Katrina
Perusing my recent entries you might think I’m a breast-man. I need to dispel this myth before it takes hold among the general blogging public. I’m actually an ass-man all the way. I also have a soft spot for pretty Jewish girls. It’s important to know these things.
We first met Katrina, a sweet Jewish beauty with a tight little ass and wonderful breasts, during the heady summer of 2001, when she was searching for couples willing to participate in a nude photography project. That was a long time before I began shaving my balls but I agreed to pose anyway. At the time our relationship with Katrina was purely professional—a single, sweaty afternoon spent making photographs under hot lights in Leslie’s apartment. Katrina had no idea we were freaks, and we had no idea she had a thing for us. I remember sitting naked on Leslie’s couch eyeing Katrina and thinking abstractly, I’d do her.
Nearly a year later Katrina responded to Leslie’s profile on nerve.com, having no idea it was the same girl whose fine ass she’d photographed. (Ironically, I had unwittingly sent Katrina a personals note a few months before this and gotten no response.) After a couple of emails back and forth, the girls recognized each other and we all excitedly made plans to meet. The first night all of us went out took on an air of fate as a simple rendezvous for drinks became dinner, then more drinks and finally landed us back at our apartment. Before I could even appreciate what was going on, Karen was lying on our couch, legs spread wide, as Leslie lapped at her sweet pussy. Katrina’s bush was nicely trimmed.
As a man in this kind of situation, your most natural thought is, can I get some of that? If you aren’t a complete ass, you find some method of entering the fray that doesn’t earn you a kick in the groin. I continued to admire Leslie’s diligent cunt-licking and cleverly perched my ass on the edge of the couch by Katrina’s head, my hips facing slightly inward and my right arm braced against the cushions. Almost instinctively, the girl placed her hand on my crotch and reached for my zipper. I felt my cock stiffen against the heavy fabric of my denim jeans. There’s nothing quite like that mixture of elation and arousal as you realize you are about to get your dick sucked by a girl you’ve never been with before. Slowly, inexorably, she undid my zipper, pulled back the elastic waistband of my boxer briefs and wrapped her full lips around my swollen member. “Cock and pussy,” she said lustily a few minutes later. “It’s the best of both worlds.” We moved to the bedroom, where I fucked both girls hard, holding my orgasm for Leslie.
Sadly for all of us, there would only be one more hot session. Things got strange. Katrina was overwhelmed by the whole thing. We were usually drunk by the time we began pawing at one another, and when we were sober it felt too awkward. Katrina had more of an emotional connection with Leslie, but liked having some cock around. I didn’t want her to be my whore—at the time I wanted a girlfriend for both of us. After an abortive night on the town we decided we couldn’t keep it up anymore. “I feel like I’m never going to see you guys again,” she said. Such a sweet girl. She was always Leslie’s favorite. I felt bad.
Feeling in the mood to mend old wounds, I broke the silence a week ago, and last night Leslie and I went to dinner with Katrina. Stunning as always, she had on a skimpy black top with a plunging neckline, so I went to great lengths not to stare openly at her cleavage. We flirted heavily. But it was different this time. Clear-headed somehow. “I’ve felt so asexual. I can’t even masturbate anymore,” she confided. I joked that we’d nurse her back to sexual health. She smiled and rubbed her arm against mine. Leslie and Katrina shared a sweet kiss. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing her again soon.
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