Blog 2

I was really pleased with my first attempt at a blog so after work I dashed round to Pippa's house to show her with a printed copy neatly folded in my handbag. It had, after all, been her idea in the first place and I sort of thought she'd be as excited about it as me.

So, we settled ourselves down at her dining room table with a nice cup of tea and I handed over the fruits of my labour.

Pippa has this little thing that she does with her mouth when she isn't entirely happy ... a small pursing of her lips that makes her nose twitch ever so slightly, and I've never told her about it because I've always enjoyed knowing a bit more about what she's thinking than she wants to let on.

There we're sat; Pippa's reading away, lips pursed and nose twitching as she shuffles through the pages until finally she reaches the end, slaps a huge fake smile on her face and announces:

"It's great."

"Really?"

"No, yes, it's really good."

"Pippa ... what is it?"

"Whadda ya mean?"

"You don't like it."

"No, I do ..."

She pauses the unsaid ‘but' left hanging in the air.

"Tell me."

She looks a little sheepish and then blurts:

"I thought I might be in it more."

Bloody, egocentric cow.

"But all we did together yesterday was have coffee and I did mention that ... I mean, I can't really just write a blog about you and me having coffee because nobody will read it."

"S'pose."

"What were you expecting? What did you think I'd write about you?"

"Dunno."

Her bottom lip is pouting sulkily now so I just stare at her, waiting her out, knowing that if I stay silent long enough that she'll eventually spit it out.

Silence.

Silence.

A huge sigh and ...

"I thought that you might like to write about some of the stuff we've done; you know, in the past."

Aaaahhh.

So, just for you Pippa, here's a blog entry about "stuff we've done; you know, in the past."

We're probably talking about six years ago. Before Pippa was with Jimmy full time, she had her own flat in town and every so often we'd have a girly night in ... sometimes there was a bunch of us but on this occasion it was just her, me, a six pack of Czech lager, a bottle of Sambuca, a couple of bottles of cheap wine, the biggest bag of toffee popcorn you've ever seen in your life and Brad/Keanu/Patrick or Hugh doing their stuff on the dvd player.

Not that we were really paying much attention to the tv ... mostly it was Sambuca shots with beer chasers and lots and lots of giggling.

But all good things must come to an end and even six packs of Czech lager run out eventually. Luckily we had a brainwave; we'd do Sambuca shots with wine chasers. We both liked Sambuca, we both liked wine, it was bound to be good.

Now, there is a possibility that by this point we were a little tipsy and that maybe our judgement was not quite as sharp as it could have been; certainly I remember being rather unstable on the short journey from sofa to fridge to collect the wine and then having to be sent back to find some glasses and then being sent back once again to go and get the corkscrew ... which certainly dates it because every bottle of wine I buy nowadays comes with a screw top.

So, I'm wobbling around in the kitchen trying to find the corkscrew. I've been in here a million times but suddenly I have no idea where anything is, and I'm going through drawer after drawer until ... eureka, there it is ... and sitting right next to it is this huge, black, double ended, dildo.

Well.

Heading back, I stop in the doorway in my best Miss World presenting myself to the judges pose; you know, sort of half turned with the heel of your right foot raised so that your thighs rub together and your right knee juts forward; raise both my arms aloft and shout out:

"Lookee what I found."

Left hand corkscrew, right hand huge dong.

Well, I don't know what I expected from Pippa, but a huge grin cracks across her face and she starts doing ‘gimmee hands' ... and I don't believe it was the corkscrew she wanted. I chuck the dildo across to her, slump down on my end of the sofa and set about trying to get the corkscrew out of the bottle; which proved to be far more difficult than it should have been mainly because Pippa is slurping noisily whilst doing her best impression of deep throating her plastic friend.

Eventually, I end up pushing the cork into the bottle and manage to pour us both a large one. We do a shot of Sambuca, chase it down with our wine and I refill our glasses and all the while Pippa's waving the dildo at me ...

"C'mon."

"What?"

"Take it."

"Why?"

Suddenly, despite the alcohol coursing through my bloodstream I'm a little bit scared about what's going to happen next and what it is Pippa expects from me.

"Take it."

She swings it again and this time I grab hold of ‘my' end and so there we sit at separate ends of her sofa, a wine glass in one hand and the double ended dildo hanging between us ... both physically and metaphorically. Pippa cracks a grin, dips ‘her' head into her wine and starts giggling:

"C'mon scaredycat. Show me what you got."

Then she's on it; her tongue swirling around the huge bulbous head, caressing up and down, stretching her lips wide and slurping it deep into her mouth as she licks and sucks it clean of the sheen of wine before dipping it once again into her glass.

And then were both at it; at opposite ends, divided by 18 inches of plastic cock, licking and sucking and dribbling; wine coating our chins and trickling down onto our chests, our mouths stuffed full of soft, suck able plastic, our hands sliding up and down its shaft spreading the wine down its length until it glistens in the lamplight and somehow it stopped being silly. Somehow it became erotic.

I could feel it heavy on my tongue, my lips closed softly about it, my wine slick hand slowly, sensuously corkscrewing along its shaft as I pull it deeper into my mouth. My eyes are open looking down its length watching Pippa, slightly flushed, eyes closed, hair falling forward to half cover her face as she bobs her head deeper and deeper onto her end, her mouth spreading impossibly wide as she slurps another centimetre behind her lips. I'm entranced, fascinated, mimicking her actions with my own mouth, sliding my tongue along its underside and feeling its head start to nuzzle against the back of my throat. I close my eyes, concentrate on the steady flow of air through my nostrils, and ignore the warm, dampness spreading between my thighs and the dribble of saliva or wine that trickles down my breastbone. Slowly, with delicate hands I feed another couple of millimetres into my slack jawed mouth, and feel it slide a little further down my well lubricated throat.

And that could be that; the end of my story. Pippa and I sat on her sofa slurping on plastic cock but I think that both you and I know there is a little more to tell.

With my eyes shut and a nice warm plastic lollipop to suckle on, I sort of lost track of time and place and it was only Pippa's gentle tugging on the thick cock between my lips that brought me back. Slowly, I opened my eyes to find Pippa kneeling before me, her fingers slowly unravelling my own. I bit down on my new plastic friend determined that she wasn't going to take him away from me without a fight.

"Please, I need it."

Her voice was trembling and pleaded so nicely how could I possibly refuse. I let my mouth fall open. Tiny shudders ran through my pubis as she slid it out across the sensitised softness of my tongue leaving me wet and dribbling.

Carefully, Pippa crawled back to her end of the sofa cradling her dildo in her hands, both ends sparkling from the thin film of our saliva. She settled herself on the cushions, fixed her eyes on mine, held my gaze, planted one foot on the floor and set her other knee against the settee's back.

Gypsy skirts were ‘In' that year and all the fabric that usually danced and floated around Pippa as she walked now collected on the sofa between her widespread thighs. Slowly, making absolutely sure that she had my complete and undivided attention, she reached down with her free hand, found the hem and started to inch it further and further up her perfect, tanned thighs until eventually her entire skirt was bunched in her lap.

And so I watched. I watched the slow descent of the dildo. I watched my saliva hanging from its thick head. I watched it disappear beneath the folds of Pippa's skirt. I watched her eyes shut, her breathing become heavy, the rise and fall of her breasts trapped beneath her t-shirt, the steady slide of the dildo between her thighs, the quivering of her belly and the tensing of her shoulders. I watched as her mouth fell open, as her face reddened, as the steady slide became harder and faster thrusts, as her whole body started to jerk at the mounting tension and I watched as Pippa's orgasm exploded across her body.

And it was only then, that I actually wondered why Pippa had a double-ended dildo and why was it in a kitchen drawer?

And that, Pippa, will have to be that for today because I really am out of time. Hope you enjoyed it.