random69stranger asked: So. I recall you admiring my cock from a previous post I made. What sort of things would you like to do with my cock? What would you like me to do to you with my cock?
I´d like to run my tongue from down at your balls all the way up to the slid at the tip of your cock, circle my tongue around it for as long as you´ll think were hours while slightly squeezing the base with my fingers … and then, tightly wrap my lips around your veiny flesh and go down, deeper down .. until i can reach and caress your balls with my tongue.
C-c-c-an I join you, Lilly?
This is so perfect. I’d take all his cum in me.
I’d give so much to wake up looking like Jamie…
girlyouwant: I chatted her up once about 15 years ago and thought (in retrospect) that I might have been able to kiss her. She lived in my neighborhood and we were familiar with each other’s faces from the bodega, the dry cleaners, whatever - never mind the small difference that she was an international megastar supermodel and I was a half-starved graduate student. We’d even ‘talked’ a couple of times if you call the most banal and short lived phrases like ‘Christ, its cold.’ and ’ … are you waiting in line or should I go?’ talking? I certainly had never had a conversation with her.
Then one night I was hanging out in local bar, chic but neighborhood friendly, and it was a Tuesday. She was there with some friends and we ended up on line for the bathrooms next to each other. We started chatting, she asked me for a cigarette, I told a lame joke and she giggled. The usual thing. A few people came and went for the girls room, but the men’s bathroom was occupied for what seemed like a long time. She didn’t really say anything about it, but she didn’t leave to use the bathroom when the door opened and let a girl go in front of her. That kind of struck me.
Then my bathroom door finally opened and a couple came spilling out, giggling, flushed, rubbing their noses. I hesitated for a second and she sort of stood there looking inside it (this was NYC, the bathrooms are tiny closets, not necessarily filthy, but good for doing coke and making out in).
I didn’t have any drugs of course, but I thought for one second about grabbing her hand and playfully pulling her in. If it was me now … I mean I have no shame, I would do it in a second, just to say I tried to pick Kate Moss up and got shut down over my next beer at the bar. Back then I had that crazy beauty of youth going for me, but of course I also had the ever present social anxiety, self-consciousness, and awkwardness. For whatever reason, I was terrified and sort of mumbled something and turned to use the head.
I could be imagining this, creating a feeling or a vibe that I wish was there but really only exited in my head, but remembering back I see a vision of her face making that startled look that my older more experienced self recognizes as surprise and maybe a little disappointment that a man didn’t make a move.
When I got out of the bathroom she was no where to be found, and about 15 minutes later I saw her leave the bar without a second look in my direction. I still saw her from time to time around the neighborhood, but from that night on, she never gave me the opportunity to talk to her again.
I know this feeling and it fucking sucks so much balls (sorry, I didn’t mean to curse so much, but it really is a horrible feeling.) But this happening to you with Kate Moss, of all people? Holy moly. I mean, it does make for a great story, even if nothing happened. And, really, I can’t blame you. Most men would be, literally, scarred stiff if Kate, in her absolute prime, gave them the light of day. Oh, man… I hope you didn’t kick yourself too much after this. I sure as hell would have had to go to see a therapist. No, not kidding, not one bit.
OMG I wish that was me in her place!