God, I love cock.
A soft and silky on the outside, hard on the inside, cock.
A hard, inside me, cock.
It doesn't have to be a particularly large cock. In my experience, large cocks come with large, arrogant egos. Men with abhorrent, God's gift to women psychologies. Sex with those men is more an exercise in survival than a pleasurable, orgasmic, fucking.
Don't misunderstand me, I'm also not a fan of extraordinarily small cocks. You know, the size where you have to ask if they're inside you yet. They're just an exercise in patience. Patience until you can get home and masturbate to have your orgasm.
I'm also not a fan of masturbation, except in emergencies, like when I haven't been fucked for over six hours. Masturbation means that I have to do all the work. Most masturbation toys are inanimate and cold, incapable of the live twitching or warm deposits I enjoy so much. Vibrating toys are effective but I prefer vibrating live bodies that I can kiss and suck. If I'm lucky enough to approach an orgasm during masturbation, I frequently lose the rhythm and fail to convert.
My perfect cock is an average sized cock, about six inches in length when hard and four or more inches in circumference. They fill me perfectly and I can feel every thrust, twitch and pulse. My orgasm is almost guaranteed. Fortunately, my preferred cock is also the most common cock.
I'm a realist. I realize that live cocks require time to recharge. While waiting for the recovery of a hard cock, I prefer a long, hard tongue, the longer the better. A perfect tongue can curl and exercise my clitoris until I'm on the edge and then slip inside me and do the same for my G-spot. If only the man with the perfect tongue could also breathe through his ears. Pausing to take a breath is so distracting.
I'm also a fan of fingers.
A doctor or therapist might diagnose me as hypersexual. They may be right. However, I don't consider myself sick or handicapped. If there's a twelve-step program to help nymphomaniacs, don't mention it to me. I don't want to hear about it and I won't be going to meetings soon. Besides, NA as an organization name is already taken, something I also stay away from.
I grew up in an uptight, conservative family. My parents sent me to an all girl's Catholic high school. We lived in fear of the nuns. We believed that our every word was monitored and we were probably right. Every conversation revolved around school work and prayer. Any other topic was forbidden and a line we were afraid to cross. The closest we got to anything risqué was Health class. I graduated with honors at eighteen and headed for college.
College was the polar opposite. Erotic conversations and sex weren't proscribed, they were encouraged. The dorms were co-ed and the showers shared. Within two weeks of arriving on campus, I was no longer a virgin and a strong supporter of orgasms.
Many of the women on campus told stories of their first experience getting laid, most of them more horror stories than romance. Not me. My first time was in a real bed, with a fraternity guy three years older than I was. We kissed, undressed each other, cuddled together until I was worked up and ready to rumble. He entered me gently and took his time slowly pushing me to the edge. When I came, he held me until I stopped trembling and walked me back to my dorm across the dark university quad for my safety.
I was an immediate fan of orgasms. He had cum inside me and it worried me. The next day, I got a prescription for the pill. Three days later, I tracked the fraternity guy down for a repeat.
Within a week, the rumor on campus was that I was an easy lay, a rumor I did nothing to contradict. I managed frequent sex while attending classes and studying, graduating with a respectable A-plus average and an F-minus reputation.
I was probably on the path to be a call girl, or worse, until I met Harold. At graduation, Harold was behind me in the line to get our diplomas. We were both wearing silly mortarboard hats and black graduation gowns. The difference was, I wasn't wearing anything under mine.
I had heard about a fraternity guy on campus with a reputation similar to mine but, unbelievably, I hadn't run into him at the many parties I had attended. I was curious and unwilling to let the possibility pass without knowing. "Harold," I said to him. "Are you 'the' Harold?"
"I don't know who you mean by 'the' Harold," he answered, "but I'm willing to bet that you're 'the' Rose."
I laughed and he joined me. "Why haven't we met before this?" I asked.
"I have no idea," he told me. "I've been available for four years. I've gone to all the parties."
"So have I, but I usually get there early and I rarely spend much time partying with the crowd."
"That explains it," he said. "What are you doing after the ceremony?"
I answered him by lifting my gown and flashing my pussy at him. Laughing, he lifted his gown too. I was wrong. I wasn't the only one wearing nothing under my gown. We reached an agreement. We shook on it. My tits for his cock.
We walked across the stage, shook hands with the dean and got our diplomas. While the rest of the graduating class filed back to their seats to listen to dry speeches from desiccated politicians, we snuck behind the stands and headed for my dorm room.
We had to be out of our dorms by the weekend. That left us two days to fill in what we had missed the last four years. Harold did a superhuman job of filling everything I could think of. He was the perfect cocksman with the perfect cock. His cock was about six inches when erect and six and a half inches when strained. His stamina was legendary and his recovery time shorter than most. And his tongue! What can I say about his tongue? When we kissed, I thought he could reach my tonsils and, between my legs, I swear he managed to touch my cervix.
Harold and I moved in together when I moved out of my dorm room.
Harold already had a job at a company where he had been interning. I found employment with a local attorney. We screwed in the morning when we woke up and again before we left for work. We met at the apartment at lunch where I was on the menu. Fucking was the appetizer before dinner and dessert after dinner. We had a prolonged fuck when we went to bed. On nights when we couldn't sleep, we went for lucky seven. We were absolutely perfect for each other.
We were married within a year.
A wise man once said, "The only thing constant is change." Actually, it was really the Greek philosopher, Heraclitus, who said, "Change is the only constant in life." Our life didn't change so much as it devolved. Our jobs became more intense and our lives more hectic.
Lunch was the first fuck to go. Harold's promotion included more work and little more time to complete it. Lunches became eat quickly at your desk meals. I couldn't blame Harold or his employer. The attorney I was working for was gaining a reputation and more clients. I needed to use my lunch hour to keep up.
We managed to adjust our schedules and survive, but I have to admit, I was almost crazy during the time after breakfast and before dinner. If I could, I frequently snuck into the lady's room at the office to rub one out for myself during the afternoon.
The after breakfast screw was the next sacrifice, as the pressures of work required us to get in early. Then, working late doomed appetizers. We tried prioritizing dessert before dinner but that didn't work well since we both needed time to relax after long, stressful days at work. We managed to hang in there during the twelve-hour hiatus but it wasn't easy.
Eventually, we were screwing twice a day. Early morning and on the way to bed. We fell asleep while recovering, eliminating the possibility of a second helping.
Harold seemed to be handling it well but I was becoming a basket case. Masturbation in the ladies room at work wasn't filling the void. I needed a real, live, warm, pulsating cock and I needed it soon and often.
I met Nora at work and we had become close friends. She had resigned months ago but we still managed to have lunch together at least once a week. Desperate, one day at lunch I shared my problem with her.
"Rose," said Nora. "I identify with you."
When I asked her to explain, she told me she also couldn't get enough cock, preferably hard. She dreamed about cock at night and fantasized about cock during the day. She marveled that we hadn't bumped into each other in the ladies' room during the early afternoon. Finally, she admitted that she couldn't take it anymore and quit.
"How could that help?" I asked. "Now you're home alone and still not getting laid."
"Quitting gave me back my freedom to make my own schedule," Nora explained, "and who said I wasn't getting laid?"
"How did you husband deal with your quitting?" I asked. "Wait. Did you say you're getting laid?"
"My husband understands my addiction to sex. How could he not? He accepted my quitting if it helped me deal with the lack of sex."
"That's understanding of him but what about you getting laid?"
"That's the best part. We hired a lawn boy."
"So, I don't see the relationship."
"It's simple. He arrives about eleven every morning. We fuck and he does yard and garden work for the next four hours. Then he showers and we fuck again before he leaves. It's perfect."
"It sounds perfect," I agreed, "but isn't it expensive, given you no longer have an income?"
"That's the real beauty of it. I tried to pay him and he refused to take the money. He suggested that he should be paying me. We called it even."
"Damn, I wish I had a deal like that?"
"You could," Insisted Nora.
"How?" I asked.
"You'd have to quit first," Nora said.
"I get that but I'd still have to find someone like your 'yard boy,'" I stated.
"It may be easier than you think. I put an ad in the college paper," Nora said.
"What? You just advertised for a yard boy with a big cock?"
"Not quite. Just for someone to do yard work. When he showed up, I made it clear that I was looking for more than just pulling weeds and mowing the lawn."
"That simple?" I asked.
"That simple. He's twenty years old. He thinks with his cock. It didn't take much convincing," Nora confirmed.
"I don't know," I told her.
"You need to get laid?" Nora asked.
"You know I do," I answered.
