Just A Drink

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on May 29, 2014 by Red Light Lady

He’d been so damn persistent the last few weeks. I couldn’t figure out why. I mean, we had some fun adventures, but it wasn’t like I was the first pick of the litter. But that was over a year ago, before I met the Jerk, and became, like, ridiculously boring.

 

For those of my lovely kinksters out there who have read my mishaps for a while now, you’ll remember him. Mr. Breakfast. The deliciously smooth, amazingly talented old friend of mine. He must crave being a feature story on the blog – even if he doesn’t know about it ;)

 

Mind you, I haven’t talked to Mr. Breakfast for quite some time. I made the mistake of thinking I could maneuver my way towards a relationship. Thank God I was cured, and quickly. I’ve felt like a new-born four legged creature in the months of late, my sexual confidence reawakening, but on four supports held together with spindly bones, and wobbly knees. Shaky, at best; a disaster, if needing to do anything remotely functional.

 

His name flashed across my phone screen about a week ago. I had to look at it twice to be sure. What in the world?  It goes to show how out of whack I’ve been that I couldn’t imagine why he was texting me -_- He simply asked how I was, and after a brief moment of small talk, asked if I would meet him for a drink later that night. Just as I was imagining the beginnings of a deliciously sinful night, he added, “JUST a drink :)” Well, that was a lady boner killer, if there ever was one. My shy, timid, doe-eyed inner slut retreated back into her shell, and we prepared ourselves for a simple drink.

 

He was easy to spot. Tall, handsome, with a drool-worthy smile, and smoking hot eyes. My inner slut took a peep out the door. We hugged as we greeted each other, and his hand lingered on my back. His lips grazed across my lower lip. Yummy. He ordered our drinks, and we chatted for a minute. He was annoyingly well behaved. I was sure there was something wrong with me now. Maybe I was broken, no longer able to spark an interest in the opposite sex. God forbid. My whiskey sour sank lower and lower into the glass, and I had given up all hope. This was just a casual drink between friends, apparently with no thoughts of sex… for him, at least. My inner slut had him half naked already. 

 

We left the bar, and he walked me to my car. I was already planning my evening alone, complete with my small vibrator and my imagination. What a let down. I turned to thank him for the drink, and his mouth was on mine immediately. God, I’d missed kissing. I mean really kissing. Full, intense, almost painful, with a lack of oxygen, and lust fueling every motion at full throttle. That’s how it was with Mr. Breakfast. His lips were crushing mine, and one hand already had my skirt hiked up, searching for it’s target. When he found it, I gasped. I had craved this for ages. I laughed as he kissed down my neck, while his finger teased my clit. I told him this was more than the just a drink that he had promised. “Yes,” he said, “We did have just a drink. I never said there was going to be just a goodbye. My inner slut was back out of the shell again, but wasn’t sure if she should run back to safety, or start dancing to the rhythm. “Just dance!!!” I wanted this, she had to bring her game. 

 

It was short drive back to my place, but it seemed like eternity. His fingers kept darting between my thighs, and I had to remind him to drive. We barely made it through the door. My shirt was off in seconds, and the rest of our clothes followed. His hand on my throat, he pushed me against the wall, and bit my upper lip. His cock was upright, and the tip glistened with precum. He released my throat as I dropped to my knees. His cock slid into the back of my throat, and out again. He kept thrusting against my face, slowly at first to help me adjust, and then increasing his pace. Soon, his cock was ramming my mouth, with the sounds of my gagging, and a little saliva slipping away  down my chin. I could feel his cock swelling, and wanted to feel his hot cum flood my mouth. My fingers pushed against my clit, inching me towards an amazing orgasm. I gasped while he face fucked me, ready to welcome my own waves of pleasure, and he suddenly pulled out. I was about to complain that he was preventing an orgasm to remember, but he spun me around just as quickly, and pinch my clit as his cock entered me. I saw stars. Literally. Stars darted in and out of my vision, as wave after wave of my orgasm coursed through me. He groaned, and dug his nails into my lower back, and I smiled as his warm load empty into my freshly fucked pussy. His hand slid around my throat, and he pulled me back against him. “Well, I’ve certainly missed my little whore.”

 

This is only part 1 of that night. Part 2 will follow shortly! XOXOXO

Hello Again Lovelies

Posted in Uncategorized on March 29, 2014 by Red Light Lady

Hi my dears, Miss Red here.

 

God how I’ve missed this blog! I’ve missed all the blogs I follow, and those who comment below my posts. It’s always been so nice to be open here. Pun fully intended.

 

So… I have an announcement!!!! But first, a little update.

 

 

First update? Fuck love. Seriously. Fuck it. If you’re not ready to commit fully to it, and are a little intimidated by it, and it’s also unrequited, then it just plain sucks. I gave up a world I was happy with for him. I let go of all my special friends, just so he would know that I was willing to. But I went from being a paid girl for a bunch of passionate men, to being the unpaid whore of a dispassionate asshole. Long story short, I love to be used, but if it doesn’t have passion, go find a corner hooker for that. They won’t give a shit.

 

 

I’ve really lost it the last few months. Gained weight, quit getting ready, stopped going out. Just basically felt worthless. And yet, the immediate future looks pretty damn bright. Just a few texts from the old friends was all it took for me to quite the bullshit and go out and feel good about myself! The times when I was the most confident usually always occurred in the bedroom. I know what I’m doing. And back to the bedroom I go….

 

 

I might have to change my WordPress URL to “turningONtheredlight.wordpress.com.” Because it’s back on. Or getting there. I want that confidence back, and my beginnings to a great body. And I never felt that more than when I was with the paying guys. Hot, old, short, bad clothes, great smells….I loved the variety! And I know what I want in bed. I’m ready to get back on track. In all ways. Men… give me a few months…. I’ll be ready for bed…. and begging for more. ;)

Breakfast… Again

Posted in Sex with tags , , , , , , on November 11, 2013 by Red Light Lady

I find myself smiling all the time, thinking devious thoughts, and craving that rough touch alllll over again. I am back. Or rather, my inner slut has returned. Hibernation was a bitch for her, so she was a little slow to recover, but we’ve got this now. Now, I don’t think I’ll be switching on the Red Light again any time soon… but we’ll see. The possibilities are endless again. Ah… Sex with an old friend. Apparently, it’s a miracle cure for emotional attachment.

Looks like I made the right choice with my lack of undergarment to breakfast, according to your comments, my lovelies. When I met Mr. Breakfast in the parking lot that morning, I expected a hug, and maybe a little more. I’d almost completely forgotten how forwards and abrupt he is. He said I looked hot, and pulled me tight against him, crushing his warm lips to mine, while his free hand felt up my ass. With the clothes I was wearing, and by the look on his face when he pulled away, I knew. He knew. He took my hand and we walked inside to eat, but actual food was the furthest thing from my mind now.

As I said earlier, my inner slut took some nudging to show herself, so the beginning of my meeting with my old friend was strained, though it would’ve appeared normal to anyone else. He would try to brush his hand up my arm, or nudge my legs with his, and I would act like it didn’t happen. How trained had I become? To not even register foreplay? Sad, right? He could tell something was off, and tried to be nice. We chatted over coffee and toast, and I could see he was attempting to piece together the solution to my obvious disinterest. Breakfast was turning into a total disaster. And then guess who decided to finally grace us with her presence?

He touched my arm again, and there it was. A chill. That small shiver that sent sparks through my entire body. Sparks that seemed to zap me into my right and proper place. Sparks that went to all the right parts. Yummy. I sat up a little more, and leaned towards him. I knew this game. We’d played it many times. See who could do the most teasing, and get the other quite frustrated. I moved from the chair across from him and into the chair next to him, placing my hand on his leg. The sly grin I was so familiar with crept onto his face, and his hand was soon on my leg as well. I was warming up. I didn’t want his hand there! I wanted it… in other places. I dared to slid my palm a little further, and felt his hardness through his slacks. Oh dear. Why were we still at the table???? Oh yes… this is a game. I remember winning the majority of the time.

I sidled closer to him, ready to whisper my very naughty wants into his ear. He held his breath, but instead of words, he got my teeth, biting gently into his lobe. Poor Mr. Breakfast. He seemed to be recalling all my victories at this game as well. He cleared his throat, and breakfast was soon set at the table. My inner slut and I were one again, moving like a well-lubed machine. ;) Every bite, every movement, between myself and my date, seemed to have some underlying tension. His hand never left my leg, but my own did plenty of wandering, touching, and occasionally squeezing. I was winning, but at the same time felt like I was losing.

The need had returned. That need that used to be a constant companion, and had been pushed out by desperation and endearment, was now pulsing through my veins. And I mean pulsing. I could feel it everywhere now. Heat. Coursing through my fingers, my hands, my legs… my tits were aching… my pussy now wet and throbbing. I needed him. Now. My wandering and squeezing intensified, as did my biting and nibbling when no one was looking. We weren’t even hallway through eating when he paid, and we left.

Once outside, and at his car, he grabbed my face and used his body to pin me against the car. Kissing like this. I’d missed it. Feeling the need we both were experiencing through our intense make out session. Hot. My fingers curled around his neck, and I bit his lower lip. He made an almost growling noise, and freed one of his hands to sneak under my skirt. It wasn’t long before he discovered my not very secret secret. He grinned again, and I gasped as two of his long fingers entered my hot snatch. He greedily fingered my aching cunt, and I bit down into his shoulder to keep from screaming. This was almost agony. Why was he teasing me?! I wanted, and needed his cock. I turned away from his lips and his amazing fingers, and opened the passenger door. Throwing him what I hoped was my most determined look, I got in the car. He wasn’t far behind in climbing into his side. I refused to let him touch me on the way to his house, and it was driving him crazy. Good. I didn’t want light, friendly, sex. I also didn’t want brutal, rough, mean sex. I just wanted rough sex with a friend. I wanted intimacy without attachment, and roughness without cruelty. No one could do that better than Mr. Breakfast.

We barely made it inside before my skirt was at my knees. He was kissing me again, and I was getting dizzy from desire. His hands went to the front of the blouse and tugged, sending a few buttons falling to the ground – he owes me a shirt. His hands were soon pinching and twisting my hardened nipples, and his teeth were digging into my collarbone. I’d somehow managed to blindly remove his pants, and had my own hands deeply involved. Oh, how I’d missed his cock. Huge, thick, smooth, and perfect. Couldn’t even wrap my hand all the way around it. But there was something I could wrap around it. A couple things, actually.

I dropped to my knees, my  back against the wall. He stood over me, touching my cheek, and guiding his throbbing member towards my lips. I couldn’t wait. I flicked my tongue across the tip, and pulled him into my mouth. God it felt good. A new… but familiar cock. One I was desperate to enjoy, not to keep. His attempt at gentleness faded away with every inch I swallowed. His fingers were in my hair now, pulling, gripping, moving me as needed. And the fucking began. In and out, his cock pounding against the back of my throat, and I rubbed my very alert clit while enjoying the taste of him. I wanted his cum to fill my mouth, or cover my face, but he wasn’t finished.

He pulled me to my feet, and bent me over the arm of his couch. Puling my head back by my hair, he bit my shoulder as his cock filled me. God damn, he was big. Perfectly big. I wouldn’t let him go slow for this. I pushed back against him, feeling his balls against my clit. He got the hint. Still pulling on handfuls of my hair, he drove into me, pounding my reawakening cunt into a sea of rolling orgasms. Wave after wave hit me, like five months of buildup behind a floodgate. The floodgates were opened now, and I couldn’t stop shaking and quivering over his cock. His teeth left marks all over my neck and back, and his words at my ear, telling me what a hot fuck I was, how much he’d missed his little whore, spurred on more of my juices. He couldn’t keep going forever.  His thrusts became shorter, his breathing uneven. His cock was swelling inside me, and through my last climax, I could feel his hot load flooding my used little hole. I could barely move from the side of the couch after he stepped back. I didn’t want to. I was trying to remember why I’d let go of this, why I’d wanted something else. What could be better?

 

 

I managed to dress, and after he kissed and fingered me to one more delicious orgasm, I left. Of course, I didn’t forget to thank him for breakfast. ;)

Want Some Cream With That?

Posted in Uncategorized on November 9, 2013 by Red Light Lady

Hello my dearest lovelies,

After a brief dark moment of being attached, and having my heart broken, I’m happy to say that my emotions are all locked away, safe and sound, once again. And I’m writing to you now with my inner slut reawakened and very alert. This is a short post, as I have yet to begin documenting my scandalous adventures again…. I need to start having some. Which is why I absolutely can’t wait for my morning date tomorrow. My old friend Mr. Breakfast contacted me this week, quite out of the blue, and wants to do breakfast. Seeing that I’m releasing my pent up sexual tensions in favor of a sad emotional heart, I’m thinking of spicing things up a bit. Panties or no panties tomorrow morning…. What do you think? ;)

Breaking the Rule

Posted in Uncategorized on September 29, 2013 by Red Light Lady

Reality came crashing down on me tonight. Harsh, bitter, and with a nasty sting to it. Oh… Did I mention it came to me while I had my lips wrapped around a throbbing cock?? Yeah… Talk about inconvenient.

I broke the rule. My one rule. Never get attached.

And yet, here I sit. Liking someone.

When we met almost four years ago, I was immediately addicted to his perfect body, and face, and lower regions as well. ;) While he never paid me – I felt like I should pay him – I still chose to keep it strictly business. He was gorgeous, smart, funny, on the way to success, and conceited as hell. The fact that he could have any girl around, and he was doing me, was enough to make me self conscious, and I never trusted him. I still don’t.

Over the years, we kept in contact. There were breaks in communication – me being a hormonal pregnant mess before my miscarriage, him sleeping with my best friend and seeming to be in love with her- but we managed to stay in contact. He never changed his tactics. He stayed married, used me when he needed to, and I left when he was finished. No touching, rarely kissing, and absolutely no intimacy. You would think that would make it impossible to fall for him, right??

He’s the one I have mentioned before, first as the “Jerk,” and then as my favorite cock. He’s still both.

I honestly don’t know what happened. Part of me was resigned to my role in his life, as a side whore that he could use and throw away. I got a moment every once in a while to spend with a hot guy, and a nice cock. Even if I felt like a worthless slut.

I think the other part of me was falling hard. In the beginning, I was offered rare, very brief glimpses at someone behind the egotistical jackass I sucked off. He would play with his dog, or talk about his family. The glimpses became moments, and moments turned into evenings. Times when I wasn’t the pathetic whore, but something resembling a friend. This same part of me was an idiot and started subconsciously building a fantasy. One where maybe, just maybe, if I was good enough, if I did everything he asked, he would see how amazing I was. Maybe he would leave his wife, and I would get to see all the good sides of him. We would both be successful in our careers, travel, live life to the fullest. He would make me laugh, I would take care of him, and we’d have hot wild sex at any given time of the day.

It’s a struggle trying to sustain two totally different feelings about the same guy. Hate, and like. I know I don’t love him, but I’m in love with the idea of loving him. Getting to see him reap the rewards of his hard work and dedication, soaking in his infectious personality. And yet, I hate him for the way he’s treated me. The way it’s always a struggle to get a compliment, or his honest opinion.

Tonight, it all hit me. I’ve fallen for him, and I’m an idiot. We talked for a bit before his hard dick was sliding down my throat, and right then, while I was please him, I started crying. Thank god I was able to cover it up by deep throating. Watery eyes. He was so nice to me tonight. Coming as close to cuddling as he’s ever come, caressing my skin, teasing my pussy. Later asking me to stay the night… I couldn’t figure out what the hell was wrong with him – minus the fact that he had taken a few painkillers. Anyways.

As I came up for air, I almost stopped completely. Since when did I become a woman who is surprised when the guy she likes is nice to her?! A girl who gets excited about a simple peck on the lips, or getting a small smile from him? When did it become ok to freak out if he touched me gently, or showed any affection? And why in the hell have I let this go on for four years?!

I didn’t make him cum tonight, thanks to his meds. He wanted me to stay, but when I walked to his front , he never moved from the couch. I’m such an idiot. Falling for someone like him. It’s all a fucking game to him. Because he got the good looks, brains, and the like, he can have his pick of women. They’re replaceable to him. He only throws out the nice guy to fuck with my head. To play games and push buttons.

The hard reality of the whole thing is that even after so many years of trying to be someone he’d want to keep, I’m now seeing that I’ve been in a fantasy world.

I’m just a replaceable as the next girl.

Boom

Posted in Uncategorized on August 8, 2013 by Red Light Lady

Friend-Zoned. Again.

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If Only….

Posted in Uncategorized on August 4, 2013 by Red Light Lady

I would love to say that my experiences over the last couple of years have turned me into the woman I want to be. I would love to say that I have the ability to turn my attachment switch on and off at will, to lead men in a line, and then watch them stumble, trying to keep up. One of those cool females that can “have sex like a man,” with no attachment, no feeling, and no second dates.

I guess I have done that, quite a lot, in the past. I knew when to expect, or plan, a one night stand, and when to delete a contact. But when it comes to the men I had a soft – and very wet – spot for…. I still go weak at the knees.

I realized the other day, that as much as I tell those around me that I’m happily single, loving the unattached life…. I’m in sexual lingo. I’m not a “maneater,” with a different guy every night, or week, or at this point, even month. I don’t have a long list of gentlemen friends, and I find myself a third wheel, or tag along stag friend, on most outings these days. I’m also not the girl who has the man of her dreams on her arm. You know, the guy who can sweep me off my feet…. and pull my hair and bite my tits at the same time. ;)

I’m a helpless romantic, people. I can’t fight that fact. I have daydreams of being sent flowers, or a guy serenading me outside my window. I am so in love with the old romantic chick flicks, and their male heartthrobs. The guys who stand outside with a boombox, ride away on a lawnmower, race to stop a wedding, and kiss the girl out in the rain.

 

Good God… this whole not having sex thing is really fucking with my head. Someone stimulate my inner slut, please! She’s falling asleep over here….

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