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Search Term Erotica II

I was telling a good friend of mine about the crazy search terms people have used to find my site – as you know, I’ve spotted some very interesting ones in the past. ^_~

After seeing the wonderful search term erotica that I’d written a few months ago, he decided that he wanted to try his hand at writing a story too! So I sent him my list of wacky terms that real people just like you (well, maybe not just like you) have used to find my blog and he sent me the following story [everything in blue is searched terms]:

My latex pants get slippery when I get aroused.

If it wasn’t the weirdest thing either of us had ever heard on a first date, it had to be close. Then again, this wasn’t your typical first date. Shelly and I had been planning a threesome for some time now, but only recently found the courage to actually post a profile on an adult matching site. We were eager to have our first group adventure together, but we weren’t sure about Gina’s profile. At least she could spell, unlike the “swete latin pussy” that was into “water faucet masterbation” and Gina wasn’t primarily interested in selling us her used panties. On the other hand we weren’t sure about someone who listed her hobbies as finding creative ways for a female to masturbate, (I like girls that masturbate girls, but is it really a hobby?) trying to figure out what angle makes sex look the best (this kind of self-consciousness during sex makes me wonder if she’s the type to put “i’m waiting for you” captions on her home vids), and waxing balls (I’m alright with shaving your balls and figure you should at least keep things trim, but I draw the line at back sac and crack waxing for men – on the other hand it might mean she’d have a bare pussy wax of her own… I’m not ashamed of my double-standards). All these doubts were cast aside when we came to the pictures of Gina in her latex pants. Shelly gasped and said “I bet those have been the cause of more than a few great looking penises.” “Mine’s already improved”, I joked. Shelly checked for herself, which I suppose means our relationship with Gina started before she ever knew about it.

So here we were, with Gina sitting across from us. She wasn’t wearing the latex pants today, but I had no reason to be disappointed. What she did wear fed into another of my fantasies: sexual pictures of girls in gym workout clothes. In my more fitness-obsessed youth, I’d imagined installing a sex gym in my house when I got older. (It was supposed to combine exercise with fucking… I’d even designed a homemade fleshlight fuck machine to be abused while using a universal machine, and a lovedoll using balloons. Of course, this was also during a time that I spent lot of energy trying to increase size, kegel ninja-style – nobody had told me that kegel exercises were more useful if you wanted to tighten your pussy muscles. Some things just aren’t covered in health classes. There were other benefits though, that helped my reputation in college.)

Returning to Gina’s attire, she had just left a yoga class and was still wearing her tight lululemon pants that left even less to the imagination than the latex did. She also wore a loose sweater over what I imagined to be an equally tight sports tank that showed off her fantastic breasts… I’d spent a lot of afternoons masturbating to the thought of horny sweaty girls at the gym, and thoughts of Gina in a downward facing dog… well, suffice to say that it’s a good thing Shelly has more self-control ‘cause I wasn’t conversational anymore. Judging by the number of increasingly irritated women in the room, I’d guess I wasn’t alone. I bet a survey of their male companions would have revealed more than a few sweaty cocks.

Then again, those guys didn’t know the half of it. They weren’t privy to the same conversation I was. Returning from my reverie (which found its way through yoga, hentai cats, and tentacle sex on its way to a roomful of sex fairies screaming “stick it in my ass, please stick it in to one particularly hot sex fairy with a strap-on sally) I overheard Shelly say “how do you masturbate?” in a tone that suggested Gina had just rejected the more usual methods as being uninteresting.

“Two words for you: firefly lubricant.” She said it loud enough that it elicited an audible moan from the guy at the nearest table. The look on his date’s face reminded me of my first girlfriend’s response when she asked if I wanted to make out and all I could think to say was “do young high school girls suck cocks as part of petting?” Not my best moment – that day the answer was no, though later I’d find answers I liked better.

“Firefly lubricant?” I tried to sound like I’d been listening to more than three seconds of the conversation. The bemused look on my companions’ faces made it clear I wasn’t fooling anyone. “One of the best sexual enhasers [sic] I’ve ever used. My sister told me about it – she’s precocious for a 20 year old. It’s not bad for making men reach orgasm either,” Gina winked. “It’s sort of like those tingly lubes you can get that are a little bit minty. It’s got a little special kick, though…. and it glows in the dark.” Her description reminded me of a product I’d tried once, but due to the consequences of shaving pubic hair it wasn’t an experience I looked forward to repeating. Shelly looked interested though. “Next time I’m looking for interesting things to do while masturbating, I’ll have to give it a shot.”

“Speaking of which… how often do girls masturbate? And more importantly, how long has it been for you two?” I interjected. Mature conversation about sexual behaviour was interesting enough but I wasn’t here for platonic friendship, nor was Shelly. We’ve been together a long time, and I can tell when she’s getting hot and trying to hide it. In fact, I bet her own mind had wandered to thoughts of exhibitionist sex, candy, sex toys making a pet catgirl cum with a woody dildo, and maybe a little catboy bondage (what can I say? Some girls like cats more than others).

They both laughed. “We better be careful Gina”, said Shelly. “If we keep this up, Leo might be tempted to just go next door and watch the girls masturbating in sailor suits.” The strip club next door was having a “support the troops” night, promising a lot of military themed lasciviousness. I had made a joke about being in the Navy. I chuckled and said, “I’m more of a ‘girl masturbating outside’ kind of guy.” “And a ‘women masturbating with household items‘ kind of guy”, added Shelly, alluding to an event that made our hands smell like maple syrup for hours. “You’re making Gina think all I am is a voyeur,” I objected. “Don’t worry honey, we’ll let you play too” Shelly replied. “In fact, I can’t overemphasise the importance of teamwork in this case,” Gina said with a smirk.

I laughed and said “Alright then, coach. Is this a home or an away game?”

“Well, that’s more subtle than ‘your place or mine’, at least. Keep your balls cool for a bit while I powder my nose.” She replied as she rose.

“Oh Gina, please don’t indulge his analogies or he’ll have us in spot [sic] uniforms,” pleaded Shelly.

Gina smiled as she wandered away, both Shelly and I watching her hips sway and remembering the latex pants shots that made her ass the focus. It’s nice when profile pics don’t lie. I sighed. “I bet she’d look good in my new bikini,” said Shelly, more to herself than me. I laughed “The two of you would make for some great bikini vacations, maybe enter a few beautiful bodies contests?” I reached across to eat the last of her brownie, before she smacked my hand and said “hands off my chocalate. Besides, haven’t you heard that sex is a replacement?” Gina arrived before things got anymore violent, so I pinched Shelly lightly and said “Well, if we don’t head out soon I’m going to be looking at cold shower girl masturbation videos all night.”

Conversation in the cab to Gina’s apartment followed in much the same vein: creative pubic shaving, shaving tips for girls areas and shaved balls prevalence; female vaginal fluid taste; the role of the octopus in Japanese myth, and a shared affection for being penetrated by tentacles; goofy porn phrases like “spunk on my face” and “blow me hard”; impossible dildo penetrations; is there an average vagina; a debate about whether or not it was possible to have too much ejaculate; men who don’t ejaculate; and an in-depth consideration of that age old question “is masturbation ok at 50?” (The answer of course is “after masturbating over 50 years, why in hell would you stop?”) Gina also announced, rather loudly that one of her clit triggers was shaving cock spots. The most interesting conversation, though, surrounded the question “do any Catholics masturbate?” during which I proved that the answer was yes, although the question of the Pope is still open. The cabbie didn’t appreciate the experiment, but he got friendlier when we left him a rather large tip.

Gina’s apartment seemed singularly designed for ‘entertaining’. Books with titles like Explore My Vagina – a helpful guide including chapters like “Can you get a yeast infection from a dirty sex toy?”, “I can’t cum with my partner”, and “Hair growing from inner labia” and a consideration of whether or not women had an equivalent to blue balls (pink balls?), Female Fabulous, and Russian Hotties: A Photo-Montage lined her shelves. Her walls were decorated with abstract art that on closer examination included a masturbating teddy bear, an ad reading “chocolate cock looking for Japanese women wanting sex on Prince Edward Island”, stretch vaginas, and a series entitled sex positions for great sex over 40. On the coffee table was something called a clit toothbrush (I made a note to test it later) and replica female vaginas (which made it clear that there is no such thing as average).

A glass of wine later our careful planning bore fruit (the threesome for those who’ve forgotten). The playful question “do girls have horny spots?” led to much mutual exploration (and confirmation that Gina was indeed pube less). Then Gina quietly pulled out an enormous dildo and asked me coyly “is your cock smaller than mine?” It is, but far more responsive which we all agreed was important too. Upon this followed a more mature and sophisticated ‘vagintners tasting’ in which we compared the vaginal fluid taste of two vintages, one Italian and the other cultivated in New Zealand. (The bouquets, while pleasant, confirmed that nobody’s vagina smells like flowers.) Shelly and I were delighted to discover that we’d no longer be at a loss as to how to find girls that masturbate with their eyes open, and Gina and Shelly introduced me to the pleasures of a talking blow job (Sports fans – imagine two girls taking turns giving a play by play. I highly recommend it – particular swapping between Italian and Kiwi accents.) Then finally I was able to simultaneously fulfill both my athletic wear fantasy and my fantasy about women wearing knee high socks while having sex. Gina’s wardrobe was very flexible.

After so much pleasure overload, I needed a rest. The girls amused each other with a little kiss vibrator until they were properly exhausted. We all rested in each others arms for a while until Shelly jumped up and declared “This is an above-average cock day for you. You should post your penis to Let me get my camera.” Gina laughed and said, “That’d be one sexy post. Someday I’ll catch my little sister porn-surfing that site. She’ll ask ‘how do they make those huge penises?’ and I’ll answer ‘They don’t. I do.’”
All in all, it the best first date I’ve ever had, even if the latex pants never did get slippery.

I hope you all enjoyed that special treat from the amazing Mr. Cellophane. ^_^

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