Archive for BBC
In the Name of Romance
Posted by: | Comments“I can see you between 6 and 9 tonight. Does that work for you? Didn’t know if it’s worth the drive.”
In the best of driving conditions, I’m about 40 minutes from Tank’s home. That’s when I drive 75-80mph. In rush hour traffic? It could take an hour or longer.
But I wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to see him two nights in a row. He’d told me that I was on his “to do” list. As soon as I’d heard those words, I’d gotten wet. My mind raced to all the things he does do that drive me wild.
No more than thirty seconds after I entered his home he was guiding me up the stairs to his bedroom. Walking behind me of course. So he could study my ass. His favorite body part.
He quickly undressed me—something I absolutely love. Then, he had me lay on my tummy, spread eagle and proceeded to massage my back, then my ass, down to my legs and both of my feet. But he soon got distracted by my moans and proceeded to enter me from behind. It wasn’t long before I was arching my back and on my knees, enjoying the thrusts of his cock into my wet pussy.
An hour later, he mentioned the possibility of food and I went immediately dry. Huh, I hadn’t realized that hunger could trump my desire for sex. I knew in an instant he was filing that fact in his brain as well.
We didn’t move from the bed right away. While I don’t recall the beginning of our conversation or how we got onto this topic, what I do remember is this part.
“If you haven’t guessed, I’m not into romance. I’ve tried that before. Bought flowers every week for four years for one woman. That didn’t work. Another liked French fries. So I’d get them for her. That didn’t work either.”
“So, you’ll never try again? I like flowers.”
“Right. I don’t do the same thing twice if it doesn’t work the first time.”
“But I’m not those women.”
“I know. But I’ve brought you wine. And I think I brought you food one time too.”
“Yes, you’ve brought me some wonderful wines.”
“I’m thinkin’ of getting you a black guy once a month. In fact, I could probably re-gift the same guy a few months in a row and you wouldn’t mind. Whaddya think?”
I laughed out loud for several minutes. Now that my life had changed, there were new possibilities for romance that I’d never considered before. It was definitely worth the drive. The flowers can wait.
Want to weigh in on the conversation? I’d love to hear your thoughts. What do I do in the name of romance for Tank, other than the obvious?
Yes!! I Passed the Interview!
Posted by: | CommentsB4 answered the door in a midnight blue button-down shirt and light-colored slacks. My sense is that he’s in his mid-50s. I’ve never been good though, at assessing someone’s age.
We immediately received a tour of the house. I counted at least three bedrooms; there may have been more. I 
wasn’t paying all that much attention. My eyes were fixated on the gigantic family room. Even with two sets of king-size mattresses in it, there was plenty of room for an entire set of large leather furniture, with room to spare.
Beer in hand, Tank and I joined B4 at the kitchen table. Having never been interviewed for a gang bang, I wasn’t sure what to expect. What I did know is that I didn’t fit the “mold” of the typical women that B4 sought out for these situations. I wasn’t a college girl—not even close to being in my 20s. And I definitely don’t weigh 120 pounds nor do I come close to being 5 foot 6 inches or taller in height—unless I have on my fuck me shoes.
“What’s the most men you’ve been with at once?”
“I did five last Saturday evening for a couple hours.”
“How many men would you like? I was thinking eight.”
“That sounds good to me. I like that it’s the symbol of infinity.”
“But that means I’ll need to invite at least 12. And 10 may show up.”
“I don’t see that as a problem. As long as Tank is included.”
“Yep. He’s in the count. Are you open to anal?
“As long as someone doesn’t try to stick a 10-inch cock up my ass. And they use lube.”
“We have lots of lube here. Do you do dp?”
“I haven’t yet but I’m very open to it. And I have my own lube.”
“What type of men do you want?”
“I like younger men. Guys my age and older just don’t seem to fit as well with me.”
“What about black guys?”
“Sounds great to me! I like BBC’s.”
That’s when Tank jumped in. “Actually, she likes BC’s—big cocks—white, red, brown, black, green—it don’t matter! And if we’re talking BBC’s, the B stands for brainy—she like ‘em smart.” I laughed and gave him a kiss on the cheek. My man knows me well.
The questions went on for about 45 minutes. And I had a few of my own.
“How long does the evening last?”
“We usually start around 7. It can last as long as you’d like.”
“What type of men will be here?”
“Well, they’re all bi. Are you OK with guy-on-guy behavior? Some oral and some anal?”
“Absolutely. I’d like everybody to have a good time. How does the evening usually start out?”
“Any way you’d like. Some ladies like to start playing right away. Others like to chat and get to know the guys for 30 minutes or so. Are you available the first Tuesday in May?”
“Yes. In fact, I just had a business trip cancel for that day. Does it work for you, Tank?”
“It sure does, baby.”
“Good. Let’s plan for that night.”
By the time we’d finished up our conversation, B4 had identified several men to invite. Tank knew them all. Even though Tank isn’t bi (he calls himself a “pleaser”), I knew he’d joined in the fun on several occasions. Just not recently, which made me curious. But I knew better than to inquire.
B4 shook my hand as we left. It was all very business-like.
Tank led me to my car and gave me a kiss as he opened the door and motioned me inside. “Drive safe, baby. And call me in a few minutes so I can talk you home. I want to know what you’d like to have happen in a few weeks.”
As I drove off, I couldn’t help but wonder: “What does one wear to a gang bang? Then it dawned on me. “Holy shit. How do I prepare for an evening of being fucked by eight men?” I’d felt intermittent pain for over a week when there’d only been five. That’s how I learned through a Google search that Preparation H wipes can be used as a vaginal compress. “Would Tank be picking me up and taking me there and home? Or would I be left to do this on my own because his daughter would be at his house? What would he like his role to be? Did he want to orchestrate like the other night or would he expect me to direct traffic? And, what did I REALLY want?”
Stay tuned for more . . .
Oh, What a Night
Posted by: | CommentsI’d been to this party once before. With a girlfriend. But this evening, I was with Tank.
The last time, it took about an hour for the party to start rolling. At least the sort of party I like. A few women, lots of BBC’s. All in the same room.
I’d no idea what to expect with Tank along side me. When we arrived, there were very few people present. A shock. Since things were scheduled to begin 90 minutes earlier.
My girlfriend was there already. With another couple who’d brought along a young single guy. So we chatted with them. And others. And still more after that. Ho hum.
I must say that the best line of the evening came from a dominatrix who was dressed in multiple layers of non-descript bedroom clothing for the evening’s lingerie atmosphere. She was with her poly partner—his number two. Tank asked her what always turned her on—after she’d mentioned flogging a man until he couldn’t speak the other day. Her reply?
“A man in pinstripes will always bring me to my knees”
The next thing you know, a man standing next to her revealed his pinstriped boxers. Her eyes rolled back into her head. I howled. And she went to town.
To pass the time, Tank had taken to giving out medical advice to the women with large chests and poor posture—and smoking cigarettes outdoors even though he’d gone cold turkey a year ago. We even had time to polish off two bottles of wine. One glass for me; three glasses for him. That was after drinking a tall glass of top-shelf tequila at his house. Every once in a while, I’d go find him just to make sure he was still alive.
One hundred and fifty-three minutes after arriving, I gave up.
“Tank, it’s time to go.”
“What’s wrong baby? Not having a good time?”
“NO.”
“Are there any guys here that you like?”
“Yes.”
“Have talked to them?”
“YES.”
“And what happened?”
“They don’t seem to be interested.”
“Well, then, why don’t we get our things . . . and I’ll take you back to my house.”
“We can’t. The door is closed.”
While the general rule at a house party is for the door to the master bedroom to remain open at all times, it had been closed for a long while. Even I had no idea who was in the room and there weren’t any noises emanating from it. But rules are rules—and a locked door means no entry.
Tank and I sat on the sofa. He held me close. And I sighed 50 times, if not a hundred, during the next several minutes. Finally, the door popped open. And a young well-hung black man went in search of a bottle of water.
A line of us entered the room, all for the same reason: to get our belongings from the master bedroom closet. As I began to exit the darkened room, I made eye contact with the single man who the couple had brought with them. We’d chatted a bit early on.
“Are you leaving?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“No one seems to want to play with me.”
“Huh. I believe we do.”
As my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, I noticed a tall, lithe woman on her tummy sucking a black guy’s cock on the bed. And two more BBC’s next to him, one of whom I’d played with at a cuckold party a few months earlier. I heard:
“It’s your turn.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Right outside the bedroom, I put down my coat and supply bag and motioned “come here” to Tank with my right pointer finger. As soon as we entered the bedroom, someone closed the door.
“Baby, I forgot to tell you that I told these guys about you when I was outside.”
“You what?”
“Get down on your knees baby. At the foot of the bed. I believe there’s a guy wanting to fuck you from behind. And look. Two more for you to suck. Now remember, you need to give your attention to all of them.”
Tank gave me a kiss on the cheek, exposed my breasts from the Night Magic Babydoll I was wearing and sat down with his back against the headboard so he could observe my face.
Including Tank, there were five men. Oh la la. I was in heaven.
It didn’t take longer than five minutes for one guy to come in my mouth. Tank’s been giving me advanced lessons. LOL
It was all a blur. Except the squirting. I remember the first time it happened that evening. I didn’t know who did it until I turned my head to the right and saw that Tank was behind the other woman, licking her pussy with his fingers inside her. And then it happened twice again in succession. By this time, I knew my screams were waking up the neighbors.
And then there was the texting. Yes, texting. The guy from the cuckhold party had me sucking his nine-inch thick dick while he laid on his back, texting someone from his iPhone. I couldn’t contain myself. I screamed at him.
“Hey asshole. You’re supposed to be giving me your attention. What the fuck is this?”
There wasn’t one person in that room who wasn’t laughing so hard they could pee right there. My observation made them even more hell-bent on screwing the heck outta me. Which of course, pleased them—and me—even more.
More than 120 minutes later, I heard someone say, “Get her some water. Man, she’s gotta be dehydrated.” I turned over on my back for the first time and noticed the bed was soaking wet. So was the front of my babydoll.
I stumbled out of the room, bottle of water in hand. “Shit. All the bathrooms are in use.” I waited ten minutes just to get one to clean myself up. That’s when I learned I’d been fucked really hard by hand and by cock.
Tank was ready with my coat when I finally emerged.
“Are you ready to go home now, baby?”
“Uh huh.”
“Have you thanked the boys you were with tonight?”
“Yes, I gave them all a kiss goodnight.”
And with that, I laid my head against his chest as he zippered my coat and off we went. Back to his house. To replay the night’s experience. Again. And again. And again.
Welcome to Randi Buckmen's adventures in intimacy—beyond the world of sex. Hear how I’m embracing the possibilities of what can be while remaining a “good girl” in the public’s eye. How did I go from being celibate for three years—and wearing flannel pj's to bed with socks when I was married—to where I am today?
