Tag: clothes

a dream I had about licking a girl’s pussy

“You want me to eat you out,” I might’ve asked, though I think it was more like a challenge; “I bet you won’t let me eat you out.” It was in response to something she’d said about being a freak; someone who’s sexually uninhibited. It was somewhat of a boast on her part, which I took advantage of. I was only sort of joking and perhaps she was when she accepted the challenge, but she sat back and pulled her pants down.

They could’ve been shorts, but what does it matter. She was on a couch with nothing between me and her bare pussy but a thin layer of cotton. I started rubbing on her clit, through her panties, almost instantly and she almost as instantly started getting wet. I pulled her waistband down a lot quicker than I probably would’ve if I knew it was a sure thing; if we weren’t in a room with other people; her friends; walking around.

There was a guy right there with us, to her left, either on the couch or in a chair just beside it. I don’t remember if I was still rubbing her clit or had already started licking it when he leaned over with a smile to get a closer look. She scolded him in a quasi-angry fashion, telling him to “get the fuck back” or something along those lines, with an exaggerated grimace. She was a ghetto girl, yes, but her looks were just my type.

She was light-skinned; black but probably mixed with Hispanic or something down the heredity line; with a cute face and petite body. She didn’t seem particularly slim; the way she was bending over as she sat back on the couch might’ve even given her two or three belly rolls; but she was far from fat. If not for her personality, she’d be nearly perfect for me. Not that I was trying to be her boyfriend or anything.

All I wanted to do was, as the popular metaphor goes, eat her out and that I was doing. Technically I was licking her clitoris, but I certainly would’ve worked my way down if she didn’t cum (orgasm) so fast. In true dreamworld fashion, her panties, which I’d pulled down but not off, filled with clear nectar, which I slurped up like a happy hummingbird. “Piña colada, baby,” I said as I stood up and that’s just what it tasted like.

I remember asking if she was really a girl (female) before I started. Her agreeing to let me do it as fast as she did; I barely even knew her; seemed too good to be true. She’d laughed and affirmed she was. Afterward when she reminded me of the LBG girl I’d made fun of, I feared she was going to confess to being a male or something, but all she said with a giggle was that she’s her “wife”; whatever that meant.

2024 November 07

audio review : Bet She Can’t ( song ) … Total

The prosaic title of this song, which I would’ve made The Goods, refers to a guy’s girlfriend’s vaginal skills when it comes to sexual intercourse. Total; Kima Keisha And Pam; play the role of the (booty) call girl who brags she can do it better because she puts her “back into it”.

It’s a sexy song indeed; the music is sleekly produced; but it would be better without Missy and Diddy’s ad-libs. The biggest turnoff is when the latter breaks the fourth wall and promotes the former by name, which takes you; the aforementioned beau; right out of the fantasy.

my rating : 4 of 5

1998

The Real Deal : Jim Fetzer mocking the Boston bombing and responding to James DiEugenio’s “attack” on him

MP3

2016 February

a dream I had about a girl at my door

I guess it was Day. At least that’s who it looked like; herself an Ella-Rae Smith look-alike. She’d just been to my place a short while earlier, she said she was coming back and there she was, wiggling the locked door knob with a melodramatic plea like a kid who’d been purposely locked out by a mischievous sibling.

If it were most other people, I wouldn’t want to be bothered, but, as cute as she is, she could visit basically any time she wanted. “Here I come,” I said thru the door, though, I thought to myself, I should’ve waited till I backed away from it. Not doing so made it obvious I had to prepare for her revisit.

I was wearing something I wanted to take off; a fancy (vanilla/orange) sherbet-colored shirt I’d never wear in real life. The thought of it reminds me of Seinfeld’s Puffy Shirt, though it wasn’t nearly as tacky or ostentatious. I put it, with perhaps another accessory or two, in what seemed like a bucket in the hall.

That hallway, unlike the shirt, was indeed ostentatious. It was actually a lit corridor of sorts that ran at least twenty or thirty feet and led to the bathroom much like you’d see at a movie theater. I don’t know if it was a house or an apartment I was living in, but it was quite elegant compared to my real-life dwellings.

Maybe that’s why she liked coming over, though my deliberate charm probably had more to do with it. She was nice too, but her looks were all I really cared about. If our friendship involved sex or romance, and as much as I’d like to think she was coming back for the former, it wasn’t evident in this short dream.

I knew she’d probably see what I was trying to hide if she went to the bathroom, but I didn’t really care enough to look for a better hiding spot. Besides she was there at the door, waiting for me to let her in. The longer I took, the more obvious it would be that I’m doing something I didn’t want her to see.

2024 [ May 18 ]