If you combined the the no-nonsense style of Miranda Hobbs (Sex & The City), the wit of Kathy Griffin and the fiercely intuitive nature of Gregory House (House)..you've got Moxie

The Difference Between a Dick and a Cock.

tripod 300x225 The Difference Between a Dick and a Cock.

Guest Blogger Moxie on a distinction worth talking about.

It had been a long time since I felt that pull. You know the kind I’m talking about.  That feeling you get when you are inexplicably drawn to someone combined with that primal urge to wrap your legs around his waist and beg him to take you on the spot.

Jeremy wasn’t…bad. He just had an edge. Something I couldn’t pin point. He unsettled me. I think it had to do with his eyes. They were ice blue and deep set. When he spoke to me, I felt like he could see right through me. I didn’t like that. It made me feel too vulnerable.

We met at a bar, of course, where all sweaty, intense sexual relationships begin. He wore a tan suit with a royal blue button down shirt that brought out his eyes. At first glance he looked rather ordinary as he stood there against the bar surrounded by men dressed similarly. But then I saw a flash from his right hand as he reached for his beer. It was a silver ring he wore on his middle finger.  Not a wedding band. It looked like a tiny silver crown of thorns. Definitely not something you see on the hand of a banker or lawyer, aka the guys I never date.

When you do as much work in bars as I do, you get exposed to a lot of different men. It has it’s upside as well as it downs. Tonight’s outcome was undetermined. I walked up to the bar to chat with my friend who was tending that night. That’s when I saw it. It was a tattoo, or the top of one, peeking out over his collar.

He must have seen   as he started to rub his neck. “What…is there a spider on me?” he asked.

I walked over to him, somehow, filled ot the brim with a confidence I don’t usually have. I think "brazen" is the word I’d use to describe how I felt in that moment.

I pointed to his neck and told him I was trying to figure out what kind of tattoo he had.

“Did you get that in prison?” I asked as I approached him. Normally I’d have left several inches of breathing room between us. But something told me I didn’t need to, that if he wanted me to back up he’d just tell me.

“It’s funny you should say that..” he said. My stomache sank. An ex-con? A serial killer? Some white collar criminal on parole?

No. He was a cop. A detective, actually. And an ex Marine which explained his closely cropped light brown hair.

Ah. That’s it. Discipline. That’s what it was about him that so appealed to me.

We talked for a bit, he bought me a couple glasses of wine. Then he made his move.

“How about we leave?” he asked.

I had this feeling in my gut. It was fear combined with anticipation wrapped up in sheer lust. You know how, when you meet someone, you can just tell that the sex would be off the charts? Yeah. That’s how I felt. I knew it. I knew it just by the way he stared at me. And it wasn’t that kind of feeling you get when a guy decides you’re good enough for the moment. There was a connection. We were on the same page. He felt what I felt, and I didn’t for a moment wonder if he didn’t.

It didn’t take long for us to get to it once we got back to his place. There was small talk, of course, to be polite As we stood in his kitchen I felt as though we were circling each other like two lions sizing each other up, trying to determine when to strike.

He struck first.

I barely had time to put down my glass of wine. His kiss was every good as I expected it to be. He didn’t grope my body..he explored it. Being still the girl who didn’t see her first penis until her freshman year in college, I struggled to get his shirt off without tearing off buttons. My awkward attempt actually broke the ice. His pants, though, I undid just fine. I stood back and lifted my dress over my head. There I stood, in his kitchen, in a bra, panties and high heels. You see it in the movies and you think, “Ok..that doesn’t happen!” It does and it did. If I had any concerns that I was merely just a warm body or a wet hole that night, they were quickly dispelled as I saw him run his eyes over me. For so long I had been “a fat girl.” That was the first time since losing weight (40lbs) that I felt sexy again. Sexy like I did at 25.

We headed over to his bed and he lay down. I kicked of my shoes before climbing on top of him. Then I peeled off his black boxer briefs.

There are dicks and there are cocks. A dick is something rather ordinary that hangs there like the nerd at the high school dance wishing someone would notice them. A cock stands straight commanding attention. He had a cock.

The drool forming in my mouth at the sight was put to good use. I let it drip over the tip of his shaft and down the sides. I have a look of determination when I give head. I make it clear, from the beginning, who is in charge. He read my signals perfectly and put his hands behind his head. I could hear him groan slightly as I ran my tongue from the base of his cock to the tip, stopping to flick my tongue over the head a few times. Soon his hips were thrusting in time with how I’d pump my hand up and down his shaft as he took him down my throat.

Not wanting to come too soon, he pulled me off and up to him. Sometimes I need a little extra something something to get me revved up. Not tonight. I had been revved up since he ordered my first glass of cabernet.

I lay down next to him and slid my panties down. His fingers slipped inside me for a moment, teasing my clit. He reached across me to his night stand and opened a drawer. He rolled back to his side and ripped open the condom. As much as I hated to ruin the moment, I had to ask the important questions. Last test date? Three months ago and tests twice every year since when he served. One upside to teaching fellatio workshops is that you learn how to do “the check” for lumps and bumps and other possible issues. There were none.

Once his weight was on me, I felt a momentary flash of fear. Shit, I thought. What if this is so good I wanted more of it? I didn’t have much time to over analyze because I felt the familiar twinge of pain I feel whenever I have sex. Not a bad pain. Just a sliver. The good kind. I saw a look cross his face. Now it was his turn to worry. The benefit of not having sex for a really long time is how tight you become. Add to that how wet I was from the two or so hours of verbal and physical foreplay and, well, he was going to have a hard time holding back.

It’s not often a man can fuck you and kiss you in tandem without breaking his rhythm. Jeremy could. I could hear his breathing become labored as he tried to mutter various dirty things in my ear. At one point he stopped, apologizing and saying he wanted me to come first. I reached down between my legs and began to rub my clit in slight circles. When I was close I told him so,. not that he couldn’t tell from watching my stomach tighten and feeling the grip of my hand tighten on his shoulder.

“Now!” I said, begging him to resume his thrust so we could come at the same time.

He collapsed on top of me, out of breath. I could feel his heart beat through his chest.

I know enough never to try and have a conversation with a man after he comes. Instead I just let him lay there on top of me catching his breath. He slowly pulled up and then flopped back on his back. Then he staggered to his bathroom to do whatever men do when they go to the bathroom after sex.

Now comes the tricky part. Does he want me to leave? Should I ask? Should I just lie here? I rolled over to grab his phone off the nightstand so I could check the time. It was 2:30 am. I placed the phone back on the table just a second before he came back to bed.

“OK if I turn this off?” he asked, gesturing towards the low lit lamp next to his bed.

“Um..sure” I said.

He slid a pillow over and told me to lift my head. Ok, so he wants me to stay, I guess?

“That’s cool” he said. Whoops. Looks like I said that part out loud. I hesitated to say anything because I didn’t want to show my hand. Ask if he wants me to leave and I look insecure, or like I do this often enough that I know how this goes. Say nothing and endure a possible shut down until I get the hint.

I fell in and out of sleep until 6am. That seemed like a decent time to leave. I nudged him and told him I was heading out. We had exchanged numbers the night before. He asked if he could call me.   I knew it was a lie. That’s what we say in those moments, isn’t it? I smiled and said of course. He got up and walked, naked, to his front door.

Three days later, I got a text from him.

To be continued……..

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2 Responses to “The Difference Between a Dick and a Cock.”


  1. I really love girls with open mouths and discovered femaletongues.com which seems to be the best place for images of female tongues, pierced tongues, and sexy girls with open mouths.

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