He's lying atop me, gazing down. His weight presses me into the mattress, but we're just talking.
"Did you ever think that you might be a time traveler who saw what a miserable lonely old man I was and came back to rescue me from my life of loneliness?" he asks me.
I grin. My heart does a little somersault in my chest when he talks like this, and now is no exception.
"Mmhmm, I did," I answer.
"You have the power of time travel and that's what you did with it?" he growls, a mock scowl distorting his handsome features.
"Anything for you, love," I say.
Monday, July 22, 2013
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Keeping it real
On the plane, hours and hours and hours with no privacy, surrounded by foreigners he understands but I don't, he snuggles against me while our munchkin sleeps.
"Would my girl like a blanket?" he asks, and the intimation is clear. I pull the blanket over us even though it's hot. So hot. Too many bodies, too close for too long.
His hand, now hidden by the blanket, snakes under my shirt, strokes my nipple. I moan softly, quietly, low enough the roar of the engines hide it. His fingers pinch, tighten, and I want to squeal but I just breathe harder, tamping down the urge to make noise.
"Good girl," he growls low into my ear. "Good fuck toy." He squeezes my nipple again and the pain rockets through my body like a bolt of lightning. I can only just bear it, though a whimper escapes. "My good fuck hole," he says, and I am instantly hotter, too hot, I can't breathe at all now. He slowly removes his hand and I toss the blanket away, pulling away from him to allow some air to circulate around me. Passing out from desire wouldn't serve anyone.
It's not a game.
He's pretty good at keeping it real.
"Would my girl like a blanket?" he asks, and the intimation is clear. I pull the blanket over us even though it's hot. So hot. Too many bodies, too close for too long.
His hand, now hidden by the blanket, snakes under my shirt, strokes my nipple. I moan softly, quietly, low enough the roar of the engines hide it. His fingers pinch, tighten, and I want to squeal but I just breathe harder, tamping down the urge to make noise.
"Good girl," he growls low into my ear. "Good fuck toy." He squeezes my nipple again and the pain rockets through my body like a bolt of lightning. I can only just bear it, though a whimper escapes. "My good fuck hole," he says, and I am instantly hotter, too hot, I can't breathe at all now. He slowly removes his hand and I toss the blanket away, pulling away from him to allow some air to circulate around me. Passing out from desire wouldn't serve anyone.
It's not a game.
He's pretty good at keeping it real.
Monday, July 1, 2013
Step 3: Fuck the slave girl's brains out
Step 2 is here.
He climbs atop me and he slips his cock against my entrance. He's slow, easing it into me even though I would surge up into him and devour him into me. When he is completely buried inside me and I am pulsing around him, he grinds. He rocks into my clit just so and he's saying something about me, about owning me and me existing for his pleasure and being there for his cock. My body arches into him and I tremble, a series of short sharp pants emerging from my mouth.
"Did I say you could come again?" he asks sharply.
"Oh, God, no," I whimper, shaking. He wants this, wants me to come on command, and I'm not so good at it. But I can stop, though I tremble with the effort.
He puts his head down so that his lips are near my ear as he growls. "Then don't. I'll tell you when you can come."
My head swims. It swims and pounds and I'm not sure exactly what he's doing but it's making me crazy. I groan, shuddering, at the edge of orgasm - right where he put me.
"Now," he finally says, driving his cock down into me, his lips still at my ear. "Come for me now!"
I do. I let go of the tenuous thread holding me to sanity and I fly, screaming, into the blissful abyss where he has sent me.
Time stretches, suspends, as he continues fucking me. He is brilliant, a sex god, a lover of epic proportions and all I want is to please him and feel the pleasure he gains from me in all the ways he does.
"I'm going to fuck your ass next," he growls down at me. I whimper.
"You like the sound of that?" he asks.
It occurs to me now, that a lot of what he says during sex is making sure I'm happy. At the time it sounds like growling, sounds like orders and like him requiring me to vocalize. But he wants to be wanted too - of course he does. I wonder how much of his pleasure comes from knowing how much he pleases me. I think it might be a lot. I know he likes this blog, likes having the window into my experience of him.
I do like the sound of it - anal sex - his cock invading my ass, pushing me open, claiming me. I like the sound of it very very much. He circles his hips against me and I arch up into him. "Yes, Master, I like your cock invading me," I gasp.
He pulls away from me. Oh, no. Now I'm empty. I groan with disappointment as he rolls to my side.
"Is the poor girl empty?" he asks gently, not too mockingly.
I dive after his wet cock with my mouth, making sure to cover my lip with my hand again. I lick my arousal off of him, suck him as best I can, while he gets the lube from the nightstand drawer.
"Turn over, girl," he finally says once he has retrieved the tube of slippery substance.
I do. I turn my back to him, bend myself nearly in half to provide him access to the part he wants. I'm shaking. I'm excited and a little afraid. We have anal sex rarely enough that each time is a little scary. Will he push too hard? Will he make it hurt? Will he go slowly enough so it's not overwhelming pain?
And this time, after the lube is applied and my tiny opening prepared for him, he is perfect. I reach behind me and hold his cock steady, and he pushes just a tiny bit, then retreats and repeats. Over and over, each time entering me just a little more, making me open for him, penetrating my resistance as I moan deeply. It's overwhelming but not with pain, just sensation and awe at how absolutely perfect the entire experience is.
"Going to fuck your ass," he growls as he is finally all the way inside me. He grabs my hip and thrusts. I cry out - it's amazing, he feels amazing. My muscles squeeze around his foreskin and his cock slides within it as it's meant to.
His hand cups my breast, lifts the warm weight of it. His fingers press gently around my nipple. "Going to pinch your nipple," he says roughly, right in my ear.
Shivers run down my spine. "Okay," I whimper.
"Going to pinch it hard," he continues.
Oh, God. "Okay," I whimper again.
"Going to pinch your nipple hard while I fuck you in the ass," he clarifies.
"Oh my God," I moan, and then he is doing what he said, slowly compressing my nipple between his thumb and forefinger until I squeal with the pain of it. It's intense, and sharp, and he never stops moving his cock.
"Does it hurt, slave?" he asks. When I merely continue squealing he says "Good. Good girl."
He stops pinching, and he slaps. He slaps my nipple and I groan. It burns, it stings, then it tingles. My nipple turns into a little pebble and he slaps it again. He's talking now too, something about ownership and pain and love.
I am out of my mind with pleasure, but he is pulling my leg backward over his waist. It's slightly different than vaginal sex in this position, but he still has free access to my pussy - now pulled open for his enjoyment. He's talking, still, as his fingers find my wetness and play there. Fingers enter my body, my flesh separating his fingers from his cock, and I moan. "Is my girl full?" he asks.
I am beyond words. I respond but it's a mumbled grunt. God, I love being his, I love him filling me up, love having him occupy my body and my space. I think about sex with him so often that when it does happen - every time it happens, even if it's every day - it's like a long-desired dream coming true.
I cannot say all that, but the feeling of it rushes through me and I scream as his fingers work their magic, as his cock fucks me in a place no one else has ever even touched me.
He comes - he must have come - but I can't process it. I'm too far gone. His fingers gently stroke me as I come down from the mountain. We're still in the same position, my leg backward around his waist, his softening cock in my ass. My hand closest to him fumbles around, trying to find a place to touch him - his shoulder, his neck, his cheek, his head, and back again. My arm can't find a place where I can rest it on him without it sliding off. It's a weak sort of floppy arm movement and he laughs at me.
"What are you doing with that arm, girl?" he laughs.
"Want to love you," I mutter. He moves his arm, crooks it so that his forearm is holding mine in place so I can rest my hand on him comfortably.
I am spent.
But much later, when I am almost asleep and I am wrapped around him from behind, squeezing him and kissing his neck softly as I drowse, he suddenly says "Turn over so I can fuck you some more."
Oh my God. My stomach does flip-flips. Just to hear those words come out of his mouth sends me all aflutter. I do as he's asked, and he has his way with me from behind. It's like a birthday and a road trip and an excellent homecooked meal all rolled into one. This happens even more rarely than anal, that he interrupts my sleep to take me.
"Where did that come from?" I ask him.
"Mmm, I was thinking about how sexy you are and I got turned on and I thought I should take it since it's mine."
Holy hell. Hotter words were never spoken.
He climbs atop me and he slips his cock against my entrance. He's slow, easing it into me even though I would surge up into him and devour him into me. When he is completely buried inside me and I am pulsing around him, he grinds. He rocks into my clit just so and he's saying something about me, about owning me and me existing for his pleasure and being there for his cock. My body arches into him and I tremble, a series of short sharp pants emerging from my mouth.
"Did I say you could come again?" he asks sharply.
"Oh, God, no," I whimper, shaking. He wants this, wants me to come on command, and I'm not so good at it. But I can stop, though I tremble with the effort.
He puts his head down so that his lips are near my ear as he growls. "Then don't. I'll tell you when you can come."
My head swims. It swims and pounds and I'm not sure exactly what he's doing but it's making me crazy. I groan, shuddering, at the edge of orgasm - right where he put me.
"Now," he finally says, driving his cock down into me, his lips still at my ear. "Come for me now!"
I do. I let go of the tenuous thread holding me to sanity and I fly, screaming, into the blissful abyss where he has sent me.
Time stretches, suspends, as he continues fucking me. He is brilliant, a sex god, a lover of epic proportions and all I want is to please him and feel the pleasure he gains from me in all the ways he does.
"I'm going to fuck your ass next," he growls down at me. I whimper.
"You like the sound of that?" he asks.
It occurs to me now, that a lot of what he says during sex is making sure I'm happy. At the time it sounds like growling, sounds like orders and like him requiring me to vocalize. But he wants to be wanted too - of course he does. I wonder how much of his pleasure comes from knowing how much he pleases me. I think it might be a lot. I know he likes this blog, likes having the window into my experience of him.
I do like the sound of it - anal sex - his cock invading my ass, pushing me open, claiming me. I like the sound of it very very much. He circles his hips against me and I arch up into him. "Yes, Master, I like your cock invading me," I gasp.
He pulls away from me. Oh, no. Now I'm empty. I groan with disappointment as he rolls to my side.
"Is the poor girl empty?" he asks gently, not too mockingly.
I dive after his wet cock with my mouth, making sure to cover my lip with my hand again. I lick my arousal off of him, suck him as best I can, while he gets the lube from the nightstand drawer.
"Turn over, girl," he finally says once he has retrieved the tube of slippery substance.
I do. I turn my back to him, bend myself nearly in half to provide him access to the part he wants. I'm shaking. I'm excited and a little afraid. We have anal sex rarely enough that each time is a little scary. Will he push too hard? Will he make it hurt? Will he go slowly enough so it's not overwhelming pain?
And this time, after the lube is applied and my tiny opening prepared for him, he is perfect. I reach behind me and hold his cock steady, and he pushes just a tiny bit, then retreats and repeats. Over and over, each time entering me just a little more, making me open for him, penetrating my resistance as I moan deeply. It's overwhelming but not with pain, just sensation and awe at how absolutely perfect the entire experience is.
"Going to fuck your ass," he growls as he is finally all the way inside me. He grabs my hip and thrusts. I cry out - it's amazing, he feels amazing. My muscles squeeze around his foreskin and his cock slides within it as it's meant to.
His hand cups my breast, lifts the warm weight of it. His fingers press gently around my nipple. "Going to pinch your nipple," he says roughly, right in my ear.
Shivers run down my spine. "Okay," I whimper.
"Going to pinch it hard," he continues.
Oh, God. "Okay," I whimper again.
"Going to pinch your nipple hard while I fuck you in the ass," he clarifies.
"Oh my God," I moan, and then he is doing what he said, slowly compressing my nipple between his thumb and forefinger until I squeal with the pain of it. It's intense, and sharp, and he never stops moving his cock.
"Does it hurt, slave?" he asks. When I merely continue squealing he says "Good. Good girl."
He stops pinching, and he slaps. He slaps my nipple and I groan. It burns, it stings, then it tingles. My nipple turns into a little pebble and he slaps it again. He's talking now too, something about ownership and pain and love.
I am out of my mind with pleasure, but he is pulling my leg backward over his waist. It's slightly different than vaginal sex in this position, but he still has free access to my pussy - now pulled open for his enjoyment. He's talking, still, as his fingers find my wetness and play there. Fingers enter my body, my flesh separating his fingers from his cock, and I moan. "Is my girl full?" he asks.
I am beyond words. I respond but it's a mumbled grunt. God, I love being his, I love him filling me up, love having him occupy my body and my space. I think about sex with him so often that when it does happen - every time it happens, even if it's every day - it's like a long-desired dream coming true.
I cannot say all that, but the feeling of it rushes through me and I scream as his fingers work their magic, as his cock fucks me in a place no one else has ever even touched me.
He comes - he must have come - but I can't process it. I'm too far gone. His fingers gently stroke me as I come down from the mountain. We're still in the same position, my leg backward around his waist, his softening cock in my ass. My hand closest to him fumbles around, trying to find a place to touch him - his shoulder, his neck, his cheek, his head, and back again. My arm can't find a place where I can rest it on him without it sliding off. It's a weak sort of floppy arm movement and he laughs at me.
"What are you doing with that arm, girl?" he laughs.
"Want to love you," I mutter. He moves his arm, crooks it so that his forearm is holding mine in place so I can rest my hand on him comfortably.
I am spent.
But much later, when I am almost asleep and I am wrapped around him from behind, squeezing him and kissing his neck softly as I drowse, he suddenly says "Turn over so I can fuck you some more."
Oh my God. My stomach does flip-flips. Just to hear those words come out of his mouth sends me all aflutter. I do as he's asked, and he has his way with me from behind. It's like a birthday and a road trip and an excellent homecooked meal all rolled into one. This happens even more rarely than anal, that he interrupts my sleep to take me.
"Where did that come from?" I ask him.
"Mmm, I was thinking about how sexy you are and I got turned on and I thought I should take it since it's mine."
Holy hell. Hotter words were never spoken.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)