12/06/10 21:18 GMT(extract)Well, Carlotta—There are few things which set the blood coursing to one’s dick more urgently than contemplation of deflowering a feisty young virgin—one who has kept her hymen intact for reasons of religion. I hadn’t considered the matter greatly, but so it turns out. It makes shower-room dalliances with skinny college sluts seem pointless and tawdry. Not that I should be totally dismissive of young Katie. She was a hot slippery young thing and her cunt clutched my cock like the rubber grip on a handlebar. Which only makes me imagine what a chaste Christian girl’s tunnel will feel like once it’s naturally lubed and accepting of its first pre-marital dick.Now if the virgin in question were a timid mouse choosing between loose-fitting sweaters for daywear, it wouldn’t be worth my time. The seduction would be torturous without a payoff sufficient to make it worth the effort; I like a girl to do more than squeak feebly underneath me. No, sex has to be present and sniffable in the prey, however tightly bottled up.Not that Neely is a prim and starchy kind of Christian. Her inner desire is nearer the surface, ready to come frothing out of the bottle, to sustain that metaphor. I plan a steady shaking-up over several dates, before ‘pop’ goes her cork. And what a frothy explosion it should be.I sensed her potential during that risible ‘interview’ by her pastor. She did her damnedest to appear cool and progressive as she danced around his questions, but she still took pains to express it—how much she cherished her chastity. “It’s precious, a gift to be stored up …” To hear her say it made my cock huge and thunderously hard. (Following that summer’s worth of rigorous demonstration, Carlotta, you know I’m not overselling myself.) Now this girl knew I was listening, hell I’d caught her eye several times. She could have phrased it any of a hundred other ways, so we hardly need to bring in Sigmund Freud to point out how much pent-up simmering need there is within this twenty-four-year-old paragon of Christian temperance. Oh joy to him on whom the ‘gift’ is bestowed.Our encounters thus far, I should say, have been very satisfactory, albeit low-key. There have been afternoon coffees and impromptu walks in the park complete with tentative hand-holding. More than that there have been two further car-seat kisses, rounding off two eminently respectable evening dates in preparation for which I groomed and she primped like we were teenagers. (On some levels, of course, she still is.) Those lip-locks, following on from that day we first met, did more to undermine our girl’s defences than any amount of crude attempted groping. The sense of her involuntarily shaping her languid curves closer to me on each encounter, the awareness in her eyes that my cock is pulsing-huge for her—both most gratifying.Let’s see, date one—meal and movie at a local arts complex. She does a nice line in charity-shop chic, balanced between Christian restraint and “I can be demurely sexy”; I’ll strip away the demure part soon enough. That evening established trust, assured her subtly that I wouldn’t be making any crass attempts to Sex hikayeleri get my hand down her panties. (I use ‘panties’ in deference to you, my dear. I know ‘knickers’ conjures to your mind an image of expansive frilly bloomers.) I skirted around the fringes of my sexual history with enough tease to peak her interest—and she is so very interested—plus enough reticence to make her think I’m embarrassed in her presence of my past coxploits. What a fun game it is. Moving on …Date two was a country picnic. Now this was something of a tour de force. I called her on a promise she’d made to help me with a newspaper article and managed to steer the topic conveniently to that of chastity. We sat there on the rug sipping fizzy wine and delving, with use of the most discreet euphemisms possible, into why she doesn’t take any dick. How better to focus someone on the idea of fucking than with in-depth discussion on the theme of not doing that very thing? Yearning for release, she is. I could almost hear the strain of her tits against her blouse-buttons.She went to pains to insist, on both occasions, how much better it would be for both of us if we remained as friends. How much less complicated, since I know she can’t “respond to me physically” the way I might “hope for with another girl”. I insisted that part of her appeal—oh the irony—is that she does have principles and that she values her sexuality. I could almost smell the moistening of her cunt as my words sank in. So it goes—the subtle dance of heathen seducer and sweet Christian prey.Which brings us to date three and the taking of my first real risk. One that paid off handsomely, I think, though that remains to be proven. On that encounter more detail is required. Perfectly innocent evening to begin with, lubricated with a few bottled beers, while listening to some rock outfit in a bar down by the harbour … 12/06/10 19:31 PSTWell blow me down, the boy has got some restraint. It almost makes me forgive you for coining the word ‘coxploits’. Almost.I recall during the Summer of Ray’s Seething Lust you couldn’t wait to get said cock out of your pants and into one of my ready, wet holes. Or at the very least to let it swing free while you provided me with some oral attention. I’ll give you your due, Ray, you knew how to put a shit-eating grin all over my face with that tongue of yours, before completing the job with your robust member. Do not take this the wrong way, but I occasionally miss the selfish manner in which you worked me over.Like now for example. My sex life is perfectly healthy. I’m fucking a guy who’s married to Maria, my friend from Pilates class, and it’s an arrangement that works for me very well. He’s enthusiastic and he loves what I do to his dick, so that he’s at my beck like a young dog sporting a permanent hard-on. And I can bring him to heel with the merest hint that I might withdraw my favors or make trouble between him and his wife. She’s not that much of a friend. It’s regular, convenient and enough fun to make it worthwhile. But he’s simply not the kind of hard-playing bastard you were Ray.There. A compliment. From Sikiş hikayeleri me. You know for all your bullshit I still sometimes consider a trip across the Pond to put my body at your disposal, and you haven’t heard me say that in a while. I could easily tie in a trip with work now that the company’s expanding to the UK. But of course for that to happen I’d need to feel sure you’re living up to your potential. That you haven’t lost that steely edge, the thing that attracted me in the first place. That it’s even keener than before and that you’re acquiring some additional skills in the process. Right now what you’re doing is proving yourself to me. All over.You know the thought of you actually dating, biding your time and working your way through stages of seduction from a cold start with no absolute certainty that you’ll ever get to sink that dick, it does impress.How are you doing it, Ray? Are you getting some, aside from the anticipated main event, that you’re not telling me about? Calling up one of those slutty little friends listed in your BlackBerry? Or are you as single-minded in your pursuit as that FBI agent Tommy Lee Jones played in The Fugitive? Hunting down a prissy young virgin on the run from her own scary sex-instinct. Part of me hopes the latter. I like that thought of you panting for it, Ray. Denying yourself and channeling all that frustration into your evil efforts. But then the realist in me knows you’d get overwhelmed by your own libido and screw up one of those subtle maneuvers you’ve been crowing about. I think you should go blow an occasional load into some slut-on-the-side so you can keep your focus. In fact I positively encourage it.Because I do want you to succeed in nailing this girl, my horny friend. More so since you directed me to her pics on the church website. You didn’t exaggerate. She’s every bit the hottie you’d suggested and not a trace of Christian frumpiness. Not in her dress-sense at any rate. But I could still sense it in her cheery grin and her isn’t-God-groovy posturing as she wrapped arms around members of her junior flock. Her inner frump was all on display. She’s got the whole deal worked out, hasn’t she? There she is, drawing the lost to the Jesus-club.Take your time and fuck her good, Ray. Bone her every which way and make her come like a screaming whore of Babylon, all her God-thoughts still intact and judging her.Over-the-top? No apology. It comes of being a born cynic smothered by a Baptist upbringing. That’s nature and nurture, Ray. I’ve way too many memories of being lost among hymn-singing mini-believers, their holy smugness radiating more heat than the campfire they sat around. I pretended to follow the herd so I could avoid all their cloying concern-for-the-heathen and being the object of their impromptu late-night prayer sessions. Bad, bad days. Seriously, Ray, don’t screw this up. Take your time, do her good and tell me everything. I’m going to fucking enjoy this like I’m doing her myself.Keep those entertaining reports coming.—CarlottaKiss-kiss. ~~~~ Neely made sure this time that Jasmine was out before she picked up Odyssey of Erotik hikaye Lust. She was convinced her roommate was leaving the paperback around their shared living-space deliberately, in hope that Neely would further sample its prose. Its vulgar yet undeniably compelling prose. Temptation struck at the end of a lengthy working Sunday and within twenty-four hours of her most recent date with Ray. Both factors confirmed a pattern, she noted. Fresh from a meeting with Pastor Simmons on their ‘sexual ethics’ workshops, she was punch-drunk from piety. Lifting the book was scarily close to an act of rebellion.She riffled through the first few chapters to a particularly salacious passage. Sapphire, a girl who came off the page like a kind of accidental trollop, had set out on her journey of self-discovery, ending up in Jamaica. The Caribbean island was her first stop on a trans-global tour funded by the money she had inherited from a sadly-departed uncle. The heroine was now semi-sozzled on tequila in a beach-bar and the only remaining patron. This much Neely picked up from her page-skimming as she nestled deep into the sofa; she’d been drawn there as by an inexorable force of gravity, the promise of the words pulling her down. Usually she would resist, but there was a strange luxury in giving up to this moment of weakness, surrendering to the novel’s dubious delights. A fever was upon her, prickling her skin and accelerating her heart rate as she immersed herself.Heiress Sapphire, it struck Neely, was permanently in a state of confused arousal as her erotic misadventures unfolded. This was exemplified on page sixty-three, when Deshane shoved her up against the bar’s front, his broad frame trapping her completely.“Now it’s just you and me, my American beauty,” he said, his face splitting into a wide mocking grin.“What? But I thought you wanted me to help clean up some glasses! You said I could help around!” Sapphire gasped, as she felt a great python uncoiling inside his close-pressed beach shorts. Now there was an arresting image for a female reader.“So why would a spoilt rich-bitch from California want to work in my humble little bar?” he asked, his eyes glinting wickedly in his dark handsome face. “And why would I want a beautiful girl like you serving my tables when there are better things you can do on them?”“I wanted to try something different,” Sapphire panted, her loins moistening to be squeezed so tightly against his manhood as it extended within his shorts.“I know exactly what you wanted to try,” he grinned, his hands starting to wander all over her neck and chest. “That’s why you have been wiggling that ass in those tight shorts and showing off these ripe firm mangos inside this tiny little top. And why you’ve been giving Deshane the eye all this afternoon.” Neely could not fathom why she found this character appealing, or what possessed her to read on to the point where… He groped her breasts freely through the thin material of her cut-off tee-shirt and they filled his large hands. She felt her nipples inflate as he fondled her.“But I … I didn’t realise … I was flirting, being … being friendly,” she stammered.“Oh you’re going to be friendly, my sweet baby,” he told her. He picked her up by her slim waist, his biceps and chest muscles bulging against his coloured shirt as he set her ass easily down onto the bar. “And I’m going to be friendly to you first.”