My Four Favorite Freaky Ways to Fuck by slick_chick

A literotic sexstories: My Four Favorite Freaky Ways to Fuck by slick_chick ,

Have you ever wondered what it’s like to be an oversexed female in America? How about one who just happens to be in a long-lasting, loving relationship with a guy who is even more oversexed than she is? Well read on, and I will candidly share with you a small glimpse into some of the most intimate parts of my unique sexual relationship with my better half.

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Author’s Note:

Those of you who have already read some of my other stories posted at this site may recognize specific passages in this story. In writing this story, I have chosen to make use of several excerpts–either copied over verbatim, or in most cases, edited–from other stories that I have already written. I felt like there was no need for me to “reinvent the wheel,” just so that I could share this particular facet of my life story with you.

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My Four Favorite Freaky Ways to Fuck

by slick_chick

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From the time I had my very first menstrual cycle, all the way up until the time that I finally reached menopause (I was in my mid-40’s when that “less-than-pleasant event” happened), I had always felt like I was a true freak-of-nature. Like something was “wrong” with me. I had no idea why I always craved sex so much. But I couldn’t deny the fact that I did.

And I realized that I was a “sexaholic” at a very early age. But due to the fact that I was growing up as an oversexed female in the United States of America–with its deeply-ingrained Puritan cultural roots–I was left with no other viable choice, but to live a double life.

God, I was one horny little bitch! I pretty much stayed in a horny state most of the time. Of course, nobody really knew this, but me.

Since I happened to be born as a female, I have always had the natural tendency to keep my much-stronger-than-average sex drive repressed and well-hidden, because I wanted to be thought of as being a “nice girl,” instead of a “wanton slut.” And in the United States, it has been my personal experience that a post-pubescent girl automatically gets labeled as being either one, or the other (by both her male and her female peers); and that this behind-the-back, black-or-white, blanket categorization is bestowed upon girls and women in direct response to the level of sexuality that they outwardly display.

But I was also always on the lookout for those “special times” when it was safe for me to “let the tiger out of its cage,” so to speak. And that can be taken both figuratively and literally, since you could think of “the tiger” as being my hairy pussy, and “its cage” as being my cotton panties.

And that’s just the way that things were–and had always been–for me, ever since I was a young girl. And I’m positive that there are a lot of you oversexed women out there in America who must feel close to the same way that I did. Let’s face it. I knew that I wasn’t the only oversexed female in this country. And therefore, I couldn’t possibly be the only one who went through this kind of double life stuff.

I feel that I need to mention here that being an oversexed woman is not the same thing as being a nymphomaniac, even though they are both forms of female hyper-sexuality. According to one Internet-hosted dictionary, “Nymphomania is characterized by recurrent sexual intercourse with different male partners, promiscuously and without falling in love (but not as a paid prostitute or call girl).” Therefore, I did not fit the definition of a nymphomaniac, because I was in a monogamous, loving sexual relationship for years with my live-in boyfriend, who would later become my husband.

I suppose that the best way for me to start my story is from the beginning. I was born in 1953 into a lower middle class Hispanic family of Mexican origin. But I don’t look Mexican-American at all (in spite of the fact that the rest of my immediate family definitely does). Instead, I look like I’m European-Caucasian.

Throughout most of my childhood I was a tomboy, in every sense of the word. And I had been a nightly bed-wetter for as far back as I can remember. I was also a very rebellious child.

I’m not sure exactly when the oversexed part of me actually started to “kick in.” However, I do remember that throughout my early childhood, my mother was always chiding me and ordering me to stop playing with myself, because I had a natural tendency to reach down between my legs and hand-massage my crotch, right in front of other family members. I even did it when I was out in public; which I am sure was an on-going source of frustration and embarrassment for my mother.

Looking back on my younger years, I can identify two distinct pivotal events that were very influential in the development of my unique sexuality.

The first pivotal event took place when I was only 11 years old. It took the form of me having my very first period and reaching puberty.

That “totally unexpected event” scared me half to death! I had no idea what was happening to me at the time. All I knew was that my pussy was bleeding; and that no matter what I did, I couldn’t get it to stop bleeding. I thought I was literally going to bleed to death. I kid you not.

And to make matters even worse, when I frantically ran up to my mother and told her what was happening to me down between my legs, her response was to roughly grab me by the upper arm and drag me along with her into the bathroom. Once inside, she closed the bathroom door, quickly wet down a washcloth under the sink faucet, shoved it into my hand, and sternly ordered me to “deal with it,” as she was leaving the bathroom and then closing the bathroom door behind her. And by the way, “deal with it” was the only thing my mother said to me in the bathroom that day.

The next thing I knew, while I was naked from the waist down and busy cleaning up my pussy with the damp washcloth, the bathroom door all of the sudden opened up just wide enough so that my mother could stick her forearm through the door opening to quickly toss an already-open package of feminine napkins into the bathroom, before she yanked the bathroom door shut again.

Mind you, my mother didn’t even show me the common courtesy of knocking before she opened that bathroom door. Nor did she ever bother to tell me later what a menstrual period was, or explain to me why I was having one. As you can well imagine, to this day, I do not have warm fuzzy feelings when it comes to my own mother.

Perhaps, the worst part of all this was that the feminine napkins that my mother gave me simply didn’t do the trick for me. You see, I have always experienced extremely heavy periods, and my very first period was no exception to this. In fact, it ranks as being one of the heaviest periods that I have ever had. And to me, it seemed like I went through what was left of that box of feminine napkins in a heartbeat.

So I went back to my mother–because frankly, I really didn’t have anyone else to turn to–and I told her that I was going through those napkins like crazy. And she gave me her personal box of tampons, and told me use those, instead of the napkins. And so I did.

And thankfully, the tampons worked as advertised, and finally stopped me from bleeding like a stuck pig. Of course, I first had to read the instructions on the side of the box to figure out how to actually go about using the tampons.

Once again, keep in mind that I was only 11 years old, and that this was my very first period ever, and that I was forced to resort to using tampons up inside of my virgin vagina in order to control my super-heavy menstrual flow. At the time, I still had absolutely no idea why my pussy had all of the sudden started bleeding in the first place. Nor did I have a clue about why my pussy just kept on bleeding over the course of the next five days, before automatically stopping on its own.

The reason why I listed this first-ever period of mine as being a pivotal event in my sexual development is that, before this pivotal event took place, I would normally focus my attention on my own pussy for just a few minutes at a time. But once this pivotal event got underway, my own pussy seemed to be the only thing that I thought about for five whole days straight.

And even after that first-ever period of mine was finally over with, I still continued to focus my thoughts on my own pussy much more frequently, and for much longer periods of time–which naturally led to my previously-innocent, childhood genital explorations “magically” transforming themselves into adult-style, orgasm-oriented masturbations.

And for several years after I had gone through that unnecessarily-traumatic, first-ever period experience, I continued to remain very naive and innocent for my age.

Back in the 1960’s, there were no school-sponsored sex education classes for me to attend. And for all practical purposes, the Internet didn’t even exist yet. So I was pretty much left to learn about sex on my own, from wherever I could find the information. And thanks to my strict Spanish Roman-Catholic upbringing–in conjunction with my two parents, who steadfastly refused to discuss things like “the birds and the bees” with me–I lived a very sheltered life, and therefore didn’t have much access to that kind of information.

Then one day, out of the clear blue, an older boy named Freddy came along and taught me more about sex in 15 to 20 minutes, than I had managed to learn throughout my entire life, up to that point in time. And that was the second pivotal event that took place in my life, back when I was a young lady.

Here’s a quick synopsis of what happened that fateful day:

On a hot and sunny Sunday afternoon, Freddy unexpectedly cornered me in a small bathroom at his and his mother’s house (which just happened to be located out on the back yard my own family’s house). And then he sexually molested me for an extended period of time, before he finally raped me.

And I didn’t do anything to try to stop Freddy from having sex with me. I didn’t try to talk him out of it. I didn’t put up a fight, or scream for help, or try to run away from him.

Instead, I cooperated with Freddy the entire time, as I was letting him take my virginity. In fact, to be honest with you, I actually did a lot more than just “cooperate” with Freddy. But that’s a whole other story, and one that I have already written about in depth.

Looking back on everything, I can honestly say that, without Freddy, I know I wouldn’t be the person that I am today. My single, unexpected sexual encounter with Freddy in the bathroom that Sunday afternoon ended up drastically changing the very core of my sexuality. And it permanently altered my sexual desires and preferences to this very day, naturally causing me to become a huge fan of rape-fantasies; as well as pure, raw, animalistic-style sex (in other words, the same kind of sex that Freddy and I ended up having together in the bathroom that day).

Despite the fact that I was merely cute-looking, and definitely not gorgeous, I went on to have a string of boyfriends throughout high school, and during my first year at college. By this point in my life, I was definitely a girly girl (I especially loved wearing mini-skirts with sheer pantyhose underneath), and so I no longer looked or acted like a tomboy. But I also wasn’t a “goody two-shoes” either. I did my fair share of French-kissing and mutual body-groping with my boyfriends.

But outwardly, I always played the role of the “nice girl” who had a reputation to keep. And I let every one of my boyfriends know up-front that I was a virgin (liar, liar, pants on fire!), and that I wanted to avoid having sexual intercourse until I got married, and let my groom fuck me on my wedding night.

However, the real truth was that, once I became sexually excited enough while making out with my boyfriends in the back seat of a car, my rational mind would go right out the window, to be quickly replaced by my living-in-the-moment state-of-mind, where it really didn’t matter to me how “far” my boyfriends went with me. In fact, thanks to my adolescent sexual intercourse with Freddy in the bathroom, I yearned to feel a guy’s dick–and especially his sperm–in my pussy so badly that I could hardly stand it.

Ironically, none of my boyfriends ever “took advantage of me” during a date. But it wasn’t because I ever did anything to try to stop any of them from fucking me. Instead, it was simply because I always fell hard for the “really nice guys.” The kind of guys who don’t date-rape their girlfriends in the back seat of a car.

I became a college sophomore in the fall of 1972. At the very beginning of the fall semester, I met the love of my life. In this story I’ll be calling him “Ray,” which is not his real name. Ray was a freckled, red-headed, Scotch-Irish man who would become my husband many years later. Within a month after we first met, Ray and I started dating, and we quickly fell in love.

Within a little over a year’s time, I had moved in with Ray, and we began living together.

And for several months, Ray continued to “honor my wishes” and avoid having sexual intercourse with me, despite the fact that we were sleeping in the same twin-size bed together, and having sex at least four or five times a week.

Then one afternoon, after Ray had eventually gotten so sexually frustrated that he just couldn’t wait any longer, he finally went ahead and fucked me. Of course, Ray assumed that he was taking my virginity that afternoon. And so I acted as if he had, even though I knew the real truth.

From that day forward–and at my insistence, mind you–Ray and I began having sexual intercourse as an integral part of our lovemaking. And after we had begun fucking like rabbits, we naturally became more and more intimate with each other.

At first, Ray and I tried using condoms (in conjunction with spermicidal foam) for birth control. And then later, we tried using a diaphragm. But for various reasons, none of that kind of external birth control stuff worked well for us.

Fortunately, that turned out to be a true blessing in disguise, because that’s what made me finally decide that I needed to get on The Pill. And after I had started taking that little birth control pill every morning, our sex lives–along with our level of intimacy and honesty with one another–almost-instantly rose to a whole new dimension.

Long before I ever got on The Pill, I already knew that Ray and I had a lot in common. Just like me, Ray had a mother that he didn’t get along with, and a father who he absolutely adored. And we both liked the same types of music, and books, and movies, and television shows. And we both enjoyed doing the same kinds of things together. So in Ray’s and my case, the much-touted “opposites attract” rule of romantic relationships definitely did not apply. In fact, Ray was always kidding with me about me being the female version of him.

But after I got on The Pill, I quickly discovered that Ray and I actually had a lot more in common than I could have ever imagined. For instance, throughout his childhood–all the way up until the time that he finally hit puberty (at around age 10 1/2)–Ray had been a nightly bed-wetter, just like I had been. But most importantly, I found out that Ray was definitely oversexed, just like I was. And of course, that helped to make me a great match for Ray, since I had always had an unusually-strong sex drive for a female.

Once I had gotten on The Pill, it didn’t seem like a day would ever go by without me having at least one fresh wad of Ray’s sperm in my pussy. And that was because Ray and I both treated sex as simply being another natural need that had to be satisfied, just like hunger and thirst.

In fact, shortly after I got on The Pill, sex quickly became a daily routine for us, in much the same way that eating breakfast was. Of course, having sex with Ray tended to be much more exciting than eating breakfast was.

Ray and I used to wake up in the late morning hours, and after taking turns going into the bathroom to each take our morning piss, we would get right back into bed together and have sex. Just like other normal human beings, Ray and I both tended to prefer having sex on an empty bladder.

And in this situation, our lovemaking would usually be pretty “vanilla”(with nothing weird or out-of-the-ordinary taking place between us). In other words, Ray and I would both get in the mood by passionately French-kissing and hugging each other. And of course, we would take off any remaining clothing that we still had on (nightshirt, T-shirt, jockey shorts, panties, etc.)–except for our socks, if we happened to be wearing any at the time.

Then, we would naturally move our lovemaking into the foreplay phase, where we would each fondle and play with the other person’s bare genitals. And then sometimes, I would end up sucking Ray’s dick, or he might eat out my pussy, or we might even “69” with each other for a while. It all depended on our moods at the time. And at other times, Ray and I would just jump directly from bare genital fondling to having sexual intercourse.

The mornings have always been my favorite time of day to fuck. Because after I got out of bed and hit the shower, I could go about the rest of my day, knowing that my vagina and my cervix were coated with my lover’s sperm. And that thought never failed to brighten up my entire day.

By the way, whenever Ray would fuck me in the mornings, he would inevitably do it missionary style, because Ray knew that that was my all-time favorite intercourse position. And, as fate would have it, it also just happened to be Ray’s favorite intercourse position too.

And there was a very good reason for us both preferring the missionary position over other sexual intercourse body positions. It had to do with our orgasms; and more specifically, our respective abilities to orgasm.

Early on in our relationship, Ray had admitted to me that he had always found it very difficult for him to achieve an orgasm while he was lying on his back. So he naturally preferred to have intercourse in a stomach-down body position, or in an upright body position (while he was sitting, kneeling or standing up).

On the other hand, I had always found it easiest for me to orgasm when I was lying on my back; and almost impossible for me orgasm when I was lying on my stomach. That’s why I have always masturbated while lying on my back, and naturally preferred to have intercourse in a missionary style position (with me on the bottom, and my lover on top).

But don’t get me wrong. I didn’t have any problem orgasming when I was down on all fours, and having intercourse in a doggie style position. However, most of the time, I still preferred to be lying on my back during sex. It was just a much more submissive type of body position, and it was precisely those feelings of total submissiveness and vulnerability that really turned me on during sex.

Okay. Now it’s finally time for me to start getting a little weird on you. So, without further delay, here is the list of my four favorite freaky ways to fuck:

1) Piss-fucking

2) Porn-fucking

3) Fast-fucking

4) Cerebral-fucking

In the labeled sections below, I will describe for you in detail each favorite freaky way to fuck, and exactly what it entails.

Piss-fucking

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Every so often, I would wake up in the morning with my pussy already nice and wet, thanks to one of my very erotic “rape fantasy” dreams. I would reach over into Ray’s crotch and start playing with his already-erect dick (his morning hard-on) to wake him up. And he would naturally respond by reaching over into my bare crotch, and then instantly discovering that my blood-engorged pussy was already super-wet and “ready-to-go.”

In this situation, Ray and I would both skip going to the bathroom before having sex–and also skip foreplay entirely (we wouldn’t even bother kissing each other)–and we would just couple up in bed and start fucking, with both of our bladders full. And it wasn’t uncommon for Ray to intentionally force his fully-erect penis to pee inside my vagina a little bit (usually doing it in several small, controlled spurts), in order to relieve some of the pressure in his bladder first, so that he could derive much more pleasure from our intercourse, as well as from his later ejaculation.

Mind you, Ray never emptied the entire contents of his bladder into my vagina. His erection always naturally prevented him from being able to do that. In fact, I could tell that he had to really struggle just to release the few little spurts of urine inside me, that he did.

And believe it or not, I didn’t mind Ray peeing inside me like that. After all, during intercourse in this situation, thanks to my own overly-full bladder, I couldn’t help but release little spurts–or sometimes even larger bursts–of urine all over Rays dick and balls while he was humping away at my pussy.

Not only that, but for me, there was just something very taboo and extremely exciting about my allowing–and yes, even verbally encouraging–Ray to “go to the bathroom” inside my vagina.

And after we were finished having sex, Ray would always have to go into the bathroom and take his morning piss to finally empty out the rest of his bladder. And of course, I would always have to do the same thing myself.

However, one morning, out of sheer curiosity more than anything else, I asked Ray if he wanted to try “something completely different,” using my best Monty Python-esque British accent.

And of course, Ray said that he was game.

So I suggested that Ray should try to take his morning piss inside of my vagina (completely emptying his bladder inside me; instead of fucking me, like he normally would).

And the next thing I knew, Ray was on top of me, mounting me with his morning hard-on. And with his penis buried up to the hilt, he began to squirt multiple little spurts of urine into the back pocket of my vagina. And each time that I would feel him squirting out a little spurt of urine , I would respond by doing the exact same thing.

As you can well imagine, the mood remained very jovial and light-hearted throughout the little “piss wars” that Ray and I were having with each other’s coupled-up genitals.

Oh yeah. I forgot to mention that, whenever Ray was peeing inside me like that, my vagina always felt “ticklish” to me. Perhaps, “ticklish” is not the right word for it. But I don’t really know of a better way to describe the unique vaginal sensations that I would inevitably experience. All I can say is that Ray’s peeing inside me always made me fidget around underneath him a little bit, and also naturally caused me to giggle and laugh a lot.

And as Ray kept on intentionally pissing inside of my baby-making hole, his previously-rock-hard dick began to soften up a little more, until he was finally able to release much larger amounts of urine during each spurt. And he seemed thrilled when I copied what he was doing, as I was peeing all over the base of his dick and his balls in large spurts.

And pretty soon, Ray’s circumcised penis was barely firm enough for the perpetually-exposed head of it to stay inserted up into my vaginal opening. At that point, he began peeing in a fairly-steady stream, just like he would into a toilet bowl. And of course, I followed suit.

And before everything was said and done, we had both managed to empty our respective bladders, right there on top of the bed.

(By the way, I would later get up out of bed, and discover that Ray and I had left an enormous “wet spot” on the bed sheets. Our “record-setting” wet spot had to be several feet in diameter!)

“Now you can fuck me, if you want to,” I offered, grabbing hold of Ray’s flaccid wet penis, so that I could playfully fondle it. “That is, if you can manage to get it up again,” I added very sarcastically.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, little lady,” Ray replied, just as sarcastically, as he quickly moved to kneel between my spread thighs. “You’re definitely gonna get fucked. And I’m gonna make you cum your ass off, too! Now why don’t you pull your pussy open and show me that sexy little clit o’ yours?”

I immediately placed one hand on each side of my pussy mound, dug my fingertips down in between my two inner labia, and pulled my urine-soaked pussy crack apart to hold it wide-open. And in the process, I made sure to retract my long, narrow clitoral hood to expose the dark-reddished-colored, glistening, pea-size head of my still-erect clitoris, just like Ray had requested.

“You mean, this clit?” I coyly asked, ever-so-gently tapping the tip of my index finger against the head of my clitoris, and at the same time, causing myself to involuntarily wince with each little tap against my hyper-sensitive clit-head.

(At this point, I knew exactly what Ray was getting ready to do next, because he had done this many times before.)

“Yeah, that clit,” Ray said, as he placed a thumb on either side of his dick-head, and pulled back on it a little bit to open up his normally-closed piss-hole slit, making it look like a small circular hole. Then he carefully guided the very tip of his dick up against my clitoris, actually inserting the entire head of my clit down inside of his urethral opening, before holding the head of his now-rapidly-stiffening dick pressed firmly up against my pubic bone.

Ray liked to perform this unusual sex act on a regular basis. It was something that always seemed to mentally excite him a lot. Of course, I would be lying if I didn’t admit that it was also a mental turn-on for me too. After all, it’s not everyday that a girl gets to see the end of her clitoris disappear down inside of a guy’s penis.

After a little while (once his penis had become erect again), Ray finally pulled his dick-head up off of my clitoris, so that he could rub the head of his dick up and down along my pussy crack a couple of times, before he finally stuck it back up into my fuck-hole, and we both began humping away at each other.

And of course, I eventually did orgasm my butt off (just like Ray had predicted), while he was busy unloading his wad of sperm all over my pee-contaminated cervix.

Piss-fucking never failed to turn me on. But my second favorite freaky way to fuck turned me on even more than piss-fucking did. And that was porn-fucking.

Porn-fucking

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Pornography had always played a major role in Ray’s life. Long before I had ever met Ray, he had already managed to amass a large collection of pornographic “men’s magazines” (Hustler, Penthouse, Playboy, etc.). And I was also aware of that small, ever-changing “stash” of men’s magazines that Ray kept hidden in the back of the cupboard, underneath the bathroom sink vanity. And so of course, I knew that Ray was using the photos in these magazines as “visual masturbation aids” whenever he was in the bathroom, jacking himself off in private.

And believe it or not, that was just fine with me, because I knew early on in our relationship that, for Ray, pornography was not a luxury. It was something that he felt that he had to have in his life–and that was no different than the way that he felt about me.

Ray would even proudly show me the “dirty pictures” from his men’s magazines every so often. I can only assume that he did this in an attempt to try to get me turned-on. But the porn photos didn’t really sexually excite me that much–at least, not to the same extent that they excited Ray.

In 1977 we bought our first VCR, and Ray hooked the VCR up to the modest-size, 20-inch color television in our bedroom. This TV was located on top of our dresser, facing the foot of our bed, so that we could easily watch TV shows while we were lying side-by-side in bed, with our heads propped up on pillows against the headboard.

And a few weeks later, Ray went out and bought his first 5 or 6, full-length porn movies, which took the form of VHS video tapes. And he did this without telling me.

Then one afternoon, while we were lying in bed together, feeling out each other through our clothing, and getting in the mood to have sex, Ray told me that he had “a big surprise” for me. Then he turned on the TV, and hit the “Play” button on the already-running VCR, to show me a porn video scene that he had secretly cued up in advance.

I’ll never forget it. It was a scene that featured two fairly-attractive women. One was a tall, California-style, bleached-blonde lady with long, straight hair, parted right down the middle of her head. The second woman was a slightly-shorter brunette with bob-cut hair, who had been blessed with a pair of small-but-perfectly-formed breasts. In other words, she just happened to have the kind of breasts that I had always wished that I could have on my own chest.

And in this scene that was taking place right in front of me on the TV screen, the blonde and the brunette were already naked and having hardcore, lesbian-style sex together. All I can say is that nothing was left to the imagination. It was pretty much like being right there in the room with those two porn “movie actresses.”

I had never witnessed anything quite like that before. And at first, I protested, by closing my eyes and turning my head to one side, and telling Ray that I didn’t want to watch the porn video with him. And I even threatened to get up off the bed and leave the bedroom, if he didn’t stop the video playback immediately.

But Ray begged and pleaded with me to give the porn movie a chance first, before I passed judgement on it. He basically told me things along the lines of, “Come on. What do you got to lose? Try it. You might just like it.”

And so I reluctantly turned my head back towards the TV screen, and I forced myself to watch the lesbian sex scene that was being graphically played out on the TV screen in front of me.

At first, I found the porn video to be pretty disgusting and distasteful.

But after a few minutes of watching the porn scene, my whole perception of it drastically changed. I was so intrigued and mesmerized–and also completely shocked–by what I was witnessing, that I didn’t want to look away from the TV screen for too long.

However, I did glance over at Ray for just a moment. And I saw that he was lying on his back, right beside me on the bed, and openly fondling his erect penis, while he was intently watching the lesbian porn scene on the TV, and hardly paying any attention to me at all.

Believe it or not, that was quite a turn-on for me. It was obvious to me that Ray was fantasizing about having sex with at least one–if not both–of the two women in the porn scene. And up until then, Ray had never openly masturbated himself in front of me like that.

Whenever we had sex together, Ray’s attention was always focused on masturbating me and making me cum, just like my attention during foreplay was always focused on pleasuring Ray just enough to keep his penis erect, but not enough to actually make him cum (before he ever got the chance to fuck me, if he wanted to–which, by the way, he almost always did want to).

I could feel my clitoris starting to tingle. And before I knew it, I was lying on my back, with my legs spread apart. And I had my hand stuck down between my thighs, and I had begun massaging my panty-covered camel toe, right in front of Ray.

And just a few minutes later, I had the crotch of my panties pulled all the way over to one side, as I was diddling away at my bare hairy pussy, “rubbing one out” right in front of Ray, for the first time ever. And I was doing it in the exact same way that I would, if I were masturbating in private. And, as you can well imagine, my panties didn’t stay on very long, either.

At that point, the fact that I viewed myself as being a totally heterosexual woman made absolutely no difference at all. Just watching and listening to those two naked women in the video “go at it,” as they were eagerly licking and fingering each other’s wet pussies, got my own pussy sopping-wet really fast.

And as I continued to masturbate, I even began fantasizing about what it would be like to actually have sex with the women in the video. And that caught me totally off-guard, because I never realized that I had those kinds of lesbian feelings pent up deep down inside of me. Of course, I would never act on them in real life.

But I was “hooked on porn” from that day on. I discovered, much to my surprise–and initial embarrassment–that I absolutely loved watching porn videos.

Compared to the static photos of all the naked bodies, and the tits, and the pussies, and the dicks, and the balls in Ray’s pornographic magazines, seeing those same types of things “come alive” on the TV screen (to perform various sexual acts, right in front of my eyes) was a totally different story. Porn videos turned me on so much, that I had a very hard time believing it, at first.

At least two or three times a week, Ray and I would get together–almost always in the late afternoons–for the express purpose of watching porn videos together. And we would always openly masturbate ourselves right in front of each other, while both of our eyes usually remained glued to the TV screen most of the time, as we watched the porn movie performers “doing their thing” in front of us. Keep in mind that Ray and I did this in addition to our having intercourse just about every morning.

I have to admit that the porn video scenes that turned me on the most, were always the ones that featured the more-taboo types of sex acts, like gay and lesbian sex, any kind of threesome, full-blown orgies, and especially interracial/inter-cultural sex; which I liked a lot, because I related to it very well, since my own relationship with Ray was an inter-cultural one.

Not only that, but the very first penis that I ever have had up inside of my vagina was Freddy’s. And Freddy’s long dick was so dark-skinned, that it looked like it could have easily belonged to a black guy, instead of a Mexican-American. So it only made sense that I would find it to be a very gratifying and cathartic experience for me to watch a black guy fuck a white woman in a porn video.

And of course, Ray knew that I loved porn video scenes that showed those more-taboo types of sex acts. And so those were the very types of scenes that he would cue up for us to watch together. And he would always try to surprise me, so that I couldn’t easily guess what type of porn scene he was going to show me, the next time around.

But no matter what types of porn scenes we were watching together, we would both eventually end up naked from the waist down–if not also naked from the waist up, as well–lying on our backs, side-by-side in our bed, with each of us openly masturbating our bare genitals right in front of one another.

And once I had diddled my own clit, and fingered my G-spot, and finger-fucked my own vagina for a long enough period of time to give myself at least one “lady-quake” (a strong, squirting/gushing type of orgasm)–if not two or three–I would automatically assume a doggie style body-position on top of the bed, with my head facing the television and my butt sticking up in the air, which would let Ray know that I was ready for him to mount me doggie style.

(I already told you that Ray’s and my favorite intercourse position was missionary style. But our second favorite intercourse position was definitely doggie style.)

And then, Ray would get up on his knees and calmly mount me from behind. And he would fuck me doggie style–usually at a super-slow, very relaxed pace–while he continued watching whatever porn video scene that was taking place in front of us on the TV screen at the time.

And neither of us would say a word to one another the whole time, until after Ray had finished fertilizing my vagina, and finally pulled out of me. Either that, or sometimes Ray would pull out of me, and then cum all over my pussy crack. Or he might cum all over my ass-hole and butt cheeks. Or he might even cum all over my lower back. In this particular situation, how and where Ray decided to ejaculate his sperm was always up to him, and not me.

I can’t even begin to describe for you what a huge turn-on it was for me and Ray to fuck in such an impersonal way. I might as well have been bending over in a public restroom somewhere and “presenting myself” to some total stranger’s erect penis, so that he could fuck my vagina through a small “glory hole” in the wall. That’s kind of what it felt like to me.

In other words, whenever Ray would fuck me doggie style while we were watching porn video scenes together, I knew that what I was really doing was passively letting him use my vagina to pleasure himself in whatever way he wanted to, without any regard for my own feelings or desires.

And thanks to my unique sexual preferences, that thought–in and of itself–was an incredible turn-on for me. Let’s just say that my pussy never failed to stay sopping-wet anytime that I was letting Ray use my vagina to selfishly get his own rocks off during one of our porn video watching sessions.

By the way, I later discovered, quite by accident, that if the audio level was turned all the way down on a porn video scene, so that I couldn’t hear the soundtrack at all while I was watching the video, the scene lost at least two-thirds of its “turn-on factor” for me.

In fact, I easily got much more turned-on by simply closing my eyes and just listening to all the sexy sounds (the dirty talk, the heavy breathing and panting, the orgasmic “oohs” and “ahhs” and screams, the wet pussy sounds, the sloppy oral sex sounds, etc.) that were coming from whatever porn scene that happened to be playing on the TV at the time. And more often than not, that was exactly what I did, whenever I was passively letting Ray fuck me doggie style to get his rocks off.

And just for the record, I quickly learned that masturbating in front of someone else is not the same as masturbating alone.

Once I had gotten hooked on porn videos, and I had managed to become very comfortable with letting Ray watch me openly masturbate myself right in front of him, that still didn’t stop me from masturbating in private. And I still felt the need to keep my own private masturbations hidden from Ray.

In addition, our on-going shared porn video masturbation sessions didn’t stop Ray from continuing to jack himself off in private, either–something which he continued to do just about every night, right before bedtime.

As exciting as porn-fucking was, my third favorite freaky way to fuck ended up taking things to a whole new level.

Fast-fucking

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I can’t even remember all the “quickies” that Ray and I have had over the years, in a variety of public and semi-public places. All I can tell you is that there sure were a lot of them.

In Ray’s and my case, the term “quickie” doesn’t really do it justice. It would be more accurate to call it the “super-quickie” or the “fast-fuck,” because that’s exactly what it was. It was a true “wham bam thank you ma’am” type of copulation.

The fast-fuck was one of my favorite sex acts that Ray and I performed together, probably because it exposed me for the wanton slut of a sperm-whore that I really was, deep down inside. The fast-fuck was pure, raw, animalistic sex. And that was exactly the kind of sex that turned me on the most. There was absolutely no romance–or any other type of exchange of affection (no kissing, hugging, etc.)–involved with Ray and I having a fast-fuck.

Ray almost-instantly became a true master of the fast-fuck, once we started having them together. I’ll swear, whenever that man put his mind to it, he could make himself orgasm at the drop of a hat. Ray had the uncanny ability to be able to whip his flaccid penis out of the front zipper of his pants, fondle it to get it erect within about 30 seconds, and then slide it up into my vagina, so he could make a few quick thrusts, and then ejaculate inside me in less than 30 to 45 seconds after he had mounted me.

Believe it or not, our average fast-fuck never lasted more than about 1 to 2 1/2 minutes, at the very most (from start to finish). And that meant that Ray and I could fuck just about anywhere we wanted to, without getting caught. And so we did.

And don’t think that Ray was the only one who got any pleasure from our having a fast-fuck somewhere; because thanks to my unique sexuality, I always ended up enjoying it just as much as–if not more than–he did.

Whenever Ray was initially pulling his dick out of his pants and fondling it, I would be doing whatever I had to in order to quickly expose my pussy for him to use. Then I would diddle my clit, while I watched him skillfully manipulate his own penis, in order to quickly get it erect. And I would usually also intentionally release a very-controlled, small spurt of urine into my pussy crack, just to help quickly get me wet and well-lubricated for what I knew was coming.

But of course, the taboo nature of our whole “rapidly-getting-ready-to-fuck-in-a-public-place” situation never failed to automatically–and very rapidly–raise my level of mental sexual excitement to a super-high pitch. Let’s put it this way. By the time that Ray had managed to make his penis become fully-erect, my self-diddled clitoris would inevitably be in a fully-erect state, too.

Once Ray had unceremoniously mounted me, and was humping away at my pussy, I would usually just close my eyes and enjoy the short-but-intense “ride,” knowing that I would soon be well-rewarded for my cooperation with Ray. And that was because, whenever I would feel Ray’s penis beginning to orgasmically pulsate deep inside my vagina, that never failed to cause me to spontaneously orgasm, right along with him.

By the way, that spontaneous orgasm on my part is something that just always automatically takes place whenever my vagina was being fertilized by any guy’s penis–even Freddy’s. And I’m not exactly sure why I have always reacted that way during sexual intercourse. But my best guess is that it’s just the way that I was physically “wired,” in conjunction with my own unique sexuality.

The bottom line was that I would always inevitably end up orgasming during a fast-fuck, and thoroughly enjoying the intercourse itself, just as much as Ray did–if not even more. And I’m pretty sure that’s not a normal reaction that most women would have to a fast-fuck. But then most women aren’t oversexed like I am, either.

And that brings me to my fourth favorite freaky way to fuck. It’s something that I like to call “cerebral-fucking.” And in my opinion, cerebral-fucking is by far the most challenging and erotic way that two people can fuck.

Cerebral-fucking

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Okay, so what the heck do I mean by the term “cerebral-fucking”?

Well, I’m glad I asked.

It means that you first couple up with your lover in whatever intercourse body position you choose to use, with your lover’s erect penis buried as deeply inside your vagina as possible. And then, you both intentionally keep your bodies (which of course, includes your hands, arms, legs and feet) as still as possible, and your eyes closed the entire time, while you’re using your mind (your own sexual fantasies) to gradually raise up your level of mental sexual excitement to the point where you actually cause yourself to orgasm, without either of you having made any genital thrusting motions whatsoever.

Yeah, I know. I didn’t think it was possible either–until it I actually did it myself.

It happened during the first time that a condom ever broke while Ray and I were having intercourse, which was only the third time that we had ever had sexual intercourse together.

After we had gotten over the initial shock of discovering the broken condom wrapped around the middle of the shaft of Ray’s dick, and the long strings of gooey sperm that were spilling out of my freshly-creampied vagina, we went ahead and fucked two more times that same day (virtually one right after another, without using any form of birth control at all), figuring that the damage had already been done, and that we might as well go ahead and enjoy ourselves. After all, Ray had already accidentally unloaded a whole wad of sperm deep inside of my totally-unprotected vagina, right up against my cervix.

The second time that Ray fucked me that day, he didn’t last long at all, maybe just a couple of minutes at the most, before he unleashed his second wad of sperm deep inside me–doing it on purpose this time.

But during our third intercourse session that day, Ray fucked the crap out of me, relentlessly humping away at my pussy for what must have been at least 15 to 20 minutes or more (it seemed to me that he really had to struggle to achieve that third orgasm of his), before he finally pumped out yet another load of his semen directly into the back pocket of my already-sticky and gooey baby-making hole.

Afterwards, my pussy was feeling pretty raw and sore, and so was Ray’s dick. But later that same evening, Ray was still feeling so horny that he wanted to fuck me one last time. And after I agreed to let him fuck me one last time, without us using any birth control, he’s the one who suggested that we should try “thinking ourselves to an orgasm,” since he claimed that his dick was simply too raw and sore for him to be thrusting it in and out of my pussy, like he normally would during intercourse.

To be honest with you, Ray’s suggestion sounded kind of crazy to me at the time. But it also sounded like an intriguing challenge, to say the least. So I was eager to give it try, if for no other reason than to see if I really could “think myself” to an orgasm.

And although it did take me a while to initially build up my sexual excitement enough, it turned out that I actually could “think myself” to an orgasm.

(Looking back on everything now, I don’t really know why I was so surprised by the fact that I had the ability to “think myself” to an orgasm, because I knew that sex researchers had always claimed that sex is actually 90% mental and only about 10% physical.)

In fact, while Ray was coupled-up with me, I managed to keep myself at such a high level of mental sexual excitement, that I was able to make myself cum more than once.

And Ray eventually ended up making his fourth deposit into the back vault of my vaginal sperm bank that day, without him ever having to thrust his penis in and out of my sore vagina at all.

Ironically, that turned out to be one of the most intense and erotic sexual experiences that Ray and I had ever shared together, up until that time.

And ever since then, whenever Ray and I had raw, sore genitals from fucking too much (or too vigorously)–or we just happened to be feeling tired and horny at the same time–we would just go ahead and couple up deep. And then we would lie there quietly, with our eyes closed, and cerebral-fuck (actively fantasize) until we orgasmed.

By the way, this self-imposed body-stillness during cerebral-fucking doesn’t mean that you can’t use the muscles in your vagina to intentionally squeeze and massage the shaft of your lover’s fully-inserted penis. And of course, your lover can intentionally expand and contract the head of his otherwise-stationary penis deep inside of your vagina (up against your cervix) too, if he so desires–which he most likely will. The important distinction here is that, during cerebral-fucking, there is absolutely no intentional pelvic rocking or genital thrusting involved for either of you.

The bottom line is that cerebral-fucking is pretty awesome. So why don’t all you horny couples out there give it a try sometime. You might just surprise yourselves.

And if all you horny women out there really want to up the ante (mental sexual excitement-wise), you can do like I did my very first time, and try cerebral-fucking your lover while you’re both intentionally not using any form of birth control.

Just don’t blame me if you guys end up getting pregnant.

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