More than one kind of correspondence going on here. SD, you are really something..
===============
We close the door behind us. My eyes are like saucers, a quiet smile on my face that belies the nervous anticipation I'm feeling. Wondering what mistreatment you have in store for me tonight.
You ask me if I have to go to the bathroom. I shake my head. No.
You have me strip naked. Ask me if I've noticed you've tidied the room. The side table that I was bent over on Tuesday night as you raped me has been cleared of all objects. You pull it out from the wall, grab me by the hair, and force me back into the familiar position. I put my head to one side, my cheek against the cool surface, and breathe out a sigh of relief, my whole body melting in submission. My Daddy, in charge. All control relinquished to him. My body and mind completely surrendering. I crave it. I never realised how much I craved it until now. I can already feel myself getting wet.
You open a drawer and pull out some cord. You kick my legs apart and lash my ankles to the table legs, then bind my body firmly to the table top, so I'm unable to move. My arms, however, are free. I wish you had tied my wrists behind my back. Gagged me. Blindfolded me. Like the dirty little slut that I am. Next time.
My ass is now at your mercy. You proceed to violate it with a variety of objects - your fingers, an Njoy plug, your cock. You grab a handful of my hair as you rape me. I let out a guttural groan and gasp, "fuck me Daddy, fuck me". You stop abruptly, I'm obviously enjoying it too much.
You leave me there for a minute or two. I can hear water running. You return and I realise it's time for my beating.
You start with your bare hand. It connects with the flesh on my backside with a loud smack. It hurts already. I don't know how I'm going to last. But I am determined to test my limits. To take whatever you want to dish out. Each smack is followed by a gentle massage over the sore area. You are strong and cruel and caring at the same time. Smack. Smack. Smack. I hear you saying something but I'm incapable of responding.
I hear you rummaging around in the drawer. A flogger. A crop. A terrible, sharp wooden implement that I later find out is a cane. It hurts terribly. I'm nearly at my limit. I lose track of time. My eyes are half slits. I'm breathing erratically, my face damp against the table top. I flinch and gasp with each whack. Somewhere in between the beatings you violate my ass again. I moan with pleasure. It's quickly replaced with pain.
Finally, my lesson taught, you release me from my bondage. You untie the cord and later tell me that at this point my cunt is literally dripping wet. You grab me by the hair again and lead me to the bed. I collapse in a heap, certain that a cuddle is coming. But instead you lie back and order me to put your cock in my ass again. I straddle you and comply. I moan as it slides in, my back arched, my eyes closed. You attach clamps to my nipples and order me to open my eyes and look at you as I fuck you, as you fuck me. I moan softly over and over again. You warn me not to cum. There's a punishment coming if I do. You lie back, hands behind your head, a smug smile on your face as you torment me.
After a few minutes, you order me to get off you. I know what I'm supposed to do next. It's your turn. Your ass. I am to worship it. Treat it gently. And to do the thing you've always dreamed about. I lean forward and kiss you, hard, passionately. My thigh is pressed up in between your legs. After the intensity of my session it feels so good just to kiss you. Taste you. Your mouth, your tongue. In that moment I am completely consumed with desire.
I lean down and start to suck your right nipple. God I love it so much. The smell of your chest. The taste of your skin. The little hairs that get in my mouth. A soft moan escapes your lips as I use my teeth ever so gently. I move to the other one and make circles around it with my tongue.
I change position. I kneel in front of you and lube up. With the fingers on my left hand, I gently stroke your ass. I look up at you. Your eyes are closed. "You're so good at this", you whisper. I grin. I know.
It's amazing the power shift. Minutes ago I was bound and at your mercy. Now you are lying here open, vulnerable, completely exposed. I lube up and slip a finger inside you. Then two. I find your prostate and massage it. Three fingers. Four. I curl my thumb into my palm and slowly ease it in. There's resistance. I stop and ask you if you're OK. You've had enough for now. We take a break and try again.
Four fingers. The thumb again. There's an immense opposing pressure. I have to support my arm with my right hand. I've fisted cunts before but this is so different. I very, very slowly rotate my hand around, trying to find the path of least resistance, until all of a sudden I feel an incredible suction and my fist slides deep into your body. We take a moment to process what has just happened. I move around inside you slowly, making gentle thrusts, but you've had enough.
I remove myself from you, show you how far I got (two inches of wrist!), wash off, and come back to bed. As is our ritual, we finish off in spoon. Your strong arms around me, holding me to you as you once again enter me. But this time it's done lovingly, with passion and caring. Deeply connecting me to you. I turn my head and watch you as you explode inside me, feeling deeply fulfilled that I have satisfied you.
It's time to go. We reluctantly untangle ourselves, wipe off, and dress. The energy in the room lingers, but it's weakening. You drive me home. In the car we chat. Digest what happened. The dynamic. The role play. Our deepest darkest fantasies played out. But we've only just scratched the surface. The possibilities from here are endless. Our journey has only just begun.
There's no aftermath from the abuse. My body is tingling. I feel calm, at peace, deeply contented. You drop me off. I kiss you, touch your chest, then disappear into the cool night.
Thank you, dear lover, for an amazing week. See you soon.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Rotten? You decide
Here's a gently hilarious and non-judgmental look at anal sex by rotten.com. The pictures alone are worth the trip?
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Fifteen years
I pick you up. It's been fifteen years since we last saw each other; but in the last few months we've swapped photos. Spoken on the phone. Spent hours emailing explicit sex fantasies to one another. You get in the car. I kiss your cheek. It's rough with a three-day growth, but not unpleasant. I study your face, your eyes, your lips, your ears. You've changed so much yet you're still that boy who fucked me so tenderly when we were kids. It's as if we never lost touch.
We go for a drink. Surprisingly nice hotel in the middle of a seedy part of town. We grin stupidly at each other over the table. Make small talk. Bait each other. Out of the corner of my eye I catch you glancing at my body: my breasts, my legs. I'm making you nervous. You tell me I haven't lost my looks. That I'm still pretty. I grin even more.
I look at my watch. We don't have a lot of time. I'm chain-smoking your cigarettes. You're onto your second bloody mary. I put the hard word on you. There's a bathroom upstairs. You readjust the erection in your jeans. You ask me to pash you right there in the bar. I say no. You say please. Please please please. I give in. Your tongue is in my mouth, your hands around my waist, squeezing my breasts, pulling me to you roughly. I nod my head in the direction of the stairs. Let's go.
We lock the door behind us. (Where do you want me? Right here.) You press me up against a wall and kiss me again, thrusting your hips against my body. Any fears, any doubts, any nerves or anxiety or guilt I may have felt has vanished. This is right. You and me, doing what we did best. What we do best. I slip my hands up inside your shirt. I feel your stomach, your chest, pinch your nipples. I unbuckle your jeans and slide them down your hips. I feel your butt, cup your balls, caress your cock. It's the first one I've had in nearly a decade. We're both breathing hard. "Are you OK?" you whisper. I nod.
I roll on the condom with shaking hands. We try in a standing position but it's too awkward. I direct you to the toilet seat and I straddle you. You're in. I grab your shoulders and gasp as you pull my body toward you, onto you. My feet don't reach the floor; it's not working. I get off, push our discarded clothes out of the way and lie down on the tiles. You're quickly inside me and you go hard, your hips slapping against mine. I claw at your body and cry out over and over again, my eyes squeezed shut. Somehow, my right foot finds the doorway; my left, the wall; and I push my butt up off the floor to meet your thrusts. My head keeps bumping into the wall behind me and I ask you to shuffle back. I look up at your face and you're watching me as you're fucking me.
You slow down and pull out. I'm bewildered. "Did you come?" You shake your head. You pull off the condom and drop it into the bin, then stand over me, rubbing your cock. I understand. I take you in my mouth. It's beautiful, smooth and warm. You entwine your hands in my hair and thrust forward. "Do you like that?" you whisper. Yes, I do. I do indeed. I grab the base of your cock in my right hand, and with my left I feel your balls, your perineum, then creep my fingers up to that special place that excites you so much. If I had more time, I'd lube up and slip a finger inside you. I know you'd like that.
You're heading for the edge. "Do you want me to come?" I shake my head and pull off. I ask you, "Do you want to fuck me up the ass?" You nod. "Where do you want me?"
You bend me over the sink. I guide you in. "Slow, slow, slow." It hurts. I forgot to bring lube. I hover, waiting for the sensation to pass. You wait patiently, poised. A few gentle thrusts and you're in. I gasp (oh god oh god oh god) and whimper, my face pressed against the vanity. My right hand is clutching the tap, the other the wall. You go hard. It feels so good. Your hands are all over me, on my butt, my hips, my breasts, in my cunt. I wish I could see your face. You urge me to come. I have my fingers down there working at myself but it's not going to happen.
I want you to come. You can't with the condom on. You pull it off and wank yourself to orgasm in front of me. I watch as it dribbles out; next time I'll let you come in my mouth. You don't make a sound but your face is covered in sweat.
You grab some toilet paper and mop up the cum from the floor. We dress quickly, I wash my hands and face, and we slink out of the bathroom and down the stairs. I have to go. I wish I could stay longer. Share another drink, a chat, maybe another pash, but I have to get home. I feel so bad.
I drive you home. I ask you, "Was I as you remember?" You shake your head in disbelief. "Better... I can't believe you took it up the ass on your first time." I reach out my left hand and clasp my fingers around yours. I'm worried that you feel as though I used you.
I drop you off. Kiss you on the cheek. You get out of the car and walk away without looking back. I feel a twinge of something - guilt, perhaps - and wish that it didn't have to be so rushed. But I don't regret a minute of it. You have no idea the favour you have just done me. Thank you. I owe you.
We go for a drink. Surprisingly nice hotel in the middle of a seedy part of town. We grin stupidly at each other over the table. Make small talk. Bait each other. Out of the corner of my eye I catch you glancing at my body: my breasts, my legs. I'm making you nervous. You tell me I haven't lost my looks. That I'm still pretty. I grin even more.
I look at my watch. We don't have a lot of time. I'm chain-smoking your cigarettes. You're onto your second bloody mary. I put the hard word on you. There's a bathroom upstairs. You readjust the erection in your jeans. You ask me to pash you right there in the bar. I say no. You say please. Please please please. I give in. Your tongue is in my mouth, your hands around my waist, squeezing my breasts, pulling me to you roughly. I nod my head in the direction of the stairs. Let's go.
We lock the door behind us. (Where do you want me? Right here.) You press me up against a wall and kiss me again, thrusting your hips against my body. Any fears, any doubts, any nerves or anxiety or guilt I may have felt has vanished. This is right. You and me, doing what we did best. What we do best. I slip my hands up inside your shirt. I feel your stomach, your chest, pinch your nipples. I unbuckle your jeans and slide them down your hips. I feel your butt, cup your balls, caress your cock. It's the first one I've had in nearly a decade. We're both breathing hard. "Are you OK?" you whisper. I nod.
I roll on the condom with shaking hands. We try in a standing position but it's too awkward. I direct you to the toilet seat and I straddle you. You're in. I grab your shoulders and gasp as you pull my body toward you, onto you. My feet don't reach the floor; it's not working. I get off, push our discarded clothes out of the way and lie down on the tiles. You're quickly inside me and you go hard, your hips slapping against mine. I claw at your body and cry out over and over again, my eyes squeezed shut. Somehow, my right foot finds the doorway; my left, the wall; and I push my butt up off the floor to meet your thrusts. My head keeps bumping into the wall behind me and I ask you to shuffle back. I look up at your face and you're watching me as you're fucking me.
You slow down and pull out. I'm bewildered. "Did you come?" You shake your head. You pull off the condom and drop it into the bin, then stand over me, rubbing your cock. I understand. I take you in my mouth. It's beautiful, smooth and warm. You entwine your hands in my hair and thrust forward. "Do you like that?" you whisper. Yes, I do. I do indeed. I grab the base of your cock in my right hand, and with my left I feel your balls, your perineum, then creep my fingers up to that special place that excites you so much. If I had more time, I'd lube up and slip a finger inside you. I know you'd like that.
You're heading for the edge. "Do you want me to come?" I shake my head and pull off. I ask you, "Do you want to fuck me up the ass?" You nod. "Where do you want me?"
You bend me over the sink. I guide you in. "Slow, slow, slow." It hurts. I forgot to bring lube. I hover, waiting for the sensation to pass. You wait patiently, poised. A few gentle thrusts and you're in. I gasp (oh god oh god oh god) and whimper, my face pressed against the vanity. My right hand is clutching the tap, the other the wall. You go hard. It feels so good. Your hands are all over me, on my butt, my hips, my breasts, in my cunt. I wish I could see your face. You urge me to come. I have my fingers down there working at myself but it's not going to happen.
I want you to come. You can't with the condom on. You pull it off and wank yourself to orgasm in front of me. I watch as it dribbles out; next time I'll let you come in my mouth. You don't make a sound but your face is covered in sweat.
You grab some toilet paper and mop up the cum from the floor. We dress quickly, I wash my hands and face, and we slink out of the bathroom and down the stairs. I have to go. I wish I could stay longer. Share another drink, a chat, maybe another pash, but I have to get home. I feel so bad.
I drive you home. I ask you, "Was I as you remember?" You shake your head in disbelief. "Better... I can't believe you took it up the ass on your first time." I reach out my left hand and clasp my fingers around yours. I'm worried that you feel as though I used you.
I drop you off. Kiss you on the cheek. You get out of the car and walk away without looking back. I feel a twinge of something - guilt, perhaps - and wish that it didn't have to be so rushed. But I don't regret a minute of it. You have no idea the favour you have just done me. Thank you. I owe you.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Riposte
I replay your word picture in my head, over and over again. Of you lying in your bed, partner sleeping, fingers busy. The phrase that haunts me most: Holding my outer lips open with my left hand, my right hand ..
And this morning lying in my bed, partner sleeping. Reached down with my left hand to explore the difference.
Like you there's an opening in my abdominal wall, just below my pubic bone. I can feel the edges of it, vagina-like. But jutting through the middle is no vagina but a strong tendon. Not so different to those in your arms and legs. Until filled :-). I trace it as it disappears inside me. Pull on it, and feel the tug deep inside.
I run my fingers down the side of the opening to feel the strength below. Like a clit, there's a lot more to it than is visible. Beneath my balls (loose and floppy in the warmth) I feel the tendon, bigger there, disappear under the flesh. Following it, I press along my perineum. My prostate feels the pressure. My legs involuntarily stir and my breath catches.
My tendon has grown and grown. As I lie there, my fingers at the point where, if my body was yours, they would be entering me, it lies along my arm, my balls soft against my hand. There's no opening where my fingers are, just hardening flesh. I feel the pipe of my urethra, standing proud.
If I lie here and keep thinking of you I know what will happen. I slide silently from the bed in the dark, scoop my clothes from the floor, and slip out the door. It's pre-dawn and I've got the world to myself.
Out on the deck the cool air hits my cock. It's my little morning treat. As I stroll across the lawn my hard cock eases enough to allow the next part of my treat. Emptying my bladder under an open sky in a silent world is a special kind of relief. As the stream runs out I feel the weight of my balls in my hand, my cock heavier than usual. Like a playful fireman I can direct the stream by moving my hips. I can see a faint glisten in the first hint of dawn.
I remember why my cock is heavy. Think again of you in your bed, fingers busy. Thinking of how your tits might react when I play with them. The left one, coquettish. The right one a sleepy sister. Your back arching as your work is done. As I open the door and turn on the light I look down. It's like looking down a chimney, my cock is staring straight at me.
And I take you to the shower.
Me
And this morning lying in my bed, partner sleeping. Reached down with my left hand to explore the difference.
Like you there's an opening in my abdominal wall, just below my pubic bone. I can feel the edges of it, vagina-like. But jutting through the middle is no vagina but a strong tendon. Not so different to those in your arms and legs. Until filled :-). I trace it as it disappears inside me. Pull on it, and feel the tug deep inside.
I run my fingers down the side of the opening to feel the strength below. Like a clit, there's a lot more to it than is visible. Beneath my balls (loose and floppy in the warmth) I feel the tendon, bigger there, disappear under the flesh. Following it, I press along my perineum. My prostate feels the pressure. My legs involuntarily stir and my breath catches.
My tendon has grown and grown. As I lie there, my fingers at the point where, if my body was yours, they would be entering me, it lies along my arm, my balls soft against my hand. There's no opening where my fingers are, just hardening flesh. I feel the pipe of my urethra, standing proud.
If I lie here and keep thinking of you I know what will happen. I slide silently from the bed in the dark, scoop my clothes from the floor, and slip out the door. It's pre-dawn and I've got the world to myself.
Out on the deck the cool air hits my cock. It's my little morning treat. As I stroll across the lawn my hard cock eases enough to allow the next part of my treat. Emptying my bladder under an open sky in a silent world is a special kind of relief. As the stream runs out I feel the weight of my balls in my hand, my cock heavier than usual. Like a playful fireman I can direct the stream by moving my hips. I can see a faint glisten in the first hint of dawn.
I remember why my cock is heavy. Think again of you in your bed, fingers busy. Thinking of how your tits might react when I play with them. The left one, coquettish. The right one a sleepy sister. Your back arching as your work is done. As I open the door and turn on the light I look down. It's like looking down a chimney, my cock is staring straight at me.
And I take you to the shower.
Me
Nocturnal
It's late, I'm in bed, my partner snoring lightly beside me. I'm tired, but my mind is racing. Thinking, imagining, fantasising. I slip my hands up inside my shirt, tracing two parallel lines straight up to my breasts. I grab each nipple and squeeze gently. A lump forms in my throat.
I leave my shirt hitched up so that the top sheet can lightly rub, teasingly, against my now-erect nipples as I slowly wriggle my pants down my hips and kick them off. Knees apart. I gently stroke the outer lips, cup them with my hand, caress them. My hair has been trimmed very close to the skin so I feel every touch.
With my left hand I part my outer lips and hold them open; with my right, I gently touch my clit. I start stroking it, upwards at first, every now and then slipping my index finger inside myself to grab some more juice. It's late in my cycle - I'm not as wet as I would like.
I lie there, just stroking, making circles with my finger, enjoying the occasional involuntary shudder that goes straight to my nipples and my throat. Unfortunately, as both hands are occupied, I'm unable to do anything with my poor left nipple which is crying out for attention. Make a mental note to swipe a clothes peg from the washing line and hide it near the bed for next time.
I'm now suitably lubed up from my own juice and I start to pick up the pace. I'm no longer stroking but sliding my finger up and down. Up and down. Emphasis on the down. My fingers on my left hand start to cramp up (not now, not now) so I readjust. My breathing is fast and shallow but restrained, so as not to wake my slumbering other half. My movements are honed from years of practice; I am amazed that anyone has ever been able to get me there (and indeed, very few have). I wonder what it feels like to have a tongue down there, licking and stroking. It spurs me on.
I know exactly the moment when an orgasm is inevitable. I wish I could articulate it. It starts as a tingling or buzzing, and once it starts, I am powerless to stop it. When this moment arrives, I immediately stop rubbing and gently pulse my clit with the tip of my finger. It's too intense otherwise.
I imagine that a clitoral orgasm is more similar to a man's orgasm. I can have two or three vaginal orgasms (or four or five!) but once I've hit the big clitoral O, I can't go back. The buzzing starts. I suck in air through my teeth and then hold my breath, my head thrust back, my mouth open, as my whole body goes rigid, the blood pounding in my ears. I imagine that if I were with a partner at this point, I might cry out loud.
It takes me a good few minutes to recover. I am boiling hot and my whole body is covered in sweat. My mouth is dry and my throat parched - I'm dying for some water. I kick the covers off and sneak into the bathroom for a quick drink and to wash my hands before climbing back into bed. And falling fast asleep. Sated.
Amaryllis
I leave my shirt hitched up so that the top sheet can lightly rub, teasingly, against my now-erect nipples as I slowly wriggle my pants down my hips and kick them off. Knees apart. I gently stroke the outer lips, cup them with my hand, caress them. My hair has been trimmed very close to the skin so I feel every touch.
With my left hand I part my outer lips and hold them open; with my right, I gently touch my clit. I start stroking it, upwards at first, every now and then slipping my index finger inside myself to grab some more juice. It's late in my cycle - I'm not as wet as I would like.
I lie there, just stroking, making circles with my finger, enjoying the occasional involuntary shudder that goes straight to my nipples and my throat. Unfortunately, as both hands are occupied, I'm unable to do anything with my poor left nipple which is crying out for attention. Make a mental note to swipe a clothes peg from the washing line and hide it near the bed for next time.
I'm now suitably lubed up from my own juice and I start to pick up the pace. I'm no longer stroking but sliding my finger up and down. Up and down. Emphasis on the down. My fingers on my left hand start to cramp up (not now, not now) so I readjust. My breathing is fast and shallow but restrained, so as not to wake my slumbering other half. My movements are honed from years of practice; I am amazed that anyone has ever been able to get me there (and indeed, very few have). I wonder what it feels like to have a tongue down there, licking and stroking. It spurs me on.
I know exactly the moment when an orgasm is inevitable. I wish I could articulate it. It starts as a tingling or buzzing, and once it starts, I am powerless to stop it. When this moment arrives, I immediately stop rubbing and gently pulse my clit with the tip of my finger. It's too intense otherwise.
I imagine that a clitoral orgasm is more similar to a man's orgasm. I can have two or three vaginal orgasms (or four or five!) but once I've hit the big clitoral O, I can't go back. The buzzing starts. I suck in air through my teeth and then hold my breath, my head thrust back, my mouth open, as my whole body goes rigid, the blood pounding in my ears. I imagine that if I were with a partner at this point, I might cry out loud.
It takes me a good few minutes to recover. I am boiling hot and my whole body is covered in sweat. My mouth is dry and my throat parched - I'm dying for some water. I kick the covers off and sneak into the bathroom for a quick drink and to wash my hands before climbing back into bed. And falling fast asleep. Sated.
Amaryllis
In the bathroom
Correspondence to hand ...
So frustrated, an annoying itch between my legs needs to be scratched. I have my opportunity: daughter at school, son asleep, wife out of the house. I close the bathroom door behind me; in a flash my pants are unzipped and my shoes kicked off.
I quickly and deftly set up my station: a towel over the bath mat, my lube, my hand mirror on its stand, and my two friends: the Fuck, and the Challenge. The Fuck comes first. It's much thicker than most natural cocks but I can take it easily. I kneel on the bath mat, knees apart, and adjust the mirror so I can see myself. My cunt is so compact and innocent-looking (a little like me perhaps?!); belying the absolute caning I give it from time to time. I squirt some lube onto the head of my friend, position him just at the outer lips and lower myself down. They part and it slides in easily. I love watching the fat outer lips separate, and the inner lips, stretched paper thin and blood-red, grip my friend as I very, very slowly inch down.
This first stage of the fuck is very intense. I love the sensation of being filled up; the friction of the phallus against the walls of my cunt. I don't have to move much - I just hover and enjoy it. Then I start to barely, imperceptibly slide up and down, so gently you'd hardly notice it. First orgasm. It's a restrained one - I frown, my eyes squeezed shut, holding my breath until the flutters subside.
Second stage of the fuck. I step up the pace. Momentarily look sideways into the full-length mirror hung on the door and I'm not surprised to see my neck and face flushed bright pink. Involuntarily I tighten up inside and my hips begin to buck forwards and down until my friend is bumping up into my cervix. I'm now breathing hard but still watching. Second orgasm. I moan and gasp, thrusting down with each contraction. Fuck it's good. I wonder if this is what it's like with a real cock, with a real person attached (it's been too long, the memory of the sensation has long faded). Will it be as intense? Or too distracting? Frightening even?
I recover from the orgasm and decide I'm ready for the Challenge. I very gently ease the Fuck out of me, remembering how bruised and swollen I felt last time, and as it leaves me I see just how wet I am. It's literally oozing out of me and dripping onto the towel.
The Challenge is a big guy, tapered at the top. I've never been able to get him all the way in but I'm a determined little bitch when I'm in the mood. I need more lube. The stupid little pump pack I bought can't get the stuff out fast enough. I ease it underneath me and lower down.
I've noticed that there is a ring of fleshy tissue about halfway up inside my cunt. I tend to arrive at an impasse at this point with most of my Challenges. If I can push past the pain then I know I'm home free (and the pleasure/pain sensation beyond this is exquisite). I change into a squatting position, on tippy toes, to try and open up my pelvis. I wiggle around, make circles, but it's no good. I feel my perineum stretching and I'm aware that this is a problem area during childbirth.
I decide to change tack. I take my ensemble over to the toilet seat and straddle it, facing the cistern. Gravity holds my legs down and the pressure is intense, it hurts so much but feels so good. I am seriously fucking horny now and absolutely covered in lube. It's all over my ass, the inside of my thighs and on my hands. I work the Challenge as hard as I can without hurting myself too much but I can feel I'm tiring. I lower my right hand down and start gently rubbing my clit with my index finger. Quickly realise this isn't going to take long. I slip my left hand inside my shirt and grab my left nipple between my forefinger and thumb while I work at my impending orgasm. It takes about ten seconds. Surprisingly it's not an explosive one this time, but a delicious, gradual one. I watch through slitted eyes as the tingly warmth slowly creeps up my body at the same time as my cunt contracts, taking in a further centimetre or so more of my Challenge. This is the best bit by far. Pleasure and pain enmeshed together.
I lift myself off, wipe myself over with the towel, and throw everything into the sink for a good wash. I dry and put everything away, and return to just being mum. For now.
Amaryllis
So frustrated, an annoying itch between my legs needs to be scratched. I have my opportunity: daughter at school, son asleep, wife out of the house. I close the bathroom door behind me; in a flash my pants are unzipped and my shoes kicked off.
I quickly and deftly set up my station: a towel over the bath mat, my lube, my hand mirror on its stand, and my two friends: the Fuck, and the Challenge. The Fuck comes first. It's much thicker than most natural cocks but I can take it easily. I kneel on the bath mat, knees apart, and adjust the mirror so I can see myself. My cunt is so compact and innocent-looking (a little like me perhaps?!); belying the absolute caning I give it from time to time. I squirt some lube onto the head of my friend, position him just at the outer lips and lower myself down. They part and it slides in easily. I love watching the fat outer lips separate, and the inner lips, stretched paper thin and blood-red, grip my friend as I very, very slowly inch down.
This first stage of the fuck is very intense. I love the sensation of being filled up; the friction of the phallus against the walls of my cunt. I don't have to move much - I just hover and enjoy it. Then I start to barely, imperceptibly slide up and down, so gently you'd hardly notice it. First orgasm. It's a restrained one - I frown, my eyes squeezed shut, holding my breath until the flutters subside.
Second stage of the fuck. I step up the pace. Momentarily look sideways into the full-length mirror hung on the door and I'm not surprised to see my neck and face flushed bright pink. Involuntarily I tighten up inside and my hips begin to buck forwards and down until my friend is bumping up into my cervix. I'm now breathing hard but still watching. Second orgasm. I moan and gasp, thrusting down with each contraction. Fuck it's good. I wonder if this is what it's like with a real cock, with a real person attached (it's been too long, the memory of the sensation has long faded). Will it be as intense? Or too distracting? Frightening even?
I recover from the orgasm and decide I'm ready for the Challenge. I very gently ease the Fuck out of me, remembering how bruised and swollen I felt last time, and as it leaves me I see just how wet I am. It's literally oozing out of me and dripping onto the towel.
The Challenge is a big guy, tapered at the top. I've never been able to get him all the way in but I'm a determined little bitch when I'm in the mood. I need more lube. The stupid little pump pack I bought can't get the stuff out fast enough. I ease it underneath me and lower down.
I've noticed that there is a ring of fleshy tissue about halfway up inside my cunt. I tend to arrive at an impasse at this point with most of my Challenges. If I can push past the pain then I know I'm home free (and the pleasure/pain sensation beyond this is exquisite). I change into a squatting position, on tippy toes, to try and open up my pelvis. I wiggle around, make circles, but it's no good. I feel my perineum stretching and I'm aware that this is a problem area during childbirth.
I decide to change tack. I take my ensemble over to the toilet seat and straddle it, facing the cistern. Gravity holds my legs down and the pressure is intense, it hurts so much but feels so good. I am seriously fucking horny now and absolutely covered in lube. It's all over my ass, the inside of my thighs and on my hands. I work the Challenge as hard as I can without hurting myself too much but I can feel I'm tiring. I lower my right hand down and start gently rubbing my clit with my index finger. Quickly realise this isn't going to take long. I slip my left hand inside my shirt and grab my left nipple between my forefinger and thumb while I work at my impending orgasm. It takes about ten seconds. Surprisingly it's not an explosive one this time, but a delicious, gradual one. I watch through slitted eyes as the tingly warmth slowly creeps up my body at the same time as my cunt contracts, taking in a further centimetre or so more of my Challenge. This is the best bit by far. Pleasure and pain enmeshed together.
I lift myself off, wipe myself over with the towel, and throw everything into the sink for a good wash. I dry and put everything away, and return to just being mum. For now.
Amaryllis
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Introducing Desire X
There'll be some original posts along soon, I promise!
In the meantime here's a hot post from another favorite, Desire X.
In the meantime here's a hot post from another favorite, Desire X.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
The Craiglist POV
This CraigsList post is a becoming a popular destination, for people who are learning about anal sex or want to get it right, it's a good read.
And the poster's style sounds awfully familiar, she couldn't be one of our pinup girls, could she?
And the poster's style sounds awfully familiar, she couldn't be one of our pinup girls, could she?
Friday, July 31, 2009
Chelsea has something to say
Chelsea Summers must be one of the most articulate bloggers around. Her tail piece is a good read ..
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Genderfluid loving
Thanks, Ruby Incarnidine
I want him here, in front of me. I want to heal the hurt in his eyes, and almost more than that I want him bent over my bed.
I want him so deeply that it's a low ache in the pit of my stomach.
I can see him now, in a long pencil skirt which emphasizes his beautiful legs, a cowl-necked blouse softening the width of his shoulders and emphasizing his tiny waist. I can see him in shiny, patent heels, walking toward me with an uncertain look in his eyes.
His woman-self has been hurt, decried, and it complicates my craving for her.
The hurt that she was caused, that I was a part of, complicates the image I have of her in my mind's eye- the soft swell of breasts and sweet little ass, the long, beautiful legs encased in sheer thigh-highs.
I want this part of him- this her- and that wanting is complicated and mixed in with my desire to heal her pain and express my love for this side of him, that is her.
I want it, though. Want to walk beside her with my cock heavy in my slacks, my already-masculine gait modified by its weight. Want to bind my breasts down and open doors for her like a gentleman, then press her to the floor beneath the weight of me. I want to drag her skirt up her thighs, leaving the heels and thigh-highs in place, and pull lacy panties out of the way for my cock, which is already aching.
I love him as a boy. And I am learning that I love him as a girl. It took nearly losing her to begin to see that.
In my mind's eye, I see my hands, devoid of their feminine rings for once, sliding up those thighs I know so well as a boy and seeing anew as a girl, slipping on the unfamiliar texture of the thigh-highs, which I've only known on my own skin, feeling the elastic slip into skin too soft to be a man's as my fingers travel higher, find scratchy-soft lace and what for this moment is my cunt.
The only cunt that I have, today.
The only cunt that I want.
I can feel my lubed fingers sliding inside, hear the little gasps and moans that drive me completely insane in either gender.
I can feel the urgency building, and I understand suddenly why so few men take the time that women want. This is intoxicating, and I want to press immediately into her- no lube, no prep, just my body owning the beautiful one beneath me.
Just this body, this man who today is my woman, writhing beneath me and moaning, begging me for more while I ride her.
It took almost losing her to begin to learn how much that I need her.
I'm sorry, my darling.
I want you.
I want him here, in front of me. I want to heal the hurt in his eyes, and almost more than that I want him bent over my bed.
I want him so deeply that it's a low ache in the pit of my stomach.
I can see him now, in a long pencil skirt which emphasizes his beautiful legs, a cowl-necked blouse softening the width of his shoulders and emphasizing his tiny waist. I can see him in shiny, patent heels, walking toward me with an uncertain look in his eyes.
His woman-self has been hurt, decried, and it complicates my craving for her.
The hurt that she was caused, that I was a part of, complicates the image I have of her in my mind's eye- the soft swell of breasts and sweet little ass, the long, beautiful legs encased in sheer thigh-highs.
I want this part of him- this her- and that wanting is complicated and mixed in with my desire to heal her pain and express my love for this side of him, that is her.
I want it, though. Want to walk beside her with my cock heavy in my slacks, my already-masculine gait modified by its weight. Want to bind my breasts down and open doors for her like a gentleman, then press her to the floor beneath the weight of me. I want to drag her skirt up her thighs, leaving the heels and thigh-highs in place, and pull lacy panties out of the way for my cock, which is already aching.
I love him as a boy. And I am learning that I love him as a girl. It took nearly losing her to begin to see that.
In my mind's eye, I see my hands, devoid of their feminine rings for once, sliding up those thighs I know so well as a boy and seeing anew as a girl, slipping on the unfamiliar texture of the thigh-highs, which I've only known on my own skin, feeling the elastic slip into skin too soft to be a man's as my fingers travel higher, find scratchy-soft lace and what for this moment is my cunt.
The only cunt that I have, today.
The only cunt that I want.
I can feel my lubed fingers sliding inside, hear the little gasps and moans that drive me completely insane in either gender.
I can feel the urgency building, and I understand suddenly why so few men take the time that women want. This is intoxicating, and I want to press immediately into her- no lube, no prep, just my body owning the beautiful one beneath me.
Just this body, this man who today is my woman, writhing beneath me and moaning, begging me for more while I ride her.
It took almost losing her to begin to learn how much that I need her.
I'm sorry, my darling.
I want you.
Meet J
J's an old (female) friend who has been recently going through a sort of sexual liberation, having arrived at that time of life where the family is done and health and libido are in great shape and ready for challenges.
I've been acting as her 'advisor' with spectacular results.
You'll hear more from her and of her in due course, here's a recent fragment.
I have been wearing just not quite to work yet. After hours and weekends are it but you can think of me getting home ... oh, around 5.30, 6.00. Stripping and walking into my shower where warm, cascading water will slough off the trials of the day. A little aromatic oil carefully rubbed over every inch of my bare, bare body. Hands and fingers paying attention to every curve, every detail. Warm from my shower I will pad upstairs, lay across my bed. I will roll onto my side and carefully and very gently slip nj inside me. A little stretch is all I will feel. But it will remind me of what I will feel when you move in behind me, feel your warmth, your hardness.
I've been acting as her 'advisor' with spectacular results.
You'll hear more from her and of her in due course, here's a recent fragment.
I have been wearing just not quite to work yet. After hours and weekends are it but you can think of me getting home ... oh, around 5.30, 6.00. Stripping and walking into my shower where warm, cascading water will slough off the trials of the day. A little aromatic oil carefully rubbed over every inch of my bare, bare body. Hands and fingers paying attention to every curve, every detail. Warm from my shower I will pad upstairs, lay across my bed. I will roll onto my side and carefully and very gently slip nj inside me. A little stretch is all I will feel. But it will remind me of what I will feel when you move in behind me, feel your warmth, your hardness.
Outward correspondence
Hi Lee,
We could talk about this stuff for hours but it sounds as though you're on the road to resolution so I'll just contribute a couple of points.
Like your wife I had plenty of sexual contact before marriage, and when I married I made a vow (to myself as well as to the preacher) to be monogamous.
Now, the marital relationship evolves and changes, especially once the family starts. Her attention must shift from you to her children and this casts you in a different light. It also increases pressure on you to be the provider both emotionally and materially.
I describe the marriage at this point as a 'business' relationship, like that with a colleague or business partner. To reach the common goal (more or less, raising a family) it becomes more functional and less romantic. At the same time you are bound together by your social network and material possessions.
Throughout human history until the last decade or two this would be the start of the downhill run; your health would slowly begin to fail, you would cede your life to your children and grandchildren, and sexual needs would be all but forgotten.
In 2009 though we are in much better physical shape and probably less than half way through our lives. What's more, pervasive media tells us we deserve to be sexually active and sexually successful. Not only that, new technology makes it ridiculously easy to make sexual contact.
So we have motive, and we have opportunity. The wonder is that monogamy persists at all - and for many, even most, it doesn't.
Your marriage is operating under a set of rules that didn't exist when you first tied the knot. It has to adapt, or perish. The good news is that you seem to be well on the path to adaptation, however painful, and my guess is that you're going to succeed where so many don't.
Cheers
We could talk about this stuff for hours but it sounds as though you're on the road to resolution so I'll just contribute a couple of points.
Like your wife I had plenty of sexual contact before marriage, and when I married I made a vow (to myself as well as to the preacher) to be monogamous.
Now, the marital relationship evolves and changes, especially once the family starts. Her attention must shift from you to her children and this casts you in a different light. It also increases pressure on you to be the provider both emotionally and materially.
I describe the marriage at this point as a 'business' relationship, like that with a colleague or business partner. To reach the common goal (more or less, raising a family) it becomes more functional and less romantic. At the same time you are bound together by your social network and material possessions.
Throughout human history until the last decade or two this would be the start of the downhill run; your health would slowly begin to fail, you would cede your life to your children and grandchildren, and sexual needs would be all but forgotten.
In 2009 though we are in much better physical shape and probably less than half way through our lives. What's more, pervasive media tells us we deserve to be sexually active and sexually successful. Not only that, new technology makes it ridiculously easy to make sexual contact.
So we have motive, and we have opportunity. The wonder is that monogamy persists at all - and for many, even most, it doesn't.
Your marriage is operating under a set of rules that didn't exist when you first tied the knot. It has to adapt, or perish. The good news is that you seem to be well on the path to adaptation, however painful, and my guess is that you're going to succeed where so many don't.
Cheers
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Nugget 2 - Fetlife
This is a new-ish community for the fetish crowd, put together brilliantly by John Baku who steadfastly refuses to profit by it.
'Fetish' means just about anything except straight sex in the missionary position. There are groups for every perversion you can think of, and plenty you can't; where else would you find support for a fetish called 1950s household?
If you're thinking of trolling for sex or making a nuisance of yourself, don't bother because you'll be bundled off very quickly. The brilliance of the design is that, much like real-life society, you have to become involved in discussion groups and build some credibility before anyone's going to take you seriously, or before you can find like minded people in your area.
On the other hand, once registered (fast and free) you can freely browse groups and profiles, which are well stocked with good advice, novel insights, and pics that are definitely NSFW. If your personal kink has made you feel like an outsider until now, welcome home!
Here you go
'Fetish' means just about anything except straight sex in the missionary position. There are groups for every perversion you can think of, and plenty you can't; where else would you find support for a fetish called 1950s household?
If you're thinking of trolling for sex or making a nuisance of yourself, don't bother because you'll be bundled off very quickly. The brilliance of the design is that, much like real-life society, you have to become involved in discussion groups and build some credibility before anyone's going to take you seriously, or before you can find like minded people in your area.
On the other hand, once registered (fast and free) you can freely browse groups and profiles, which are well stocked with good advice, novel insights, and pics that are definitely NSFW. If your personal kink has made you feel like an outsider until now, welcome home!
Here you go
Nugget 1
I have to put Analita at the top of list because she's the one to drag me from my cave, blinking in the light, and push me back here.
I hope she's still there, that link was down just now. If so you just missed an attractive and articulate young woman with an anal fetish and a partner who's a skilled photographer.
I hope she's still there, that link was down just now. If so you just missed an attractive and articulate young woman with an anal fetish and a partner who's a skilled photographer.
It's been a while
My day job took over, now there's an unhealthy perversion if ever there was one. Thanks to those correspondents who pointed that out.
The probing mind has had to be limited to the shiny steel within me most days and a quick skim of the newsreader for nuggets of perversion. Nuggets found, and will be reported on shortly.
It's good to be back but fluency may take a while. I've been playing the geek, and it's hard to type when your knuckles are drag on the ground.
The probing mind has had to be limited to the shiny steel within me most days and a quick skim of the newsreader for nuggets of perversion. Nuggets found, and will be reported on shortly.
It's good to be back but fluency may take a while. I've been playing the geek, and it's hard to type when your knuckles are drag on the ground.
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