Saturday, June 30, 2012

Long time coming

For various reasons, this past week has been a rough one on sex. We'd played, but I hadn't had cock anywhere but in my mouth since last weekend. I count blow jobs as sex for my "more than once a day" desire, but I was really, really missing attention.

To make it even worse, we were about to embark on a journey that would put us with extremely limited privacy for the whole next week. My future stretched out in front of me, bleak and mostly sexless. I was depressed about the days both behind and in front of me.

I was showing signs of stress and depression, and my husband suggested I go to lie down after dinner. I took a quick bath and then did just as he had suggested. He followed me after cleaning up the kitchen, joining me in bed and pulling me into his arms. We talked for a bit and he stroked my face and arms, kissing along my neck. He pressed into my back and I could feel his erection.

"Why are you turned on?" I asked him.

"Mmm, maybe because you're not stopping me, even though you don't feel like me doing these things to you."

"I belong to you," I responded softly, seriously. I had no reason to stop him.

"I love you, girl who belongs to me," he said. In a whirlwind of motion his hand was in my hair, his fingers curled into a perfect tight grip, pulling my face to his. His other hand was at my throat, squeezing roughly, making me feel his dominance. "I like to kiss you, girl who belongs to me." His lips claimed mine and then he was sucking my tongue into his mouth. He does this thing where he keeps it, not letting me pull it away, and I was squealing as I tried. He didn't let me have it, just kept sucking on it, squeezing my throat, pulling me close to him. I kicked my feet at nothing and tapped my hands uselessly against him. He finally let my mouth go and I panted against his chest, my tongue feeling too big for my mouth, like it no longer belonged inside me.

"I could make you suck my cock right now, girl who belongs to me," he whispered. "And you'd do it, wouldn't you? Because you belong to me."

"Yes sir." I was breathing hard still.

"But I should probably leave your mouth alone for now." his fingers wandered down between my legs. I'm so used to being naked below the waist in bed that I do it even when I'm not planning to stay there. His fingers slid inside me and played while he talked to me. I moaned softly as I felt his cock press against my leg.

"Oh, God, I want you," I pleaded with him.

"I know, girl who belongs to me," he said, his fingers pressing against my g-spot and rolling against my clit.

I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close to me. "Oh, please, please," I begged.

"Please what, love?" he asked as I humped his hand, unable to stop myself.

"Please fuck me," I begged. "Oh, please, please."

"Mmm, can't have me yet, girl. You'll have to wait for bedtime. It's not bedtime." He kissed me, his fingers working their slow magic.

I groaned loudly and bucked, pulling him closer to me. I was losing it. "Please, Master, please, it's been so long, I'll be a good fuck hole," I pleaded.

He groaned and pressed his hardness against me even harder, exciting me so fucking much more.

"You have to wait, my girl," he whispered. That was it, the cock that I couldn't have, his words, his incessant denial, his magic fingers, and my own willingness to debase myself for his cock inside me sent me spiraling into orgasm. I clung to him as I shook, barely managing to restrain my cries of pleasure. He kept touching me.

Our little one knocked on the door and came meandering in. I clung to my husband, whispering "Oh my God," as they had some sort of conversation. He rolled away from me to continue the conversation and I snuggled up to his back, sliding my hand up between his legs to stroke his hard cock beneath the comforter.

The little one was gathered up for his own date night and my husband rolled back to me, his fingers finding my sensitive places again. "I still want you," I begged.

Despite the fact that light was still streaming through our window and it wasn't yet "bedtime," his shorts were gone quickly, and his boxers, and then he was inside me, holding on to me and fucking me hard from behind as we lay on our sides. It was glorious. "My pussy has missed your cock so much," I moaned out.

"My cock has missed your pussy," he assured me, cupping my breast in his hand and applying slow, intense pressure to my nipple, making me scream.

It didn't last long; it wasn't meant to. After he'd spent himself, his fingers were back inside me, playing me like his own personal instrument, and I was close. So fucking close. I was tossing my head, moaning, he was saying the perfect things to me.

Knock knock sounded at the door.

I don't know if you know this, but Friday night there was a massive blackout on the east coast. Several popular websites went completely down due to it. One of them was Netflix, which is where most of our entertainment comes from. "We need one of you!" said the little person. None of us knew about the blackout at this time either.

"Give us a minute!" said my husband. I groaned deeply. He kept touching me, harder, faster. "I guess one of us should go," he said.

"I'll go if you want me to," I moaned. I'd go anywhere he wanted me to.

"I suppose it would be better if you did. I do smell like sex." He kept fucking me with his hand, driving me closer to the edge of the cliff. I wanted him to push me over.

"And I don't? But I'll go if you want me to."

"Okay. You should go." He moved faster and faster, pressing against my g-spot.

"I can't go if you don't stop," I said, or something that would have resembled that if I was speaking English and not Nearing Orgasmish.

"I'll stop," he whispered, and he did, once he had pushed me right up to the very edge. I shook with unreleased sexual tension.

I sat up and pulled on my clothes. "You're a bad man and I'm not altogether sure I like you," I said in a shaky voice. I was trembling all over, my nipples hard points underneath my shirt.

"I know," he said smugly, a laugh barely restrained behind his words.

Have you ever tried to do tech support on a problem that is literally impossible for you to fix while you are right at the edge of orgasm? It's fucking hard. It took all my concentration just to stand on my feet. And then there are the user questions like "Try it on your computer," which you know won't work but they won't be satisfied that it won't until you show them. Trying to type? Impossible. I trembled all over and this whole scenario took a long time to rectify, finally having to supply them with a laptop and DVDs, and being interrupted several times after that when they did something retarded to the laptop.

There's more to the night - but I have to go sleep. It's been a long hard day and a lovely soft bed is waiting for me now. I hope everyone is having a wonderful July!

Friday, June 29, 2012

Better than Fifty Shades of Grey


I found this amazing story earlier: Just Once

So much of it resonated with me so deeply. Even if any of the specific acts don't get my motor purring, the general feel of the piece was superior. So much crappy erotica is out there, but this is something very special.   Yeah, 2001 was a long time ago, but I don't remember any crazy over the guy then either. 

Why this guy isn't getting random mass recognition for his writing efforts, I don't know. But I thought I'd shout it to the people who I do have a bit of influence over.

On the language front, no. I was pretty sure, as I reviewed the previous night’s events once more, that I had shied away from the words I thought to be too hurtful. On the other hand...
I said aloud, over the whine of the vacuum cleaner, “You dope, you ran out of other hands an hour ago.”
...On the other hand, calling my beloved wife “cunt-face” hadn’t exactly been planned out as a safe thing to say. Where the heck had that come from? All right, say that when it came to language I had been right on the edge.

Best friends

We're going to go on vacation soon, and we had tickets to a show.

Our car was due for servicing, and it would have needed it anyway, since it will be an awesome road trip of a vacation. It's been way too long since we went wandering in our car.

So we had an evening out to ourselves. It was awesome. I picked him up from work and we took the car for servicing, taking a walk to a nearby restaurant for dinner while we waited. The food was amazing, and while we talk so much during the day that we didn't have that much to say, the company was fantastic too.

After we picked up the car, we parked in the middle of downtown and walked arm-in-arm to the theatre, which turned out to be beautiful, an old grand lady, recently restored to her former splendor. 

We couldn't help but notice how we were pretty much the youngest people there, which is kind of nice when you're noticing more grey in the mirror every week. We have a lot of life left in us yet.

The show was spectacular, and a lot of fun. If only I'd worn longer pants, I could have enjoyed it even more. My calves and shins were freezing the whole time. I pressed my left leg to his right one while they both bounced to the music, for the warmth it could provide. It helped a lot, actually. We held hands, our fingertips stroking each other during the softer songs - we relinquished our grip on each other to clap to the rhythm or to express our appreciation.

The night was brisk - but after the chilly theatre it felt warm. We walked back to the parking lot, my arm around his waist, his arm around my shoulder. We chatted easily, and he made some comment about liking the song "Johnny B. Goode" for 'obvious' reasons.

"Ahh," I said, knowing exactly why. "Back to the Future, right?"

"Yep!" He nodded, pleased.

"It's good being married to a geek, isn't it?" I asked him playfully.

"It is!" he agreed.

I squeezed myself closer to him as we walked. "It must be awfully hard to be married to a non-geek."

"That must be when you go to geek events alone."

"You're my best friend," I said, leaning my head into his shoulder. "What's the point of being life-bonded to someone who isn't your best friend anyway?"

"I guess different people get married for different reasons, and so the world goes around." He was waxing philosophic on me. We chattered on about sleeping in your office and beer advertisements and then we were at our car. 

Later, once we'd crawled into bed together, all the various end of day tasks complete, he snuggled up to me, pulling me close to him. "You're my best friend," he said, kissing my neck softly, "with the best benefits."

Thursday, June 28, 2012

He called me what?

I have a secret. I like sex an awful lot.

You knew that already? Oh.

Another secret? I hate bedtime being shoved back to an hour when I'm already tired. "Oh, I'm tired, let's go to bed now," does not sit well with me. It stirs rebellion in my heart to be relegated to a post-tiredness afterthought. I don't want it. I want joy and delight and I want to have sex in the middle of the afternoon when I'm fully functioning and can really think about and experience it.

Middle of the afternoon isn't going to happen for a while - that's the choice we made when we decided to have a child and move across the country. So bedtime it is, but so often I just want to go to bed very, very early.



My husband was gently stroking my breasts as I lay on my back next to him, and I was starting to drift off when I felt his already hard cock humping into the back of my hand. I turned my hand to stroke it, squeezing, tugging gently on the foreskin, and then let my other hand join the first one, forming a sheath of them and sliding them up and down the length of his hardness.

"You seem to like that cock an awful lot," he mused, after some time.

"Oh, is there something else I should be touching?" I asked, sitting up, running my hands over his belly, his thighs. "I can touch you in lots of other places." I sat all the way up next to his leg, resting my chin on his raised knee, and ran my fingers over his calves, his shins, his ankles and feet. My other hand wandered over his chest and belly, occasionally brushing his cock, cupping his balls and lifting them.

I turned our fan away from us - he can't stand it blowing on him without cover, and I wanted to see him. I returned to my previous position, stroking his legs and body, zoning out a little and turning my head to rest my cheek on his knee.

His cock bobbed, mostly lacking attention. He groaned softly each time I touched him there, before my flirting fingertips flitted away again.

"It'd be awfully nice of you if you'd suck my cock," he ventured.

"It would be, wouldn't it?" I asked him, continuing what I was doing, wrapping my fingers around his shaft and squeezing.

"It would. You're very good at it," he said.

I thought about it while I kept stroking him for a few minutes longer. I was tired. He felt good to my fingers. It wouldn't be very nice of me to just tease him until I fell asleep.

I pushed his legs down flat and climbed over him on all fours, my knees on each side of his legs, my hands on each side of his hips. I breathed out against his cock, then let my tongue snake out and touch it lightly, a tiny taste of a lick. I moved my head all over, kissing his cock lightly and letting my tongue flick out for a little taste now and then. Each time my tongue slipped against him he moaned softly with approval. I licked the head and he tried to push it into my face. I pulled away until he settled back down.

I started licking his cock, long licks from base to tip and back down again, covering his erection slowly with my tongue. He was making more noise now, really enjoying himself. At the top of one of my licks, I suddenly sucked his cock in all the way to the back of my throat, sucking on it hard and fast once there. He groaned really loudly. "Fuck, yeah, suck that cock."

I bobbed my head on him, fucking my own face, but after a moment, I slid my mouth off of him and continued the long licking and the kisses to his shaft. I did it again, a long leadup of licks and kisses and a sudden hard fast sucking him in, unrelenting pressure suddenly overwhelming him. He had the same response. I liked it. I kept doing it, over and over, releasing him from my mouth, teasing him with licks and sucking kisses, then devouring him whole. 

My arms were getting tired and I rolled to my side, pulling him with me. His hands went to my head, seeming to sense the change in position meant I was ceding the control I had seized so violently. His leg was over my shoulder like it was fitted to me and he was thrusting into my face hard, I was moaning and he was talking to me, very close to his orgasm.

And then it happened: "Good fuckface," he moaned as he tugged on my hair and gagged me with his cock.

He called me fuckface. And I, with my mouth full of his cock, screamed. It aroused me, sending tingles through all the right places, and yet my head rebelled. "He called me what now? Fuckface. He's fucking my face. I'm fuckface." I kept sucking, he kept thrusting, and I was getting more aroused as my brain dealt with the term. It wasn't an insult; he was clearly thoroughly enjoying himself. My legs kicked, he tugged on my hair and he talked to me more. I was stuck on that word, though. It rolled around in my head and I could hear nothing else.

He erupted in my mouth with a series of loud cries  and I was thinking, "I am fuckface," as I swallowed his seed. I was rendered mute afterward, with all these thoughts rumbling through my head, and my throat and lips feeling particularly overused.

It was hot and I turned our fan back toward us, returning to his leg back over my shoulder, his hands in my hair. He had a lot to say. "You make me a very happy man," he started. I purred.

"You're so fucking good to me. Why are you so good to me?" I just squeezed his ass and his arm in response. "Love?" he asked. I nodded, whether he could feel it or not I don't know.

We fell asleep like that. He whispered more words of how awesome I was, and we fell asleep with his leg over my neck.



I dreamed of heat so intense it melted the plastic off our refrigerator magnets, turned them into dripping pools of clear waxy substance. I woke up sick, sweaty, shoving him off of me. He is a furnace and it was already hot in the room. This has often been an issue with us in the summer time.

"You're made of fire, my love," I whined as I pushed him away from me. He turned his back to me to try to get the bulk of his heat away from me, but his ass touched me and I cried out at the intense heat.

"That's my hot ass," he said, making me laugh. "Would it be better if I put something on?"

"Probably," I whimpered, miserable. He got off the bed to find something to wear and I shoved the sheet off of my body to let the fan get to my skin. In moments like that the fan is my most intimate lover; the slow steady caress of its breeze across my skin as it oscillated soothed me and I moaned. 

"Is that from relief at having me away from you?" he asked, as my moans were very clearly ones of pleasure.

Of course not. He returned to me, but kept his limbs off of me.



These moments all juxtaposed give a portrait of my marriage that thrills me. I love him so much.

Even if he doesn't want to go to bed early.

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Hard flogging's the charm

"Aren't you going to turn off the light?" I ask my husband as we climb into bed.

"I am not," he says, his face appearing over mine. "I have plans." He grins disarmingly.

I whine a little. He mimics me, turning his voice to a bit higher pitch. "'Oh, but huuusband, it's late and I'm tired and I just want to sleeeeeep,' is that right?"

I laugh, but nod. It is late, and I am tired.

"I suppose you could try to sleep through what I have planned," he says, pulling my legs open. "I don't think you need sleep though. I think you need a beating." His hand crashes into my tender inner thigh and I yelp.

"Oh, that hurts!" I cry out.

"Mmm, does it?" He does it again.

"Shit! It really hurts!" I beg, squealing, trying to close my legs. Both my thighs have received several blows now and they burn and tingle.

"Poor thing, it's been too long and your body's not used to it, is it?" he asks. "I'll go easy on you for a bit." He pushes my shirt up to expose my breasts, and slaps at my nipple gently. "That feel familiar to you?" I groan softly. He slaps my nipple again and again. My body bucks as the burn sets in, and then he is reaching over me. He pulls the crop from behind my head. "This is a good way to take it easy on you," he says, running the crop over my breasts. He covers my entire breast in little taps that make me sigh, but my legs still burn and I whimper. "That doesn't hurt, does it?" he asks.

"Not yet," I respond.

"Then why are you whimpering?" he asks as he amps up the slaps, each little slap biting into me a little bit and making me cry out now.

"My thighs still burn."

"Poor thing," he says. He hits a nipple particularly hard and I twist toward him, a little scream on my lips. He grabs my leg. "Oh, what's this?" he says, rubbing his hand all over my ass. "I think it's an ass. And I think I know what your ass hasn't had in a long time." He turns away toward the nightstand drawer, and I bury my face in my pillow.

"C'mon, show me that ass," he says. I lay flat on my stomach and lift my ass in the air a little. He hits me with our softest flogger and I moan. Again. Again. He hits me until my skin burns and I am lifting my ass for more strikes when he stops, letting his fingers stroke delicately over my backside. I moan; it feels incredibly sensitive there, but I am not ready for this. I'm not ready for him to stop flogging me. "I smell sex," he whispers to me, making me flush hotly. "Someone's enjoying herself. Do you need more?"

"Yes sir," I whisper, so glad my hot face is hidden in the pillow, so glad I don't have to meet his gaze when I answer that question.

The flogger hits me again, and though it is the same soft flogger that I love, he is swinging it hard, and my backside is so sensitive already it feels incredibly harsh as it lands on me again and again. I lift my ass higher, he hits the backs of my thighs and my sit spot and I groan with pleasure. Oh, how wonderful it feels. He stops again, his fingers making me gasp when they touch my hot skin.

Then he does something I am not expecting. I feel the crop bite into my tenderized backside and I yelp. "Oh, that hurts, huh?" he says, as he paints my entire ass with the harsh bite of the crop. I am wriggling and squirming and practically screaming. It hurts. I can deal, but it's an altogether different sort of hurt. It amazes me how he can keep finding different applications of the same tools. I have inhaled sharply so many times I have drawn lots of my own hair into my mouth. I am panting and writhing with the pain, unable to hold still, when he finally puts the crop down.

"Turn over." I slowly lift my head and pull my hair out of my face and mouth before I obey, turning to face him. He kisses me, his lips soft and warm and insistent.

"Take off your shirt," he orders, his dominance sending a thrill through me. I sigh softly as I sit up and do as he requested. "Oh, you don't want to lose that protection, do you?" he asks as I lie back down, his hands touching my shoulder and back. He kisses me again, hugging me close. "Not that it's really protection. Just nasty barriers keeping me from touching you."

"Show me those breasts again," he says. I have been lying with my arms crossed over them. I tremble as I open my arms, and he starts slapping the crop gently all over my breasts in a rhythm only he knows, slap slap slap slap SLAP.

He keeps going, and the sting builds each time he whacks the crop into a nipple, a loud squeal on my part announcing the difference in the pain. Eventually it hurts too much, and after a particularly hard blow, for the first time in recent memory, my hands fly up to protectively clasp my breasts.

I tremble, whimpering with anticipation, as he runs the crop gently over my cheek. He must be looking into my face, but my eyes are glued shut. I couldn't open them with heavy duty tools. "You afraid?" he asks me as he hears my breath quicken.

"Yes sir," I barely whisper.

"You should be," he says, running the tip of the crop across my other cheek. He slides it down to my hands, still clutched over my breasts. "Move your hands," he commands, brushing the crop along the back of my arm.

I can't do it. I don't move. "Move your hands," he repeats, slapping the crop against the back of my hand. I whine with the sting of it and let my hands fall to my sides. "Good girl."

The crop dances over my breasts again, touching hard on a nipple now and then and drawing a yelp from me amongst the other various cries I am making. I twist repeatedly, but manage to get back into position somehow.

I can't bear any more, my nipples are both on fire. He puts down the crop and slaps my breasts full-on. I groan. "Are you my cockslut?" he asks softly, dangerously.

"I am," I whisper.

"Then you won't mind sucking my cock for me."

Mm. No. I don't mind.



He finishes in my mouth and praises me as I lie there with his leg over my shoulder, his hands stroke my hair as we both catch our breath. "Good fuck toy," he breathes, and I shudder at the words. He must feel my shudder because he continues. "Good cock slut, good fuck hole. Good wife," he whispers, each phrase sinking into my psyche and making my body shake with barely contained arousal. I whimper at his words, nestling my face closer into his thigh, trying to merge my body with his, to melt into him.

"Mmm, come here, fuck toy," he says, tugging on my shoulder. I whine, happy being held by his leg. "Aww, are you happy being held there like that?"  I nod as I crawl up his body and he takes me in his arms. "But my arms aren't that long, girl, and my hands weren't done with you." I moan as he slides his fingers into my pussy, his thumb dancing over my clit. It feels divine. He rests his other hand on my throat, pressing it gently to the bed, and his mouth goes after my nipple, tormenting it with his teeth. I groan loudly, bucking under him. I love that I can't lift my head although I want to so desperately. I love the pain of his teeth gently biting into my nipple. I love the pleasure his other hand is dealing to my nether regions. I writhe as best I can under his ministrations, and I am making a lot of noise.

"You're hurting me," I manage to vocalize as he bites particularly hard on my nipple, sucking it deeply into his mouth.

He pulls his mouth away from me. "Exactly where am I hurting you, my girl?"

"My nipple," I exhale on a moan as his fingers impale me.

"This nipple right here?" he says, biting into it even harder.

"Uhhh, yes," I cry out.

"Mmmmmmm, good," he says, fastening his lips back around it and continuing on like I never said anything.

I am thinking about how divine it all feels and how much I'd like it to go on forever when suddenly, I explode. I am writhing all over the place, crying out from the increased sensitivity, trying to get away. He rolls to his side, holds me tight against his body and keeps his hand moving on my sex. "Look at you go, girl," he whispers into my ear as I lose my mind again.


"Did my poor girl think she'd have to go another night unfucked?" he asks me as he slowly strokes my sensitive flesh, soothing it as it pulses. I nod against his shoulder. "Poor thing," he says, kissing me, "now you'll just have another night unslept."


I by far prefer the latter. 

Monday, June 25, 2012

Breast spanking and cock sucking

If you arrived here because you were expecting a steamy tale of blow jobs and breast spanking, sorry. I don't usually label my sex posts so blatantly. Perhaps I should.

You probably want to go read this instead: Exactly what I needed
Or this: Such a chore
Or this: I love Wednesday
Or even this: Every single day is awesome

If, on the other hand, you'd like some more insight, you might want to stick around and finish reading this one.

I was going over my search terms for the last week or so, and the overwhelming majority of repeated searches are to do with blow jobs and breast slapping. Mostly blow jobs, but the breast spanking appeared often enough I thought I'd include it.

Here's a nice sample of 58 of the most recent searches. I only removed 20 or so other searches from the list of ALL my searches:

my husband insists on a blowjob every day
love stroking cock
i love to suck my husbands cock for hours
what if my blow job
master had me give blow jobs to his friends
i love my husband cock suck
my husband+breast spanking
my husbands cock
sucking my husbands cock
i hate to suck my husband's penis
i love sucking my husband's
why i dont like to suck my husband dick
i hate sucking my husband dick
my sub doesnt like sucking cock
i like my husband licking
i like to suck my husbands cock
breast spank asking for
i love sucking cock in front of my husband. is it normal?
why i suck my husband's cock
love sucking husbands dick
exploring the cock
suck my husband cock
how to suck my husbands
i love sucking my cock
my husband slapped my breast+spanked
surrender to cock blogspot
i love sucking cock
why i like sucking dick
i love sucking my husband
husband cock
blowjobs are a chore i hate them
i love sucking my man's dick
spanked my breast
i like 2 suck my husbands penis
horny ladies give glow jobs
suck my cock lover man
i love sucking my husbands cock
quiet submissive blowjob
blowjobs are awesome
love sucking cock
i always enjoy your blowjobs
why i love sucking cock
d/s cock sucking
how about sucking my cock
i love sucking my man's cock
i suck my husband dick sex
making love licking cock
many women like suck cock and taked in
nipple pinching and slapping
older women love sucking cock
poems suck my cock love
suck my cock like you love it
suck tyou hasband cock
sucking cock husbund
two girls tied up and sucking one dick
why i love my husbands penis
why wives dislike sucking husband's penis?
woman loves sucking cock it sends her to sleep

So now I'm the blow job giving submissive girl who loves to have her breasts spanked, I guess. I think I'm okay with it. I know I'm okay with it in life, but the whole public persona thing is a bit daunting. Fitting into a happy mold has never really been my strong point. 

The large amount of searches I get that seem to be people wondering why sucking cock doesn't do it for themselves or their partner make me sad. The search "blowjobs are a chore i hate them," vies for the sad-making crown with the plaintive tone of "why wives dislike sucking husband's penis?"

Women are all different creatures, but I can come up with some pretty good answers.

Why doesn't she like sucking cock?

There are so many reasons a woman can go sour on giving blow jobs, even if she was initially enthusiastic about the concept. 
  1. It's not clean.
    Dude. Take a shower. Do you really think the idea of your sweaty smelly crotch up in her face is going to turn her on? Some woman may like your specific aroma, but generally, just take a shower. It can take as little as five minutes, and the return will be worth it.

  2. He's too rough
    So you read about face fucking somewhere? Maybe even here, on my blog, where my husband grabs my head and yanks it up and down on his cock, and I love it. You like the idea of doing that too, so why not try it? But here's the thing: my husband does that because I want him to. He does it because it makes me hot. Sure, it feels great to him too, but if I didn't want to experience it he would not do it. We've been together for over a decade. We've developed our kinks over a lot of time. But most women are not going to love the sensation of having their heads used as masturbation aids. It might just piss them off.

  3. It's uncomfortable
    The most important part of a blow job is a willing and happy mouth. Find a position where she can fully explore and not have some part of her body aching or falling asleep. Do not get the idea of one particular position stuck in your head. Talk to her about what feels best to her. There's also the issue of aching jaws, which can be worked out over time. Just let her stop when she needs to, no whining. My jaw used to ache after several minutes, but now I can go on for long periods of time.

  4. He complains or isn't appreciative
    You have a woman willing to put your cock in her mouth to give you pleasure. Do not be an asshole and tell her she's doing it wrong unless she is doing something to hurt you. Do be appreciative, tell her what feels great, and lavish her with praise and affection while she is doing it and after.

  5. He wants a blowjob and then falls asleep/leaves/goes to play video games/out with friends
    Can you say "unfulfilling?" Especially if this happens regularly. You're creating a response wherein giving a blowjob means the end of her pleasure. Do you really want this? I don't think you do. She is going to feel used, and not in a good way. She will come to resent the concept of putting her mouth anywhere near your cock. Variety is the spice of life! You can do things to her while she pleasures you with her mouth, or you can stop her and pleasure her in other ways, thanking her for the wonderful way she's made you feel.

  6. He doesn't give any feedback
    She gets up her nerve to try to please you like this after much encouragement on your part, and... nothing. You don't thank her or tell her she is awesome or stroke her hair lovingly or tell her she's the most wonderful thing ever to walk the earth. . . there's no intimacy generated by this act. It's just another way for you to get off without doing too much work. While receiving a blow job is generally viewed as a passive act, if you want to repeat it then you want her to enjoy it, so you make it good for her too.
I'm sure I could come up with several more, but I'll leave it to my readers. Any volunteers?




Updated to include this new one: "is it safe to suck hubby cock?"

Mostly, the answer to that is yes, provided no transmittable infections in either of you. If you have a visible cold sore, then, no, don't.

Sunday, June 24, 2012

Slow tease

Such a long, long post. You have been warned. There are rewards in the form of written sex. It's taken me a long time to get it right enough to post, but even so there are large gaps in my recollection. They're indicated by the horizontal lines. Who knows what happened there? I recollect bits of hotness but they have no defined place in the narrative, they just float about, detached from everything else. He blew my mind, and my narrative suffers from the blown circuits, but you can get a very good idea.

We had our own version of date night on Friday, when my mom takes the little one into her room and watches stuff with him and they crash out sometime in the wee hours. It's supposed to be a weekly thing, when she gets her special time with him and the two of us get time to watch "grown-up" movies (anything rated R or not kid-friendly) and hopefully run off to bed early, but often enough they wind up wandering back out and it turns into a standard evening. This time it went like it was supposed to, and we watched a lovely sad film that wasn't quite what we thought it would be but was very good nonetheless, and we slinked off to our bed early. I had bathed prior to watching the movie, so I was all squeaky clean.

He held me in his arms and we talked for nearly an hour, about life, our past, what memories we each have surrounding various events, about time and the years we've been together and what it must be like to grow even older together. It grew later, and he wound up his end of the conversation with "Mmm, we should make the most of the evening we have now."

"Lover, the evening's gone," I responded against his lips, as he kissed me, glancing at the clock over his shoulder. It was 10:15. "There's not even two hours left in the day! It's definitely night," I continued talking into his mouth between little kisses.

"You can do a lot in two hours," he said meaningfully.

I sucked on his lip a little. "Mmm, not enough."

Saturday, June 23, 2012

Every day I'm loving you more and more

I have a monster of a sex post coming. But it's eating my brain away.

I thought I'd share something my husband told me that melted me into a little puddle of girl.

I asked him if there was anything more I could do for him, in general.

He responded: "I don't have a perfect idea of you in my head. My perfect you is you, so whatever you are is perfect."


Thursday, June 21, 2012

Yeah, he can still make me blush

"Oh, yay, TWO wonderful things came today," I told my husband over gtalk.

"Were you one of them?" he responded.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

True confessions

I have a secret.

Sexy photos and videos aren't my thing, which is no big secret to anyone who's read my blog for a few posts. I love words; they are the fuel of my arousal. However, reading stuff does not generally turn me on.

"Whoa, Nelly," I hear you say, "how is that even possible, sex blogger who reads lots and lots of sex blogs and sexy stories and spends so much time doing so?"

A scene I described in the novel Beloved Bondage did, in fact, arouse me to the point of masturbation.

Another scene, when I was much younger, in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe also aroused me to that point, though it was clearly not meant to.

Once, having netsex with my ex, I was very, very aroused.

But in general? Nope. Nothing. I have an intellectual response to things I find insanely hot. "That would be really hot if it happened to me," I think, or "Wow, that must have been amazingly arousing to be in that situation." I can even have a "Oh, wow, I want to go try that right fucking now" response, but actual arousal? Nah. Not so much. Before I was married, I spent a lot of time reading sex stories, but honestly, just for ideas. Somewhere buried in the often crappy prose and terrible dialogue, I would find a nugget of hotness, and I'd keep it for my very own, to experience one day.

Some stories I'd evolve into my own personal fantasies, and I would use the hot elements to spin my web when I did want to be turned on later. I'd touch myself as I rewrote the stories to suit myself in my head, but never while reading.

Another confession: Before my husband, I never had an orgasm. I'd masturbate to almost there, but when I got close I just couldn't keep enough energy to get myself off. The sex I had with my ex during our brief two weeks together in person certainly didn't do it. 

Then came my husband. We had a bad netsex experience together once, before we were a couple, though it's not what you're thinking. We got stuck in a chat with two other people who were really, really bad at it, and shouldn't have been doing it there in the first place. We stayed silent there, watching awkwardly, as it was too amusing to look away, and making jokes about it over ICQ. It became one of the weird bonding experiences we had to lead us to our couplehood.

I think in part due to that experience, it took us quite some time to lead up to netsex ourselves, though I'd been quite the avid participant with my ex. Even after we'd met and been intimate in person, it didn't quite happen for us online. It took some gentle leading to get there. I was his first everything, so I didn't want to frighten him away by looking like a sex maniac.

I knew if we ever worked up to that point it would be amazing, because this man was able to turn me on with his words without even trying. I spent a lot of time helplessly aroused by his sincerity, by the endless depths of his love for me. The man was into me, and it was hot. Reading him was turning me on.

There was a stumbling block besides his innocence: he didn't seem to get the point of netsex. Just a weird thing for weird people to do in his mind, I guess. I couldn't get him there, no matter how often I tried. So I wrote him some steamy emails, which had the desired effect of turning him on.

He got it then, and he ran with it, keeping me in a state of almost perpetual arousal for weeks at a time, sometimes with long sessions, sometimes with a well-placed comment here or there, sometimes with his own steamy emails.

Reading him was really, really turning me on.

I had a few orgasms with him, without ever touching myself. I never did masturbate during cybersex, with the exception of fondling my breasts once in a while, or feeling the wetness as it slid down my thighs. I don't know if he did. He never told me exactly. Probably he did; I've learned that's a thing people do. My body responded to his words so beautifully without my interference though, I never felt the need to do anything during but marvel at my own sexual response to a man who was so very very physically removed from me. It seemed like self-stimulation would take away from the magic for me.

He allowed me to buy a sex toy though, kind of a rabbit vibrator, and he'd give me permission to masturbate with it in those lonely hours after he was asleep. Occasionally he'd get me all worked up first and then leave me to it. I'd write him about it sometimes, what I did, while I was doing it, made easier by the fact that my computer's keyboard was on my bed. Once, he required me to write him about it.

Reading generally does not turn me on. But reading this man, my soul mate, turns me on beyond belief. Reading my own writing with his words in it can often have that same effect.

I miss his writing though:
As you work your indescribable magic, and I near a state of perfect bliss, I retract myself a little, and indicate to you that it'll do for now. You make a curious face, and I start to kiss it, assuring you there's nothing you did wrong. Stroking your hair again, my eyes get lost in yours. There's a bit of a blur...and your eyes return to me, except now in a picture on my desk, which I find myself sitting at again. You're gone from the bed, but I still feel you with me, and I long for the days we can make all our fantasies come true.
 Until then...good night, beautiful. I love you...
We make our fantasies come true a lot, nowadays, and there are only so many hours in the day. It's his extreme levels of hotness that lead me to want more and more of him - whether that's in my mailbox or in our bed.

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

e[lust] #37


Photo courtesy of Molly at Molly's Daily Kiss

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] #38? Start with the newly updated rules, come back July 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ Top 3 ~

Coming to Terms with Being Gay - From the time I was seven I was raised Mormon, which meant I wasn’t allowed to have a girlfriend until I was 16 or to have sex until I was married.

What I Want - I want to be humiliated. Call me a slut. Call me a whore. Slap my face. Expose me.

Dinner Party Entertainment - At that moment, J's eyes went wide--he finally realized I was leaving him there, tied to the bed.

~ Featured Post (Picked by Lilly) ~

My Abstinence Only “Sex Education” - The speakers were a married, Christian couple, and the man told us about how he had pledged to stay a virgin until he was married.

~ e[lust] Editress ~

Your Crappy Writing Turns Me Off - Your written words are your clothes, your power, your voice, your facial expressions and that by which we measure intelligence, personality and even attractiveness.

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!

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

A New Found Respect for Bondage Educators
Cunt: Healing sexual abuse
Equal but Different
Fuck you. Without a condom
Harper Eliot's Guide to Surviving Drop Alone
PolyAnna's Musings: What About the Kids
Settling down--bullshit free

Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Sweet Valley High Meets the Story of Oh My!
Women's rape fantasies
Why May is Nat'l Masturbation Month

Erotic Writing

Ache
A Word on What Your Words Do to Me
Anything the Lady Wants
Breathless
Cemetery Sex
Dropped Call
Fucking a Stranger’s Wife While He Watched
Folly, part 4
Getting His Attention
Jerk and Tug
Jill's Look Back at Masturbation Month
Like a Faggot
Phontographs (fiction, part 1)
Release
Senses and Scents
Spearmint Rhino
Swing: Part I
The Dance
Touch Me, Tease Me

Kink & Fetish

Earning My Wings
fantasy with beast/the train ride
His first crop spanking
Learn the rope of knots: Larks Head
Popping my anal cherry
Stress Relief
Staying power
The Cutting Edge
Tie Me Up! ~ I think...
Why chastity is hot
What I Like and Why

Morning quickie

We're tired, and it's gotten pretty late. He cradles me in his arms and I plant little soft kisses all over his chest. We fall asleep somewhere in the midst of my soft kisses, his arms around me something I appreciate greatly every time I stir during the night.


In the morning, he showers and has his breakfast before coming back to bed. I don't know what time it is, but he slides his hand beneath my night shirt, starts rubbing me, pulling me to him, claiming my flesh. I stretch, pressing back into him, and purr happily as his hands create tingles all over me. It's been so long since we've both been awake enough in the mornings to do anything but nap.

He pulls me over and kisses me, tangling his hand in my hair. I feel a twinge of pain as he pinches my nipple.

"Want to suck my cock for me?" he asks roughly.

"Oh, yes," I whisper, sliding down his body, taking his erection into my mouth, swirling, sucking, inhaling. I have no idea how much time we have, but I intend to make the most of it. I moan at the taste of him, and then I squeal as his hands oh-so-slowly tighten in my hair and hold my head still for him to thrust into my face at his own pace.

He lets me go, and as always when given my leave after he hold me like that, I suck him in as deeply as possible, working the entrance of my throat around that glorious smooth head.

"You want to feel that cock in your pussy?" he asks. I groan deeply as I suck. Yes. Fuck, yes, I do.

"Mmmmhmmm," is my audible response.

"Turn over, then," he says.

I do. His fingers find my pussy, sliding inside briefly. He presses his cock against my opening, and... it won't go in. I am so aroused, but it's happened so quickly that my natural lubrication is all inside. He presses a little harder, it hurts, but I want it. I groan, rocking against him with just the very tip of his cock wedged inside me.

He pulls away from me. I groan again, bereft, but then his fingers are sliding inside me again, his thumb is stroking my clit, and I'm rocking to his touch. I roll over more, onto my belly, and his thumb slides inside me, pressing deeply, stretching me around the base of it. It feels so good; my breath is a near-constant sigh of pleasure. I feel myself approaching orgasm and I roll toward him before I achieve it, pulling away from his fingers. He lets me, kissing me back as I latch fiercely onto his lips, his hands wandering over my body.

We chat, just a little. I open my legs again for him and his fingers slide to my slippery pussy. "Mmm, you are a wet little slut, aren't you?" he asks as he gently toys with my clitoris.

"Yes sir," I whisper, humping up to his hand, kissing him again.

"Mmm.. it wouldn't be very nice of me to leave you like this, would it?"

"No sir," I respond, the idea of being left like this taking hold in my head and turning me on even more. Surely he wouldn't.

"I suppose I'm not a very nice man," he says, fastening his lips hard to mine as he leans over, sliding his fingers deeply inside me, strumming my clit gently. Fuckfuckfuck. I don't even know what to think. Is he going to tease me to the edge and stop and leave me like this all day? Will he let me come? Oh, God. I moan as the sensations he is causing collide with my thoughts and I abandon all attempts at reason. I writhe for him, my body dancing under his touch, my lips and tongue prisoners to his whim.

He drives me there, to the brink of orgasm, and as I start to crash into it, I stop myself, just a little. I somehow stop the orgasm, and something inside me waits. He can hear my desperate noises, feel my undulations as the pleasure builds. He knows. He doesn't stop. He presses on. I scream as the orgasm takes me over, my entire body vibrating with the release, my legs kicking. "Good girl, you take it, baby," he whispers into my ear as I cling to him.

"Turn over, slut," he whispers as my body stops vibrating and I stop screaming, though I am still thrumming with pleasure. I obey him gladly, and his cock slides into me easily now. I groan as he fills me up, but there's not much time. We move together quickly to achieve his release, and he pulls me into his embrace afterward. Snuggle time is a must. I kiss his chest, making happy sated noises.

"Thank you for not leaving me like that."

"You're welcome," he says, kissing my lips as I tilt my face up to gaze at him with adoration.

"What brought all that on anyway?" I ask, curious.

He laughs at me. "I just felt like...taking you."

Oh, yes.

Monday, June 18, 2012

Father's day interlude

We had innocent intentions on Sunday afternoon - a snuggle, a cuddle, maybe some kissing. We left the door open, why wouldn't we? "Hey, you want to read my post?" I asked him as I snuggled into his arms, offering it up to him on my Kindle Fire.

"Oh, sure," he said, taking it from me and reading quietly, resting the heavy device on my shoulder.

Our little one came scampering in several times while my husband read: "Daddy, daddy, come see!"

"In a few minutes," we kept telling him, laughing at his antics. The two of them had been stuck together like peas in a pod all day. I wanted some stuck together time too.

He finished reading and put down the Fire, stretching. "That's a nice story, my love," he said.

"Story? That's not how you remember it?"

"Mmm, pretty much."

He kissed me gently. "So, we still going to the store?" he asked. I nodded against him and he lifted the sheet off himself. "But touch me first," he said, letting me slip my hand down against the denim of his jeans, feeling the bulge of his erection beneath. I pressed gently and he groaned.

I fumbled at his belt buckle and he undid it, opening his jeans for me. "I miss your button flies," I whispered as I slipped my hand between his jeans and boxers, feeling his heat through the soft fabric, squeezing. My fingers sought out the gap in his boxers and slid inside to stroke his velvety skin. I pushed the waistband of his boxers down and moved my head lower, kissing the head of his cock hotly, wetly, sucking and swirling my tongue around it. I love to taste him like that. It was good, and his pleased whispers indicated he was enjoying me too. I wanted to stay there for a while, but I knew that would be hard to explain if the munchkin came wandering in.

"Tease," he whispered to me as I pulled my head away from his cock.

"Mmm... don't wanna tease you. Want to give you everything you've ever wanted."

"Have it already," he said warmly, squeezing me against him, humping my breasts through all the layers of our clothes. I purred, relishing the shivery delighted feeling hearing him say that gave me. I pulled my shirt and bra up above my breasts and he shoved his own clothes down, pressing his cock directly against my breasts, making me breathe heavily and sigh with pleasure.

He pulled me up after a time and kissed me, running his hands firmly over my body, possessive, claiming. He pulled my legs open and then his fingers were gliding against my open pussy. I was already naked below the waist.

"Oh, my, you're wet," he said, managing to sound surprised.

Our munchkin chose that moment to wander in, asking something. My husband pulled his fingers away from me, but I pressed my body against him, rubbing as we convinced the little person that we'd be with him in just a little while, that he could leave us alone again. He did.

"How'd you get so wet?" my husband asked softly into my ear, slipping his fingers back between my legs, making me whisper a moan.

"Yooou did it to me," I whispered back, arching into his touch, trying hard to keep my pleased sounds soft and low. "Such a tease," I moaned.

"Nuh, it's all you," he said, his fingers working me into a frenzy of delight. "If you turn over, I can fuck this horny pussy of yours. That sound like a good idea?" he asked when I made a soft pleased sound at his words.

"Yes sir," I whispered, turning over, shivering as his cock slowly made its way inside me. I buried my face into the pillow so my groans of pleasure were muffled. It felt so good, slowly pushing my inner walls apart, filling me up. Quiet was really hard to maintain.

He pulled me against him, tugging on my hair with one hand, whispering dirty words to me. He took his time, and when he came it was with a series of barely-muffled groans of his own.

He pulled me back to him, slipping his fingers to my sensitive places, urging me toward orgasm. "I can't, I can't," I whispered against his shoulder, writhing, biting into it a little to muffle my groans. "I can't..stay... quiet."

"Mmm, I know, it's hard, isn't it, baby?" he asked as his fingers pushed me closer and closer to oblivion.

"Fuck!" I bit his shoulder harder, helpless to stop him. "So, so hard," I agreed with him.

"You're doing just fine, baby," he said, as he pushed me over and I cried out in a whisper, over and over, my cries muffled into his shoulder.

He didn't stop. I tried to move my hips away from his touch but he followed me. "Mmm, can't get away from me, mine," he said, rendering me still except for writhing, acknowledging his ownership with my surrender to his touch. I moaned softly as I came again, and again. He gingerly brushed his fingertips across my wet flesh, soothing it, calming it so it was no longer expecting orgasms, then ceased his touching and pulled me tight against his chest.

"We're bad people," he whispered, kissing me.

I squeezed myself tightly to him. "Bad man," I whispered back.

"It's your fault, you gave me porn to read."

I shivered at that. "You gave me porn to write," I responded, grinning and kissing his chest.



I love this man. I feel like the luckiest woman to have ever lived, to be blessed with his love, attention, and to be the mother of his child! There is no hardship I'll ever have to face that his love will not be worth.

He's amazing.

We're amazing.

Sunday, June 17, 2012

All you need is love

It was late when we finally stopped chattering like teenagers and turned off the lights. "What can I do for you, love?" I asked him as I wrapped my arms around him, resting my head on his shoulder, running my palms over his back and chest, squeezing him to me.

"Mmm, hold me. Love me. Touch me. Kiss me. Be mine," he whispered, his lips lowering to settle gently on mine as I tilted my face to look at him.

"I am yours," I said when our lips finally parted, slipping my hand under his shirt, letting my fingers dance over all his sensitive places. I know them well after the years I've spent touching him.

I teased him, and he let me. I slid off his shirt, gliding my hands over his bare chest, setting to work on one of his nipples gently with my teeth. He moaned with pleasure and I rolled his other nipple between my fingers. I could feel the vibrations of his cock thumping periodically against his belly. I moved my lips up to his and kissed him as I climbed over his body to his other side, the one that rarely gets attention from my lips. 

I worked his boxers off, kissing his hips and thighs, slowly licking his cock on my way back up to his chest. "Oh, good girl," he moaned as I dragged my tongue up the length of his cock.

I spent a long time touching and kissing him, wrapping my fingers around his cock at intervals, squeezing, stroking it, relishing his moans of enjoyment, before I let my fingertips dance away to glide across some other part of his body. I kissed the head of his cock once, a long, wet kiss with tongue, sucking the entire head into my mouth and rolling my tongue across it. 

"Oh, yes, suck it, baby," he groaned. 

"Mmm, not yet," I whispered as I pulled my mouth away, letting my lips linger against the straining head while I spoke. I went back to touching him all over, at one point sliding down his body to love on the tops of his feet, making him squirm. I turned the fan away from us while I was at the foot of the bed, then slid back up his body. 

I straddled his knees and took his hand, sucking his thumb slowly into my mouth, all the way into my throat, stretching my lips around the base of his hand while my other hand delicately stroked over his chest. I moaned as I felt the tip of his thumb enter my throat. It just barely reaches there, a terrible tease. I groaned and sucked hard on it before pulling my mouth away, to switch to his other thumb. My free hand wandered over his body, rubbing his cock, his nipples, his lips, as I sucked his thumb into my mouth, letting my teeth sink gently into the fleshy part when it stretched my mouth. I pulled my mouth off his thumb and just bit hard into the fleshy part, which is a thing I do when overcome by desire, managing to restrain the bite so it's not painful. He's used to it, and he groaned too.

I pulled my mouth away from his hand and licked up the underside of his cock as it lay straining for attention against his belly. I slid back and forth, skating on my tongue, until it was too much for both of us and I slowly sucked his entire cock into my mouth, feeling it enter my throat and block my air.

"Oh, good, good girl, you suck that cock," he groaned, his hands tightening in my hair.

I did. Oh, yes, I did. I pulled away briefly to remove my own shirt, letting my breasts become part of the blow job too, squeezing them around him occasionally as I sucked just on the head of his cock.

Eventually my arms grew tired and I rolled onto my side, tugging him over with me to toss his leg over my shoulder. This is when he began to torment my nipple, making me groan with the pain as I sucked him.

I heard him as he approached orgasm, those wonderful noises of pleasure too intense to bear. It was a long time coming, and he came for a long time as I sucked it all out of him. I rested, my head near his hip. He held my hands in both of his as we rested, letting go of me for just long enough for me to turn the fan back toward us. It was hot. We dozed.

"You're wonderful to me," he whispered. "Why are you so good to me?"

"I am for you," I responded, half asleep. 

I think we might have slept then, but when I woke to him moving over me, kissing me, the tea light on our nightstand was still burning, so it couldn't have been for very long. He kissed me passionately, his hands pulling my legs open, trapping my right one between his thighs. His fingers slipped between my folds and he made a pleased noise, as did I. "Ooh, my girl gets so turned on sucking my cock," he whispered, his lips finding mine again and claiming them, sucking my tongue into his mouth and capturing it as his fingers continued making me feel incredible.

"You're mine. I can do anything I want with you," he informed me when he released my mouth, leaving me breathless and panting against his shoulder. He rose up a little higher, sliding some fingers inside me, pressing hard against my g-spot as his thumb danced over my clit, making me yelp with surprise at the intensity of the sensation.

"You like when I fuck you, don't you?

"Yes sir," I responded, breathless, moaning, unable to deal.

"You like being my slave, don't you?" he asked, deliberately, calculated, timed with his movements to make me squeal.

"Oh, yes, master," I squealed, my hips undulating to his every little movement.

He slid his fingers out of me, returning to rolling his fingers all around my pussy, making sure to give lots of attention to my clit, moving his head and capturing my nipple  between his teeth, effectively trapping me, pinning me, as I writhed beneath him. He bit into my nipple hard enough to make me cry out.

"Oh, fuck, that hurts, master," I whined, bucking under him, enjoying the bite of pain, but wanting desperately to move more. 

He pulled his mouth away briefly. "It's supposed to hurt, girl," he whispered against my skin, making me squeal again with the intentional nature of the act as he sucked my nipple back into his mouth and bit it again. His fingers were building the pleasure between my thighs to a level I couldn't tolerate, and I kicked and struggled, arching my hips up into him as much as I could as a scream emerged from me, starting as a small cry and building, building into a crescendo of sound that I couldn't dampen, my legs kicking out straight my back arching, forcing my nipple even harder into his mouth as the orgasm took everything that I had, leaving me an exhausted mass of nerve endings.

He wasn't stopping. Oh, God. I screamed again and rolled into him, his arm tightening around my shoulders and holding me tight to him as his fingers continued their nearly intolerable dance on my sex. "Oh I know, it's so hard to be mine, isn't it? I force you to do such horrible things. Or maybe just things you're too exhausted for," he murmured against my temple as he slowly coaxed more orgasms, more screams from me.

Finally, he stopped, gently soothing me before he pulled away. As I whispered words of love and thanks, the candle on our nightstand finally burned itself out.

We were asleep very very soon thereafter.

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Thank you

This morning, I woke up with my husband, and, as is my wont, checked my email on my Kindle Fire.

The Fire couldn't check my email. I opened the web browser, and mine and Kitty's blogs had previously been open there. Hers loaded up fine, but mine gave me this:

I've seen this message before, on other people's blogs when they suddenly go missing, but I'd not done anything! I had been using my account just last night. I was terrified at the prospect of months and months of my writing having disappeared due to some random snafu. When I saw Spanky's comment under Kitty's post, I realized it wasn't just me, something was wrong.

I ran to get my computer, responding to my mom's "What are you doing up?" with a "My blog is gone!"

"Gone? How?" (she knows I write a lot even if not exactly what, so it was a big deal)

I didn't know, but I tried to log in and I was gone here too. Not just some random Kindle/Spanky snafu, then.

That handy little "I can't find my blog on the web, where is it?" link led me to a verification page which explained that Google had shut down my account due to some suspicious activity, most likely someone trying to break in to my account. On that page, I could enter my mobile phone number that Google already had (thankfully!) and they sent me a verification code via text message to restore my access. I changed my password to a much more secure one.

Checked my email. Kitty was worried. Fondler's Anonymous was worried, in fact, sent me that screen shot, which of course I didn't have the presence of mind to take myself.

Checked Spanky's blog. Spanky was worried.

To everyone who's expressed a message of support and noticed that I went completely missing for no apparent reason: Thank you so much.

It feels very much like I'm a well-loved part of a community here.

Seriously, guys, you all rock.



Update: How to back up your blogger blog

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Why I love sucking cock, take 2

Excellent lovers take their partners' pleasures as equal to their own, knowing mutual pleasure and the pleasure of a lover is the entire point of non-procreative sex. Therefore, a woman who desires to be the best lover possible to a man does not merely submit to sucking cock, she relishes it. She transforms the act into an erotic dance of mutual desire.

The body is rife with nerve endings and sensitivities that vary from person to person. The foreskin of an intact man is particularly sensitive, and rubbing or touching it leads the man to make many noises of pleasure. It glides along the shaft of the cock smoothly, engendering wonderful feelings for the man, and the noises he makes lead to pretty fantastic feelings for his lover as well. When that rubbing and touching is performed by a warm, wet, willing mouth that is clearly quite dedicated to the act, the pleasure is even greater, enhanced by the heat and the moisture.

Rock hard, yet covered with velvety softness, an intact man's erection is a juxtaposition of opposite sensations that feels incredible. What better way to experience all the amazing sensations it can provide than with the lips and tongue, which are also incredibly sensitive? The foreskin is soft under the lips, but a bit of circular pressure against it causes it to flatten, to yield between the two forces it finds itself trapped between, allowing the lips to feel the hardness lying in wait.

With a woman's lips enjoying that particular pleasure, her tongue can slide around the head, prodding just under the foreskin, allowing her to taste her lover, to memorize or refamiliarize herself with all the bumps and ridges and smooth places that are exclusive to him.

All of this pleasure a mere few seconds into a blow job, and the exploration can be continued on for some time before any actual sucking begins. "Sucking cock" is a bit of a misnomer, since it could just as well be called licking, exploring, enjoying cock. The phrase "cock worship" might relay more information, but might also be a little off-putting to some since it seems to imply a sort of expert level of ability. It does not. The single most important thing a woman can bring to a blow job? Her own desire to do it.

Sucking cock also allows for so many varied positions, so the individuals involved can choose to be as laid-back or as eager as they would like, depending on their energy levels. If the couple really want to enjoy each other for a while, getting into a good, relaxed position is excellent. His hands and mouth can reach different parts of her in different positions, leading each one to be its own individual set of sensations.

If the woman is particularly thrilled by sucking cock, she might also enjoy more force, though by no means is that a rule to apply to everyone. She can give herself to him completely, allow him to take her mouth as he chooses. His hands can stroke her hair, or tug on it as dictated by their preferences, as he thrusts into her willing, eager to please mouth. Some women find having him take his pleasure with her like this powerfully arousing, so while it is not for everyone, it is certainly worth exploring.

Intimacy between lovers is increased greatly by the mutual enjoyment of blow jobs. Women have the capacity to enjoy sucking their lovers' cocks on an emotional level as well as a physical one. The sheer physical sensations are definitely pleasurable, but the joy of knowing a lover is enjoying himself immensely is not the only emotional return. The man whose cock is sucked well and gladly radiates gratitude and happiness and feels even more loved. His lover will enjoy that at least as much as she thrills in their mutual pleasure.

This positive feedback loop of physical and emotional enjoyment, so easily brought about by such simple actions, is why sucking cock should be right up there on any man's lover's list of fun activities.



I considered doing this APA style, with references and everything. In the end, I decided to just write it as you see it, removing myself from the picture and trying my best to describe why any woman who likes her man might love to also suck cock. Most of my experience is with an intact man, though I did briefly experience a cut one. I adore the extra opportunities for play the foreskin provides.

I'm not so sure I accomplished my goal, but I'm pretty proud of the effort.

Thanks, Spanky, for the challenge. I've really enjoyed it.

Why I love sucking (my husband's) cock, take 1

I have two very different approaches to this, and the other one will be coming up. I make no guarantees on how quickly. Spanky set this challenge, and though I've written so very much about sucking, I thought I would do a couple of experiments. This is an interlude, expressed in 100 words. Yes, the dialogue makes it difficult.



Collapsed together, exhausted.

"I'd like you to suck my cock. Think you can do that?"

"Maybe. Would that make your sex life better?"

"Oh, yes."

Gently licking, soft sounds of pleasure. Hard, but soft, smooth, slick as my mouth slides onto him.

Cock slowly fills my mouth and throat. Thigh across my neck, simultaneous trap and comfort.

His hand, impatient with my shirt. "I want to fondle you."

Exposing my breasts, eagerly obedient. Nipple trapped, pinched; we both moan as I suck hard.

Exploding, roaring. "Too good for me."

His thigh stays; I am owned, safe, adored.

We sleep.


Sunday, June 10, 2012

Flogged 'til it hurts

We watched The Princess Bride, and afterward, my husband pulled out the glow in the dark rope. "It's been a long time since I've tied you up," he said to me, "I should practice."

He admitted that now when he sees someone tied up in a movie, he thinks about me, and gets a little turned on himself, thinking about what I might be thinking.

So he started binding my wrists behind me, but the position was hurting my shoulders something terrible, and he conceded the point and tied my hands together in front of me instead, tugging the final knot tight. He turned me on stomach and started flogging me. "I'm not going to hurt you at all," he said, a grin in his voice, "since you say floggers don't hurt."

"I'm sure you can hurt me if you keep going hard enough," I responded, little gasps escaping me as he brought the softest of our floggers down on my ass again and again. When I started to whimper, he switched, going back into our drawer, pulling more floggers out. I saw he had the long paracord one in his hand and I gasped. "That one hurts. That one has always hurt."

"Oh really? Huh." Kneeling on the bed next to me, he applied the ouchy flogger to my already tender backside. I groaned, twisted, my feet occasionally rising up into the air. It's so pretty but it has such a hard bite to it, and he was in a position where he could keep going for a while, so he did. I broke out into a sweat, my clenching hands sliding against each other in their forced proximity.

When he'd tenderized me and I was squirming and gasping, trying my hardest not to drag myself away with my bound hands, he put the flogger down and switched to a softer one, but heavier than the first one he'd been using. I lifted my ass into the air, waiting, begging for more of it. Oh, that one's my favorite. Thud, thud, thud, stroooke. Oh, yes. I purred.

He went back to the drawer, and he pulled out the tickler and the wooden spoon. I saw him and I whimpered, hiding my face in my bound fists.

"Mmmm," he said, stroking my ass gently with his fingers, "should I be good," he ran the tickler lightly over my red ass, making me sigh softly, "or bad?" he ran the wooden spoon over the same flesh, pressing just hard enough for me to feel the smoothness of it.

"Good... or bad?" he repeated the action. Tickler, spoon, good, bad, oh God, I was breathing so quickly, nervous, waiting for the first strike of that spoon to smack into me. He built that anticipation to a fever pitch, and then he peppered me all over with light taps of the spoon, covering the canvas of my ass in little light smacks that felt pretty nice, actually. "That doesn't hurt, does it?" he asked as I sighed with a bit of relief.

"No sir," I said.

"Hm, so, I think I've decided. I'll be good," he said, brushing the tickler across my lower back, making me sigh softly again, "and bad!" SLAP went the wooden spoon against my burning ass. Oh, God. I bit back a scream, the bulk of it still escaping through my clenched lips.

"Mm, that hurt, huh?" he said, brushing the tickler across me, then smacking the spoon into my skin again in another spot, another scream forced from behind my closed lips into my clasped hands. I kicked. He kept it up, the tickler followed by the spoon, all over my ass. I was whimpering with the pain when he finally stopped.

He followed that with hard hand spankings, making me wonder if the spanking would ever, ever end. By this time I was really feeling the helplessness of my bound hands.

"You think you can turn over?" he asked me, pressing his lips to mine for a long, soft, heated kiss. "You think your ass can handle that?" I nodded slowly and twisted onto my back as he pulled his face away from mine.

"Oh look, all these buttons! When the lights are off I can't see them, but I can see them now." My arms over my head, out of his way, I was helpless as he undid my buttons and pulled the top of my shirt open, gently moving the fabric to both sides to expose both my breasts. He took a nipple in his mouth, sucked on it hard, biting at it to make me squeal, then slapped that breast a few times.

He knocked my legs open quickly, stroked my inner thigh gently, gazing into my eyes. "Your leg is sensitive here," he mused, listening to my quickened breath as his fingertips on my skin gave me chills. "It hurts you when I hit you here."

I nodded.

"Are you afraid I'm going to hit you here?" he asked, not varying his gentle strokes.

"Yes sir."

"You should be," he  whispered, slapping me there sharply. He hit my inner thighs until I twisted, trying to close my legs, little reedy screams escaping from me, and then he shoved my legs open again and kept doing it, climbing between my legs to keep them open, continuing on with the harsh slaps to my sensitive places. I struggled, my legs raising up around him.

He leaned over me, grabbed my breasts, squeezed them together and kneaded them firmly, biting at and sucking my nipples before he would sit back up and slap my breasts more. I bucked beneath him, gasping with pleasure and pain, my legs trying to wrap around him when he was leaning over. So good, and so intense. I could feel his hard cock nudging at my pussy, and I wanted it. I tried humping up at him.

"If I was a nice man, I'd give you my cock. I'm not a nice man. But I am a horny man, and that may just be close enough for you." He slid the head of his cock inside me, pumping just that bit slowly while my body rose up, begging for more. "Is there a problem, slut?"

"Want more cock," I panted, trying really hard to lift my hips enough. I couldn't grab him, my hands were tied. He just kept slipping the head of his cock in and out of me, rubbing it against my opening while it was inside, making me groan with want and arch up to him.

"Mmm, but I like it like this," he said, resting his head next to mine briefly, his hot breath in my ear making me shiver, "and isn't that what you're for? For me to use for my pleasure?"

"Yes sir," I said, biting back a whimper of need.

"Mmm, but, I suppose it might feel good to be more inside you too. You're a lucky girl that I'm so horny," he informed me as he oh-so-slowly sank his length all the way into me, a deep groan of contentment issuing from him as he did.

I answered with a similar pleased noise and ground my hips up against him, wanting to grab his hips and pull him to me, pulling against my ropes. "Lucky girl," I panted, "thank you."

He fucked me slowly, grinding down into me. My eyes closed from the intensity of the experience, and I heard him as he chanced to glance down at me, writhing underneath him, my arms bound and stretched over my head, my shirt open to my navel exposing both my breasts. "Oh, look at you, slut, all tied up and on display for me," he said, making me moan softly at being so bare before him.

He ground into me, and slowly grabbed a nipple and squeezed, increasing the pressure until I screamed and then softly whined as he continued to move inside of me, not letting it go.  He'd release it, do the same with the other one, then start the cycle over, making me undulate underneath him with pain and desire.

He pulled his cock away from me sometime later and I gasped, wanting. He ignored my whimpers of desire and sat atop me, trapping me between his thighs, while he slapped my breasts. Oh God, I could see him, sitting straight and tall straddling my hips, his hand coming down to strike my breasts. He was looking back at me too, and I shivered as our eyes met, rocking at the impacts to my body.

He moved up a bit more, slid his hard cock, slick with my juices, into my mouth. I sucked it down greedily, as far as I could. I couldn't lift myself to him. Oh, God, the helplessness of not being able to use my hands. He lifted my head, supported it as he fucked me in the face. "Is that good, fuck toy?" he asked me as he pressed into the back of my throat, making me gag and choke.

He pulled away, leaving my mouth a round 'O' of desire, and sat on my stomach, started slapping my breasts again. "Oh, you didn't get enough cock, did you?" he asked as I whimpered. I shook my head.

He slid back into my mouth, pushing my pillow under my head to allow him a better angle. "Is that better, cocksucker? Does that let you get more cock in your face?"

"Mmf, mmf, mmf, mmhmm," I managed.

He pulled away again, sitting up and slapping my breasts yet again. Wow. Half-crazed lusty whimpers emerged from me, animalistic cries of need.

"You still want the cock, don't you?" he observed, brilliantly. "Yeah, we should give you more cock."

He rolled off to the side, telling me to turn and take him in my mouth.

Oh, yes. Oh, fuck, yes.

I sucked him all the way in, my hands still tied and above my head. Oh, God, how I wanted to pull him close to me. I felt his arm near my hands and I clutched at it as I sucked him.

His hands pushed on my head, shoving his cock into my throat. Lovely. He talked to me as I sucked. "You were such a good fuck toy to me this morning," he said, making me scream as he recalled what had happened. "You didn't get to enjoy me much, but I needed to get off, and you got me off, didn't you? What a good little fuck hole you are." I squealed around his cock at that, so very very aroused. "Yeah, you like being my good little fuck hole, don't you, slut?"

Oh, God, yes. Yes.

"How would your pussy like to be fucked?" he asked me after a while. I made a pleased noise around his cock, but made no effort to move. "Turn over then," he told me, pinching hard on my nipple in order to get me to move.

I turned over, and then he was pressing his cock effortlessly into my soaking pussy from behind, and I was moaning, lost.

Ages later, his fingers found their way inside me, sliding into my pussy and ass, stroking my clit. Oh, how lovely the double penetration of his fingers feels. So amazing as my body clings to him while he pulls away.

Orgasms came and washed me away, and then we slept, after he'd untied me.

We woke not long after that, and we kissed and kissed, and he told me to turn over and take him, and oh yes, I was ready for him.

So glad my sexual self has come back to play.

Saturday, June 9, 2012

Sexual shutdown: submissive defense mechanism

I like sex. In fact, I love sex. Love may even be a bit of an understatement. In a conversation with my husband I once defined sex as my three top hobbies. Writing about sex, thinking about sex, having sex with my husband. Yep, that's three, isn't it? I have a vast array of other interests; I am easily drawn into subjects. I'm interested in most things, but sex is the top three, absolutely.

I also adore my husband to distraction. He is my true love.

Something happens to me, though, when we go long enough without sexual interaction. I shut down. I've written about it briefly before.

We went for three days without sex, activity or talk, except for a blow job one night, which normally I'd count as sex but in this case really felt like servicing him for his relief rather than mutual pleasure. I was already partially into my shutdown.

I had a very bad day in there, and he was extra-attentive during the day, giving me lots of extra hugs, long soft kisses in the middle of the grocery store, squeezing me close to him while we cooked. In fact, he's done pretty much everything right.

My sex drive still shut down.

I don't deny him access to my body, his pleasure, or the opportunity to do other things. I gave him the blow job freely and willingly, even enthusiastically. Despite my own lack of desire, I wanted to be pleasing to him, to hear his noises of enjoyment. We played video games and listened to music and sat around fiddling with our computers. I don't want to be a chore for him; I want him to enjoy spending time with me, and he does.

My sensual, sexual self is really the largest part of me. Lying naked or nearly so next to him night after night and just falling alseep, or briefly servicing him before he falls asleep, signals my sexual self that she's not needed anymore. She's there, ready, willing, wanting, but he doesn't need or want her, and so she goes into what I can only describe as hibernation. She's not really the sort to throw a tantrum, to take her ball and go home, but she's very much the sort to feel unnecessary and to withdraw, quietly, without being noticed.

I do it in the rest of my life, too. I see my friends having a grand time without me and, feeling completely unnecessary to anyone, I retreat - sometimes physically removing myself from being around them, sometimes just withdrawing emotionally. Truthfully, I'm not necessary to anyone's happiness, of course I'm not. Thank goodness for that since having other people's happiness depend on you is exhausting. At most I'm a pleasant diversion from life, but some moments I feel my basic uselessness more than others and I withdraw, sad.

My sexual self retreats even more quietly. I'm still there for my husband, still submissive, still communicative, still very much in love with him. There's no absence noticed by anyone but me, unless my husband might happen to notice something is off. My entire experience of the world feels dulled, my nerve endings and other sensory inputs reduced to perhaps a quarter of their normal functionality. I feel crippled. Delight in the rest of my life is harder to find. I wander around, feeling like a branch that's been cut for a vase; I show all signs of life but I'm slowly dying inside, disconnected from my source. It looks very much like depression. I pick at meals which I only cook because there are people besides me who need to eat, I struggle to enjoy things I normally do, and I think longingly of the days when he wanted me - when he really, really wanted me. The love he expressed over the sexless days was sweet, good, and needed, but it didn't make me feel desirable.

That's the thing, isn't it? It's not the lack of sex we may have, it's the lack of desire that I feel from him. The days I think of longingly are the ones when we were forced to be apart by our widely-flung places of residence, the days when he'd tell me every day, often explicitly and in great detail, how much he wanted me. Those days, if I'd been naked in his bed neither of us would have slept for a very, very long time.

Of course I don't actually long for those days; they were horrible. I spent far, far more days wandering around in a haze of misery then than I do now. We couldn't even talk to each other with our voices without spending a lot of money, but I was wanted, and I knew it.

So this is my defense mechanism: my needs dry up and go away when they're not met, or made to feel important, and it really doesn't take that long for me to begin to feel that way. It's quite clever, really, because it means I can function, even if at a severely reduced capacity.

The biggest problem, besides me wandering around in zombie mode, comes when he does want that part of me again. She's gone, far, far away. I start to plan things that will work around having sex, just to avoid having him realize she's gone. "Let's play a game! Or you can work on your website!" I know he's easily distracted and it will get late pretty fast if we start doing something engaging, and then he'll be tired, and I can go on with my life without him realizing that she is gone. While it makes me very sad that any of this goes on at all, somehow when the defense mechanism kicks in, I feel a great need to protect the hibernating part of me.

Inevitably, the week will end, as it did this time. I managed my avoidance tactics on Friday, we played video games and he fell asleep. My sexual self rolled over a little when he began toying gently with my nipples, but ultimately she never woke up, and we fell asleep. Saturday morning is another issue entirely. With nowhere to go and our little one not yet up, he started playing with me, stroking my body, kissing me, holding my wrist tightly and slapping my inner forearm, spanking my breasts. All things I generally enjoy quite a lot, but this time, while I didn't stop him, I wasn't really feeling anything. I wasn't responsive; it didn't matter to me. I moved when he nudged me, did what he told me, and let him do what he wanted. He's a pretty bright fellow, though; he knew I wasn't into it after a little bit and he stopped, confused.

Then we had to have the conversation I'd been avoiding for two days. I feel like such a failure when I shut down like that, like I am throwing a tantrum. It's not a tantrum, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. It's a failsafe to protect me so that I'm not throwing myself at someone who doesn't want me and getting even more hurt. It's doubly needed because as a submissive woman, it's so so important to me not to force my own desires onto him. I can't temper my needs, but I apparently can shut them off, send them away completely. I can recognize it for what it is, but I can't change it. He gathered me into his arms, feeling pretty terrible himself because it happened at all.

This happens. This is a thing. I have read other people's blogs and heard them talk about experiencing something very much like this. Feel free to chime in with what your experience is like, I'd love to know I'm not alone.



Saturday afternoon, we came home from an outing and spent two hours in bed making out. He kissed me until I melted into a puddle of want. "I'll do things to you tonight," he told me as I whimpered longingly into his mouth. That part of me? Yeah, she's awake now.

Turns out, it's been a pretty bad week overall for us, in all kinds of arenas. Hopefully we can start turning that around tonight.