His

We were snuggled into bed, my head happily resting on his shoulder, when he moved, sitting up a little, taking his arm from behind my head and using it to rest on as he gazed down at me.

"Don't look at me and stuff!" I begged, moving my hand to cover my face as he moved over me.

"Don't look at you and stuff?" he asked, incredulously. "Whose are you?"

"Yours," I said through my fingers.

"And can't I do whatever I want with you?"

"Yes," I whispered reluctantly.

"Then move your hand. I want to 'look at you and stuff.'"

My hand remained on my face until he slapped my inner thigh a few times. "Be a good girl," he admonished.

I moved my hand, but my face was scrunched up in resistance, and I couldn't stop. I tried to relax the muscles of my face, but knowing he was now looking at me even more than he would have been made it impossible. Why, oh why did I draw attention to myself?

"Look at me, fuck toy," he demanded, after what felt like an hour but was probably merely seconds. I trembled, moaning. "Maybe you didn't hear me," he said softly. "Look at me."


I opened my eyes and he was there, looking at me.

I giggled. Yep. I giggled.

I closed my eyes again, trying to stifle the laughter.

"Is there something on my face?" he asked, amused.

"No," I said, opening my eyes again. I giggled again, turning away and covering my face with both my hands this time.

"What's funny?" he insisted. "Is your own shyness funny?"

"Yes," I agreed. As good an answer as any.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked. "My girl is supposed to do what she's told, isn't she? And when she doesn't, I have to punish her?" he whispered the words in my ear.

I shivered. "I did what you asked."

"And who told you you could stop?"

I sighed, opening my eyes. My giggles evaporated as I turned back toward him again.

"Good girl." He kissed me, climbing on top of me and pressing his cock against my upper thigh, letting me feel how hard he already was. We kissed for a while, my eyes closing as his lips and mine danced, opening again because he wanted them that way after each kiss.

"Is it getting easier for you?" he asked, gazing at me lovingly.

"No," I said, meeting his eyes.

"Well, you're doing better," he praised me as he kissed me again. "Tell you what," he said, rising up higher, "instead of looking into my eyes, you can look at my cock." I scooted down between his knees as he raised up over me.

He rubbed his cock all over my face, moving up and brushing his balls against my lips until I sucked gently on them. I looked up and saw him looking at me as I did so, making me moan as my gaze crossed his.

He moved again, rubbing his cock all over my face again, teasing me, letting me lick it as he moved. "Take it," he finally urged as he pressed it between my lips.

"Mmm, you like this, don't you?" he asked as I moaned around the hardness filling my mouth. His hands pressed down on the sides of my head, pinning it to the bed as he fucked into me. My hands clutched at his thighs, over and over as his cock filled what it could of my throat and then withdrew. "I should write it on your forehead," he said, looking down at me as I sucked, "'This is my face to fuck. You can't have her.'" I trembled and moaned quietly as his words knocked the wind out of me, still sucking as that image branded itself into my mind, the words appearing on my own internalized image of my face as he spoke them. Objectifying. Humiliating. And, for me, white hot as all fuck.

"Your face isn't the only part of you that likes to be fucked, though, is it?" He was moving down, his eyes once again meeting mine straight on, his cock prodding against my pussy until he found what he was seeking: the source of the arousal seeping from me. I threw my head back as he slowly pushed into me, his eyes looking into mine as my mouth opened and I moaned. He felt incredible, huge, and hard, and I am sure my amazement was reflected in my eyes.

"My fuck slave," he said as he ground against me, making me feel his full length buried in my body. "So wet, my beautiful girl. What a slut you are. You like having your face fucked, don't you?"

"Yes sir," I whispered.

His hands fondled my breasts. "You like having my cock rubbed all over your face, the face people look at when they look at you. If only they could see what you liked to do with your face, slut." I moaned beneath him, tossing my head and arching into him as his words buried themselves in me like steamy bullets. "You like taking my come and rubbing it all over your breasts, don't you? And then going out with my come all over your tits." I shuddered, nodding as he kissed me again. "Such a slut. MY slut, aren't you?" he asked as he pulled his mouth away.

"Yes sir," I whispered, my body undulating with him. His hands pinned my wrists for a time, his fingers encircling them and squeezing as he moved. "You're so nice to fuck me so often," I said, feeling genuinely grateful as his cock filled me over and over.

"It's what you're for, bitch," he said, kissing me hard. I could only moan in agreement with him as his lips claimed my mouth and tongue, his cock moving slowly inside me now, making me crazy with the slow strokes against my sensitive membranes. I could feel every tiny movement and it felt incredible.

"So good," I whispered hoarsely when he let me speak again.

"So fucking good," he agreed.

"I suppose I could fuck you from behind," he murmured, ages later, heat that had built between us wiping my ability to recall those long, steamy minutes. My legs ached from holding them up and wide for so long.  "But first, I think I'll let you taste how wet you make me," he said, sliding his cock out of me, and moving up to sit astride my chest again. His cock, slick with my juices, slid between my lips and I groaned as I sucked the taste of me off him.

"Such a nice set of fuck holes I have here for myself," he rasped as I sucked him. I pulled my mouth away to moan deeply at that, and he responded quickly. "Keep sucking," he whispered.

My pussy clenched. It wanted his cock back, badly. I felt myself lubricate even more, uselessly, as I sucked, rolling my tongue over his hard, velvety shaft, clutching his hips and lifting my head to take more of his cock, cutting off my air and willingly gagging myself.

"Okay," he said at length pulling his cock away from me, cupping my breasts around his length and fucking them. I arched my back and groaned loudly, over and over, feeling his hardness press into my breasts. Generally breast fucking is mostly for him, but this felt really amazing to me. I stayed in that position, moaning as he stroked himself with my flesh. "Turn over now, fuck slave, so I can fuck you from behind." He moved off me and I turned over. "Yeah, give me that pussy," he said, his fingers plunging into my wetness with a speed that was a little painful. His fingers were soon replaced by his cock and I sighed with the fullness.

"Too bad I can't look into your eyes like this," he said. I was sightlessly staring straight ahead of me, my mouth open in an eternal moan as we rocked. His hand locked in my hair, his other hand on my hip, and he moved me on his cock like the toy he's named me to be. "I suppose I could always fuck you sideways later," he finished his thought.

The words glanced off my consciousness. Could I even look at him now if I had to? Just the thought was too much for me. "Oh, God," I transmuted my constant moan into words to suit my emotions.

He picked up my leg and I draped it backwards over his hip, letting his hand wander freely between my legs. When his hand left, I put mine there, feeling him as his cock thrust slowly into my body. "You like feeling me fuck you, toy?" he asked.

"Yes sir," I whispered.

"You like having your fuck hole stuffed full, don't you? I bet you'd like it if I let you sleep like this, with my cock shoved inside you."

"Mmhmm," I moaned, words lost to me.

"But I'd have to stop fucking you for that, and I don't think you'd like that, would you?"

His hand moved and he pinched my nipple, slow but hard. The pain built inside me until I complained. "It hurts," I begged. "It hurts, it hurts, it hurts."

"What hurts? This?" he asked, twisting my nipple a little. I squealed in response. "That's okay," he said, soothingly, "I can fuck you while you hurt."

Oh, God. He really just said that. I just moaned. Over and over, as he fucked me. I couldn't even respond to him with words anymore. When I felt his orgasm start to overtake him, I pulled him into me, hard, with my hand on his hip and my foot on his ass. I love feeling him shudder to completion in my body; love knowing that we did that together, that he feels incredible and it's partially because of me. I love knowing that he can do that just because he wants to.

His hand wandered between my legs as he recovered, fingers pressing into my g-spot and making me groan. "You like being fucked everywhere, don't you, fuck toy?" he asked softly as his thumb stroked my clit. "You're for me to fuck, aren't you? I can fuck your face. I can fuck your pussy. I can fuck your tits. And I can fuck your ass," he said, his fingertip playing across the hole he referred to. I jumped, making a noise of agreement. "Would your ass like to be more full?" he asked, pressing his finger against me there.

"Yes sir," I whispered.

He started to pull his hand away from between my legs and I whimpered, clutching at his shoulder. "It's okay, greedy slutty thing," he assured me, "I'm not going anywhere."

He got the lube from the drawer and came back. "What's the point of having a fuck slave if you don't use all her fuck holes?" he whispered as his finger slid, aided by lots of lubrication, into my ass. I can't exactly describe what was going on there - but there was lots of penetration, and his thumb on my clit, and I was out of my mind. "Ohh, that's where that finger goes," he said, and I was suddenly fuller. He fucked me with his whole hand, and "out of my mind" doesn't quite begin to describe it.

"My sweet, sweet collection of fuck holes," he murmured as his hand plundered my nether regions. "Come for me, fuck toy," he said as I began to tremble. "Yeah, that's a good toy, come for me, girl," he urged as I screamed, kicking. He didn't stop. "Come for me, come for me," he urged, and my body responded, shaking, screaming, kicking, my hand slapping his back a little. "Oh my God," I squealed as he let me float down, wrapped in a blanket of indescribably delicious pleasure.

He gathered me into his arms and we chatted, after he turned off the light. He feels like heaven. There's no place I'd rather be than snuggled against my love's chest. We talked about how amazing sex is, how lucky we are. "I'm so yours," I told him as we kissed.

"I like it when I tell you to come and you do," he said. "I like to feel like I'm in control."

"You are in control, my love," I whispered to him.

"Oh, yeah."

Eventually my shoulder started to hurt and I had to turn over, to face away from him. My leg was backward over his, knee bent, which meant my legs were open to him. His hand briefly brushed my pussy, and then his fingers were gently toying with my nipples. "Aren't we meant to be sleeping, my love?" I moaned. The gentle strokes of his fingers on my soft nipples were sending electric jolts through my body.

His cock was hard again. I felt it throbbing against my back. His fingers were in my pussy then. "Are we? Give me this pussy," he rasped, and I hurried to obey. His cock pushed inside me and it felt bigger than ever - my tissues having swollen after the previous use. I groaned as he fucked me, hard, fast, reveling in his use of my body. This was about him and I loved that it was. He does so much for me and this is one thing that it absolutely thrills me to do for him. It hurt a little, but mostly it felt incredible.

Afterward, as we were drifting off, I asked him what caused that. He didn't know. "Sometimes, you know, I might start to take it for granted, that I can fuck you any time I want."

I shivered hard at that, and stifled a moan. A moment of silence passed while he processed my reaction.

"Did that excite you, to hear me say... that?"

"Yes," I nodded, even though it was terribly unlikely he could see me in the dark.

"I see," he said, squeezing me to him. "Mine."

That I am.

Sex before dinner

We were dropped off at a hotel in the middle of our city on Friday evening, and after hugs and kisses and goodbyes, abandoned until our checkout time on Sunday morning. After we checked in and got our stuff to the room, my husband said he wanted to snuggle before dinner, and so we took off our pants, climbed into the enormous bed together and he held me.

We talked and stroked each other, gloriously not having to tend to anyone else or prepare any food or clean anything.

And then we started kissing: long, slow, soft kisses; hard, demanding, possessive kisses. Kisses that made me wet and made him hard. His cock pressed against my arm where it was folded between us.

"Are there any rules about not fucking the girl before dinner?" he asked me, speaking heatedly against my lips.

"Not unless you've made them," I responded when he let me up for air.

"Take off your clothes for me," he said.

I sat up and removed my remaining clothes, but he grabbed me from behind before I even finished pushing them away, his hands cupping my breasts and pulling me tightly against him.

"Are you all naked for me now?" he asked, pinching my nipples firmly.

I nodded, my throat feeling full with passion. "Yes sir," I whispered past the block of emotion and desire.

"I'm going to fuck you now," he whispered into my ear.

His hand came crashing down onto my breast, the smack echoing in my ears as he pulled my legs apart, the fine burning sting warming my entire chest before he moved his hand to my inner thigh, spanking me there too. "Mine, mine, mine," he claimed me, "mine, all weekend, mine."

I melted into him as his cock plunged into me, taking me, claiming me as his while providing such exquisite pleasure for us both.

And that is why I had to bathe before we went to dinner.

Away, away, and up!

Just dropping a note here to let you all know that we are going AWAY.

Just for the weekend.

But just us, all alone, no car.

Do you all know how EXCITED I am?

Hint: it's a lot.

Have a fantastic weekend, everybody!

In a different world

Monday was interesting. I couldn't stop being horny, all day. I longed to just get my husband home and take him to bed, to feel him touching me, filling up all the empty spaces within me. I told him as much too.

When we got him home from work we spent some time snuggling and making out like teenagers, kissing, kissing, endlessly kissing. It was glorious.

I went to take a bath after dinner, and afterward the intensity of my need was dampened quite a bit. That's not to say I wasn't still up for sex, but I wasn't raring to go.

He was writing some code after we put the little one to bed, and I went into our room and started making practice monkey fists for a new flogger. He followed me soon after, sat on the bed and talked to me, eventually convincing me to to stop making monkey fists and "have monkey sex."

I cleared away the ropes from the bed and lay down, facing away from him.

"Take off your clothes," he said.

Sunday satisfaction

Saturday night we had an lovely, lazy lovemaking and incredible blowjob session, which was awesome, but left me a little horny since there was no sexual release for me. A Sunday morning attempt to rectify that was interrupted by our little one barging in. As amusing as "Why did you just barge in without knocking? We're still asleep!" is when you have fingers buried in your soft, wet parts and are most definitely not asleep, it doesn't quite make up for the less than satisfactory nature of the orgasm that follows once the child has been banished.

Sunday night is always a little depressing, since what follows is the work week - five days where our togetherness is interrupted for many hours at a time. Add to all of that the fact that we went to bed late because I drastically misjudged how long it would take to finish the flogger I'd started that evening and you have a serious emotional stew brewing.

Lessons learned

But it's such a pretty flogger. 

1. Don't start making a flogger if it's after 9 PM.
   
   Thanks to a wonderful lurker's request, I made a new flogger, and the next night I wanted to make another one since the first one was purchased. There's a limited time window in which I can make a flogger, though. It takes a couple of hours of uninterrupted, hand-aching holding after all the initial prep is done, and I can't put it down once I start until it's finished. So we may wind up not going to bed until after 11, which leads to my second lesson.
   
   
2. I need sex.
   
   Seriously, sex. Kinky, dirty-talking, hip grinding, perhaps body-part-slapping, nipple twisting sex. I need it. Going to bed after 11 on a weeknight is not a good idea because either I get what I need and we're both exhausted in the morning, or I don't... and not getting what you need isn't good.
   
   
3. My husband loves me
   
   Okay, so maybe I knew that one already. But he was really spectacular last night, helping me with the flogger, covering for me when people who were supposed to be asleep walked into the room, and doing stuff for me. Not to mention the sex. Body part slapping, hip grinding, nipple pinching.. yeah, we did too. More about that up next.

Mind blowing spanking

So, back to our kinky sex and amazing spankings. Any objections? No. Good.

Disclaimer before I begin: The spanking that blew my mind was interestingly not one on my backside. A thigh and pussy spanking seemed to be what my husband was in the mood for, and he gets what he wants.

It had been a couple of days since we've had sex, and my husband disappeared into our bedroom right around 9:00 on Friday. I was sending a few emails in the living room, thinking he would come back and we'd watch something, when he poked his head out. "Are you coming to bed, girl-person?" he asked me.

"I... didn't know we were going to bed," I said, surprised, looking at the time.

"We are going to bed." His tone indicated he had plans.

How I learned Spider-Man is a human trafficker

Our little boy was tying the both of us up at lunchtime on our bed, still dressed in the Spider-Man pajamas that we haven't been able to convince him to take off for longer than the time it takes to run them through the wash cycle.

Yes, rope is his favorite toy, don't look at me. When a four year old looks at you with puppy eyes while holding a 10-foot length of rope in the hardware store and says "This one's so cute, Mommy, will you buy it for me?" you just drop the .79 and get the kid the rope.

He's getting pretty good with rope and making crazy knots that he can undo in just a moment.

There we were, all tied up and to each other with his "webbing," when he said "Now, you can't get away. And now I can sell you."

After my initial gasp, you could have heard a pin drop on our carpeted floor in the silence that followed that moment. I looked at my husband, and he at me, both our faces masks of amused disbelief, and I said "I don't know!"

Our little person was still tugging at and pulling on various ends of the rope he had tied us with while we sorted through this bizarre parenting moment.

"Where did you get the idea to sell us?" we eventually managed to ask him.

"Spider-Man! He captures the bad guys with his webs and then takes them to the store to sell them!" he told us, a huge grin splitting his face, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Spider-Man's a white slaver?" I murmured, dumbfounded.

"He does what now?" my husband asked. "Doesn't he just capture them and give them to the police?"

"We-ell, sometimes he takes them to the police, and sometimes he sells them."

My husband and I shared another glance of weirdness. "Maybe he shouldn't watch Spider-Man anymore," I mouthed.

"Maybe we should watch this Spider-Man," my husband suggested.

"We-ell," said the four-year-old, "this Spider-Man doesn't really exist. I just made it up." He laughed, and his sparkling eyes and enormous grin kept whacking us in the face and making us laugh with him.

"And... how did you come up with the idea to make it up?" I asked.

"I just did!" he giggled.

---

Now there's a lesson in there somewhere. Be happy with the things that make you grin, and don't examine them too hard? Yeah, I'll go with that one.

But I should probably check out this Spider-Man stuff anyway.

Opening doors

You don't find a lot of introspection here at Exploring Surrender, which is odd since the title seems to imply that you will. To be honest, self-examination of that kind makes me feel intensely vulnerable, especially since my husband reads here and honest-to-goodness introspection often makes me feel like I've just opened up my head and let all the less attractive parts of me hang out right in front of him. 

Kitty recently wrote a post that set me thinking. When she begins the interlude, she is steely, resistant to her husband's advances, even though they had planned to be there together at that time.

As much as I want to submit to my husband and crave pleasing him, I do this too. I'll sometimes have a steely attitude that will often wind up discouraging him, and nothing happens even though I'd really, really prefer that it did, and then I get sad. At that point, he's in an impossible situation.

I've turned this over in my head for years, but it wasn't until I started responding to Kitty's post that I began to see what goes on in my head.

It's probably fair to say that many submissives who bring the concept to their husbands wind up second-guessing themselves, wondering if he's really into it, or if he's just doing it to humor them.

Our relationship is amazing, honestly, it is, and I know it. But the second-guessing just does not go away. I don't have a nice little window into his head like he does into mine. He becomes more confident by the day, as I write about my feelings and how I experience our experiences. But I don't.

While I always want to be there with him, I sometimes may act as if I don't - because I feel he may not want to be there, and I am trying to open a door to make it easier for him to get out.

He may say a million positive things about our dynamic, but as soon as he says something that can be construed as less-than-complimentary, my heart sinks. I can go from laughing, happy, delighted, to deeply saddened, the spark of joy within me stilled along with my breath, my inner laughter quieted. It actually feels as though a silencer has been applied to the happiness within me, a huge wet blanket of misery blacking out the memory of hundreds of joyous experiences.

There's a large part of this that's tied up with trust - trusting him to do what is best for both of us, trusting that the things he says to me are true, and trusting that he is getting more joy out of the things we do together than he is putting effort into them.

Why is it that I can trust him to hurt me, talk dirty to me, invade every part of my being, but I cannot trust that he is where he wants to be?

It's because I know how much he loves me and wants my happiness.

I need to stop trying to open doors. If I was visiting someone's home and they kept holding the door open saying "Are you sure you want to be here?" I'd eventually feel unwelcome and leave, no matter how much I'd initially wanted to be there.

I'm just not sure how to stop. Maybe if I have to open doors, I should open doors to inner chambers rather than the exit ones, and strive to banish steely-me from our bedroom.


I haven't done a lot of this since I had my lightbulb moment on symbiotic relationships and angst having no place within them. Our "us" is so very close to perfection that it feels like blasphemy to even give this so much airspace. But when it does happen I can feel his frustration as surely as I feel my own inner self go quiet and still. Surrendering to the truth of things he says is every bit as important as surrendering to his will. I adore him, and want him to feel his words are taken for truth, that I don't think he is a liar.

I wouldn't even grant this so much time, but I thought someone else out there may be struggling with the same thing.

A real pussy spanking

His hand is slapping my inner thigh, and a warm sting is beginning to envelop my entire leg. His hand shifts, his fingers running gently through my pubic hair. I begin to purr, but it is cut off into a slight shriek when he suddenly, unexpectedly, slaps me on my mound. I have never felt more owned than in this moment, as I make an effort to keep my thighs slightly parted, to not turn away from him. His fingers stroke me gently, and then slap again, again. I undulate beneath the blows, attempting to relieve the sting that is building in my soft parts. I moan constantly, interrupted only by my vocal responses to each strike. "Mine, mine, mine!" he says as he spanks me there. My eyes are glued open, fixing to any point they can as my head tosses - the edge of the curtain, the texture of the ceiling, the curve of his forehead.

"Kiss me," he says, and my lips meet his even as he continues delivering the stinging blows. The only difference now is that my squeals are consumed by him, but of course they always were his.

---

"I want to use your face for fucking," he whispers roughly into my ear, later. I shiver, whimpering in response to his words, to the texture of his voice as it slips into my ear. His hand cradles my jaw, turning my mouth to his, claiming it again, allowing no escape.

He slaps my pubic mound several more times as I don't move, hesitating because he is kissing me. "Get me that ramp," he says, and I barely hear him for the blood roaring in my ears.

He settles back onto the Liberator ramp to watch me as I service his cock. I kneel on hands and knees, my hands supporting my body on each side of his hips.

"You don't mind a bit of a workout to suck your master's cock, do you?" he asks as I raise and lower myself over his body, my arms working endlessly to move my head. His hands occasionally grab my head and shove it down harder, but my arms are still getting quite the workout. My answer comes in the grunts and squeals that I make as he uses me - of course I don't mind. His hands gather up all of my hair and pull it up, meaning that each time I fully lower my face onto his cock, I am pulling my own hair. I squeal with the glorious indignity of the idea as I take his cock all the way into my throat, cutting off my air.

I am exhausted when he pulls himself away from me, trembling, my breath coming in harsh labored gasps. "Come here, let me hold you for a minute," he says, and pulls me close to him, his wiry strength keeping me pressed tightly to his body. I continue shaking against his side, little whimpers emerging from me with each breath. He strokes my hair lovingly. "My good girl, how shall I take you now?" he asks. I am in no shape to respond. "I could put you up on this ramp," he says, and pauses, his hands roaming my shivering body. "Though maybe you couldn't handle that right now."

He tosses the ramp off of the bed once he has made his decision, turning me over and sliding easily into me from behind. His movements with me are tender, gentle, until his fingers slide inside me along with his cock. I squeal and try to move up, away from the too-big intrusion. "Take me!" he orders.

I stop, pressing down onto the multiple invaders with a groan. "Yes sir," I whisper.

---

After he comes, he strokes my body all over, his fingertips gliding across my bare skin. "What are you doing?" I ask him, pressed to his side, purring with pleasure.

"Making you purr." His fingers dance over me, each nerve ending he stimulates doing a little dance of joy. He spends a long time stroking me before his fingers find my clit, and skate all around it, circling, circling. My hips dance to his rhythm.

He takes his time, sometimes sliding his fingers inside me, sometimes not, always coaxing noises of pleasure from me, and he builds me to an incredible orgasm that makes me go still and silent, a heart-stopping moment before the loud groan makes itself heard.

He builds another one up and unleashes it upon me in much the same fashion before he decides I have had enough, and I definitely have. I curl gratefully into his arms and drift off on a pleasure-laden cloud of exhaustion.

Being a toy

His fuck toy.

As appealing as the words are, the reality is sometimes a little daunting.

When he uses my mouth and then comes inside my pussy, falling asleep behind me due to exhaustion, his softening cock still inside me, his finger still buried in my mouth, my needs mostly unsatisfied, my dignity is affronted.

And then I realize, what dignity? This is what I asked for - to be used when he needs or wants, no recriminations, no hassles. 

I feel his seed trickle out of me as his soft cock slides from my body, shaken free by a shudder that wracks my frame as the realization hits me: a toy does not complain when it is used and its owner falls asleep. 

Suddenly it is right. It's okay. I've fixed my own internal anger and I wriggle my body to get closer to his.

But as I shift, he stirs. 

"Why are you so good to me?" he asks, as if he never fell asleep.

"You're asleep," I tell him, laughing a little, lighthearted.

"I am?" he asks. "Kiss me."

I turn my head and our lips meet in the darkness; tender heat builds between us as our gentle kiss lengthens into a place where time has no meaning. Our tongues dance, and my soul flies as his love and appreciation pour into me. His hand wanders to the apex of my thighs, which I closed when I shifted. I purr as his fingertips brush my skin.

"Open your legs for me, sweet girl." His words are gentle and soft but it is nonetheless a demand. I whimper as I am forced to release my resignation to nothing, but I comply, spreading my thighs to allow his hand access.

His words of devotion, adoration, and appreciation invade my ears. As he delivers the pleasure I had convinced myself I did not need, as the lights explode behind my eyes and I cry out with all the intensity of multiple releases, another realization comes to me.

This is what I asked for. The love invades me even more thoroughly than his words and fingers do, permeating all the spaces that are not open to physical intrusion, seeping through my skin and saturating my soul.

I was okay with him being asleep, but when he woke up he wanted to take care of me.

Spouse, lover, treasure, slave, toy.

All these things, we are for each other, regardless of the labels that make our lives more convenient.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

The better to see him with

I have officially given my first blow job while wearing glasses.

You might be curious how this came about.

Late Sunday night, my husband, that fantastic man I married, interrupted my touching him with: "Hey, what if I were to ask you to trim my hair again?"

I had already given him a haircut, so logically I knew he wasn't talking about the hair on his head. I was pressed to his back, a hand tracing small circles there, and one hugging him, exploring the skin of his chest. Momentarily stunned, I pressed a kiss to the back of his shoulder. "What, now?" I asked, glancing at the clock. 11:03, the giant blue numbers read.

"Yeah, is that weird?"

"It's kind of late. But sure, I'll do it," I responded. I'm not one to deny him anything he wants. I was naked; he'd asked me to take off my clothes when we first went to bed. I got up and started heading to the bathroom, grabbing his shaver on the way. "Oh, I should get my glasses," I remembered, making a little loop to grab them as well.

Like this.

"I'd feel better about that, yeah," he said, a tinge of amusement in his voice. I'm pretty blind without my glasses. Not as blind as he is, though.

Nude but for the glasses on my face, I knelt at his feet in our tub, and, leaning forward, took his cock in my mouth. He tasted good - clean, lovely, masculine. He had showered once already. He began to harden immediately. "Mmm," he said, his hands rubbing my hair gently, "who told you you could do that?"

"You did," I said, removing my mouth from his hard cock and turning on the shaver. Hard cock stays out of the way a little better, at least until it softens again. Ducking my head to see under him, I began my delicate task of trimming his pubic hair and shaving his balls. 

"I like to be appealing for you," he said as I carefully moved the trimmer over his balls. He's not a hairy guy, but he had plenty of it to remove.

We talked a lot while I carefully removed the hair in some places, and just trimmed it short in others. The hair itself doesn't bother me, but loose ones have been known to get stuck and find their way into my mouth and throat, and that's rather unpleasant. When I was about halfway finished, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and held it tight, just enough of a tug for me to be aware of it. He just held it like that as I worked, and I moaned.

"Is this distracting?" he asked.

"No," I murmured, intent on my task, then, moaning again, "yes. But no. It's distracting, but not in a harmful way."

"Good," he said, as he gave another little tug, emphasizing my position, making me ultra aware of it.

Finished, I set aside the shaver and grabbed the shower head, letting the warm water run over his belly, his cock, and his balls. I rubbed my hand lightly over the area to dislodge any hair that may be stuck, and rinsed away the curly bits from the tub between his feet. I'd tested the water's temperature on my own body, so there we both were, dripping as he replaced the shower head for me.

His cock looked fantastic. I took it back in my mouth and he moaned, hardening nearly instantly, his hands returning to tug on my hair. He dislodged my glasses, and in a gesture that touched as well as amused me, put them right again before he continued, pulling my hair, shoving his cock as far into me as he could.

When his cock was buried so far into my throat that I couldn't make a noise, my feet took over, making strange little flop-splash noises in the water that had puddled against my toes on its way to the drain. My hands fluttered against his legs, eventually clutching at his thighs for balance.

"You are my little cocksucker, aren't you?" he asked as I was clearly overcome with desire for him, for his cock in my mouth.

When he backed out of my mouth enough for me to make a noise, a long muffled groan of almost intolerable arousal emerged, my feet still flop-splashing with the intensity, my hands gripping the outsides of his thighs, my tongue swirling against his cock as it thrust into my face. I kept my eyes open, watching as his cock moved in and out of my face in a brightly lit focus I was unaccustomed to.

He arouses me so much with his words, with the way he exercises his power over me. "My cockslut, I love to fuck your face," he said as he held my head impossibly tight, along with dozens of other things that he just kept arousing me with, keeping my foot doing the thumping splash in the shallow puddle behind me, until he erupted, spilling the result of his own passion directly down my throat. I groaned as I kept sucking him, my knees beginning to feel the length of time they'd been kneeling, my legs absolutely trembling with arousal.

I wrapped my arms around his legs and looked up at him, my chin to his belly. I don't think he could feel the tremors racing through me, but they were.

"I love you," he said, gazing into my upturned face.

"I love you too," I responded adoringly, seeing him at this angle in focus for the first time.

He's just as awesome as I always thought he was.

Turns out seeing him in focus doesn't actually make that much difference.

e-[lust] #38

Photo courtesy of Lucy and Alex of A Couple of Wankers

Welcome to e[lust] - The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you're looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it'll be here at e[lust]. Want to be included in e[lust] #39? Start with the newly updated rules, come back August 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ Top 3 ~

Wrong On Every Level - "If you wouldn’t ask them to borrow $20 bucks, how the fuck is it ok for you to ask them to fuck you? Oh right, it’s not."

Good Girl - "She nearly melted into me. When I finally released her, she exhaled–she had been holding her breath."

The Three Minute Game - "The timer went off and I breathed out, both a sigh of relief and disappointment that it was over."

~ Featured Post (Picked by Lilly) ~

Bitch- "I don’t let her run the show…but she’s always around. She’s in the background saying: Bullshit"

e[lust] Editress: Dangerous Lilly

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Kink & Fetish

Anticipation
Bondage Blowjob
Filling you up
Learn the rope of knots: Square knot
Public tease
Swinging in Paris
Switch: Between Dom & sub – A BDSM Interlude

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

A Porn and Masturbation Trifecta
Cathartic
Deal breakers
Deborah Sundahl’s Class & Female Ejaculation
How my pussy has changed
On Rejection
Outgrowing One-Nighters (At Least in Part)
The Good, the Bad, but Never the Ugly

Erotic Writing

4 O'clock in the Morning
At the Campsite
Brutal Passion
Cold Hot Cold
Empty
I want to spoil you
I'm a Bootlicker, and That's Okay
I'll Take Two Please!
In the Soft Morning Light
Lolita Twenty-Twelve
My orgasm
Parked
Preparation
Peter and Sophie on Holiday
Slow tease
Sodden Sheets
The Guide
The First Time Again
Week Night Sex

A spanking sex lover's problem

My husband is a lean, wiry sort of man, tall and absolutely perfect. He stays active, especially in the couple of years since we hit thirty, trying to live forever.

He's right handed, and so I sleep on his left, the better for having his right hand free for spanking me, flogging me, and giving me dozens of orgasms.

I was loving on his left arm recently, and as I stroked and kissed it, I began to realize it was noticeably thinner than his right. I stared at it for a while, trying to figure out what on earth was going on, if he'd lost a lot of weight, or what. He doesn't have any weight to lose. I began to be concerned, because I hadn't yet compared his arms and realized his right one was still the same size, and then, we put his arms together. Yep, left one's smaller, right one's bigger.

Huh. What the?

Or perhaps, how to tell if a man
has lots of amazing partnered sex.

Eventually we came to the conclusion that all the orgasms, floggings, and spankings that he gives me have resulted in this size discrepancy. It's certainly not noticeable to an average glance, but getting up close and personal with his arms, heck yeah.

The idea of the "single guy" with the one arm bigger than the other doesn't really hold water anymore, does it? Perhaps that guy is just really, really awesome to his sex partner.

I suppose my husband should add a couple of extra lifts to his left arm's routine.

Chopstick spanking and sex

I started playing with a beautifully finished bamboo chopstick earlier in the afternoon, and on a whim, added it to our toy drawer.

One of these. From Daiso.

He took it out when we went to bed, and, holding my wrist tightly so I couldn't pull my arm away, whacked it against my inner forearm until it was covered in red stripes. After a few strikes I started trying to pull away, because that's how long it took it to start really, really burning. "Oh look," he said as I whimpered, burying my face against his chest, "it's getting all red up here."

Long minutes of tiny whacks of that chopstick against my inner arm elapsed, each tiny sound followed by a much louder one of mine, but he finally stopped, pushing up my nightshirt, and starting to flap flap flap the tiny stick on my breast, all over. It felt good at first, but as his little flaps started landing on my nipple with more regularity, I began to writhe, make more noises, and try to get away. Oh, it hurt. But I loved it.

As my complaints got louder and my struggles more pronounced, he brought out the wide plastic ruler, and hit me with it all over my breast. "Isn't that worse?" he asked. I nodded, screaming loudly as it landed straight on my already-abused nipple. "So you shouldn't complain," he concluded, "about this." He started tapping the chopstick against my nipple again.

"It's time to experiment. Which is worse? Ruler to the breast?" he asked, as he landed the ruler on the lower slope of my breast right under my nipple, making me jump and whimper a little, "or chopstick to the nipple?" I screamed as the chopstick hit me right on my nipple, arching to get away from it. "Oooh, I think the nipple."

"Yes, yes," I said, panting, trying hard to catch my breath.

"But it's harder to land this right on your nipple," he said, doing it again, making me cry out yet again.

"Oh, look, you have another nipple."

"No, no," I frantically denied.

"You do too!" he said, stroking it with his fingers, drawing it into his mouth, the pleasure circuits overriding my good sense and causing me to turn my body, to offer him more of my breast. He whacked the ruler into the other one while he sucked and nibbled, so I was sighing with pleasure and grunting with pain all at the same time.

---

So, how to even describe what came after all the breast torment?

His cock was so hard. But he wouldn't give it to me.

"I dunno what's gotten into me," he said as he kept torturing me, making me scream, writhe. At one point I stopped moving entirely, the intensity of the feelings coursing through me leading to a complete stillness that I learned afterward made him worry he was giving me a heart attack.

"A sadist," I responded.

"Maybe," he said, then, as his hand collided with my breast, "you know what's going to get into you?"

"Mmmf," I cried out at the impact, "your cock?" I asked hopefully.

He chuckled softly. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he said, twisting my nipple.

I just nodded as he slipped his fingers between my legs, dragging the tips through my wetness, sliding against my clit, eliciting gasps and groans. I arched up against his touch, wanting more. "If I gave you my cock, I'd have to fuck you." His fingers kept circling around my wet parts, making me groan.

"Not technically," I gasped out, writhing.

"Mmm, you're right. But it's awfully hard to not fuck you when my cock is inside you."

His fingers pressed deeply inside me; he was half on top of me, making me feel pinned and helpless as he pleasured me. I looked up at him and he was looking at my face already, then into my eyes, the intensity of his stare penetrating me every bit as much as his fingers were. "Oh, I like to watch you while I make you squirm. Yeah, baby, submit to me," he said as he held my gaze, his fingers pressing into my g-spot over and over, making my mouth open in a cry even as we looked into each other's eyes.

My eyes closed again and my hips danced, my breath coming quicker, my limbs vibrating as the pleasure he was generating in my core spread outward, lapping at all my nerve endings, setting me aflame. "Oh, yeah, there you go. Come for me, baby," he said, his hand moving faster, faster, the sensations causing me to spiral out of control. My body lifted off the bed, just my shoulders and heels pressing into it, pressing me into him.

He climbed atop me, finally, his cock pressing against my wetness. "Just orgasm isn't enough for you, if you don't get the cock too, is that right? Cockslut," he whispered, sinking his hardness into me, making us both groan with pleasure as he filled me up.

My legs were all over the place, spending a fair bit of time in each position: flat, knees raised up on either side of him, legs straight up, legs up with knees bent, holding my feet, and then my ankles on his shoulders. He never stopped thrusting into me despite all the changing positions, though the speed with which we rocked into each other changed. With my ankles on his shoulders, I felt his cock throb inside me even more. I opened my eyes to see his handsome face framed by my feet, looking at me, his blue-eyed stare of pure sex making me cry out at the intensity of it. Looking at him during sex is scorchingly, nearly unbearably, hot. I can't handle it for very long.

He leaned down, folding me in half, and kissed me hotly, continuing to fuck me, slow, fast, slow. I made all the noises you might expect - screams, gasps, groans and "Oh my God"s. Oh, he felt incredible.

We changed positions again. I wrapped my legs around him and squeezed him as we rocked.

---

Eventually he decided I should suck his cock.

"Does your pussy want a break? Would you like to suck my cock?"

My pussy did not want a break. But. "I would like to suck your cock," I managed to vocalize, breathless as I was.

"Mmm, that's right, you would. Because you're a cocksucker, aren't you?"

His words excited me and I arched up into him. He drove into me hard, circling his hips, grinding, forcing more little screams out of me. "Does just thinking about sucking my cock make you more excited and want to be fucked?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," I whispered, grinding my own pelvis up into him, relishing the sensations as our bodies slid against each other.

"You're a complicated girl, aren't you?" he asked as he withdrew with a suddenness that left me squealing with disappointment. He lay on his back and I dove after his cock with my mouth, sucking my juices off of him, licking all around the head.

"No, no. Greedy little thing. Get me that ramp to lie on first," he said.

I whined, giving him a slurping suck as I pulled my head away to get the Liberator ramp for him to rest against. "I know, you just want to suck the cock."

I put the ramp on the bed next to him and he moved to rest against it, giving him the perfect incline to watch while I sucked his cock. At first I straddled his knees, raising and lowering myself onto his cock using my arms, but eventually I found myself between his legs, his legs over my shoulders, his feet resting on my ass, his hands tangled in and tugging on my hair. His legs squeezed around my head once in a while, taking my breath away. I had the head of his cock resting in the entrance of my throat, and he pushed on my head, hard, gagging me. A thrill raced through me and I screamed, kicking my legs, my arms shaking. "Mmhmm!" I said.

"Oh, you like that?" he asked, doing it again to the same effect. He took my head then, pulling it up by his tight grip on my hair until his cock was only halfway in my mouth, and he held my head there, not letting me move, while he fucked up into me. I kicked and screamed loudly, my entire body shaking as he fucked my face. "Are you having an orgasm from having your face fucked?" he asked me, sounding surprised and amused even as he kept doing it. I shook my head as best I could considering the hard flesh keeping my mouth mostly centered. Not quite orgasm, but so fucking hot that I was having a hard time bearing it, containing the thrill within my body.

When he stopped, I pulled my mouth off his cock, looking up at him, rubbing my cheek against his hardness, kissing it to give my mouth a break. I'd forgotten he was reclining on the ramp and when I looked up at him, there his blue sex laser beams were, driving right into my soul. I moaned.

"Have you sucked all the juices off my cock now?"

I nodded, licking along the side of his cock, down to his balls, because they don't get enough attention.

"Probably time to give you a rest then," he said. "What's a nice, restful way I can fuck you?" he mused, mostly to himself. I just kept licking his balls, stroking his thighs with my hand, sliding up and slowly taking his cock back in my mouth, then going back to the ball sucking. "I could lay you down here and fuck you from behind. Yeah, I'll do that." He paused, making pleased noises as I sucked him hard and deep. "After I put you up on this ramp and fuck you from behind," he concluded. I whimpered.

"Ooh, and then I could fuck your ass." I groaned at the sound of that. The ideas were clearly coming at the man hard and fast. Having his cock sucked must cause creative bursts. I'm pretty sure he was gauging the intensity of my reactions with his pauses. "Or I could shove the plug in you and then fuck you from behind!" I whimpered again, a muffled little scream. I was running my tongue over his balls. "You like that, huh?" he said.

"Full," I said.

"Yeah, you like being full." He gathered the plug and lube from the drawer next to him while I sucked his cock. "But I don't think I can reach your ass from here," he said.

"Nuh-uh," I said, continuing to suck.

"You'd better turn around then," he prodded me verbally. I rotated, raising up on my hands and knees, keeping his cock in my mouth. He moaned; I guess it felt good the way I was moving. Then there was lube, and then his finger, and I was groaning all around his cock.

"Keep sucking," he ordered as he started to push the plug in me.

But I couldn't. I tried, as he slowly invaded me with that monster, but I couldn't. I screamed around his cock for a while at first, and then I pulled away to lay flat, clinging to his calf, kissing it between my moans as he continued slowly sliding that plug into my ass. I rocked my hips and screamed, doing my best not to kick as well, as it passed the largest part of the plug and locked inside me.

"Good girl," he said, pressing against the flat base of it, rubbing my ass for a moment before he got up and stood on the floor next to the bed. He moved the ramp to angle up to him, to raise our bed so I could get up on it on all fours and be fucked. I was sitting up next to it, moaning, kind of dazed from everything that had happened so far. "Get up there!" he told me, shaking me out of my daze with his words. I crawled up onto the ramp.

His slid along my hips and back as his cock forged a path into my pussy, made smaller and tighter by the plug stuffed into my ass and the position I was in. A soft keening wail emerged from me, and it seemed to just keep coming as we moved, providing a backdrop of sound to our activities, interrupted by our moans and sighs and grunts.

I've lost most of what happened next.

I remember:

Him pulling my hair, pulling my head back toward him.

My arms trembling, dropping to my elbows, and his hands in my hair pulling my back up to my hands, making me scream with the unbelievable way this action punched me in the gut, making me even wetter than I already was.

His cock pounding me slowly as his hands crept under my short, loose shirt to cup my breasts and then squeeze and tug on my nipples.

A stream of "Oh my God" that I just could not stop saying, even when I heard myself and realized I had said it at least a dozen times.

Him deciding it had been enough for that position, and abruptly removing himself from me, causing me to back onto nothing and grunt with the lack of him.

Him finally pulling my shirt off me as he slid his cock back into my pussy, lying behind me in the spoons position.

I don't remember him coming, but I know he did.

I remember half a dozen orgasms or so brought to me courtesy of his fingers.

I remember that he talked, but not what he said, only that it was so hot he melted my ability to recall it.

I rolled into his arms afterward, resting my head on his chest, gasping for breath, talking about how amazing that had been, how incredibly lucky I am to have him. We talked for a long time, just letting our hands wander over each other. The plug started to hurt and he told me to remove it, so I did. We talked so long that I felt him getting hard again.

---

"I want to fuck you again."

"Mmm, yes, that's an excellent idea. You want me to turn over?"

"That would be good."

"So wet," he said as he slid his cock back inside me. "How'd you get so wet? You just stay wet, don't you?"

I remember more about this. I remember how huge he felt, seeming to feel every bump and ridge as he slid inside me. I was deliciously sore from the previous use - just enough to heighten the sensation. I remember doing a lot of talking myself, about how amazing he felt inside me, about how much I love for him to take me, to use me. "Yes, yes, oh, fuck, yes," I said as I felt him start to empty himself inside me.

I am one lucky, lucky girl.

A night to remember: The sex

The first part of this is here.

Going to bed early is definitely awesome. If my husband was trying to discourage me, giving me a long, long spanking followed by what followed certainly wasn't the way to go. Now I just want to go to bed early even more often.

"I know what you need," he said, pulling his lips away from mine and looking into my eyes for a moment. I'm sure they were clouded by desire, and I know they were very unfocused because I couldn't manage to bring him into focus in my vision, which is normally blurry at best, but this was even worse. My nipples burned and tingled from the beating they'd just received.

"Put this in you. Just like you did earlier," he ordered, handing me the plug and the lube. I whimpered as I took it from him, turning away, shaking all over. I wasn't entirely sure I could pull this off. My hands shook as I squeezed out some lube onto my finger, and reached back to gently lube my ass, sliding my finger inside, spreading the lube evenly out. I moaned because I was unbelievably sensitive and it was incredibly intimate, doing this with him there. "Yeah, good girl" I heard him say. It was only then I realized he was actually watching me, and I inhaled deeply and let go a long shuddery breath.

I had left the plug and the lube by my head, and I retrieved both now, lubing up the plug generously, making sure it was good and slippery. It's huge for me, and the last part of it is very close to painful to get in, so I wanted to make it as easy as possible. I reached back and pressed the tip of it against my tiny hole, feeling it open me up. I groaned.

"Good girl," he said behind me, making me shudder at the knowledge he was watching this too. I held the base of the plug and slowly rocked my hips, moaning once it got about halfway in. So big. "That's it, girl, shove it in there," he urged me. I cried out at being stretched so much, but I didn't complain, just kept crying out and rocking my hips. "There it goes, all the way, take it, my girl," he kept talking, making my hips move faster, arousing me and humiliating me all in one fell swoop. I screamed a little as the largest part slipped into my body, and then I lay there, panting and shuddering, squeezing my muscles around the invasion. He hadn't touched me since he'd handed me the plug and I was aroused beyond belief. I groaned, my hips still rocking, feeling stuffed. His hand gently stroked my back and at his touch something inside me melted, softening me. Then his hand was pushing against the base of the plug, making me scream again.

"How's your ass feel now?" he asked.

"Oh my God," I answered as that was all I could summon, the entire experience having wiped my vocabulary very nearly clean. I rocked against the pressure he was applying to the plug, shuddering.

"Full?" he asked, prompting me.

"Yessss," I moaned, the desire coiling in the pit of my belly making me employ all my restraint not to turn, wrap myself around him, and fuck his brains out.

"And your pussy?" he asked, his fingers entering me there easily as I was a slippery mess of arousal. "Oh, yes, this pussy wants to be fucked, doesn't it?"

"Oh, yes," I whispered. Oh, fuck, yes.

"Turn around so I can fuck your face first, before I fuck your pussy," he said, using the words deliberately for their impact on me.

Well there was something I could do. I moved slowly due to the plug stuffing me full, and took his cock in my mouth, laying on my side next to him. Oh, he was hard, smooth and velvety under my lips and I moaned as I sucked him in, his heat overwhelming my senses. He put his leg over my shoulder and grabbed a handful of my hair, tugging on it as I sucked that cock as deeply in as I could. He grabbed my head and just moved it on his cock, faster and faster as I screamed with the excitement that particular activity generates in me, and when he stopped I kept moving at the pace he'd established, faster, faster, pressing his cock into the back of my throat on each stroke. He kept tugging on my hair. "What a good cocksucker, that's what you are, isn't it, a cocksucking slut? My cocksucking slut." I moaned my response. "I thought so," he rasped as I sucked him. "Good, good, fuck toy."

---

"What about your pussy?" he asked after many, many minutes elapsed in a similar fashion. "Does it still want to be fucked?"

"Uh-huh," I managed, without letting his cock slip from my mouth.

"You should probably stop and turn over so it can be, then," he said, "but I know how your mouth is. It just gets ahold of that cock and will not let it go, isn't that right?"

I kept sucking as my response. Deeper, deeper, holding him in the entrance to my throat until I had to pull away to take great gasping lungfuls of air. He stroked my hair gently as I took him back in my mouth. "I know," he said, "how about I fuck your pussy for a while, and then give you a nice juicy cock to suck? You'd like that wouldn't you?"

I moaned loudly. "Yeah, I thought you would. You like sucking those juices off my cock, don't you? Turn over, then, and give me my pussy."

I turned over, each breath hitching in my throat and coming out all shuddery, the plug still stuffing my ass. Despite the presence of the plug, his cock still managed to slide inside me with almost no resistance, my extreme arousal creating a nearly frictionless surface. I squeezed my muscles around him, making a lot of noise at being so stuffed. "So full," I whispered as he began thrusting into me.

My brain was on fire. He grabbed my head, holding it in both his hands, pressing gently on my throat as he slowly fucked me, his cock forcing its way into me, the plug and his cock battling for space in my body. I gasped and grunted and moved with him as best I could when he wasn't moving me himself. He left one hand tangled in my hair and let the other one move to my nipples, squeezing, pinching, pulling at them as he moved inside me, and then his finger was in my mouth. "Yeah, you like having all your fuckholes stuffed, don't you?" he asked, making me whimper my response around his finger as I sucked.

---

A long time passed like that, his voice, my noises of delight, his hands wandering over my body as we rocked together. Eventually he suggested he stop and give me his cock again, as promised previously. I just moaned and kept rocking with him.

"Oh, you do not like stopping what you're doing, do you, slut?" he asked.

"No, no," I panted.

"I know the feeling," he said, grabbing my shoulders and pumping into me even harder, pulling me back onto him. Long, delicious minutes passed like that. I put my hand on the wall over our head to give me more leverage to push back against him, enveloping his cock as much as possible on each thrust.

"Come on, slave, it's time for you to give me that face to fuck." He pulled his cock away from me and I whimpered, but started turning over as he'd requested. 

I moaned as I turned over, and he was rising up on his knees. "Oh my God," I shrilled, realizing what he was going to do, not knowing if I could take it, process it, or not.

I lay flat on my back and he swung his leg over my face, straddling me, facing my feet. I moaned as I smelled my sex on his cock and I took it in my mouth with a loud noise of pleasure, and then his hands were sliding in the slippery mess that was my pussy, his fingers entering me, playing with my clit, as he humped my face, his cock sliding down almost into my throat and back out again. His cock entered me as his fingers did, and he let his fingers skate all around and over my clit. I was a mass of nerve endings and moans that were cut off by his cock entering my throat, near-screams of pleasure as he overloaded my sensory inputs... and he was talking. "Good fuckholes," he was saying, and more, and more, but my overloaded brain cannot remember everything that he said. I just remember screaming, writhing, my screams constantly turning into cut-off noises as his cock entered my throat, and "I like to use you," he said.

I sucked him for all I was worth, and even though his exploration of my nether regions led to a lot of pauses to merely moan around his cock in ecstasy, eventually he came down my throat, his turn for loud moans of pleasure to stop what he was doing.

I kept sucking for a while afterwards, and he kept his fingers stroking me, kept talking to me. "I will fuck you in all three of your fuckholes at the same time if I want to, because that's what you're for. Isn't that right?"

He forced me to acknowledge this as he slipped his fingers inside me, pressing against the plug, other fingers pressing against my clit, pushing it around. I groaned at the words, at being compelled to respond to them. "Yes sir," I whispered, shuddering.

He climbed off of me and lay next to me on his side, his hand delving back into my wetness, filling me up with his fingers, making me squirm and make noises of delicious pleasure.

I was taking a long while as he stroked me, and my arm wrapped around him seemed to be concerning him. "Is your arm going to sleep?" he asked me.

"No. Is yours?" I managed to sound merely like a breathless person instead of a verge-of-orgasm fucktoy.

"No."

"I should probably turn over," I panted, still humping his hand. It's easier for him to make me come if I'm on my hands and knees, and I was beginning to feel like I never would and we would both be frustrated. Also easier for me to get away from him once I am in that state, which is why the next thing shouldn't have surprised me.

"You probably should," he said, tossing his leg over mine, pressing his knee up against his hand as it moved on my sex, and speeding up his strokes of my clit. He squeezed me close as I squirmed. "I'd like to see you try," he growled, and that was all it took. His determination to keep me close and under his control coupled with the slight change in his movements sent me spinning, screaming, over the edge. "Oh, there you go, baby, come for me," he said, satisfaction dripping from his words.

I did. I clutched him even closer to me and I writhed, my hips doing everything they could do get the fuck away from the stimulation that he just. kept. giving. And then I was screaming again, and again, and again, and he was really enjoying himself as he forced me to come over and over and over. I was sweaty, exhausted, but I kept clinging to him and coming, coming, endlessly coming on his fingers. I did not count, I lost the ability to count, but there were dozens of orgasms crashing over me.

"You just keep coming and coming and coming," he whispered into my ear as his fingers did their dance.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, I can't help it," I screamed, tossing my head.

"You should probably work on getting better control over yourself," he said as he kept his fingers moving.

"You control me," I panted between my screams.

"Oh, that's right, I do, don't I? Look at you, slut, you just came twice in the same sentence."

His fingers slowed, gentler, soothing, and I thought he was going to stop. Apparently he was just taking a break, because he increased his speed after a few moments. I shook my head as I approached another orgasm. "No, no," I begged.

"You don't get to say no, baby," he whispered, kissing me roughly, sucking my tongue, his fingers coaxing the orgasm out of my exhausted body as I screamed and whimpered into his mouth.

Something about all of this - my screams in the throes of orgasm, the sweat slicking my skin, or perhaps my helpless tossing - got him turned on again, and I felt his cock, hard again against my hip as I struggled to deal with the endless onslaught of pleasure.

I felt it, and I came again, just knowing that this was turning him providing the extra stimulation to send me into two more paroxysms of joy.

"You should probably stop coming so I can fuck you again," he said.

"Oh, fuck, yes," I panted, my hips still squirming as he kept touching me.

I managed to turn over and his cock pressed into me from behind, feeling even bigger than before, probably due to all the orgasms he'd given me. He grabbed a handful of my hair and held my head up, his other hand gripping my shoulder and moving me with him. "What a good fuck toy you are," he said as he moved my body on his cock.

This second time was faster than the first, though still respectably long. When his breath started to quicken I pressed my hand against the wall to push harder against him and screamed. "Oh, fuck, yes, fuck, yes, come in me, yes, YES, YES," because it was incredibly exciting to have brought him there twice in such a short time. I love his orgasms as much as he seems to love mine.

Afterward, as we lay there panting, he reached up and grabbed my hand off the wall where I had planted it, holding my forearm tightly as we spooned and he squeezed me against him.

"Oh, fuck," I kept saying, and then, much later, "That was the best yet. But I say that a lot."

He laughed. "I suppose I learn from experience."

Hell yeah, he does.

Yay for going to bed early.

A night to remember: The spanking

Yesterday, I spent a good deal of time with a butt plug inside me. I sent my husband a message telling him I had it in, and his response was. "Ah. Is good?"

"Sometimes, I think you don't know what to do with me," I replied.

"Maybe just not when I'm not with you."

Which is funny, considering how our relationship began, but skills fade without practice.

---

We've had a lot of exhausted nights since we got back from vacation, and I'd asked him if we couldn't just go to bed early. As good as all of our sex is, exhausted sex does not hold a candle to its prettier and more all-around fabulous cousin, fully awake, aware, and frisky sex. I love going to bed early - I'd do it every day if I could. It doesn't always work out that way. Thankfully, this time it did.

The lights stayed on, which promotes staying awake as well as emphasizes my submission. I can't hide from him when the lights are on. He held me in the curve of his arm and we kissed, hesitantly at first. We'd spent quite some time talking already and the transition period was a little odd. He pulled his mouth away from mine after a while, his hands gliding over the fabric of my shirt not providing the same thrill for either of us that the delicious slide of skin on skin could.

"Take your clothes off so I can touch you better," he said firmly. I sat up and slowly pulled off my shirt, and his hands roamed over my skin as I lay back down next to him, raising goosebumps all over me. "Good fuck toy," he praised me, tracing his fingertips lightly along my back, my arms, then trailing them down to gently rub against my ass. "How does this ass feel about being flogged?"

"Okay.." I ventured.

"Just okay? Doesn't your ass want to be flogged? Not hurt - not yet. Just gently flogged."

"Yes," I whispered. I don't even remember the last time I was flogged, but I probably wrote about it.

He got the flogger out and started using it, really really gently, so gently in fact that it just felt like soft silken hairs sweeping across my backside. I sighed. It felt nice. "Yeah, see, your ass likes that. Does it hurt?" he asked. His other hand rested on my arm, providing me with his love and warmth.

"Not at all," I said, wriggling a little with anticipation of what he'd do with that information.

He slowly increased the strength he put into it, and I was lifting my ass into the strikes of the flogger, moaning a little with the good pain, soft silky impacts that felt amazing, when he stopped. His hand replaced the flogger, and he gave me firm taps just hard enough to raise a little gasp from me at each one, all over my backside.

"Does this hurt?" he asked, seeing my response.

"Just a little," I said, as he continued, a little faster now, and I felt the heat building, building, a rosy blush beginning to form that he could see too.

"Ah, look, this ass is getting a little red now," he informed me, switching back to the flogger, bringing it across my ass and thighs. I squirmed in earnest now, he was hitting hard enough and my skin was sensitive enough to really feel it all. Little breaths whooshed out of me just behind each whoosh of the flogger. Whoosh, smack, breathe, squirm, an irresistible rhythm to which I couldn't help but dance. A squeal crept in now and then.

He started a new rhythm, with his hand again, and I purred as he rained blows down on me, alternating cheeks. "Does your ass hurt now?" he asked.

"Yes, a little," I confirmed, wriggling as he spanked me.

"Just a little?" he asked, and then he hit me with the wooden spoon. I screamed; I hadn't been expecting that. He hit me with it again and again and my feet came halfway up, but I stopped them from coming all the way up. He hit me right on the sit spots, and all over my ass. I buried my face in the mattress to muffle my screams. "Oh, I don't think your ass likes this spoon at all," he said.

"It doesn't!" I cried.

"Your ass hasn't missed the spoon too?" he said, tapping several sharp blows onto the canvas of my backside.

"No, no!" I assured him, shaking my ass back and forth to try to relieve the sharp burning.

"Hm." He put the spoon down and stroked my ass with his hand gingerly, seeming to pay special attention to the marks left by the spoon, making me whimper. "So, you filled yourself up today, huh?"

I was disoriented, then realizing what he meant. "Yes sir."

"You don't think you should have asked for permission first?" His hand resumed slapping my ass now, medium-strength strikes that allowed him to hit pretty fast and built up even more warmth.

"Noo," I moaned softly. I hadn't thought he'd care.

"No? You think it's okay to just take something that's mine and shove something into it? Really?"

"No sir," I whispered as I squirmed under the spanking he was delivering.

"I suppose I don't require you to ask permission to eat. Is that what you thought you were doing? Feeding your ass?" A particularly hard smack of his hand punctuated the question.

"No sir," I squealed.

"Just trying to make yourself feel good, all filled up, huh?"

"Yes sir."

His hand stroked my burning backside gently as he responded. "Well, I think you should ask for permission next time, okay?"

His words set off a shudder deep within me and I groaned, long and low. "Yes sir," I managed to agree as I trembled.

"Good fuck toy," he said as he stroked my hair, his words escalating my trembling to an uncontrollable level.

The spoon slapped into my ass again, a sharp smack echoing in my ears. "Oh, God," I squealed. It hurt so freaking much. "Isn't it interesting," he started, smacking the spoon into my ass several more times as I squealed with the pain, "how something so simple as a wooden spoon can hurt so much," he placed the rounded edge of the lovely piece of craftsmanship against the back of my neck, and slowly dragged it down my spine, making me inhale raggedly multiple times in anticipation. He hit me with it when he reached my ass, my ragged breathing turning into a ragged cry. He continued his thought as he put the spoon down "when something designed to deliver pain, like this flogger," he brushed it across my back, "doesn't hurt that much at all?" He landed a few delicious blows of it across my ass, making me sigh deeply.

"I just think that's interesting," he finished. He laid the flogger down and started with the spoon again. "Oh My God," I cried out.

"My ass!" he said, as he hit my ass with that spoon on every available surface, "Mine!" echoing each sharp crack of wood against flesh. "Mine! Mine! Mine!"

"Oh fuck," I whispered between my squeals. It always melts me beyond reason when he starts claiming me like that.

When he'd covered my ass in strikes to his satisfaction, he started smacking me with his hand again. I whined, shaking my ass back and forth trying to get away from him.

"Turn over," he finally decided.

It hurt. My ass burned. I paused for breath before I moved and he slapped me again. "Turn over!" he repeated.

"It hurts," I whined, rolling onto my side, my back toward him.

"Mmhmm, I know," he said smoothly, his hand snaking around to my front to toy gently with my nipples. I jumped and moved back against him, my burning backside rubbing against his hard cock. I jumped again at the contact. "Writhe in pain while I play with you," he whispered into my ear, gently rolling and tugging on my nipple. "Go on, baby, writhe."

I whimpered and did indeed writhe, between the joyous torment of his fingers on my nipples and the pressing of his cock against my sore ass. "I think I have a ruler here for your nipples," he said after a while, tugging gently on one as he spoke. I shuddered and a little yelp of fright escaped me. "Aww, are you afraid of the ruler?" he asked, bringing it out - a wide, solid plastic one.

"I am," I whispered. Afraid, yes, but so very very turned on.

He pulled me back a little more onto my back, the firm pressure of his hand allowing no resistance on my part, and he started tapping the ruler lightly all over my breast, much as he has done with the crop. I sighed with the pleasure of it, even as I tensed my body for more to come. "There, that's nothing to be afraid of, is it?"

And then he really started on my nipples - slapping slapping slapping, harder and harder, resting at a point of intensity just below screaming, keeping that level up, not changing, until even that became unbearable and I screamed. "Oh, I could do this all night," he assured me, keeping it up as I tossed my head and screamed little panting screams, my right hand clutching at his back as my left one made balls of the sheet.

His lips claimed mine and we kissed, hotly, as he kept landing blows expertly on my nipples. I squealed into his mouth over and over.

Minutes, hours, days later, he put the ruler down and then his hand smacked into my breast, the palm centered on my nipple. I groaned deeply. "Mine!" he whispered, claiming my lips again as he squeezed my breast, then spanked it several more times. Oh, so much arousal he was generating in me. Kissing, spanking, torture, and talk of ownership and sex, interspersed with gentle goosebump-raising caresses. Oh, how I wanted him.

"I know what you need," he finally said, pulling his mouth away...

The rest of the story is lots and lots of sex, and is here.

What I am

I am my husband's.

If I were to start talking right now, and say nothing else but to try to describe the extent of my love for him, years would pass, and eventually I would die while still trying to get it right. He is, without a doubt, the sweetest, most wonderful man it has ever been my pleasure and privilege to know.

He is funny, always making me laugh. I am often jealous of how consistently funny he is. I don't have the funny knack.

He is brilliant, and has put his all into building an amazing life for our family, while supporting my choices 100%. We're in a bit of a transitional period right now, and we've both made sacrifices, but I think his part of the burden is more.

He left everything he'd ever known to marry me, to be with me. It just does not get more romantic than that.

He presses my buttons, as I have an entire blog here to explain to my readers. He's always open and willing to press a new one if we find it.

He is an amazing parent as well, and our little one is as addicted to him as I am.

There's a quote from a Doctor Who episode, which my husband wasn't a fan of, but the quote rings so incredibly true for me:

"You know when you meet someone and they're so beautiful, but after a few minutes they're as dull as a a brick. And then you meet someone and you're like 'They're okay; not bad.' But then you get to know them and suddenly their face becomes them and they just become so... Beautiful.
... Rory is the most beautiful man I've ever met."

So I am his.


I am happy to please him in any way I can - and that's not even necessarily related to D/s. I just enjoy pleasing him, in much the same way any person deeply in love with another wants to please their love. He feels the same way about me.


I am submissive to him. I am thrilled when he takes what he wants from me, thrilled that our passion can still flare so hot, so regularly. I am thrilled when his sexy voice whispers sweet nothings or dirty obscenities to me in the heat of the moment, or out of it. His hand pressing on my throat melts me.


We've been married for almost ten years, and our love only grows deeper.

I feel so incredibly blessed to have shared so much of our lives together.

He has gifted me with his dominance, and with treasuring my submission. The interplay between those makes my life so incredibly rich, and I really cannot express how amazing my life is right now.

I am his, and I am grateful.

One Lovely Blog

The One Lovely Blog Rules of Acceptance

- Thank the person/people who nominated you and link back to them in your post.
- Share seven possibly unknown things about yourself.
- Nominate fifteen or so bloggers you admire.
- Contact the chosen bloggers to let them know and link back to them.

My turn! I've noticed a couple of people have put me on their lists, and despite the fact that I may be a day late, I'll do my best not to be a dollar short and link back to them all.

Kitty- who wrote an incredibly touching write up about me.

Fondlers Anonymous

Aisha

Bella

Spanky

Thank you all so much for including me!

I could have missed a couple - if I did then let me know and I'll update. 

Seven possibly unknown things about me

1. I have blogging inadequacy syndrome. I get sad that my writing isn't as good as I imagined it would be when I started, and I start to get discouraged. But then I remember my reason for writing - a personal love letter/sex journal for us. Everything else is gravy. (Sometimes damn fine gravy, mind you.)

2. I have friends all over the world, many of whom I have met and many of whom I have not. I love them all, and dearly miss the ones I don't see as often.

3. I make friends quite easily once I get past my personality inadequacy syndrome, and I love hanging out with people.

4. I cook. I love to cook, and it's gotten to the point where the great majority of restaurant food just isn't good enough anymore. Certain kinds of Thai and Chinese foods I've yet to reproduce well enough for my satisfaction, though, as well as some vegan treats.

5. I love having people over and sharing food and companionship with them. 

6. When I was younger, I never thought I would actually have sex. Ever. To that me, the life I live now seems an impossible, sparkly, fairy-dream.

7. I recently discovered Zenni Optical, and I now have 5 pairs of prescription glasses which I love. Previously glasses had been so expensive I'd kept the same pair for 8 years, until they fell apart because my face reacted badly with the metal. My face actually ate through the metal and the glasses broke. Now I have titanium for my main pair and they were cheap. No more rough metal abrading my face!

Bloggers I admire

The bloggers who linked to me above, for reals.

Now, for the rest - I'll annotate because it's basically a repeat of my blog roll.

Leather Cuffs and Silken Bonds
I love the relationship that we get to glimpse through Jake's eyes. It's very special.

The Dom Next Door 

I've only just discovered Scot's blog, but it's fantastic. 

Faerie Learns to Fly

Self explanatory. Oh, boy, does she.

The Black Leather Belt

Lily is amazing. I have such an enormous girl-crush on her and her writing that it's not even funny.

Sexual Dynamics: Memoirs of a Discerning Dom

He writes, and I blush. He's generally very good at pinpointing submissive motivations, though he doesn't post terribly often anymore.

The Dish with Ward and June

I do not know how June manages to be away from her love, but she does, and she writes, and I read. 

Saiorse Gives Way

Saiorse doesn't write often either, but she writes well and beautifully and it makes me happy when she does.

Always Each Other

Liza writes about scorchingly hot sex and other things. I enjoy reading her - which is unusual for me as non-kink doesn't always press the right buttons in my head. Liza does.