for domestic assaults”

Michelle is a 27 year old adult actress who can’t get enough. She decided one day in a fit of mental anguish to get whatever she was thinking tattooed on her. More tats followed as a way to cope with her sex addiction. Here are a few:

And if you think these tattoes can only bring on insults and disgusted looks, think again. She once had a nurse in a mental hospital go down on her after asking questions about her tattoos.

You can read the whole interview and see more pics of her brilliantly inked body here:

http://www.bmezine.com/news/pubring/20061028.html

-Belle

The other day Beau said he was going to make a mock apple pie. I said, “What the hell is that?”

He said, “It’s a pie that tastes just like an apple pie, only you use crackers instead of apples.”

“WHY?”

“It’s what I grew up with. It’s my mom’s recipe.”

“So your mom made you cracker pie when you were a kid??”

“It’s really good, you can’t tell the difference,” he assured me.

“This I gotta see.” Then I opened my big mouth. “I’ll bet you something humiliating in the bedroom that it will taste fucked up.”

“You’re on!”

He got out his frilly apron (just kidding, Dor) and baked the pie. The recipe called for:

16 saltine crackers
1 1/2 cup sugar
1 1/2 tsp cream of tartar
1 Tbsp margarine
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1 1/2 cup warm water
unbaked pie shell

There it was, cooling on the stove. I dug in and tried it. Holy shit - it really looked and tasted like apple pie! Some sort of crazy chemistry goes on during the baking process.

And once again, I lost another bet. I have to do something humiliating in the bedroom. Trouble is, they’ve been sitting around racking their brains trying to come up with a suitably humiliating task for me to perform and they’re drawing a blank. Eat cum? Get spanked? Tied up? Kiss their feet? pffffffft

Do you have any ideas? (By the way, we need to make that fuck TBK out in the country thing happen, stay tuned for that.)

I met a guy last week from OkCupid who already has the doctoral degree I’ll be getting in a year or so. We decided to meet in person for lunch the other day.

We had a pretty typical date, and I was really amused by the way he kept saying, “What else?” whenever he wanted to know more about me, which left the conversation open to go in whatever direction I wanted to take it. I wanted to ask him really dirty and embarrassing things – Has he ever tried anal? What kind of porn does he love, yet is embarrassed to watch? What is his creepiest sexual fantasy? Has he ever been tied up? But I refrained – he and I are loosely connected on a professional level. Not to mention this was our first face-to-face. He probably wondered why I kept trying to wipe away a sly smile.

A few days later, I watched a video of him interacting with an client. He spoke to the client in the same way he spoke to me. His voice was velvety yet precise – the kind of voice you might hear on NPR.

I couldn’t help imagining him coming over for a home health visit (we’re both in occupational therapy) to give me a sponge bath, tenderly commanding me to take my shirt off as a cool spring breeze flows through the open living room window… Then he could help me put my socks on and give me some tips for dressing.

Sex, incidentally, is an occupation.

-Belle

A couple months ago I was reading The Virgin’s blog and he talked about getting headaches when he had an orgasm. I thought, “wtf, that’s weird!” and went about my business, which included my own carefree painless masturbation, stimulating movie nights, and eating artichokes dipped in lemon garlic butter sauce.

Well this past week, I’ve been getting headaches when I cum. It SUCKS! A sharp pain enters the right side of my head and pokes me in the eye like an ice pick, and lingers for a couple hours afterwards. Which more than cancels out the pleasure I got from my orgasm.

So now I’m afraid to cum. I’m afraid I’ll stroke out. I’m going to take his Dr. Google advice and lay off chasing firetrucks for a couple days (I can’t bring myself to say “a few days”). These coital headaches occur 4x more in men than in women. Maybe my perverted fantasies are finally causing me brain damage. Belle says I should try a different technique when building up for an orgasm - I tense up my whole body. She says I should relax. What can I say - I’m a Type A masturbator.

Here is what he did to my ass:

Doesn’t it look like I sat in a briar patch?

See this drum?

I want to fuck it in the worst way. I’m not usually sexually attracted to drums, but this one is different. It’s a bad ass bruiser, sparkling, golden and deep.

When I’m standing near it - him - when he’s hit, I can feel the power from the big-headed mallet travel through the drum and into the air and floor, and he vibrates my body, running right up my legs, hitting my cunt. He booms and the air shivers with his energy. This big bass drum is like a large, powerful sexy daddy dom man who will hit you hard and make you beg for more.

I love this sexy drum. I want to marry him.

A guy on myspace sent me a pic of himself. I glanced at it and liked the t-shirt. “Oh that’s cute, I like cuppycakes,” I thought.

Then I noticed the bottom half of the pic. “Oh that’s cute, I like big raging hard ons.”

Quick, what’s a sexy occupation? Teacher? Cellist? Archaeologist? What are decidedly non-sexy jobs? Accountant? Used car sales? Funeral director?

Check out Asylum’s Top 10 List of Occupations Inaccurately Associated with Sexiness.

They do have a point… ah well, fantasy is almost always better than reality. Almost.

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PS: Tomorrow’s YATBK is a librarian!