Tuesday, November 26, 2013

A new friend

I think you all might be interested to check out Pearl's new blog, over at 

Please give her a warm welcome!

Friday, November 22, 2013

Sex objects

And now for something... a little different.

We were playing around online, my husband and I, and this ...male creature came along and started hitting on me. Straight up, obviously hitting on me, with no reason other than that I was presenting as female at that time. No invitation on my part, nothing. To be fair, he was hitting on everyone presenting as female.

My husband is amazing and hilarious and perfect, and turned it all into a good time for me. "Wife! Bad wife! Are you being a person again and not a random male sex object?" he said to me, in full view of everyone.

Later, we'd gone to bed and were talking about it. "'Conina I want you to love me too,'" I giggled as I settled, naked, into my husband's embrace. "Who does he think he is anyway? You can't just go around treating people like objects."

"Well," said my husband, his voice deepening a bit as one hand spread over my scalp, tightening in my hair, "only specific people, right?" He rubbed the soft growth of his beard over the place where my neck meets my shoulder.

I purred, shivering with delight as his other hand drew me close to him, his leg completing my entrapment as it captured my legs. I wriggled back into him. "Mmhmm. Only specific people who've agreed to such things," I confirmed.

"My fuck toy," he whispered, pulling my face toward him as he tugged on my hair. His lips met mine and the universe exploded in sensation. His lips, soft and warm, his beard, coarse and springy, the soft noises he made in his throat filling my ears as surely as if they were bomb blasts. Everything was magnified.

His hand covered my throat, holding my head where he wanted it from both sides as we kissed. I whimpered. I love the sensation of having no escape from him. I felt his cock grow hard against my arm where it was trapped between us, and moved my hand to stroke him through his boxers. He felt absolutely enormous. "Oh my God," I whispered against his lips, my eyes momentarily going wide.

"What?" he laughed before continuing to kiss me.

"Oh my God, husband," I said again, my fingers seeking to encircle the massive shaft of his erection and squeeze.

"I don't think it's changed, pretty girl. Maybe it's just been too long since you touched it last." He pressed himself hard into my hand.

"Oh my God, husband," I repeated, and then, "that's quite the monster you have in your pants."

His reply sent butterflies chasing in my stomach and tingles all over my body. He tightened his grip on the back of my head, on my throat. "This is quite the wonderful girl I have in my hands," he growled, his lips again claiming mine, keeping me from further words. But I melted. Ohhh I melted. The noises I made after that were confined to my throat.

How is it that the man I've agreed can treat me like a sex object makes me feel so much more like a person than people with whom I have no such agreement?

What's your experience with dehumanizing behavior from random web denizens?