Okay readers, this is a bit of a flashback for Andy (plus I'm a bit tired n had a shitty week at work so if Ruby can tweet stuff from her archive I guess I can too huh?). So it's one of the stories I wrote when we were together the first time a coupla years ago n it ain't in my usual style (more like Abby Lee's 'Girl With A One Track Mind' which was my fave book then n I even mention it!) n it's a bit less filthee n more for fun cos at the time I didn't wanna scare Andy off with how fuckin hornee he made me! If only I'd known! :-P So I wrote these lil fun diaries for him :-D n I hopes you enjoy them as much as he did! Cos they made him come back to me again so it's all good! ;-)
Friday Nite Fun!
Andy always tells me I have amazing breasts.
I don't do the bra thing cos they chafe too much, spesh in summer heat. Full slips or camis with support for work but daringly exposed under a sheer chiffon off-shoulder gypsy top for play. Passionate purple. Not that it stays on long. *sigh™*
I have amazing +1 nips. Sensitive beyond belief. I can go from zero to hornee if both are touched at same time. Even more if licked or sucked.
In my bedroom, Andy puts his cock tween my boobs for the first time, and caresses nipsville as I press them together and massage it. I've died and gone to heaven. Not long after, Andy's hot white squirty soul jets heavenward too but doesn't quite make it, splashing back down on me.
Nice but messy. After tissues we snuggle n doze. Long weekend ahead.
Saturday sometime.
I wake early - habit of parents, even after a few years in my own place. Only this isn't a habit-wake.
Half face-down, one leg up, Andy's finger's inside. It's a nice enough alarm call, as bells ring in my cunny, but couldn't you wake me first? I do like to be there. Honest.
Andy's always hard, I mean really hard, huge and awesomely hornee, first thing if he sleeps over. Well, shags over, cos sleep doesn't feature much. I roll on my back to face him, under him. 'Good morning.' he smooches. 'Well hi.' my muff answers. This early bird gets the worm. YUMMY!
After some practical examples, we decide we need a new private word for fucking. We eventually get a 'fuck' and 'shag' combo: 'shug'. Score at half-time, aka midday: 4 fucks (3 and a bj actually), and 3 shugs.
Debs, my flatmate, taps on my bedroom door and calls, "Lunch, anyone?" I'm half way thru a second bj. Come up for air to gasp, "Already eaten thanx!'" Andy lets out a cry as my lips find him again. "Oh and Andy says hi!" I add as polite translation.
We should get up. By that I mean out of bed Andy, not hard again. Cos he is. Insatiable. *big content sigh™*
We're supposed to be going to my parents' vacant caravan on the coast. They think I'll be with Debs, but I've bribed her so I can take Andy. Last time I went with an ex she got a week off rent. Now on way too good terms with mum n dad and gets presents. "Price of silence." she smiles. Two weeks off. Exorbitant BITCH! My thighs are trembling cos I want Andy to shug me in the sanddunes at sunset. My muff pouts sulkily and waves a white flag. Well, white knix with lil coloured flowers on. Wet white knix now.
Andy drives at speed to the coast that evening, me beside him with the window down. I wonder what it's like to shug on backseat, the speedy breeze cooling us, at 88mph. Go over a bump and we both briefly float before Andy lands heavily on me again. Oh daydream wow.
I unzip Andy as we first spy the sea, all glistening and sparkly under a full twilight moon, like my wetness. The sea makes me hornee. Well everything I do with Andy makes me hornee - details don't matter. He's still hard n huge, and I play gearstick with him as he revs through town. It's dark by the time we find the caravan. Neither of us can wait so I straddle him on backseat while he visits nipsville-by-the-sea. Windows down, listening to seagulls. My cries join theirs shortly after.
Shugday.
It's Sunday, and I worship at the Church of Andy. I get on my knees before him, and put my hands together as if praying, speaking in tongues. At my most devoted, Madonna has nothing on me.
We have an sexy breakfast of taramasalata and breadsticks in bed, dipping them in and feeding each other. Crumbs everywhere. After we've finished them we nibble each other for dessert. Crumbs now REALLY get everywhere. Andy seeks them out with his tongue. Good boy, I pat him on the head.
We really ought to get out and have some sun but we're both still hornee. Not sure neighbouring holiday makers would like us shugging openly on the patio tho. Spoilsports. So we get in small caravan bathroom, I wash n do make-up, Andy shaves behind me. It's so cramped he ends up rubbing his cock on small of my back. Standing doggie style, he shugs me over the sink. His heat inside contrasts with cold porcelain gainst my muff before, sometime after lunch, we get round to dressing.
I wear a sarong skirt, crop top n sandals, while Andy is hot in shorts. If I *big contented sigh™* any more, I'll end up as a puddle.
I whisper 'taramasalata' in his ear a few times as we walk hand-in-hand thru the sand. Each time I see his shorts getting tighter. His eyebrows dance like those kids in the choccie ad. We have a new dirty word.
The sun starts to go down on us. No jokes please. We stand holding hands watching the sky blush overhead.
It's all so wonderfully romantic, or is until Andy dives on me behind the dunes, and shugs the sand from my sarong. Be careful what you wish for, I guess...
Bonk Holiday Monday. All day.
All the non-stop hornee shugging has given us both mega appetites so I cook a full on breakfast for us both. I'm famished but hope all the horizontal exercise has made me shed some weight. The only extra weight on me has been Andy. Which I honestly don't mind one bit.
I've grilled sausages and burgers, with baked beans and meatballs. Serve them up so they make a 8===o on our plates. Can't think what inspired me. I dip my sausages in ketchup, lick the red sauce from them sensually and nibble away. I think Andy's sausage has gone from chipolata to frankfurter. I'd dip him in ketchup too but I'm watching the calories.
I want to secretly send Andy a saucy postcard for when he gets home - a momento and a tease for more. I suggest he buys me an ice lolly while I shimmy thru what's available in shop. Find one of a girl's bikini bottom on very full hips. Scribble 'wish you were HERE!' besides Andy's addy. Stamp it (always have some in my purse!) and post it before he gets back with a very phallic looking lolly. Mmmmm... And he's got a massive pink candy floss.
I lick and suck my lolly sensually, while he nibbles the mega-muff-like candy floss before burying his face in it and chomping. We get hornee again. Life's like that.
Andy asks if I'll dye my muff fluff pink so he can imagine he's having candy floss again when he tongues me. Aren't I sweet enough? I say I will if he sticks his cock in the freezer so he's my ice lolly. Awkward silence. I'm thinking bout his idea as a poss birthday/xmas/valentine day pressie. Not sure he is bout mine tho.
With heavy hearts n buzzy bits we drive back at sunset. The dying day paints everything pink, then purple, like my shorts, vest n sandles. I like to be co-ordinated, naturally.
I ask Andy in for coffee cos I don't want him to go. Don't want the long luvly weekend to end, ever. If I keep him in my bedroom, mebbe it won't.
We have lattes. I like mine like Andy - hot n frothy. I want him to whisk me into bubbly oblivion. But he has work tomorrow, like me. Bleh n double bleh with extra bits of bleh on. After a longer lingering kiss I press my nose against the glass til his tail lights disappear. And then some.
My double bed seems awfully big n empty after two nights in a single sleeping on top of each other. I plump up a pillow Andy n cuddle it to sleep. It's not quite the same.
Taramasalataday. Well it begins with 'T'...
Back to work with incandescent satisfaction. Everyone nudges n whispers as I float like a glowy Tinkerbell to my desk. Everything is pink, all is love. Well, lust at least.
Andy phones in my lunch hour so I nip out to car. We whisper sweet filthy nothings before I get to 'ta-ra...'. There's a strangled noise. '...ma-sa...' I purr. I think he's shot his load in his boxies before I even got to '...la-ta'. Sorry hon. Secretly pleased tho. Remote control shug.
I get home and Debs asks how was my day? To be honest I don't really recall. All I remember was how wonderful it was from Fri to Mon. *biggest contentest sigh ever™*
It's a hot evening and have fans for the bedrooms. Mine is on chest of drawers blowing across bed. As I re-read Abby Lee's sexy sassy book 'Girl with a One Track Mind' for the umpteenth time, in just my panties n thin top, the breeze blows tween my thighs, over my bum. A dirty deep draught.
Biting my lip as I get roused, letting the fan fiddle my fanny, I ring Andy but get his answer service. More sweet filthy nothings for him to hear later.
Flumpday. Epiphany.
Andy's talk of pink candy muff fluff makes me revisit childhood with a hornee twist.
I want, no need, something to suck on when he's not round. Visit a local sweet shop looking for a large round lolly or similar and find something better. Flumps. Twisty mallow tubes bout 5 inches long, and I figure if I hold some together they're about Andy's thickness. I buy a dozen.
In my bedroom that evening I unwrap four, bunch them together and put them in my mouth. They don't quite have Andy's firmness but the soft sweet sponginess is bliss on my tongue and lips. I suck on them until I have to chew - something he wouldn't quite appreciate - and the mushy result is like he's cum in loads. I swallow, and have to finger myself to get over how hornee that makes me feel. Bertie Bassett has never seemed dirtier.
My friend Terri phones, asks if I'm free this week. If Andy doesn't show I'll say yes.
Horniday.
No Andy. Wondering if card was too sexy and scared him off.
I get a hornee attack at work. Well, hornier. Horniest in fact. All day. Cos thinking of Andy always gets me roused. But while I daydream bout what he'll do to me as I work n type - more filthy fumblings tween the filing - there's a rave in my cunny. At first it's just a small party in my panties then my muff gets gatecrashed by a mob of emos. I sit with legs crossed increasingly tighter, then have to sit slightly parted to let some air in before I go pop. Well, bang. Atomic erotic boom. I'm a WMD. Woman of muff desperation.
Normally having a wild sesh with Andy satisfies for a good while but the 3 day 24/7 sex weekend has sent me over an edge. I have withdrawal symptoms - no pun intended - real bad. The DTs. Dirty Trembles. My thighs are like jelly, my knees knock, my hands shake. Don't even ask what's going on in my knix. I pant like a dog. Okay, mebbe not the most flattering description there.
I drink copious amounts of water from the cooler, almost setting up camp there. Not sure if I'm giving out 'gagging for a shag' signals but several passing guys wink and leer. I smile weakly back. At least I hope I'm smiling, and not looking like lust incarnate. Expressions of dirty need. Just take me now. I almost whimper. I'm so hornee I want to cry.
Abby Lee has 3 advice options for sits like this: ignore (god I wish I could), postphone (not so much when but WHERE?) or do it now (aarrgghh!). Fate, karma, well biology, decides for me. Lotsa water = need a pee.
Sadly the loos are unisex. Not in a cool 'Boston Legal' way but an old-building, architect-didn't-know-women-existed, one-per-floor manner. Unofficially the guys have upstairs, girls have downstairs but that door doesn't lock properly. Bad enough caught panties-down-having-a-pee but def not into thighs-wide-having-a-fiddle flashing.
Choosing lockable upstairs, I tug my knix down, well peel them off cos of dampness - lucky I carry spares and hurriedly change them - sit, pee, and have a lil play. *sigh™*. I'm not about to have a screaming orgasm besides which I'm sure boss stopwatches our loo time. An oasis to a thirsty gal, takes off the edge. At least I don't feel like molesting any guys here. Most are wholly unappealing anti-Andy's. Desperation only goes so far.
By time I get home I feel bandy-legged. Leave a series of text n phone messages for Andy of increasing filthiness, from 'want u' to graphic descriptions of carnal crudity concerning his cock. Naked necessity is the mutha of intimate inventiveness.
Terri comes round. If I'm overhornee now, she makes me look like a nun. Only 20. And a frigging size 10 to my voluptuous 16. BITCH! But we treat each other like sisters. Only I'm eight years older n still playing catch up with her. Comforting and scary at same time. I'm not the WORST but ohmigod I'm NOT the worst? Despite claiming not to be bi she has both a guy and girl on the go. Her new kink is threesomes and bondage. Just plain scary, that.
In secrecy of my room I fess up my desperation for absent Andy. Terri grins at my need. Only it's more like a pirahna sizing up which limb to gnaw. Frankly, I almost don't fucking care, and she comes on to me - nothing new - but this time we end up having a sistery snog. And a fumbly fingering. Terri leaves after making sure I'm okay, smiling still. My lips are kinda smirky too. Which I didn't think they would be. Terriville is a nice place to visit but I wouldn't wanna live there...
Horniday. +1
Wake up early to rumble of summer thunder. Don't feel hornee. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU God! It starts raining. Memory of making love under warm rain in a field. Oh hang on, that's a fantasy. My cunny wakes up, can't tell the difference, twitches. hornee again. Fine. *sigh™*
Still no Andy. Getting more worried. hornee plus.
At work, a hot fit guy walks past. Sees me looking out and waves. Fight the urge to press my panting face gainst the window but faintly wave back. My nips perk up and point back "Oooh lookee!' with a tickly giggle. My cunny jumps up and down in my knix, "Where? Who? Can't see down here!". Which is just as well. Fantasise bout having my thighs round his head. Lots more cold water after that. Another quick loo viola. Like a fiddle but longer and more elaborate. Terri would be proud.
Friday 5pm. Break world land speed record getting home.
Extreme lack of texts, msgs n emails. As I dejectedly get ready to go out somewhere, anywhere, an envelope flips thru the door, marked in big Andy letters 'SANDIE'. Uh oh.
He can't face me, has to write and let me down, persona non grata. Hands trembling I open it n shake out a postcard. Printed by one of those photo machines cos the pic is a very erect, very awesome cock I'd know anywhere. 'Wish YOU Were Here!'. Aawwwwww. Bless.
He prob wanted to post it but got worried bout the pic. For sure - he's not advertising his best bit anywhere but in my spaces! The envelope is post-marked 'BY HAND'. You betcha!
Forget I'm in undies, a staring neighbour nearly crashes his car (serves him right!) as I race out door to see Andy waiting for me at end of drive. I run towards him in slo-mo and he twirls me round, feet off ground, to smooch me. And hopefully a lot more. Sound of violins and harps. Fade to black.
*tsk* Dirty minds, you lot. LOL n *sigh™*
Something Up Day
Andy turns up with a ginormous pink teddy for me - the bear kind not the sexy lingerie sort. As I grin my delight, I wonder what's he after? Non-stop shugging? Won't say no. Don't want to seem too desperate, so won't scream 'Fucking God Yes Now Now NOW!' at top of voice either. As I think of a polite sexy compromise, Andy tells there's a footie match on TV and can we watch it? Oh. Joy.
Debs has gone to town so I snuggle beside Andy on the sofa as he watches guys fight over a ball. Silly game I think. But some look very fit, and I wonder if any are good in bed. Strong thighs, wall-to-wall chests, killer arms. A couple even look hot. My hand wanders under my skirt and fiddles half-heartedly in my knix. Girl going cold here.
Half-time comes up, and I go make a cuppa. Another 45 mins? Whatever. As I pass Andy his mug, he mutters something bout a no-score draw. I get an idea, and sneak away briefly. Andy doesn't even notice. He does tho, when I stand in front of him and lift my skirt. No drawers on. And I score. Best result all day.
Sandie United: 3, Footie Interest: Nil. Debs returns, and we go for extra time in my bedroom.
Sadly Solitudeday.
Need to catch up on some chores before work again tomorrow, so have to abstain from Andy. Who made the weekends so short and the weekdays so long? Inside I glow. Outside I might be glowing too but I'm wearing at my seams, a bit baggy eyed and awesomely achy. Much as I don't want, I need some me time.
Name my new big pink Teddy 'Andy'. To keep me thru the nights n days when AndyBF® isn't here.
Haven't washed my holiday things cos they smell of Andy. After last night so do I, come to think of it. I want that reminder but it's a bit gross, sadly. Hygiene has to win over hornee hormonals. I have a long soak n let the hot water wash away my naughtiness. Til next time.
I'm in bed, alone with Teddy Andy. he's huge, soft and oh-so-cuddly™. I wonder if he's as hornee as AndyBF®. I lie on my back and let his fluffy pink fur tickle tween my thighs. Yep I think he is, as I let him hump me. Naughty Teddy I think, as I press my finger to his black plastic smile. Swear him to secrecy.
Shhhh don't tell.
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