The Joy Of Sex

VIII. Interlude: 

‘He who is not contented with what he fucks, would not be contented with what he would like to fuck.’

Anonymous

The Rag-Doll was loony in the most possibly pleasurable way. The day I saw her for the first time will remain forever etched in my mind.

She glided into the Agency, her presence an explosion of eccentricity that sent my jaw crashing to the floor. Blond hair styled in a classic French bob, a faux mole perched enticingly upon her cheek, and a lace choker added a touch of whimsy to her ensemble. Platform boots, the height of fashion, gave her an air of ethereality, while Charleston trousers and a man’s wool jacket (on a naked top if you could imagine) whispered of rebellion and individuality. Yes, indeed, this was the Rag-Doll, a creature of contradictions, a symphony of flamboyance, and the source of endless fascination.

She had come to the Agency seeking some marketing services, a mission that seemed strangely incongruous with her flamboyant persona. Yet, her presence was captivating, her conversation a whirlwind of wit and charm, and I found myself utterly stunned by this enigma in human form. 

When she departed, I lingered for a moment, my thoughts about pervert sex with her flittering like butterflies in my head. But no more than 30 seconds after she was gone, I dashed out the door, just in time to catch a glimpse of my father. His hands clutching his head in a gesture of utter despair, his lips silently forming a single, emphatic ‘Don’t...’. But excellence in fucking has nothing to do with chance. It is always the result of high intention, sincere effort, and intelligent execution.

I intercepted her on the street, my heart pounding like a drum solo in my chest. With a mix of nervousness and determination, I invited her to join me for a coffee. To my astonishment, she accepted, her smile radiating warmth and intrigue. Our coffee date marked the beginning of an enchanting courtship. I sensed that she, too, had been captivated by my presence, her willingness to engage in my advances a testament to an attraction that was as undeniable as it was exhilarating.

One unforgettable night after a few days of coffee and pleasant conversations, I was driving her towards her house with Eleanor. When on a whim we decided to stop and make out in the car, parked at the back wall of the city cemetery. As we were kissing and hugging, she turned to me with a playful smile and said, ‘Let’s go inside the cemetery. It’ll be so exciting.’ 

Half past midnight, 12 of December, full moon. Exciting indeed. 

With hearts pounding and anticipation bubbling within us, we slipped through a rickety gate and ventured into the labyrinthine alleyways of the cemetery. And our first fuck was there - her back pressed to a tombstone, one leg up in the bend of my elbow and my naughty cock inside her. The wind whispered through the skeletal trees, casting eerie shadows that danced and twirled around the ancient tombstones. The moonlight, like a ghostly spotlight, illuminated the scene with an otherworldly glow, casting an air of mystery and unease. And I banged hard and she moaned hard and what the poor restless spirits hanging around must have felt - I still have no idea.

Until the present day, thirty years later, I think that this holds the crown for my weirdest sex ever. It was cold, creepy, absolutely forbidden and she was hot, wet and willing and when I ejaculated I threw sperm over her tights and on the tombstone. And as the wise Plato had said; ‘You can discover more about a person in a minute of fuck than in a year of conversation.’ 

Rag-Doll wasn’t naturally blond, her eyebrows were black, and she was plump with big, soft tits, and a perfect fat bottom. By this time I had finally begun to understand the simple yet fundamental truth about feminine beauty - if it jiggles, it’s beautiful. And she had not a single hair on her body. It never ceased to amaze me how she achieved this. Оn her body she didn’t even have that fine fuzz that almost all humans have. As if her skin was rubbed with pumice like those high-born Roman matrons I had read about.

She was the most precious sex treasure an unorthodox fucker like myself could find. In order to create even the slightest impression on you, I will labour to tell you as many stories as I can summon from the dusty closet of my memory. 

She was every second of the day ready for a thrill. Some nights we ventured into a neighbourhood known for its unsavoury reputation and fucked in the car, the overhanging sense of danger added a special piquancy. I remember at least two incidents when we broke intercourse (my cock was erect and her pussy dripping) and made a hasty escape with a wild screeching of tyres. Because some people approached the car with visibly unhealthy intentions. 

One glorious night we deliberately went on the highway for a thrilling sex game. There I gave Isabelle full throttle till Rag-Doll did me a sophisticated blowjob. Isabelle was indeed a fast car and I remember how I squirted in her mouth screaming, while the road ahead seemed to become narrower and narrower. 

One fairy tale afternoon (I swear swarms of golden butterflies fluttered their tender wings in fragrant rosy mist.), she was sitting naked on the armchair at my place, finishing one of my masterpieces, a Crepe Suzette. When inspired no doubt by the beauty around (and not by the hash as you probably think) I told her, ‘Doll I am feeling a little bit tense, would you do me a blowjob to relax?’ 

She swallowed the last bite of the crepes, licked her lips and answered smiling, ‘Shure!’ 

So I took my anticipating cock out of my pants and she grabbed it and put it in her eager mouth. She sucked it with obvious pleasure and when I cum she swallowed the sperm and asked concerningly, ‘Are you better now?’ 

One night I’d whipped up another of my killer dishes - wild bass with baby leaks, morel mushrooms, swimming in chardonnay and butter. After we devoured it (thanks to the generous chardonnay pairing), we hit the sack for some porn goodness. We got captivated by one quite dramatic anal intercourse performance. Rag-Doll was practically analyzing the actor’s every rip and roar. By the time the performance ended, we were deep in an acting debate. So, inevitably I asked, ‘Hey Doll, ever thought about trying anal fuck?’

She considered the offer for a moment and then shot back, ‘Five bucks.’ 

‘What?’ I coughed my wine over my chest, ‘But Doll…’ 

‘If you want anal fuck,’ she interrupted me, ‘you must pay me five bucks!’ 

‘But Doll…’ I stammered, ‘… It sounds like paid sex… this is unnatural.’  

‘Five bucks!’ She was adamant. 

So with а acquiescent sigh, I took my wallet, found five bucks and gave them to her shaking my head in desperation. She smiled happily and nimbly turned her gorgeous fat ass to me. After some time of contemplation of this nature’s marvel, I opened her butt-cheeks and there it was a light pink anus. So clear as if no shit has ever come out of there. I can even swear that I caught a gentle whiff of roses coming from it. 

Gents, as fuckers we have to dare to be ourselves, however frightening or strange that self may prove to be. So led by the same impulse that defined all my life I licked her anus. Great Mother Goddess, she started shrieking and immediately got wet. So I smeared generously butter (this is what was available on hand) on my cock and slowly penetrated the tight pink circle. I had my first unforgettable anal experience thanks to the prominent Deirdre, but this performance now was something much, much better. Unlike Deirdre, who as I recall was as still as a statue, Rag-Doll was actively involved in this intercourse, moving and writhing and shaking and setting the pace which was magnificent and even better than what the actors had shown on the screen. Since then, every time we delved into the sweet sophistication of anal sex, no matter who initiated it, she insisted on her five bucks. Weird beyond comprehension.

The sun blazed down upon the drowsy summer afternoon, casting long shadows that stretched lazily across the floor. Within the cosy confines of my study, Rag-Doll and I basked in the afterglow of a satisfying late lunch, the remnants of our beach adventure still lingering in my mind. I played with her nipple, my fingers as nimble as a magician’s. My other hand was gently squeezing her fat ass. Just then the phone rang breaking the moment and I put it on speaker. It was my father.

Let me tell you about my dear Dad. He was the Last of the Mohicans of his hard-working generation. He was always trying to walk in every business field with the vain thought of being recognised as a self-made wealthy man. The Beach had preoccupied my mind enough, so I avoided the unnecessary business distractions. But my father claimed that women, fine arts, and gourmet food of which I had a particular fondness since childhood would not help me much in becoming an honourable man. Please do not misunderstand, I deeply love my father and respect his hard work and business genius, but his constant efforts to turn me into a decent man cause me a slight frustration. Because I believe that there is no need to try to make a better man from someone who is already perfect.

‘Charles,’ He started without any preamble. ‘I’ve finally unravelled the mystery of your business ineptitude. Your mind is compartmentalized into two distinct halves—one captivated by the allure of women, the other infatuated with the exquisite pleasures of gastronomy, rendering you incapable of focusing on anything else.’

Rag-Doll sat up on the bed intrigued which allowed me to slide my palm between her thighs and start tickling her pussy.

‘Father, I implore you to reconsider,’ I countered, ‘First and foremost, I believe in women, my oh my, they make the world a better place to live. Secondly, I am sure that there’s a woman in the world, who’s strong and she’s wise, she’s got the power to set our spirits right. And thirdly, but not by any means least, the woman isn’t just a woman, she is a fighter, a survivor, a queen. Regarding gastronomy, who am I to contradict the old and wise Aaron? “I love you, food, you make me feel so good.’’

Rag-Doll giggled silently and began massaging my balls.

‘Upon further deliberation,’ my father conceded, ‘I would amend my hypothesis. Your mind is divided into three distinct segments - one enamoured with the enchanting world of women, one enthralled by the symphony of flavours and textures that define fine dining, and the third captivated by the refined essence of fine wines and spirits.’

‘But, Father,’ I interjected and with a grin of lecherous satisfaction, attempted to enter my index finger into Rag Doll’s vagina. But she swiftly twisted her body and stood upright beside the bed out of the reach of my hands. ‘Allow me to regale you with some quotes from the philosophical lore that show the vital importance of wine and spirits. First, even a stout old-fashioned gentleman like you must be aware of the wise words of Pliny the Elder: “In wine there is truth.” Secondly, how could you disagree with someone like Galileo Galilei? “Wine is sunlight, held together by water.” And thirdly, but by no means least, the revelation of no other but Robert Louis Stevenson himself: “Wine is bottled poetry.”  Considering the spirits, the simple truth delivered eloquently from Mrs Nelson: “Whiskey river don’t run dry...” is more than enough.’

Until I struggled to give Dad meaningful intelligent answers, Rag-Doll that vile creature turned her back to me, bent herself in a mock bow, opened her juicy butt-cheeks with her fingers and began to demonstrate a gaping anus.  

With a sad chuckle, my father acquiesced, ‘Very well, then. Your mental compass is indeed divided into four distinct quadrants—women, food, wine, and art.’

‘Indeed, Father, a…’ Distracted by this gaping asshole, which I must confess, was indeed a marvellous picture, I managed to affirm with a flourish, ‘Allow me to enlighten you. Firstly, art is a way of waking up the soul to the presence of beauty. Secondly, art is a language that speaks to the heart. And thirdly, but not least, the purpose of art is to wash the dust of daily life off our souls. There is no greater gift if a mere mortal’s existence is enriched by the appreciation of art, the savouring of culinary delights, and the companionship of captivating women. Such pursuits far surpass the mundane pursuit of material wealth.’ 

In order to achieve some semblance of justice I licked my index finger abundantly and pointed it to this insolent gaping asshole but the treacherous Rag-Doll was still out of reach.

‘Perhaps you are onto something, Charles,’ my father added, his voice dripping with irony, ‘Perhaps the true measure of a successful life lies in the cultivation of refined tastes and the pursuit of intangible pleasures. Especially when someone else is responsible for accumulating the same material wealth so needed for such a gilded life.’

At this juncture, while attempting to suppress a fit of giggles, Rag-Doll committed the grave error of underestimating the precise distance between us, and my rapacious finger found itself passionately tusked into her so-desired asshole. She stifled a gasp of surprise and to my utter astonishment began shaking and twisting her ass with my finger inside.

‘I wholeheartedly agree, Father,’ I declared, ‘And I shall strive to embody this philosophy throughout my days.’

The unsatiable Rag-Doll keeping my finger in her ass bent and started licking gently only the tip of my bell end. 

My father chuckled sadly, ‘Well said, Charles. I am glad to see that your priorities are indeed in order. And who knows, perhaps one day, especially when the money dwindles down, you will find a way to monetize your passion for women, food, and art. After all, there is a market for everything, I hope.’ and closed. 

I stood there, immersed in deep contemplation, my forefinger dancing languidly into Rag-Doll’s ass, my cock poised gracefully between her lips. 

As you can plainly see, I am nothing but a hapless victim, the plaything of greedy, debauched females, one constant impediment in my quest for enlightenment and self-improvement. How pray tell, could I transform myself into a worthy man a true pillar of society as my father so desperately desires, when there are always one or two, sometimes even three such women lurking about, demanding artistic fucking and emotional sustenance? 

With this line of sad thoughts, I cum vengefully into Rag-Doll’s mouth, sucking my index finger. She gulped the sperm thirstily and then tweeted with a naughty smile, ‘Five bucks if you please! It is considered anal!’ 

Do you see, this is what I am trying to tell you all the time. A Shakespearian tragedy is this life of mine.

Remember chaps, you can’t become the fuckers who you want to be because you’re too attached to the fuckers who you have been. Because of this profound knowledge, I began fulfilling my erotic fantasies. To break the shackles of the past and to upgrade – you see. One such was to be fucked on the New Year’s Eve at 12 o clock exactly. 

So at the New Year’s party, which of course took place at the huge mansion of one of the agency clients, I bid a temporary farewell to the merry company and took the trembling from sweet expectations Rag-Doll to a room with a magnificent roaring fireplace. There I slowly and with greatest delight undressed her, leaving only her stockings and garters for a lovely erotic touch. After that, I grabbed the most expensive handmade Belgian chocolate I had managed to buy from the little dressing table where it had already melted and smeared it all over her pussy and ass. Then I invested a sufficient amount of time licking her because a lady must be properly clean before fucking as I hope you are aware. After the completeness of this indeed sweet task, I elegantly stuffed my eager cock into her squelching hot pussy and we fucked playfully yet vigilantly, so I managed to cum happily on her tits amongst the thunderous noise of the fireworks. 

Another of my innermost longings was my birthday sex feast. 

When the date approached Rag-Doll asked me sincerely intrigued what I had in mind for such a festive occasion. 

I said, ‘Doll, honey I mastered a splendid plan. To venture to a place that possesses supreme beauty, to indulge ourselves with possibly the best foods and drinks and to fuck as much as we can.’ 

She giggled and mocked me shamelessly, ‘It sounds like every given day of our relationship.’ 

‘It will be different!’ I promised though a tad pained. 

The preparation of the amuse-bouches took almost two days, and acquiring the perfect drinks followed suit. Once everything was meticulously arranged, we loaded coolers, chaise longues, umbrellas, tables, and the like into the trunk of one of Jery’s 4x4s and set off for a secluded wild beach. Upon reaching this postcard-worthy marvel of nature, the first order of business, of course, was to shed our clothes. Because I firmly believe that if you want to merge completely with Nature’s beauty you must be naked. Then in comfortable nakedness, we built our cosy camp and I stepped on the sand near the sea spreading my arms as if to embrace the whole Nature and asked Rag-Doll to smear my entire body with sun lotion. She did it slowly and tenderly, emphasizing exactly where it was most needed, namely on my balls, cock and ass. 

Chaps it was glorious, naked under the sun on a stunningly beautiful deserted beach, gently kissed by the sea breeze, and tenderly caressed by willing hands… Then I asked her permission to do the same with her. And I did it in the same lustful way, highlighting the same so important places.

Then we settled under the umbrellas, started tasting the delicacies, and drank the chosen wines leisurely. When the happy thrill engulfed me I stood again at the line of the sea in the same pose as before and sang triumphantly the ode for my willy, ‘And there it rises…’

Rag-Doll kneeled in front of me smiling and did me the longest blowjob ever, till finally, I cum with sincere gratitude in her mouth. 

Then we proceeded with the second course, drank the appropriate wines and smoked some damned good weed. In a state which I couldn’t describe otherwise than “gently smeared”, I lay on the towel and invited Rag-Doll to sit on my face backwards, because I was craving greatly to lick her. But I threatened her with the most unimaginably cruel punishments under no circumstances and in no way to touch my cock. I must admit that I very much liked to lick her like that, with my nose in her ass. She received her deserved orgasm and we stepped on the sand again where I bent her in the waist and took her from behind banging as hard as I could under the approving warm kisses of the sun.  She had one more, quite a remarkable orgasm and I cum pleasantly on that fat, shacking bottom. 

Then we lay in the shade and indulged in sweet slumber. The unburdened freedom of sleeping outdoors naked, satiated and fucked is something you must taste yourself, otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to understand it. 

When we woke up refreshed, we drank freshly brewed coffee. Obtaining Kopi Luwak is easy, but brewing it properly on a deserted beach proved to be the most challenging task of all our holiday preparations. Then we savoured the exquisite desserts – namely, To’ak Chocolate Truffles and Yubari King Melon Sorbet – and drank aged single malt – namely, GlenDronach 21 Year Parliament – in comfortable silence.

When I felt the well-known thrill again I began squeezing her plump body until I produced a lovely erection and with a generous amount of sun-lotion I penetrated her candy-pink asshole for the final glorious fuck in the fascinating hues of the sunset.    

Doesn’t it sound like a fairytale?  What a fool to let her go, right?  Well, youth is wasted on the young, as they say. Back then, I was delusional and thought I needed more excitement.  Big mistake!  In reality, she turned into a real handful, insanely jealous over nothing.  So, I did the unthinkable – I dumped her. It sounds surprising, but this was actually the first time ever I ended a relationship. In my whole life, there have only been two.