I'd just come back from the bathroom and crawled into my husband's arms. He turned slightly toward me and his cock, hard and demanding, pressed against my wrist.
"Oh, husband, were you flopping your penis about again?" I asked as my hand rubbed his erection through the fabric of his boxers.
"No, it was like that before you left," he replied.
"Ooh, I didn't realize," I murmured, dropping little kisses on his chest.
"Maybe it would feel better if you sucked on it," he said.
"Hmm? Is something wrong with it?" I asked, slipping down his body already.
"Wrong with it? It's not in your mouth."
"Ooooooooh," I said, purring a little as I slipped his boxers down his legs. I planted a wet sucking kiss on his cock. "That's a good answer." I sucked him in, and then, for emphasis, lifted my head off once more. "I like that answer," I finished as I lowered my head all the way down and started pleasuring him in earnest.
I still do.
Showing posts with label cocksucking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cocksucking. Show all posts
Thursday, May 1, 2014
Friday, January 24, 2014
Internal experiences, external actions
His hand pushes on the back of my head, forcing it forward and away from him, exposing the back of my neck to him. He rubs the soft bristles of his beard against me there, a thousand tiny points of sensation, and I gasp loudly.
"You like that, girl?" he asks, pushing harder on my head, rubbing his beard against me while I feel myself melting. He moves his chin over to the tender curve between my neck and shoulder, and I inhale sharply as sensation overtakes me. I can't say which thing I love more - the hand pressing possessively yet almost dismissively against my head, or the sensations his beard is awakening across my body. Goosebumps rise up all over me and I moan.
"You like that, girl?" he asks, pushing harder on my head, rubbing his beard against me while I feel myself melting. He moves his chin over to the tender curve between my neck and shoulder, and I inhale sharply as sensation overtakes me. I can't say which thing I love more - the hand pressing possessively yet almost dismissively against my head, or the sensations his beard is awakening across my body. Goosebumps rise up all over me and I moan.
Friday, June 28, 2013
Step 2: Drive the slave girl into crazed arousal
Step 1 is here
I moan when he squeezes my head close, pressing my face tightly against his shoulder. He responds by pulling me even closer, holding me even tighter. I moan louder.
"You like being close to your master, girl?" he asks softly. He doesn't have to speak loudly because my head is right there at his lips.
"Yes sir," I purr as he presses my face even closer to him.
"You like having your master inside you, girl?" he asks, and I groan. His fingertip plays around my mouth; his hand covers my face and presses down, mashing my nose slightly in the way I adore.
"Oh, God, yes, I like that," I answer. My voice is masked because I'm speaking against his palm. Oh, yes, I like it when the boundaries of our bodies blur and his becomes part of mine, whether that's his finger in my mouth, his cock in my ass, or any of the range of possibilities between. I love when he penetrates me and we are no longer two people. I long for that, crave it, especially if it's unexpected and on his whim. His hand re-positioning the parts of my face is part of that.
"Flogging, spanking, and fucking. These are a few of your favorite things, aren't they, my girl?"
"Oh yes sir, they are my favorite things," I murmur. My hand strokes his cock, which I haven't forgotten even though I am sinking into a happy, happy place in my head.
"You like that cock?" he asks, and he moans softly as I press my palm against it and rub up and down through his boxer briefs.
"Yes, Master," I whisper, as I hook my fingers in his waistband and tug the garment away from him. He moans a little louder when my palm meets his bare flesh again, and he pulls my head close into his shoulder. I nuzzle him there, moving my face slightly, enjoying the pressure as I rub my palm up and down the underside of his shaft.
I lick my lips. I want to pleasure him with my mouth. I duck my head down, covering my top lip with a finger so if there is a cold sore it won't touch him, and I lick along his length. He rewards me with a loud groan. He wasn't expecting that. He lets me play there for a while, shoving my head down a little. "Ohhh, you want to suck me, don't you, slave?" he asks. "Trying so hard to be careful, but you just want your face fucked. You want to be my fuck hole, don't you? Such a good fuck hole you are, too." I just moan around his cock as he talks, eventually pulling my mouth away for sanity's sake.
He pushes me over, shoves my legs open, and lets his fingers gently, delicately explore between the folds of my pussy. "Ooooh," he says as he discovers the wetness pooling there, "is that a good place to be touched?"
I moan, taking in a deep, shuddering breath as he drags the wetness up to my clit. I squeal as his fingertip touches me there, my hips bucking up into him. "Is that your favorite place to be touched, slave?" he asks as he gently moves his slippery fingertip across the little nub, back and forth.
I gasp. "Yes sir, I like when you touch me there," I manage to say, though the words tremble as I moan through them.
His finger moves, and I tremble. My body arches up, my head lifting off the bed. "Oh, you're going to come for me, aren't you?" he says, perhaps a little surprised at how quickly this first orgasm reached me. "Go on, then," he says, "come for me, slave."
It's only a little orgasm, but it is there. My head pounds, my heart races. He keeps touching me, talking to me, telling me what a good sex slave I am, what a good, wet, soft pussy I have, and how much he'd like to fuck it. "I'm going to fuck you, girl," he says. "I'm going to get on top of you and shove my cock inside you. You like that, don't you, having your master on top of you, fucking you."
His finger keeps moving and his words are making me crazy. I am almost coming again.
He spoils it.
"You're going to come again, aren't you?" he says. He can tell I am close.
"uhhh, no," I groan. He directed my attention away from his control and to the impending orgasm and it began to recede.
"'No??' You don't get to say 'no,' slave." He's surprised - shocked, even, that I would dare. "You get to come when your master fucking tells you to. Now come for me."
It works. The feeling of being controlled surrounds me again and I feel my clit pulse under his finger, my breath catches, and I cry out, my limbs shaking.
"Good girl," he purrs.
"uhhh," I groan, spent but insanely aroused. "You fuck me now?"
"Hmmm," he says, pondering, "Well, I suppose you did something for me, now I can do something for you."
And so starts step 3: Fuck the slave girl's brains out.
I moan when he squeezes my head close, pressing my face tightly against his shoulder. He responds by pulling me even closer, holding me even tighter. I moan louder.
"You like being close to your master, girl?" he asks softly. He doesn't have to speak loudly because my head is right there at his lips.
"Yes sir," I purr as he presses my face even closer to him.
"You like having your master inside you, girl?" he asks, and I groan. His fingertip plays around my mouth; his hand covers my face and presses down, mashing my nose slightly in the way I adore.
"Oh, God, yes, I like that," I answer. My voice is masked because I'm speaking against his palm. Oh, yes, I like it when the boundaries of our bodies blur and his becomes part of mine, whether that's his finger in my mouth, his cock in my ass, or any of the range of possibilities between. I love when he penetrates me and we are no longer two people. I long for that, crave it, especially if it's unexpected and on his whim. His hand re-positioning the parts of my face is part of that.
"Flogging, spanking, and fucking. These are a few of your favorite things, aren't they, my girl?"
"Oh yes sir, they are my favorite things," I murmur. My hand strokes his cock, which I haven't forgotten even though I am sinking into a happy, happy place in my head.
"You like that cock?" he asks, and he moans softly as I press my palm against it and rub up and down through his boxer briefs.
"Yes, Master," I whisper, as I hook my fingers in his waistband and tug the garment away from him. He moans a little louder when my palm meets his bare flesh again, and he pulls my head close into his shoulder. I nuzzle him there, moving my face slightly, enjoying the pressure as I rub my palm up and down the underside of his shaft.
I lick my lips. I want to pleasure him with my mouth. I duck my head down, covering my top lip with a finger so if there is a cold sore it won't touch him, and I lick along his length. He rewards me with a loud groan. He wasn't expecting that. He lets me play there for a while, shoving my head down a little. "Ohhh, you want to suck me, don't you, slave?" he asks. "Trying so hard to be careful, but you just want your face fucked. You want to be my fuck hole, don't you? Such a good fuck hole you are, too." I just moan around his cock as he talks, eventually pulling my mouth away for sanity's sake.
He pushes me over, shoves my legs open, and lets his fingers gently, delicately explore between the folds of my pussy. "Ooooh," he says as he discovers the wetness pooling there, "is that a good place to be touched?"
I moan, taking in a deep, shuddering breath as he drags the wetness up to my clit. I squeal as his fingertip touches me there, my hips bucking up into him. "Is that your favorite place to be touched, slave?" he asks as he gently moves his slippery fingertip across the little nub, back and forth.
I gasp. "Yes sir, I like when you touch me there," I manage to say, though the words tremble as I moan through them.
His finger moves, and I tremble. My body arches up, my head lifting off the bed. "Oh, you're going to come for me, aren't you?" he says, perhaps a little surprised at how quickly this first orgasm reached me. "Go on, then," he says, "come for me, slave."
It's only a little orgasm, but it is there. My head pounds, my heart races. He keeps touching me, talking to me, telling me what a good sex slave I am, what a good, wet, soft pussy I have, and how much he'd like to fuck it. "I'm going to fuck you, girl," he says. "I'm going to get on top of you and shove my cock inside you. You like that, don't you, having your master on top of you, fucking you."
His finger keeps moving and his words are making me crazy. I am almost coming again.
He spoils it.
"You're going to come again, aren't you?" he says. He can tell I am close.
"uhhh, no," I groan. He directed my attention away from his control and to the impending orgasm and it began to recede.
"'No??' You don't get to say 'no,' slave." He's surprised - shocked, even, that I would dare. "You get to come when your master fucking tells you to. Now come for me."
It works. The feeling of being controlled surrounds me again and I feel my clit pulse under his finger, my breath catches, and I cry out, my limbs shaking.
"Good girl," he purrs.
"uhhh," I groan, spent but insanely aroused. "You fuck me now?"
"Hmmm," he says, pondering, "Well, I suppose you did something for me, now I can do something for you."
And so starts step 3: Fuck the slave girl's brains out.
Friday, June 7, 2013
Sleepless morning
5:30 AM: I need the bathroom. Needed it two hours ago but managed to go back to sleep. Sprained ankle means lots of maneuvering, me with my hurt leg supported in an office chair scooting down the obstacle-ridden dressing area to relieve myself, then scooting back down the path, now slightly cleared due to my initial pass through.
I crawl over my sleeping man, lay staring up at the ceiling. My perfect vision lies off to the side, so what I can see of the ceiling is blurry, but the morning light is just starting to peek around the dual layer of curtains covering our window. I’ve just exhausted myself with the effort I’ve expended, but I can’t get back to sleep.
My husband’s body is warm as he tosses his arm over me, pulls me into him. I enjoy his physical presence at the same time as I am frustrated by the infirmity of my own body. I reach over, grab my Kindle Fire, and read some of Shelby’s book.
So hot. Anal sex and spanking and figging, which I cannot stand but have experienced and - oh - it’s so hot, and my husband is right next to me, sexy and warm and - but no. He has to work and he needs his rest.
I’m hungry. I’m aroused, and I’m hungry. Most definitely not a winning combination. The light is definitely coming into the room now, and light has always made it harder for me to sleep. I sit up, pull on my nightshirt, and scoot to the edge of the bed.
“Where you going now, girl?” he asks sleepily.
“Living room,” I murmur as I pull myself back onto the chair and scoot to the door where I can grab my crutches.
“What time is it?” he asks, confused, his brain clouded with sleep. I never do this.
“I don’t know,” I respond as I reach the door.
I hear him behind me, reaching for his phone to check the time. “It’s 6:30,” he whispers, “only 6:30,” wonder and confusion and sleepiness coloring his voice as he settles back down.
I crutch myself into the kitchen, where we have leftover vegan pizza. I sit alone at the table and munch a slice.
Oh, that feels better. That particular hunger sated, I make my way back to the bedroom as sleepiness overwhelms me.
He moves his feet so I can crawl over him yet again, snaking his arm under my shirt and around me. I purr.
“Missed you, girl,” he says, half asleep.
I purr again as he draws me into him and I pick up the Kindle Fire again, read some more. I must be squirming a little bit against him because I feel his cock growing hard against my backside. I put the book down, stretch and rub my body against his. His hand wanders over my bare skin, his fingers finding my nipples, making me release a little “Oh” of longing. He pulls my shirt off so his hand can wander more freely, and I turn over into his embrace.
“Love my girl,” he whispers, kissing my lips gently. I’m concerned about the garlic on my breath from the pizza, but he doesn’t react to it. My hand wanders over his chest, his back, as he releases my lips and pulls my head against his chest. Oh, I do so love that feeling of protection. I feel his cock against my arm, and I move my hand to press against it. Hot. The man is a furnace and even through his boxer briefs he is hot.
He moans his pleasure at my touch and I am encouraged to go further - to his skin. I pull the boxer briefs up over his cock and down, and then my mouth is on him, kissing, licking. Oh wow. It’s been too long, and he feels amazing, sounds amazing as his noises of delight fill my ears. His hips start to move smoothly, a gentle rocking motion into my mouth and I moan deeply. My mouth is a hole for his cock and that is how I like it. The thought fills my head as I suck, swirling my tongue over him. It is an intense feeling, and he intensifies it further by grabbing my hair, tugging on it slightly, and saying “Good girl.”
Good girl. I don’t remember the last time he said that. A few days, a week. Oh, but it feels good to hear it, feels good to have my mouth full of his erection, to have my moans of pleasure cut off by his cock entering my throat, to hear him enjoying himself so thoroughly so early in the morning. His leg goes over my neck and I am pinned, helpless as I pleasure his cock. If I were to show signs of genuine distress he’d be off me in a second, but for now the weight of his slim thigh presses against my neck and gives me pleasure in helplessness.
His moans grow more intense and I swirl my tongue, taking a few deep breaths through my nose when his thrusts pull back, ready to hold it for a while. I pull on his ass, drawing his cock into the entrance of my throat, where I suck it so that it pulls in and out of my throat just slightly as he thrusts, over and over, rubbing, rubbing as I hold my breath.
“Oh fuck, oh FUCK,” he moans, his orgasm overtaking me, his ejaculate shooting down my throat as I swallow again and again and again, keeping up the suction because his pleasure continues the whole time. I keep sucking even after he has finished, but carefully while his sensitivity is high. His cock stays big for quite some time and I enjoy having my mouth full of it even when he’s not actively using me.
Eventually he pulls me up into his arms, tossing his leg across my waist. His thigh fits perfectly between the bottom of my ribs and my hip. He tells me he loves me, murmurs words of appreciation for the pleasure I have given him, and I am grateful for it too. His alarm goes off - 7:30 - but he taps his phone’s face to keep holding me. His fingers draw tingles across my breasts, his hand cups my face and makes me feel owned. He slips his fingers between my legs, first circling around my slick opening and making me gasp, and then working his way slowly, teasingly, to my clit. Up a little, back down, up a little until I gasp, back down - until finally he is circling my clit and I am softly moaning my pleasure. I am thoroughly aroused already so his touch is amazing.
He draws my pleasure out for a long time, keeping me close to him, close to orgasm. I am trembling with what could pass for an orgasm but isn’t quite, and his finger moves a little faster.
“You want to come for your master?” he asks softly. I whimper in response.
“I know you do. Go on,” he says softly, “I’ll allow it.” His finger moves across my sensitive bundle of nerve endings and I arch up.
“Come for me,” he says outright, and I am there. White-hot burning explodes through my entire body, a nearly electric shock spreading through my limbs, and I cry out. It is too too much, I cannot bear it but I must because he isn’t stopping, his finger keeps going and my limbs are stretched to the max except for my sprained ankle which must not push, must not push, oh my God it feels amazing and I arch up using my one good foot, into his touch which just keeps on and on like a neverending onslaught of delight. I don’t know if I’m still on the first orgasm or if I've moved on to three or four, but I really cannot bear it anymore and I twist slightly, panting, begging. He relents, his touch gentling, soothing my overexcited nerves, and he wraps me in his arms, his leg over my body again.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers into my hair, and oh, does he ever have me.
I crawl over my sleeping man, lay staring up at the ceiling. My perfect vision lies off to the side, so what I can see of the ceiling is blurry, but the morning light is just starting to peek around the dual layer of curtains covering our window. I’ve just exhausted myself with the effort I’ve expended, but I can’t get back to sleep.
My husband’s body is warm as he tosses his arm over me, pulls me into him. I enjoy his physical presence at the same time as I am frustrated by the infirmity of my own body. I reach over, grab my Kindle Fire, and read some of Shelby’s book.
So hot. Anal sex and spanking and figging, which I cannot stand but have experienced and - oh - it’s so hot, and my husband is right next to me, sexy and warm and - but no. He has to work and he needs his rest.
I’m hungry. I’m aroused, and I’m hungry. Most definitely not a winning combination. The light is definitely coming into the room now, and light has always made it harder for me to sleep. I sit up, pull on my nightshirt, and scoot to the edge of the bed.
“Where you going now, girl?” he asks sleepily.
“Living room,” I murmur as I pull myself back onto the chair and scoot to the door where I can grab my crutches.
“What time is it?” he asks, confused, his brain clouded with sleep. I never do this.
“I don’t know,” I respond as I reach the door.
I hear him behind me, reaching for his phone to check the time. “It’s 6:30,” he whispers, “only 6:30,” wonder and confusion and sleepiness coloring his voice as he settles back down.
I crutch myself into the kitchen, where we have leftover vegan pizza. I sit alone at the table and munch a slice.
Oh, that feels better. That particular hunger sated, I make my way back to the bedroom as sleepiness overwhelms me.
He moves his feet so I can crawl over him yet again, snaking his arm under my shirt and around me. I purr.
“Missed you, girl,” he says, half asleep.
I purr again as he draws me into him and I pick up the Kindle Fire again, read some more. I must be squirming a little bit against him because I feel his cock growing hard against my backside. I put the book down, stretch and rub my body against his. His hand wanders over my bare skin, his fingers finding my nipples, making me release a little “Oh” of longing. He pulls my shirt off so his hand can wander more freely, and I turn over into his embrace.
“Love my girl,” he whispers, kissing my lips gently. I’m concerned about the garlic on my breath from the pizza, but he doesn’t react to it. My hand wanders over his chest, his back, as he releases my lips and pulls my head against his chest. Oh, I do so love that feeling of protection. I feel his cock against my arm, and I move my hand to press against it. Hot. The man is a furnace and even through his boxer briefs he is hot.
He moans his pleasure at my touch and I am encouraged to go further - to his skin. I pull the boxer briefs up over his cock and down, and then my mouth is on him, kissing, licking. Oh wow. It’s been too long, and he feels amazing, sounds amazing as his noises of delight fill my ears. His hips start to move smoothly, a gentle rocking motion into my mouth and I moan deeply. My mouth is a hole for his cock and that is how I like it. The thought fills my head as I suck, swirling my tongue over him. It is an intense feeling, and he intensifies it further by grabbing my hair, tugging on it slightly, and saying “Good girl.”
Good girl. I don’t remember the last time he said that. A few days, a week. Oh, but it feels good to hear it, feels good to have my mouth full of his erection, to have my moans of pleasure cut off by his cock entering my throat, to hear him enjoying himself so thoroughly so early in the morning. His leg goes over my neck and I am pinned, helpless as I pleasure his cock. If I were to show signs of genuine distress he’d be off me in a second, but for now the weight of his slim thigh presses against my neck and gives me pleasure in helplessness.
His moans grow more intense and I swirl my tongue, taking a few deep breaths through my nose when his thrusts pull back, ready to hold it for a while. I pull on his ass, drawing his cock into the entrance of my throat, where I suck it so that it pulls in and out of my throat just slightly as he thrusts, over and over, rubbing, rubbing as I hold my breath.
“Oh fuck, oh FUCK,” he moans, his orgasm overtaking me, his ejaculate shooting down my throat as I swallow again and again and again, keeping up the suction because his pleasure continues the whole time. I keep sucking even after he has finished, but carefully while his sensitivity is high. His cock stays big for quite some time and I enjoy having my mouth full of it even when he’s not actively using me.
Eventually he pulls me up into his arms, tossing his leg across my waist. His thigh fits perfectly between the bottom of my ribs and my hip. He tells me he loves me, murmurs words of appreciation for the pleasure I have given him, and I am grateful for it too. His alarm goes off - 7:30 - but he taps his phone’s face to keep holding me. His fingers draw tingles across my breasts, his hand cups my face and makes me feel owned. He slips his fingers between my legs, first circling around my slick opening and making me gasp, and then working his way slowly, teasingly, to my clit. Up a little, back down, up a little until I gasp, back down - until finally he is circling my clit and I am softly moaning my pleasure. I am thoroughly aroused already so his touch is amazing.
He draws my pleasure out for a long time, keeping me close to him, close to orgasm. I am trembling with what could pass for an orgasm but isn’t quite, and his finger moves a little faster.
“You want to come for your master?” he asks softly. I whimper in response.
“I know you do. Go on,” he says softly, “I’ll allow it.” His finger moves across my sensitive bundle of nerve endings and I arch up.
“Come for me,” he says outright, and I am there. White-hot burning explodes through my entire body, a nearly electric shock spreading through my limbs, and I cry out. It is too too much, I cannot bear it but I must because he isn’t stopping, his finger keeps going and my limbs are stretched to the max except for my sprained ankle which must not push, must not push, oh my God it feels amazing and I arch up using my one good foot, into his touch which just keeps on and on like a neverending onslaught of delight. I don’t know if I’m still on the first orgasm or if I've moved on to three or four, but I really cannot bear it anymore and I twist slightly, panting, begging. He relents, his touch gentling, soothing my overexcited nerves, and he wraps me in his arms, his leg over my body again.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers into my hair, and oh, does he ever have me.
Monday, June 3, 2013
Why you should worship your husband's cock? -CWS challenge response
I'm sorry, even writing the title of this post up there made my stomach turn. I dislike language that indicates I know better than someone else. "Should" has no place here unless I am talking about myself, or about given facts - "Dominants should not abuse the trust of their submissives."
I posed it as a question because that's the only way I could even write it there - and the answer, actually, is quite simple. If your husband worships you, adores you, keeps himself clean, and the two of you enjoy being sexual together, then that's step one. If you worship and adore him right back, then you probably will want to give cock worship a try. It might not wind up being your "thing," but you never know unless you give it a shot.
That's stuck in my head and is a thing I remember - long, long after he's forgotten ever saying it himself. It's especially helpful for those moments when I am despairing of being able to save money, but our bills are paid.
Another one of those lines that has stuck with me came from the keyboard of a close friend of mine. We were talking about sex, positions, fantasies, blow jobs. I was a virgin but I was very well-read and oh, so ready to have sex with the man I loved at the time.
My friend said to me: "If you love someone, you love every part of them."
Hello, thunderstruck moment. Hello, duh. Hello, silly silly girl. Of course that was true. She wasn't talking about the "bad-habit-get-you-killed" parts of them, but the actual, physical parts. Fingers, nose, neck, chest, back, toes, legs, pussy, cock. All the parts. Your adoration is meant to shower that person.
Do I believe that married people should worship their husband's cocks? That men have some inalienable right to have their partners go down on them?
No, I don't. Not all husband-wife partnerships manifest in sex at all, and not everyone who is sexual is into the same things.
Do I believe that people in love who DO have sex should worship each other's bodies?
Yes. Yes, I do.
For me, this results in bestowing lots of affection upon my man's cock, because, hell, it makes him feel good. It makes him feel really, really good. He likes kissing, and he likes cocksucking, and he likes being touched, so I kiss him, and I touch him, and I suck his cock. I try to put the love I feel for him in every touch, every stroke, every kiss. I try to communicate my adoration, my gratitude for the gift of his companionship through my life. He's amazing, he takes amazingly good care of me, and I want him to feel that I know it every time I touch him.
Of course, I get a great deal of pleasure from making him feel so good, and my submissive bent means that I thoroughly enjoy being "used" for his pleasure. I love making the people I love happy. Putting a smile on someone's face is an incredible feeling, and even more so when it's the person with whom you're in love. A blissed-out post-orgasmic smile, complete with sighs of fulfilled pleasure, is the most fantastic reward, not to mention the incredible amounts of good will such an act generates - even after all these years. Honestly, after a bit of a learning curve, there's not that much effort involved in creating that reward.
If for one second I thought he was uncomfortable with his cock in my mouth or down my throat, I'd transfer my affections to something he was more comfortable with - something that could bring him more pleasure. It's not about his cock - it's about him.
But since he continues to enjoy my ministrations, I'll continue providing them quite happily, and try every single time to make him feel as good as I am happy to be married to him.
I wrote this post in response to Spanky's June challenge over at CWS.
The CWS Challenge for June is to write a post on the topic "Why you should worship your husband's cock." I hope some of you have thoughts to share about this topic. Maybe someone will read your post and be inspired to finally take the plunge? Or somewhere a hubby will show it to his wife and say "See! This is what I've been trying to tell you."
But - I really, really hope no man tries to get his cock in his partner's mouth by saying things like that.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Vulnerable
He's pulled me close to him and my face is buried against his chest. His fingers encircle my wrist, pull my arm up over my head, and with his other hand he touches the areas left exposed by this position - my sensitive armpit, the inner part of my upper arm. I gasp with pleasure, every breath I take a shuddery one as he traces tingles into my flesh.
"So sensitive," he whispers as he touches me, as his fingers glide gently over these areas that rarely get touched.
"So delicate. So vulnerable," he says, making my breath catch.
He hears my breath catch, draws the moment out as he draws his fingers down my skin. "There's a part of me," he says, his voice even lower, close to a growl, "that wants to beat you here."
I gasp. I don't think he's ever said something so inherently sadistic. I feel my entire body sort of melt against him.
"Now why would I want a thing like that?" he asks. His fingers are still stroking me, skimming over my armpit. "When I can just stroke you gently here and make you shiver?"
"Because you're a sadist," I whisper, and even my whisper trembles.
"Hmm, I suppose I am," he says. "You know I'm not just doing this to make you feel good, right?" he says as his touch elicits a sigh of pleasure from me. "Why do you think I'm doing this?"
"You can do anything you want," I answer.
"Mmm... I believe that's the answer I was looking for. Because I fucking can," he says, and draws his hand back slightly. I brace for the impact but it doesn't come, and he resumes stroking me. "You afraid of me, girl?" he asks.
"No sir," I whisper. There's fear of what it might feel like, when he succumbs to his desire. But not fear of him.
"Maybe you should be," he says. He's still stroking my delicate skin. "This is to show you who's in control here. Who's in control here, my girl?"
"You are," I breathe out. I am so wet that as I shiver against him, I feel the moisture between my legs.
"Good girl," he says. "I'm going to beat you here, you know." His fingers leave goosebumps behind. It's impossible to imagine the slender, loving fingers that are making me feel so good dealing out the kind of pain he's talking about. He strokes until he finds the most sensitive part of my arm, the place that really makes me tremble. "Right here," he says, stroking that spot, so I know. "I'm going to beat you. Right. Here."
He draws his hand back and slaps my most sensitive spot, just above my armpit. I squeal - it stings unbelievably. It hurts so much. I jerk, but he's got my wrist. I'm trapped there, open, vulnerable, helpless. His slave. At the end of my squeal, I kiss his chest - an unexpected, unplanned reaction to the pain. He slaps me, I kiss him.
He slaps me again, higher, on the inner part of my upper arm. That hurts even more. I writhe against him, pull at my wrist, but he keeps it in place. I scream as low as I can manage, and again, my lips kiss him. Gratitude for his gift.
"This is all well and good, this touching you and beating you, but I think I'm missing something. Do you know what that could be?" I can feel his cock, hard and insistent against the hand that he doesn't have trapped.
"No sir," I murmur.
He leans down and kisses me, his lips soft and tender, my head having to lean way back to meet his lips. It's erotic. He slaps my breast while we're kissing, right on the nipple. I yelp against his lips, and find the entire thing even more erotic. I am so ready for fucking. He slaps my inner arm again and it feels like someone set off fireworks in it. Oh, it hurts. I kiss down his chest to his cock.
"Oh, that's right," he says as I lick the head of his cock. "I can touch you," and he takes his cock in his hand and rubs it over my lips. "I can beat you," and he uses his cock to slap my face, twice. "And I can fuck you," he finishes, shoving his cock between my lips.
His other hand still holds my wrist captive, and as he fucks into my face, he slaps my armpit again. "Keep sucking that cock, girl," he says, and slaps my arm and my armpit until it all feels raw and open. I am squealing with pain, but I keep sucking. "Good girl," he says, "good girl. You keep sucking."
His fingers stroke my flesh delicately and even that gentle touch makes me whimper. "Oh, does it hurt, girl?" he says. I manage to make a positive noise. He slaps my breast now instead, still fucking into my face. "Just keep sucking, girl."
I do, oh, I do. My armpit and upper arm are on fire, my breast feels stung, but I suck as if my life depended on it, even when I am struggling for breath to deal with the pain.
He rolls on top of me, his knees on either side of my head, my hand still up above my head. I can see the tiny broken blood vessels and bruises on my upper arm. My head swims with pain and desire. I am so wet.
"Your pussy might like to be fucked," he says, sliding his cock back into my mouth. I suck for all I am worth. My legs spread themselves wide, but I keep sucking his cock. It's hard to give up fucking in one place - a reality - for the idea of fucking in another. My pussy wants him, but my mouth doesn't want to give him up. He fucks my face, and my free arm wraps around him, pulling him into me. He hasn't hit me in a while, but my armpit still burns.
He pulls his cock out, rubs it against my face, moves up so I can suck his balls. He's looking down at me. "Good fuck hole," he murmurs as my mouth gently wraps around and sucks his balls. He moves again, to slide his cock back down into my face. His hand is on the back of my head, holding me up even higher than I can on my own to allow for greater penetration. "Your pussy gets wet for a reason, you know," he whispers down at me. I am grunting, growling, moaning around his cock. It's so huge and hard and it feels amazing right now, fucking my face. My pussy is spread and wanting, but my mouth doesn't care.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck oh fuck ohfuckohfuck," he says, and he is coming into my face, spurts sliding easily down my throat. I swallow it all.
I keep sucking and licking. His cock stays impossibly hard for a long time, and I lick, suck, and stroke it the entire time. He acts as though he wants to move. "I'll stop any time you want me to," I remind him, my voice husky from the use my throat has just received.
"It's hard," he says.
"No it's not," I laugh, because by now it has softened a little.
He rolls over next to me. "You broke me," I whisper, speaking of the broken blood vessels in my arm.
He looks at it, sees the red splotches and the bruises. "Is that all it takes to break you now?"
I thrill inside. "You're a sadist," I murmur. His fingers slide between my folds, and at his first touch, somewhere between my opening and my clit, I moan, a deep, pleased moan. His fingers slide around a little, and I keep groaning. I am so so sensitive, all the places he touches me feel incredible.
"Is that pain?" he asks, as I keep moaning.
"No sir," I answer.
"Good girl. Such a little slut," he says.
"Nuh-uh, I'm yours."
"You are a slut. Did you see yourself with my cock?"
"I'm yours," I groan. His fingers make it hard to have this conversation.
"Mmm, so you're not a slut, you're my own personal fuck hole?" he asks.
"ohhh yes sir," and now his words are thrilling me as much as his fingertips. I roll my hips into his touch, and I groan.
"Just for me to fuck wherever I like," he continues in my ear. "Anytime, any way, any how."
He makes me come, and again, and again. I am helpless, and sweaty, and his. He's amazing.
He holds me close and whispers, "You're amazing. How did I get so lucky?"
I'm amazing, he says.
We're both pretty fucking lucky.
"So sensitive," he whispers as he touches me, as his fingers glide gently over these areas that rarely get touched.
"So delicate. So vulnerable," he says, making my breath catch.
He hears my breath catch, draws the moment out as he draws his fingers down my skin. "There's a part of me," he says, his voice even lower, close to a growl, "that wants to beat you here."
I gasp. I don't think he's ever said something so inherently sadistic. I feel my entire body sort of melt against him.
"Now why would I want a thing like that?" he asks. His fingers are still stroking me, skimming over my armpit. "When I can just stroke you gently here and make you shiver?"
"Because you're a sadist," I whisper, and even my whisper trembles.
"Hmm, I suppose I am," he says. "You know I'm not just doing this to make you feel good, right?" he says as his touch elicits a sigh of pleasure from me. "Why do you think I'm doing this?"
"You can do anything you want," I answer.
"Mmm... I believe that's the answer I was looking for. Because I fucking can," he says, and draws his hand back slightly. I brace for the impact but it doesn't come, and he resumes stroking me. "You afraid of me, girl?" he asks.
"No sir," I whisper. There's fear of what it might feel like, when he succumbs to his desire. But not fear of him.
"Maybe you should be," he says. He's still stroking my delicate skin. "This is to show you who's in control here. Who's in control here, my girl?"
"You are," I breathe out. I am so wet that as I shiver against him, I feel the moisture between my legs.
"Good girl," he says. "I'm going to beat you here, you know." His fingers leave goosebumps behind. It's impossible to imagine the slender, loving fingers that are making me feel so good dealing out the kind of pain he's talking about. He strokes until he finds the most sensitive part of my arm, the place that really makes me tremble. "Right here," he says, stroking that spot, so I know. "I'm going to beat you. Right. Here."
He draws his hand back and slaps my most sensitive spot, just above my armpit. I squeal - it stings unbelievably. It hurts so much. I jerk, but he's got my wrist. I'm trapped there, open, vulnerable, helpless. His slave. At the end of my squeal, I kiss his chest - an unexpected, unplanned reaction to the pain. He slaps me, I kiss him.
He slaps me again, higher, on the inner part of my upper arm. That hurts even more. I writhe against him, pull at my wrist, but he keeps it in place. I scream as low as I can manage, and again, my lips kiss him. Gratitude for his gift.
"This is all well and good, this touching you and beating you, but I think I'm missing something. Do you know what that could be?" I can feel his cock, hard and insistent against the hand that he doesn't have trapped.
"No sir," I murmur.
He leans down and kisses me, his lips soft and tender, my head having to lean way back to meet his lips. It's erotic. He slaps my breast while we're kissing, right on the nipple. I yelp against his lips, and find the entire thing even more erotic. I am so ready for fucking. He slaps my inner arm again and it feels like someone set off fireworks in it. Oh, it hurts. I kiss down his chest to his cock.
"Oh, that's right," he says as I lick the head of his cock. "I can touch you," and he takes his cock in his hand and rubs it over my lips. "I can beat you," and he uses his cock to slap my face, twice. "And I can fuck you," he finishes, shoving his cock between my lips.
His other hand still holds my wrist captive, and as he fucks into my face, he slaps my armpit again. "Keep sucking that cock, girl," he says, and slaps my arm and my armpit until it all feels raw and open. I am squealing with pain, but I keep sucking. "Good girl," he says, "good girl. You keep sucking."
His fingers stroke my flesh delicately and even that gentle touch makes me whimper. "Oh, does it hurt, girl?" he says. I manage to make a positive noise. He slaps my breast now instead, still fucking into my face. "Just keep sucking, girl."
I do, oh, I do. My armpit and upper arm are on fire, my breast feels stung, but I suck as if my life depended on it, even when I am struggling for breath to deal with the pain.
He rolls on top of me, his knees on either side of my head, my hand still up above my head. I can see the tiny broken blood vessels and bruises on my upper arm. My head swims with pain and desire. I am so wet.
"Your pussy might like to be fucked," he says, sliding his cock back into my mouth. I suck for all I am worth. My legs spread themselves wide, but I keep sucking his cock. It's hard to give up fucking in one place - a reality - for the idea of fucking in another. My pussy wants him, but my mouth doesn't want to give him up. He fucks my face, and my free arm wraps around him, pulling him into me. He hasn't hit me in a while, but my armpit still burns.
He pulls his cock out, rubs it against my face, moves up so I can suck his balls. He's looking down at me. "Good fuck hole," he murmurs as my mouth gently wraps around and sucks his balls. He moves again, to slide his cock back down into my face. His hand is on the back of my head, holding me up even higher than I can on my own to allow for greater penetration. "Your pussy gets wet for a reason, you know," he whispers down at me. I am grunting, growling, moaning around his cock. It's so huge and hard and it feels amazing right now, fucking my face. My pussy is spread and wanting, but my mouth doesn't care.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck oh fuck ohfuckohfuck," he says, and he is coming into my face, spurts sliding easily down my throat. I swallow it all.
I keep sucking and licking. His cock stays impossibly hard for a long time, and I lick, suck, and stroke it the entire time. He acts as though he wants to move. "I'll stop any time you want me to," I remind him, my voice husky from the use my throat has just received.
"It's hard," he says.
"No it's not," I laugh, because by now it has softened a little.
He rolls over next to me. "You broke me," I whisper, speaking of the broken blood vessels in my arm.
He looks at it, sees the red splotches and the bruises. "Is that all it takes to break you now?"
I thrill inside. "You're a sadist," I murmur. His fingers slide between my folds, and at his first touch, somewhere between my opening and my clit, I moan, a deep, pleased moan. His fingers slide around a little, and I keep groaning. I am so so sensitive, all the places he touches me feel incredible.
"Is that pain?" he asks, as I keep moaning.
"No sir," I answer.
"Good girl. Such a little slut," he says.
"Nuh-uh, I'm yours."
"You are a slut. Did you see yourself with my cock?"
"I'm yours," I groan. His fingers make it hard to have this conversation.
"Mmm, so you're not a slut, you're my own personal fuck hole?" he asks.
"ohhh yes sir," and now his words are thrilling me as much as his fingertips. I roll my hips into his touch, and I groan.
"Just for me to fuck wherever I like," he continues in my ear. "Anytime, any way, any how."
He makes me come, and again, and again. I am helpless, and sweaty, and his. He's amazing.
He holds me close and whispers, "You're amazing. How did I get so lucky?"
I'm amazing, he says.
We're both pretty fucking lucky.
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
The Cure
I am highly, highly oversexed. I don't like that word because it makes it sound like I have too much sex, when in fact what it means is there is no such thing for me. I think about sex constantly. I may stop thinking about it for a minute or two at a time, but thinking about sex is my general state of being.
It's only natural that when the time allowed me, I'd start writing it too.
Being monogamously married to and owned by a man I adore is wonderful, but it sometimes carries a woeful amount of misunderstandings with it.
I get sad when we are not having some kind of sex at least every day. I'd prefer multiple times. We compromise and I think we're both pretty happy with where things are. Sometimes, though, life gets in the way for a day or two (or God forbid three or four) and it just doesn't happen. Sadness overtakes me then. I'm still thinking about sex all the time, but not having any, and I feel pathetic and undesirable. Things I could normally get through give me difficulty. Lethargy sets in, I feel depressed, I wonder what the point is to anything. Even through the fog of sadness I still read and think about sex, which just fuels the depression but isn't something I can shut off.
So he senses my sadness, or in some cases, he outright sees it. I cry easily and am overwhelmed by parts of life I should have under control. I lie awake well into the early morning, unable to fall asleep. He sees these things and he holds me, comforts me. Herein lies the miscommunication. He sees his girl sad and laden with woe and, not being turned on by sadness, he holds her through yet another sexless night. I feel even more worthless because the one thing I want is being retarded by my very reaction to not getting it. I despair, sunk deep in the self-digging hole.
I tell him this, trying to shine a tiny light of knowledge up at him from the bottom of my pit. I tell him that the words he once spoke to me years ago echo in my head, making me keep my silence. "It's hard to want a girl who's sad all the time."
By some miracle, he gets it. Not immediately, but quickly, after I choke back a sob to tell him that that's a self-digging hole. I start to say something else, but his palm is pressing on my face, pressing against my nose, covering my mouth. I moan. His hand moves, pressing against the other side of my nose, squeezing my face. "You were going to say, girl?" he asks, and his voice has changed. The solicitousness is gone, and in its place is a rough, dark rasp. His legs are none too gentle with mine as he yanks them apart.
His feet dig into my calf as he pulls my legs open, and it hurts. "Ouch!" I say, but my thoughts are already captured in the present moment as he climbs between my legs. There is no room for sadness in the suddenly electric atmosphere he has created. If he's acting, he's very good at it.
"You were going to say, girl?" he asks again, his hand pressing all over my face, tangling in my hair, tugging it until I gasp with the sheer joy of it.
"N-nothing," I gasp.
He's moved across me now, on my other side. So much of what happens is a glorious, glorious blur. He's spanking me, his hand delivering sharp stinging blows to my backside. He buries the whole of the thenar and a good chunk of the thumb of his free hand in my mouth, and I am biting down into it, screaming into his hand while he tortures my nipples.
"Do you just have nothing to say when your body is being slowly reduced," he pauses to hurt me more, to make me scream louder into the amazingly effective gag that is his hand, "mmmm... being reduced to fuck meat?"
I scream. The hand not in my mouth is touching my pussy, my clit. "Fuck meat," he said, and I scream and scream and scream. It's primal, what those words are doing to me, and I can't properly record anything before or after the ground zero of those words. That moment is shining and brilliant and all the other bits around it, amazing though they are, fade.
He makes me come. "Oh, it's been far too long since you've come for me," he says. "You're going to do that now, aren't you, fuck toy? You're going to come for your master now." My head is slowly arching back away from him as he talks, as his fingers work their magic on my sex. It feels to me like the whole thing happens in slow motion, as my body tenses and I am crying out, all the tension releasing as I come and come and come. My legs shake against him. "Oh look at you, no self-control at all," he says, and he is right. He controls me. He makes me come again, tugging my head backwards by the hair until my groans of delight deepen into guttural grunts. I am bent very far back when he finally lets go.
He won't fuck me with his cock. He suggests it, he teases, he makes fun of me, makes me beg. "Look at you. Why would I give you my cock now? In the state you're in you'd never give it back. Would you?"
I moan my negative response, tossing my head as his fingers fuck me.
"See. I'd never get my cock back. What does that make you?"
I don't answer immediately because I am screaming. He teases me to orgasm with his words. "A slut," I answer, my voice cracking because I have reservations about calling myself that.
"My slut," he clarifies, and he is kissing me.
Finally I have begged prettily enough, and he is atop me sliding his cock inside. I groan as he fills me. He feels amazing. I fuck him from beneath, just really driven wild by everything that has happened so far.
I'm falling. I'm falling, I'm flying, into an abyss and he's holding me there under him by my hair. That must be why he's pulling it so hard. His kisses are hot and urgent and he is forcing me to stay there when I would float away. I hear my own screams as if from a distance and I want to be in this moment - this moment - forever. My head is spinning, my sense of balance is all out of whack, and he just keeps driving his cock into me, drawing the screams from me with every thrust and every tug of my hair.
"I think it's your turn," he says. "I think you should get on top of me and fuck me."
"Anything you want," I gasp out breathlessly, unable to really catch up to the situation. A whole lot of delicious things have whizzed by me that I couldn't fully assimilate. Mostly fantastically dirty things he has said that made me scream in the moment but are now lost forever because my brain is overloaded. I'll take it though.
"That's right," he says, "anything I want." He rolls off me onto his back, waiting.
I dive after his cock with my mouth. It tastes sweet and salty and I moan as I lick it all over.
"Oooh, I didn't say you could suck the cock," he admonishes me. "But I suppose you're just a cocksucker who couldn't resist, huh?" I give his cock a long swirling suck for answer as I pull my mouth away, and then I am lifting my leg over him.
"Oh yes, give me that pussy," he says as I lower myself onto him, as his cock presses up into me. He grabs my hips and I scream. His hardness has never felt like this before. "I think you know what to do," he growls as I begin to slowly rotate my hips, gasping as I feel all the new sensations that changing positions like this causes.
It really doesn't take long before it starts to feel amazing. His hands are on my hips and when I start to scream he keeps moving me the way I was moving before. I am screaming, he is moaning deeply, and we are coming at the same time.
I lay on his chest for long, long minutes afterward, kissing his neck and shoulders, rotating my hips against him, listening to his soft sounds of pleasure as we both catch our breath.
After I roll off into his arms, I kiss him again, softly and with great respect and tenderness. "Thank you for rescuing me, sweet master," I whisper against his lips.
He's already half asleep, but he squeezes me tightly against him. "Love my girl," he answers.
It's only natural that when the time allowed me, I'd start writing it too.
Being monogamously married to and owned by a man I adore is wonderful, but it sometimes carries a woeful amount of misunderstandings with it.
I get sad when we are not having some kind of sex at least every day. I'd prefer multiple times. We compromise and I think we're both pretty happy with where things are. Sometimes, though, life gets in the way for a day or two (or God forbid three or four) and it just doesn't happen. Sadness overtakes me then. I'm still thinking about sex all the time, but not having any, and I feel pathetic and undesirable. Things I could normally get through give me difficulty. Lethargy sets in, I feel depressed, I wonder what the point is to anything. Even through the fog of sadness I still read and think about sex, which just fuels the depression but isn't something I can shut off.
So he senses my sadness, or in some cases, he outright sees it. I cry easily and am overwhelmed by parts of life I should have under control. I lie awake well into the early morning, unable to fall asleep. He sees these things and he holds me, comforts me. Herein lies the miscommunication. He sees his girl sad and laden with woe and, not being turned on by sadness, he holds her through yet another sexless night. I feel even more worthless because the one thing I want is being retarded by my very reaction to not getting it. I despair, sunk deep in the self-digging hole.
I tell him this, trying to shine a tiny light of knowledge up at him from the bottom of my pit. I tell him that the words he once spoke to me years ago echo in my head, making me keep my silence. "It's hard to want a girl who's sad all the time."
By some miracle, he gets it. Not immediately, but quickly, after I choke back a sob to tell him that that's a self-digging hole. I start to say something else, but his palm is pressing on my face, pressing against my nose, covering my mouth. I moan. His hand moves, pressing against the other side of my nose, squeezing my face. "You were going to say, girl?" he asks, and his voice has changed. The solicitousness is gone, and in its place is a rough, dark rasp. His legs are none too gentle with mine as he yanks them apart.
His feet dig into my calf as he pulls my legs open, and it hurts. "Ouch!" I say, but my thoughts are already captured in the present moment as he climbs between my legs. There is no room for sadness in the suddenly electric atmosphere he has created. If he's acting, he's very good at it.
"You were going to say, girl?" he asks again, his hand pressing all over my face, tangling in my hair, tugging it until I gasp with the sheer joy of it.
"N-nothing," I gasp.
He's moved across me now, on my other side. So much of what happens is a glorious, glorious blur. He's spanking me, his hand delivering sharp stinging blows to my backside. He buries the whole of the thenar and a good chunk of the thumb of his free hand in my mouth, and I am biting down into it, screaming into his hand while he tortures my nipples.
"Do you just have nothing to say when your body is being slowly reduced," he pauses to hurt me more, to make me scream louder into the amazingly effective gag that is his hand, "mmmm... being reduced to fuck meat?"
I scream. The hand not in my mouth is touching my pussy, my clit. "Fuck meat," he said, and I scream and scream and scream. It's primal, what those words are doing to me, and I can't properly record anything before or after the ground zero of those words. That moment is shining and brilliant and all the other bits around it, amazing though they are, fade.
He makes me come. "Oh, it's been far too long since you've come for me," he says. "You're going to do that now, aren't you, fuck toy? You're going to come for your master now." My head is slowly arching back away from him as he talks, as his fingers work their magic on my sex. It feels to me like the whole thing happens in slow motion, as my body tenses and I am crying out, all the tension releasing as I come and come and come. My legs shake against him. "Oh look at you, no self-control at all," he says, and he is right. He controls me. He makes me come again, tugging my head backwards by the hair until my groans of delight deepen into guttural grunts. I am bent very far back when he finally lets go.
He won't fuck me with his cock. He suggests it, he teases, he makes fun of me, makes me beg. "Look at you. Why would I give you my cock now? In the state you're in you'd never give it back. Would you?"
I moan my negative response, tossing my head as his fingers fuck me.
"See. I'd never get my cock back. What does that make you?"
I don't answer immediately because I am screaming. He teases me to orgasm with his words. "A slut," I answer, my voice cracking because I have reservations about calling myself that.
"My slut," he clarifies, and he is kissing me.
Finally I have begged prettily enough, and he is atop me sliding his cock inside. I groan as he fills me. He feels amazing. I fuck him from beneath, just really driven wild by everything that has happened so far.
I'm falling. I'm falling, I'm flying, into an abyss and he's holding me there under him by my hair. That must be why he's pulling it so hard. His kisses are hot and urgent and he is forcing me to stay there when I would float away. I hear my own screams as if from a distance and I want to be in this moment - this moment - forever. My head is spinning, my sense of balance is all out of whack, and he just keeps driving his cock into me, drawing the screams from me with every thrust and every tug of my hair.
"I think it's your turn," he says. "I think you should get on top of me and fuck me."
"Anything you want," I gasp out breathlessly, unable to really catch up to the situation. A whole lot of delicious things have whizzed by me that I couldn't fully assimilate. Mostly fantastically dirty things he has said that made me scream in the moment but are now lost forever because my brain is overloaded. I'll take it though.
"That's right," he says, "anything I want." He rolls off me onto his back, waiting.
I dive after his cock with my mouth. It tastes sweet and salty and I moan as I lick it all over.
"Oooh, I didn't say you could suck the cock," he admonishes me. "But I suppose you're just a cocksucker who couldn't resist, huh?" I give his cock a long swirling suck for answer as I pull my mouth away, and then I am lifting my leg over him.
"Oh yes, give me that pussy," he says as I lower myself onto him, as his cock presses up into me. He grabs my hips and I scream. His hardness has never felt like this before. "I think you know what to do," he growls as I begin to slowly rotate my hips, gasping as I feel all the new sensations that changing positions like this causes.
It really doesn't take long before it starts to feel amazing. His hands are on my hips and when I start to scream he keeps moving me the way I was moving before. I am screaming, he is moaning deeply, and we are coming at the same time.
I lay on his chest for long, long minutes afterward, kissing his neck and shoulders, rotating my hips against him, listening to his soft sounds of pleasure as we both catch our breath.
After I roll off into his arms, I kiss him again, softly and with great respect and tenderness. "Thank you for rescuing me, sweet master," I whisper against his lips.
He's already half asleep, but he squeezes me tightly against him. "Love my girl," he answers.
Monday, February 11, 2013
Carnal magic
"Turn over so I can beat you," he says. We've just been chatting on the bed and it's pretty late.
"Don't you mean turn over so we can go to sleep?" I ask.
"No... turn over so I can beat you," he repeats.
I turn over. I know better than to argue further. "I like my idea better," I sass into the pillow.
"Sure you do," he says, knowing I lie through my teeth. He shoves my shirt up halfway my back, smacks my ass with his hand until I yelp. Then he starts flogging me with a soft lovely caressing flogger that makes me sigh with pleasure. "You like that, girl?" he asks.
I do.
He switches - a hard thudding flogger that makes me yelp as it thumps into me. "You like THAT, girl?" he asks.
I do.
He switches again. I lose track. I can feel my ass warming up as he keeps switching floggers. When he switches back to the lovely soft one, it actually hurts a little.
"Oh, this ass is starting to be a nice shade of red," he says.
He uses the crop on me after I am already red. The tops of my thighs get special attention. I lift my ass into it, as the pain transmutes into pleasure, as the burn makes me wet.
He finishes soon after the crop - first his hand smacks into me a few times for good measure.
"Be naked," he says, and so I am.
He kisses me, pulls me to him, lets his hands wander over my body. His teeth find my nipple, bite it until I squeal with pleasure/pain, and then his hands are spanking my breasts, making me moan.
His fingers wander between my thighs, find the incredible wetness there, tease me. He spanks my inner thighs with his hand, over and over, covering all of the flesh there until it burns and I try to close my legs. He knocks them apart and continues spanking them. I close them again, he knocks them apart - three, four times.
I am moaning, my thighs are burning, and he starts slapping my pussy. My soaking wet pussy that wants him to fuck it. He slaps at an angle, into my mound, and I am halfway to an orgasm already. It feels amazing until it starts to hurt. I whimper. "Am I hurting your poor pussy?" he asks, his voice dripping with false concern.
"Yes," I squeal as he slaps me there again.
"Does your pussy want me?" he asks. He stops slapping me, lets his fingers stroke my clit - my throbbing, needy clit. I moan.
"Yes," I murmur. It's bloody obvious anyway.
"Does your mouth want me?" he continues.
"Yes," I answer.
"Does your ass want me?" he finishes.
I moan.
"What a slut that makes you. My slut," he growls into my ear, his hand tugging on my hair.
"Get on top of me," he says, and so I do. Carnal magic. He conjures sex.
My clit grinds against him as I rock. It's too much, too good.
"You're coming, aren't you? Yeah, fuck yeah, come for me," he says, and I must.
"You want to get off me?" he asks, later, knowing my arms must be tired.
I don't.
"I'll still fuck you," he promises. "Or maybe you'd like to suck my cock?"
I moan.
"Yeah. You want this hard, wet cock fucking your face, don't you?" He slaps my ass, forces me to rock atop him, and I am coming again as he talks.
My wrists are complaining and so I lift off him, slide down between his legs, take the slick hardness of him in my mouth. He is salty, sweet, intoxicating, all the arousal he has generated in me making him taste like that.
My wrists don't like this either, after a while. I roll to my side, and he is in my mouth again, fucking into my throat, holding my head. I start to pull away - it is too much, my throat hurts, my stomach isn't sure how it feels - but he grabs me, holds me, is fucking my face regardless. I know if I could get a word in he would stop, but at the moment I don't want to get a word in.
"Turn over so I can fuck your ass," he orders, pulling his cock from my mouth. He slaps my face with his cock - with his hard, heavy cock. It surprises me and I squeal. He does it again. He likes to make me squeal. Finally he stops, and I whimper as I obey. It's been a long time since we've had anal sex. I try to relax, but that's like trying not to think about something; it doesn't work that well.
His fingers are cool and slippery and feel nice when they touch my tiny hole, but I am so sensitive that I shriek, squirming away a little. He holds me still, slides his fingers deep inside me there. It feels amazing.
He stops, too soon. To take so long with sex in general and yet to rush this part feels so wasteful. His cock presses against me now, and I groan. It's not going to work.
"Give me that ass," he growls, and that sends a rush of heat through me. I try. I push back on him, but it's not going to work. He adds lube, but it's like his cock hit a wall, and as I wriggle, almost-but-not-quite-impaled on the end of his cock, I feel him softening, losing the rigidity that is a must to enter this particular territory.
Not easily discouraged from sex in general, he pulls away to replace his cock with his fingers. They slide inside my ass, inside my pussy, fuck me in both places at once. I scream with the pure joy of it. He adds even more lube. "I think your ass likes that," he says as I moan deeply, helplessly. "I think I should find something to plug it with."
It takes him a moment to locate, but he finds it: The Big End. SO BIG. I am on my belly as he presses it in, and I moan. "You can take it," he says, knowing he's put it there before. I scream as it finally passes the largest part, locking itself inside me. I am panting, but then his fingers are stroking my clit, sliding inside my pussy. I am screaming again because I am so sensitive and I am coming, again, again, again."Oh my God," I beg as I try to catch a breath between orgasms, but that is all he lets me say before he wriggles his finger and makes me come again, again, again.
I am twisting, sweating, panting. I can't. "I can't," I pant, but he is not about to let me finish a thought. More, more, more. I scream and I come and come and come. I feel his cock hardening against my thigh as my screams lengthen and grow hoarser.
"You can't what, girl? Can't stop? Who said you could stop?" he asks. His finger drives me insane and makes me scream until I think I might explode.
"I am going to fuck you," he whispers into my ear. "Right after I'm done making you come."
I writhe. I am a fuck puppet, nothing but a neverending orgasm, a helpless mass of twitching nerve endings.
"Turn over and give me your pussy," he finally says. I can barely breathe, much less move. I claw at the mattress to help me turn over on my side.
His cock slides into me - forces its way into me. "SO FULL!" I exclaim as he slowly drives into me.
"So mine," he growls. "So nice of you to stop coming for a second so I could get my cock in you." He grabs me, and begins to thrust into me in earnest, moving my body against him like a rag doll. "But if you still want to come, don't let me stop you," he says, fucking into me harder. The plug is forcing his cock into my g-spot and it doesn't take long before I am screaming again, a final orgasm ripping through me. I squeal helplessly as it shakes me, and he makes a noise - a contented hunter's noise, as he fucks me right into his own climax.
"You're so fucking incredible," I whisper hoarsely as his arm around my waist pulls me closer to him, as I gather enough energy for actual words. My mind is blown.
"You're pretty incredible yourself," he says.
As long as he wants to, I'll let him keep thinking that.
"Don't you mean turn over so we can go to sleep?" I ask.
"No... turn over so I can beat you," he repeats.
I turn over. I know better than to argue further. "I like my idea better," I sass into the pillow.
"Sure you do," he says, knowing I lie through my teeth. He shoves my shirt up halfway my back, smacks my ass with his hand until I yelp. Then he starts flogging me with a soft lovely caressing flogger that makes me sigh with pleasure. "You like that, girl?" he asks.
I do.
He switches - a hard thudding flogger that makes me yelp as it thumps into me. "You like THAT, girl?" he asks.
I do.
He switches again. I lose track. I can feel my ass warming up as he keeps switching floggers. When he switches back to the lovely soft one, it actually hurts a little.
"Oh, this ass is starting to be a nice shade of red," he says.
He uses the crop on me after I am already red. The tops of my thighs get special attention. I lift my ass into it, as the pain transmutes into pleasure, as the burn makes me wet.
He finishes soon after the crop - first his hand smacks into me a few times for good measure.
"Be naked," he says, and so I am.
He kisses me, pulls me to him, lets his hands wander over my body. His teeth find my nipple, bite it until I squeal with pleasure/pain, and then his hands are spanking my breasts, making me moan.
His fingers wander between my thighs, find the incredible wetness there, tease me. He spanks my inner thighs with his hand, over and over, covering all of the flesh there until it burns and I try to close my legs. He knocks them apart and continues spanking them. I close them again, he knocks them apart - three, four times.
I am moaning, my thighs are burning, and he starts slapping my pussy. My soaking wet pussy that wants him to fuck it. He slaps at an angle, into my mound, and I am halfway to an orgasm already. It feels amazing until it starts to hurt. I whimper. "Am I hurting your poor pussy?" he asks, his voice dripping with false concern.
"Yes," I squeal as he slaps me there again.
"Does your pussy want me?" he asks. He stops slapping me, lets his fingers stroke my clit - my throbbing, needy clit. I moan.
"Yes," I murmur. It's bloody obvious anyway.
"Does your mouth want me?" he continues.
"Yes," I answer.
"Does your ass want me?" he finishes.
I moan.
"What a slut that makes you. My slut," he growls into my ear, his hand tugging on my hair.
"Get on top of me," he says, and so I do. Carnal magic. He conjures sex.
My clit grinds against him as I rock. It's too much, too good.
"You're coming, aren't you? Yeah, fuck yeah, come for me," he says, and I must.
"You want to get off me?" he asks, later, knowing my arms must be tired.
I don't.
"I'll still fuck you," he promises. "Or maybe you'd like to suck my cock?"
I moan.
"Yeah. You want this hard, wet cock fucking your face, don't you?" He slaps my ass, forces me to rock atop him, and I am coming again as he talks.
My wrists are complaining and so I lift off him, slide down between his legs, take the slick hardness of him in my mouth. He is salty, sweet, intoxicating, all the arousal he has generated in me making him taste like that.
My wrists don't like this either, after a while. I roll to my side, and he is in my mouth again, fucking into my throat, holding my head. I start to pull away - it is too much, my throat hurts, my stomach isn't sure how it feels - but he grabs me, holds me, is fucking my face regardless. I know if I could get a word in he would stop, but at the moment I don't want to get a word in.
"Turn over so I can fuck your ass," he orders, pulling his cock from my mouth. He slaps my face with his cock - with his hard, heavy cock. It surprises me and I squeal. He does it again. He likes to make me squeal. Finally he stops, and I whimper as I obey. It's been a long time since we've had anal sex. I try to relax, but that's like trying not to think about something; it doesn't work that well.
His fingers are cool and slippery and feel nice when they touch my tiny hole, but I am so sensitive that I shriek, squirming away a little. He holds me still, slides his fingers deep inside me there. It feels amazing.
He stops, too soon. To take so long with sex in general and yet to rush this part feels so wasteful. His cock presses against me now, and I groan. It's not going to work.
"Give me that ass," he growls, and that sends a rush of heat through me. I try. I push back on him, but it's not going to work. He adds lube, but it's like his cock hit a wall, and as I wriggle, almost-but-not-quite-impaled on the end of his cock, I feel him softening, losing the rigidity that is a must to enter this particular territory.
Not easily discouraged from sex in general, he pulls away to replace his cock with his fingers. They slide inside my ass, inside my pussy, fuck me in both places at once. I scream with the pure joy of it. He adds even more lube. "I think your ass likes that," he says as I moan deeply, helplessly. "I think I should find something to plug it with."
It takes him a moment to locate, but he finds it: The Big End. SO BIG. I am on my belly as he presses it in, and I moan. "You can take it," he says, knowing he's put it there before. I scream as it finally passes the largest part, locking itself inside me. I am panting, but then his fingers are stroking my clit, sliding inside my pussy. I am screaming again because I am so sensitive and I am coming, again, again, again."Oh my God," I beg as I try to catch a breath between orgasms, but that is all he lets me say before he wriggles his finger and makes me come again, again, again.
I am twisting, sweating, panting. I can't. "I can't," I pant, but he is not about to let me finish a thought. More, more, more. I scream and I come and come and come. I feel his cock hardening against my thigh as my screams lengthen and grow hoarser.
"You can't what, girl? Can't stop? Who said you could stop?" he asks. His finger drives me insane and makes me scream until I think I might explode.
"I am going to fuck you," he whispers into my ear. "Right after I'm done making you come."
I writhe. I am a fuck puppet, nothing but a neverending orgasm, a helpless mass of twitching nerve endings.
"Turn over and give me your pussy," he finally says. I can barely breathe, much less move. I claw at the mattress to help me turn over on my side.
His cock slides into me - forces its way into me. "SO FULL!" I exclaim as he slowly drives into me.
"So mine," he growls. "So nice of you to stop coming for a second so I could get my cock in you." He grabs me, and begins to thrust into me in earnest, moving my body against him like a rag doll. "But if you still want to come, don't let me stop you," he says, fucking into me harder. The plug is forcing his cock into my g-spot and it doesn't take long before I am screaming again, a final orgasm ripping through me. I squeal helplessly as it shakes me, and he makes a noise - a contented hunter's noise, as he fucks me right into his own climax.
"You're so fucking incredible," I whisper hoarsely as his arm around my waist pulls me closer to him, as I gather enough energy for actual words. My mind is blown.
"You're pretty incredible yourself," he says.
As long as he wants to, I'll let him keep thinking that.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Forced helplessness
There's a certain aspect of D/s sexual interaction that really gets me going: Being punished, chastised, or otherwise taken to task for something the bottom has no control over, or something the top has actively caused.
Usually the only place I get to see these scenarios is in bad snuff fiction with psychopathic kidnapping murderers, but something over on aisha's the other day triggered my "yummy!" sensor. I thought my husband was aware of this kink of mine, but turns out it must have been buried under all the other kinks of mine littering his poor brain. So when I started talking about it, he got pretty excited. Apparently he likes to learn things about me he either doesn't know or has forgotten.
What followed that conversation was experimental on his part, and very, very intense for me.
"Why did you like that spoon on your face so much?" he asked, stroking my cheek, covering my face with his hand and pressing hard.
"I dunno," I moaned against his palm, then, giving it a little more thought, "I like it when you do things to my face." I'm pretty sure that was already obvious since I was sort of melting into him, moving my face into his hand as it roamed.
"Hmm," he pondered, kissing me, stroking my face all over, "I think there's a part of you... that wants me to slap it."
I moaned.
"But I said I wouldn't do that, didn't I? That I wouldn't slap the pretty girl's face.." he lifted his hand from my cheek, pausing as if to slap me, but he didn't. I felt my whole body flush, and suddenly I was hot.
He moved his hand, slapped my breasts one at a time, kept talking about slapping my face. His exact words are lost in the roar of blood in my ears, in the sounds of his hand smacking into my breasts over and over. His lips claimed mine eventually, kissing me senseless while his hand gripped my hair, tugging my face into him, pulling my hair, making me cry out.
"I'm surprised you don't fight back more," he said as he slapped my breasts.
"You don't like that," I answered softly.
"I suppose a submissive girl might just like to submit," he continued.
"I like to fight," I whispered, even lower.
"That's right, you do," he murmured. "I suppose I might like to feel wanted... like you're just saying 'Here I am. I'm yours, do as you wish with me.'" I was on my back next to him, he was on his side facing me. My right leg was trapped between both of his, his leg tossed over my hip and bent so it crossed my leg a second time. His hand was in my hair, his other hand gripping my throat as he kissed me, as he spoke those words. His fingers moved from my throat down my front, toying with my nipples, slipping lower, lower, until he parted my sex.
I nearly screamed when he drew my wetness over my clit. I spasmed, my trapped leg trying to pull away.
"Where is that leg trying to go?"
"Nowhere," I hurried to answer. I wasn't quite sure what he had planned, wasn't sure of anything except how very turned on I was. So I answered honestly.
"You like having your legs forced apart," he noted as I moaned when his leg tightened on mine, dragged it further away from my other one.
"Uh-huh," I answered, his fingers on my sex pretty much robbing me of intelligent language.
"Are you my slut?"
"Uh-huh." I would have agreed to almost anything at that point, but then I started thinking.
"Are you a cock slut?" His fingers, God, his fingers, making me crazy, how can I think, how can I have this conversation?
"Nooo," I protested.
"No? What kind of slut are you, then?"
"Nooo," I argued, brilliantly.
"You don't get to say no now, girl, it's too late. Cock slut. You want this cock to fuck you, don't you?" he asked, his fingers sliding inside me, making me buck up into his hand.
"Uh-huh," I said, twisting.
"So why don't you turn on your side and let me fuck you from behind then?" he said, a little edge to his voice that should have warned me something was up.
I tried. I really, really tried. But the way he was holding me, I couldn't turn. Each time I tried to turn, I felt the muscles of his legs tense around me, holding me in place, holding me open. "Come on, cock slut, just turn over. I guess you don't want it bad enough. I guess you don't want to be fucked from behind at all." His finger moved, faster and faster, lighter and lighter, on my clit, and my body arched up off the bed, still trying to turn, but unable. That is when the orgasm hit me, as his words crashed into me without letup, as his finger worked its magic, as he held me in place even as I tried to do what he told me.
Fuck, yes, I came. How could I not?
"Silly slut can't even do what she's told," he murmured into my ear as I panted. "I guess you don't really want it - but guess what? I want it. I guess I'll just have to show you how it's done." With that, he took his leg off me and roughly - roughly - shoved me over onto my side. I can't even tell you what that I want it did to me. Just whoa.
"Give me that pussy," he growled as he prodded the head of his cock into me. But his hand was on my ass, pressing me forward. Oh, fuck. I tried to back onto him, to feel him filling me, but he pushed on me just enough so I could get about half his cock inside. "Come on, girl, give it to me," he growled again, as I tried to find some leverage on our featureless bed to press against. My hands slid helplessly over the smooth sheets, we don't have a headboard, pressing into the wall would be the wrong direction. I moaned deeply, frustrated, even as I felt myself grow impossibly wetter.
"I guess you really don't want it that badly," he whispered, grabbing ahold of me and yanking me all the way onto him, filling me up by ramming us into each other. I squealed as he hit bottom, stretching me out suddenly and quickly. Fuck.
"You're my property, aren't you?" he murmured, long minutes later, my legs splayed open, one wrapped behind his back, his fingers stroking my clit while he fucked me.
"Yes, yes, yes," I panted.
"Putty in my fingers, aren't you?" he asked. "Do whatever I tell you?"
"Uh-huh," I groaned, as those very fingers drove me insane with pleasure.
"Turn over and suck my cock, then," he said.
He let me, though I moved slowly, like one in a dream. I love the taste of me on him, of us together like that. I licked slowly up his length, tasting, before I let myself suck him in.
"Oh, that's a good girl, good girl likes to suck the cock, doesn't she?"
He was fucking into my throat, pulling my hair, telling me what a good fuckhole I am when our poor sick munchkin came zombying into the room. At least the kid has good timing and it was a good moment for interruption.
It was more a laugh and a "Poor baby" than a scream of frustration, at least for me.
And we finished, later, after settling the poor kid down. That story is less defined in my memory, though.
But holy hell, what a first outing for the bits of 'new' knowledge.
Somewhere up there, in our conversation, we were talking about him beating me, and he said "But it's so much fun!"
I don't know where it fits in the greater narrative, but it definitely struck a happy chord inside this girl and I wanted to make sure I mentioned it.
Usually the only place I get to see these scenarios is in bad snuff fiction with psychopathic kidnapping murderers, but something over on aisha's the other day triggered my "yummy!" sensor. I thought my husband was aware of this kink of mine, but turns out it must have been buried under all the other kinks of mine littering his poor brain. So when I started talking about it, he got pretty excited. Apparently he likes to learn things about me he either doesn't know or has forgotten.
What followed that conversation was experimental on his part, and very, very intense for me.
"Why did you like that spoon on your face so much?" he asked, stroking my cheek, covering my face with his hand and pressing hard.
"I dunno," I moaned against his palm, then, giving it a little more thought, "I like it when you do things to my face." I'm pretty sure that was already obvious since I was sort of melting into him, moving my face into his hand as it roamed.
"Hmm," he pondered, kissing me, stroking my face all over, "I think there's a part of you... that wants me to slap it."
I moaned.
"But I said I wouldn't do that, didn't I? That I wouldn't slap the pretty girl's face.." he lifted his hand from my cheek, pausing as if to slap me, but he didn't. I felt my whole body flush, and suddenly I was hot.
He moved his hand, slapped my breasts one at a time, kept talking about slapping my face. His exact words are lost in the roar of blood in my ears, in the sounds of his hand smacking into my breasts over and over. His lips claimed mine eventually, kissing me senseless while his hand gripped my hair, tugging my face into him, pulling my hair, making me cry out.
"I'm surprised you don't fight back more," he said as he slapped my breasts.
"You don't like that," I answered softly.
"I suppose a submissive girl might just like to submit," he continued.
"I like to fight," I whispered, even lower.
"That's right, you do," he murmured. "I suppose I might like to feel wanted... like you're just saying 'Here I am. I'm yours, do as you wish with me.'" I was on my back next to him, he was on his side facing me. My right leg was trapped between both of his, his leg tossed over my hip and bent so it crossed my leg a second time. His hand was in my hair, his other hand gripping my throat as he kissed me, as he spoke those words. His fingers moved from my throat down my front, toying with my nipples, slipping lower, lower, until he parted my sex.
I nearly screamed when he drew my wetness over my clit. I spasmed, my trapped leg trying to pull away.
"Where is that leg trying to go?"
"Nowhere," I hurried to answer. I wasn't quite sure what he had planned, wasn't sure of anything except how very turned on I was. So I answered honestly.
"You like having your legs forced apart," he noted as I moaned when his leg tightened on mine, dragged it further away from my other one.
"Uh-huh," I answered, his fingers on my sex pretty much robbing me of intelligent language.
"Are you my slut?"
"Uh-huh." I would have agreed to almost anything at that point, but then I started thinking.
"Are you a cock slut?" His fingers, God, his fingers, making me crazy, how can I think, how can I have this conversation?
"Nooo," I protested.
"No? What kind of slut are you, then?"
"Nooo," I argued, brilliantly.
"You don't get to say no now, girl, it's too late. Cock slut. You want this cock to fuck you, don't you?" he asked, his fingers sliding inside me, making me buck up into his hand.
"Uh-huh," I said, twisting.
"So why don't you turn on your side and let me fuck you from behind then?" he said, a little edge to his voice that should have warned me something was up.
I tried. I really, really tried. But the way he was holding me, I couldn't turn. Each time I tried to turn, I felt the muscles of his legs tense around me, holding me in place, holding me open. "Come on, cock slut, just turn over. I guess you don't want it bad enough. I guess you don't want to be fucked from behind at all." His finger moved, faster and faster, lighter and lighter, on my clit, and my body arched up off the bed, still trying to turn, but unable. That is when the orgasm hit me, as his words crashed into me without letup, as his finger worked its magic, as he held me in place even as I tried to do what he told me.
Fuck, yes, I came. How could I not?
"Silly slut can't even do what she's told," he murmured into my ear as I panted. "I guess you don't really want it - but guess what? I want it. I guess I'll just have to show you how it's done." With that, he took his leg off me and roughly - roughly - shoved me over onto my side. I can't even tell you what that I want it did to me. Just whoa.
"Give me that pussy," he growled as he prodded the head of his cock into me. But his hand was on my ass, pressing me forward. Oh, fuck. I tried to back onto him, to feel him filling me, but he pushed on me just enough so I could get about half his cock inside. "Come on, girl, give it to me," he growled again, as I tried to find some leverage on our featureless bed to press against. My hands slid helplessly over the smooth sheets, we don't have a headboard, pressing into the wall would be the wrong direction. I moaned deeply, frustrated, even as I felt myself grow impossibly wetter.
"I guess you really don't want it that badly," he whispered, grabbing ahold of me and yanking me all the way onto him, filling me up by ramming us into each other. I squealed as he hit bottom, stretching me out suddenly and quickly. Fuck.
"You're my property, aren't you?" he murmured, long minutes later, my legs splayed open, one wrapped behind his back, his fingers stroking my clit while he fucked me.
"Yes, yes, yes," I panted.
"Putty in my fingers, aren't you?" he asked. "Do whatever I tell you?"
"Uh-huh," I groaned, as those very fingers drove me insane with pleasure.
"Turn over and suck my cock, then," he said.
He let me, though I moved slowly, like one in a dream. I love the taste of me on him, of us together like that. I licked slowly up his length, tasting, before I let myself suck him in.
"Oh, that's a good girl, good girl likes to suck the cock, doesn't she?"
He was fucking into my throat, pulling my hair, telling me what a good fuckhole I am when our poor sick munchkin came zombying into the room. At least the kid has good timing and it was a good moment for interruption.
It was more a laugh and a "Poor baby" than a scream of frustration, at least for me.
And we finished, later, after settling the poor kid down. That story is less defined in my memory, though.
But holy hell, what a first outing for the bits of 'new' knowledge.
Somewhere up there, in our conversation, we were talking about him beating me, and he said "But it's so much fun!"
I don't know where it fits in the greater narrative, but it definitely struck a happy chord inside this girl and I wanted to make sure I mentioned it.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Upping the ante, part 2
The first half is here
I don't know if I growled when he directed me to suck his cock, but something inside me did. I felt another rush of wetness between my legs and I attacked his mouth, kissing him like he was my air. As I kissed down his chest, he rolled onto his back. Ahhh, so it was going to be like that. I settled between his legs then, and I did growl a little as I slowly sucked on his balls, watching his cock bounce and listening to his noises of pleasure. "Oh yeah, that feels good," he murmured.
I licked from his balls up the underside of his cock before I finally sucked the length of him in, relishing the moment, hearing his moan of appreciation as my tongue rubbed all over, as I took him as deeply into my throat as the position allowed. His legs were over my shoulders, his feet resting on my back as I held him in my throat until I started shaking. When I pulled away I sucked in air loudly for a long time.
"My girl has a good fuck hole in her face, doesn't she?" he asked as I sucked him down again. I moaned an affirmative around the cock filling my mouth. "But sometimes she needs to remember that's her air hole too, I think." He grabbed my head then, held it still while he fucked into me. I squealed around it with excitement. It's so easy to forget how very fucking much I love this when I'm not actively doing it, but holy shit this was amazing.
Then he was pulling my hair, using it as a handle to move my head up and down on his cock, pushing me down as his cock penetrated my throat as far as it could, holding me, holding me, until my feet shook, and then letting me up for air. Oh God this is so fucking hot, I thought to myself as I sucked in air. He let go, let me move on him on my own, and when I had taken him right into my throat, his legs tightened around my head, holding me in place. I shook, unable to make a sound but so incredibly excited by the whole business that I just knew my wetness was seeping out. I squeezed his legs even tighter around my head with my hands. He finally opened his thighs and let me move again, letting the noises he'd made me want to make come out.
We went on like that for what seemed like a long, long time. I was taking a breather, rubbing my cheek and lips against his cock, sliding my tongue along it until I had enough oxygen to take it in my throat again.
"I want you to get up here on top of me," he growled.
I trembled, and pulled my face away from his cock, starting to slide up his body. But as my breasts brushed his erection, still slick with my saliva, his knees locked around my midsection, stopping my upward advance. His hands moved to my breasts, pushing them around his slick cock, and he started to fuck them, squeezing them firmly, making me moan. I lowered my head to suck his cock when it advanced between my breasts. He was enjoying himself, letting me suck as he fucked me, making lots of pleased noises. "This isn't quite what I meant when I told you to get on top of me," he said, not stopping.
"You stopped me," I pulled my mouth away from him just long enough to whisper, noting as I returned to his cock that his thighs were still tight around my midsection, that his hands were still gripping my breasts, holding me in place.
"So I did," he said, enjoying himself for a bit longer before he finally stopped. "Get up here," he said, tugging on my hair. "I want you to fuck me with your pussy the way you fuck me with your mouth."
Well I don't know if that's even possible, but I understood the gist of what he was saying as I straddled him, my knees out to either side of us. I gasped as I moved over his erection, feeling the slick heat of him touching my folds. I rocked against him, letting his hardness press me open. The head lodged just inside me and I groaned, gently rotating my hips.
"You afraid of my cock?" he asked, as I was taking my time about settling lower.
"Nuh-uh," I said, enjoying the feel of him throbbing there inside me. I settled lower, taking him all the way, leaning forward over his chest, my clit rubbing against his pubic bone as I slowly rocked. He kissed me, I was gasping into his mouth with the intensity of the position, my clit, the size of him stretching me open, his mouth. Supporting myself on my arms became more difficult, but I kept rocking.
The sensations were overwhelming. "You getting tired, girl?" he asked, as I was panting, gasping for breath, but not from exertion. I was close, and I held still because that's how I respond to impending orgasm - try to stop it. He slapped my ass. "Fuck that cock, girl," he ordered, and I moved. The insides of my knees were brushing against the soft coolness of our bamboo sheets as I rocked on him, and that sensation is the one that's always managed to push me over the edge in the past - my legs moving like that, feeling so completely out of control - but he was still slapping my ass, making me move. Those two things combined really left me no choice.
"Good girl, good girl," he said as I panted, starting to cry out. "Come for me, girl!" he ordered as I moaned deeply, still rocking on him. "Fucking come for me." I cried out several times, pulsing, my hair having long since become a sweaty curtain around my face. I stopped again, resting my forehead against him, repositioning my knees so I could lift my hips rather than rock.
It's still a rocking motion, but with more of a thrust to it, and he was sliding in and out of me as I moved, rocking up and down against him. His breathing quickened and he clutched me as he pulsed inside me. "Good, good girl," he whispered as we kissed afterward. "Mine," he said, wrapping me in his arms and legs after he allowed me to roll off him.
Cue happy lovey-dovey pillow talk here, followed by amazing sleep.
Several things going on in these posts:
He slaps my face with the spoon. With the spoon. I loved it. It made me feel....oh, it just made me feel. It made me aware, and I knew he was paying very close attention to what he was doing. Oh, fuck.
He's paying attention to what I'm wearing. Seriously, he gives a fuck? Yeah, I hear you all going "That's really a no-brainer," but... honestly, he's just never seemed to give a damn. If I'm wearing something easy-access he's for it, but otherwise he just wants it gone.
He puts me wherever the hell he wants me. Yes.
He's very very good at this. We're gliding along the path pretty well most of the time, and we're enjoying the hell out of each other, but once in a while he ups the ante just a little - just enough for me to know he's paying attention and gives a damn.
He tells me no one would be interested in our story because there's not enough conflict in it.
I love our story because any time there is a conflict, it gets evaporated by the twin barrels of perseverance and communication.
I don't know if I growled when he directed me to suck his cock, but something inside me did. I felt another rush of wetness between my legs and I attacked his mouth, kissing him like he was my air. As I kissed down his chest, he rolled onto his back. Ahhh, so it was going to be like that. I settled between his legs then, and I did growl a little as I slowly sucked on his balls, watching his cock bounce and listening to his noises of pleasure. "Oh yeah, that feels good," he murmured.
I licked from his balls up the underside of his cock before I finally sucked the length of him in, relishing the moment, hearing his moan of appreciation as my tongue rubbed all over, as I took him as deeply into my throat as the position allowed. His legs were over my shoulders, his feet resting on my back as I held him in my throat until I started shaking. When I pulled away I sucked in air loudly for a long time.
"My girl has a good fuck hole in her face, doesn't she?" he asked as I sucked him down again. I moaned an affirmative around the cock filling my mouth. "But sometimes she needs to remember that's her air hole too, I think." He grabbed my head then, held it still while he fucked into me. I squealed around it with excitement. It's so easy to forget how very fucking much I love this when I'm not actively doing it, but holy shit this was amazing.
Then he was pulling my hair, using it as a handle to move my head up and down on his cock, pushing me down as his cock penetrated my throat as far as it could, holding me, holding me, until my feet shook, and then letting me up for air. Oh God this is so fucking hot, I thought to myself as I sucked in air. He let go, let me move on him on my own, and when I had taken him right into my throat, his legs tightened around my head, holding me in place. I shook, unable to make a sound but so incredibly excited by the whole business that I just knew my wetness was seeping out. I squeezed his legs even tighter around my head with my hands. He finally opened his thighs and let me move again, letting the noises he'd made me want to make come out.
We went on like that for what seemed like a long, long time. I was taking a breather, rubbing my cheek and lips against his cock, sliding my tongue along it until I had enough oxygen to take it in my throat again.
"I want you to get up here on top of me," he growled.
I trembled, and pulled my face away from his cock, starting to slide up his body. But as my breasts brushed his erection, still slick with my saliva, his knees locked around my midsection, stopping my upward advance. His hands moved to my breasts, pushing them around his slick cock, and he started to fuck them, squeezing them firmly, making me moan. I lowered my head to suck his cock when it advanced between my breasts. He was enjoying himself, letting me suck as he fucked me, making lots of pleased noises. "This isn't quite what I meant when I told you to get on top of me," he said, not stopping.
"You stopped me," I pulled my mouth away from him just long enough to whisper, noting as I returned to his cock that his thighs were still tight around my midsection, that his hands were still gripping my breasts, holding me in place.
"So I did," he said, enjoying himself for a bit longer before he finally stopped. "Get up here," he said, tugging on my hair. "I want you to fuck me with your pussy the way you fuck me with your mouth."
Well I don't know if that's even possible, but I understood the gist of what he was saying as I straddled him, my knees out to either side of us. I gasped as I moved over his erection, feeling the slick heat of him touching my folds. I rocked against him, letting his hardness press me open. The head lodged just inside me and I groaned, gently rotating my hips.
"You afraid of my cock?" he asked, as I was taking my time about settling lower.
"Nuh-uh," I said, enjoying the feel of him throbbing there inside me. I settled lower, taking him all the way, leaning forward over his chest, my clit rubbing against his pubic bone as I slowly rocked. He kissed me, I was gasping into his mouth with the intensity of the position, my clit, the size of him stretching me open, his mouth. Supporting myself on my arms became more difficult, but I kept rocking.
The sensations were overwhelming. "You getting tired, girl?" he asked, as I was panting, gasping for breath, but not from exertion. I was close, and I held still because that's how I respond to impending orgasm - try to stop it. He slapped my ass. "Fuck that cock, girl," he ordered, and I moved. The insides of my knees were brushing against the soft coolness of our bamboo sheets as I rocked on him, and that sensation is the one that's always managed to push me over the edge in the past - my legs moving like that, feeling so completely out of control - but he was still slapping my ass, making me move. Those two things combined really left me no choice.
"Good girl, good girl," he said as I panted, starting to cry out. "Come for me, girl!" he ordered as I moaned deeply, still rocking on him. "Fucking come for me." I cried out several times, pulsing, my hair having long since become a sweaty curtain around my face. I stopped again, resting my forehead against him, repositioning my knees so I could lift my hips rather than rock.
It's still a rocking motion, but with more of a thrust to it, and he was sliding in and out of me as I moved, rocking up and down against him. His breathing quickened and he clutched me as he pulsed inside me. "Good, good girl," he whispered as we kissed afterward. "Mine," he said, wrapping me in his arms and legs after he allowed me to roll off him.
Cue happy lovey-dovey pillow talk here, followed by amazing sleep.
Several things going on in these posts:
He slaps my face with the spoon. With the spoon. I loved it. It made me feel....oh, it just made me feel. It made me aware, and I knew he was paying very close attention to what he was doing. Oh, fuck.
He's paying attention to what I'm wearing. Seriously, he gives a fuck? Yeah, I hear you all going "That's really a no-brainer," but... honestly, he's just never seemed to give a damn. If I'm wearing something easy-access he's for it, but otherwise he just wants it gone.
He puts me wherever the hell he wants me. Yes.
He's very very good at this. We're gliding along the path pretty well most of the time, and we're enjoying the hell out of each other, but once in a while he ups the ante just a little - just enough for me to know he's paying attention and gives a damn.
He tells me no one would be interested in our story because there's not enough conflict in it.
I love our story because any time there is a conflict, it gets evaporated by the twin barrels of perseverance and communication.
Upping the ante, part 1
"Why are we going to bed so early?" I asked my husband, realizing it was only 9 PM, and secretly thrilling a little inside.
"Seemed like a good time to go to bed," he replied as he slid into bed next to me, pulling me close to him. "Is this new, what you're wearing?" He ran his hand down my body to indicate the nightie I'd put on.
"No," I was turned away from him so he couldn't see my smile. It's rare he seems to pay attention to what I'm wearing.
"Just don't wear it often?"
"I brought it from home when we came back," I answered. "I left a lot of stuff like this back there."
"Why is that?"
"I thought maybe we wouldn't be having sex so much after." I laughed at my own thought processes from the time. "And... maybe that you didn't care so much anyway."
He laughed too. "No sex for a year? What do you think now?" His voice was right in my ear, his lips grazing my neck after he spoke, sending shivers down my spine.
"Mmmm, which do you mean?"
"Do you still think I'm not going to have sex with you?"
I laughed pretty loudly then, the very concept foreign enough that it was ridiculous. "No," I said quickly amidst my laughter.
"Good," he said, his hands pulling me closer. "And I do care."
Huh. That's news to me. Never noticed him caring. Score one for communication.
He lit a candle, turned off the lamp, and turned back to me. I was purring as he stroked me, stretching into him. "What's on the menu tonight then?"
"Mmm... love. Maybe some pain." His hands kept stroking me and I made soft noises of appreciation with each item as he listed them. "Some claiming of you... some entering of you."
I had turned toward him as he spoke, and let my hands dance over his skin for a bit, being sure he was finished talking. "Sounds like a nice menu," I said appreciatively.
"I'd like it if you'd kiss me," he whispered.
I like to give him what he likes. So I tilted my face up to his and kissed him, softly at first and with more hunger as his responses fueled mine. My breast rested on his chest, he shoved my nightie out of the way and his fingers stroked my nipple there as we kissed, making me purr. "Love," he breathed out, his fingers gently rolling my nipple.
"Love you," I responded, sucking on his full lower lip.
He slapped my nipple then, pretty sharply. I yelped, jumping a little with the pain.
"Pain," he whispered.
Oh, I get it. It's the menu. He's delivering the menu. My thoughts didn't have much time to settle there because he was slapping my nipple over and over and I was groaning.
He pushed me onto my back so he could slap my breast full on, and I arched into each blow. Oh wow. How long must it have been since he'd done this? Days, at least. I moaned with every thud into my chest.
And then he stopped. What? I was unfocused, breathing hard, bereft of attention but not sure how to process. He'd turned away and was looking for something in his nightstand. "Ahh," he finally said, and turned back to me, rubbing the back of the wooden spoon against my nipple. I shivered and whimpered, a little fearful, but also excited.
He started tapping that spoon into my nipples, lightly at first, and harder as I rose up into the taps, groaning with deep satisfaction. "Oh wow, look at you," he said as he continued, on and on until I lost all thoughts except rising up into the strokes of the spoon, feeling the impacts into my nipples. I was so, so aroused. I could feel myself growing wetter with each blow.
I shivered as he leaned over to kiss me, the spoon resting against the inside of my forearm where it lay on the bed. He took advantage of that position to hit me there, all up and down my inner forearm while he kissed me. I cried out into his mouth as the wood left its mark on my sensitive skin. It felt incredible, and I was overwhelmed. As he hit me on the inner arm, as he kissed me and did whatever else he was doing, I felt myself begin to shake. I arched up as he kept slapping my sensitive skin with the spoon, and I felt an orgasm washing over me. I screamed, shaking as it went through me. "Oh my," he whispered as I vibrated beneath him.
It hurt more when he finally stopped; my flesh throbbed and complained.
"Open your legs for me," he said. He would normally knock them apart but he was propped on one elbow and his other hand was holding the spoon. I whimpered, a little fearful, but I obeyed. He ran the spoon over my inner thighs, over my pussy that was still covered by panties. He slipped them off, then ran the spoon over me again. I whimpered.
"Are you afraid of me?" he asked.
"A little," I answered.
He started slapping the spoon against my inner thighs, just enough to leave a sting behind but not enough to make me feel like I was dying. I was happy with that, lifting my hips and squirming, and then he brushed it over my pussy again, slowly, deliberately.
He is very, very good with the spoon. As he told me later - spoons don't hit people, people hit people. So my initial hate for the thing was on the way he was using it, of course. Residual traces of that fear still linger. I tensed up.
He bent over so that his upper body was across my midsection, facing my spread thighs, pinning me there. I cried out - this was unexpected. He slapped my pussy and my thighs with the spoon, making me writhe beneath him, making me moan and cry out unintelligible sounds.
He resumed his previous position beside me when he was finished, kissing me as he ran the spoon up my body. "Mine," he said against my lips, his free hand gripping my throat and keeping me there while he plundered my mouth. "So mine." His hand ran over my face, and I pressed my face into his hand as it passed, covering my eyes, my nose, my mouth. He pressed. I love it when he presses my face like that. I moaned into his hand.
The spoon rubbed against my cheek, and my mouth opened. He was looking at me, his gaze trapped mine as he slowly, deliberately, slapped my cheek with the spoon. I trembled, a cry spilling from my mouth as he did it again. "Mine," he said firmly, slapping my face with the spoon while I moaned helplessly.
Oh my God he's slapping my face with a wooden spoon. Oh my God. I writhed. Shivers overtook me and I couldn't stop shaking. He finally stopped, put the spoon down, and kissed me while his fingers found their way between my legs. I knew what he would find there.
"Oh my, what have we here?" he asked as his fingers delved into my wetness, as he made little noises come out of me with the slightest touch. "I think we have a nice wet pussy. I think it likes what I do to you."
He played with me a bit, his fingers sliding inside me, his thumb stroking my clit, making me twist and groan. He kissed me the whole time.
"I want you..." he said softly against my lips.
"I want you." I answered, kissing him more fervently.
"... to suck my cock," he finished.
Continued here...
"Seemed like a good time to go to bed," he replied as he slid into bed next to me, pulling me close to him. "Is this new, what you're wearing?" He ran his hand down my body to indicate the nightie I'd put on.
"No," I was turned away from him so he couldn't see my smile. It's rare he seems to pay attention to what I'm wearing.
"Just don't wear it often?"
"I brought it from home when we came back," I answered. "I left a lot of stuff like this back there."
"Why is that?"
"I thought maybe we wouldn't be having sex so much after." I laughed at my own thought processes from the time. "And... maybe that you didn't care so much anyway."
He laughed too. "No sex for a year? What do you think now?" His voice was right in my ear, his lips grazing my neck after he spoke, sending shivers down my spine.
"Mmmm, which do you mean?"
"Do you still think I'm not going to have sex with you?"
I laughed pretty loudly then, the very concept foreign enough that it was ridiculous. "No," I said quickly amidst my laughter.
"Good," he said, his hands pulling me closer. "And I do care."
Huh. That's news to me. Never noticed him caring. Score one for communication.
He lit a candle, turned off the lamp, and turned back to me. I was purring as he stroked me, stretching into him. "What's on the menu tonight then?"
"Mmm... love. Maybe some pain." His hands kept stroking me and I made soft noises of appreciation with each item as he listed them. "Some claiming of you... some entering of you."
I had turned toward him as he spoke, and let my hands dance over his skin for a bit, being sure he was finished talking. "Sounds like a nice menu," I said appreciatively.
"I'd like it if you'd kiss me," he whispered.
I like to give him what he likes. So I tilted my face up to his and kissed him, softly at first and with more hunger as his responses fueled mine. My breast rested on his chest, he shoved my nightie out of the way and his fingers stroked my nipple there as we kissed, making me purr. "Love," he breathed out, his fingers gently rolling my nipple.
"Love you," I responded, sucking on his full lower lip.
He slapped my nipple then, pretty sharply. I yelped, jumping a little with the pain.
"Pain," he whispered.
Oh, I get it. It's the menu. He's delivering the menu. My thoughts didn't have much time to settle there because he was slapping my nipple over and over and I was groaning.
He pushed me onto my back so he could slap my breast full on, and I arched into each blow. Oh wow. How long must it have been since he'd done this? Days, at least. I moaned with every thud into my chest.
And then he stopped. What? I was unfocused, breathing hard, bereft of attention but not sure how to process. He'd turned away and was looking for something in his nightstand. "Ahh," he finally said, and turned back to me, rubbing the back of the wooden spoon against my nipple. I shivered and whimpered, a little fearful, but also excited.
He started tapping that spoon into my nipples, lightly at first, and harder as I rose up into the taps, groaning with deep satisfaction. "Oh wow, look at you," he said as he continued, on and on until I lost all thoughts except rising up into the strokes of the spoon, feeling the impacts into my nipples. I was so, so aroused. I could feel myself growing wetter with each blow.
I shivered as he leaned over to kiss me, the spoon resting against the inside of my forearm where it lay on the bed. He took advantage of that position to hit me there, all up and down my inner forearm while he kissed me. I cried out into his mouth as the wood left its mark on my sensitive skin. It felt incredible, and I was overwhelmed. As he hit me on the inner arm, as he kissed me and did whatever else he was doing, I felt myself begin to shake. I arched up as he kept slapping my sensitive skin with the spoon, and I felt an orgasm washing over me. I screamed, shaking as it went through me. "Oh my," he whispered as I vibrated beneath him.
It hurt more when he finally stopped; my flesh throbbed and complained.
"Open your legs for me," he said. He would normally knock them apart but he was propped on one elbow and his other hand was holding the spoon. I whimpered, a little fearful, but I obeyed. He ran the spoon over my inner thighs, over my pussy that was still covered by panties. He slipped them off, then ran the spoon over me again. I whimpered.
"Are you afraid of me?" he asked.
"A little," I answered.
He started slapping the spoon against my inner thighs, just enough to leave a sting behind but not enough to make me feel like I was dying. I was happy with that, lifting my hips and squirming, and then he brushed it over my pussy again, slowly, deliberately.
He is very, very good with the spoon. As he told me later - spoons don't hit people, people hit people. So my initial hate for the thing was on the way he was using it, of course. Residual traces of that fear still linger. I tensed up.
He bent over so that his upper body was across my midsection, facing my spread thighs, pinning me there. I cried out - this was unexpected. He slapped my pussy and my thighs with the spoon, making me writhe beneath him, making me moan and cry out unintelligible sounds.
He resumed his previous position beside me when he was finished, kissing me as he ran the spoon up my body. "Mine," he said against my lips, his free hand gripping my throat and keeping me there while he plundered my mouth. "So mine." His hand ran over my face, and I pressed my face into his hand as it passed, covering my eyes, my nose, my mouth. He pressed. I love it when he presses my face like that. I moaned into his hand.
The spoon rubbed against my cheek, and my mouth opened. He was looking at me, his gaze trapped mine as he slowly, deliberately, slapped my cheek with the spoon. I trembled, a cry spilling from my mouth as he did it again. "Mine," he said firmly, slapping my face with the spoon while I moaned helplessly.
Oh my God he's slapping my face with a wooden spoon. Oh my God. I writhed. Shivers overtook me and I couldn't stop shaking. He finally stopped, put the spoon down, and kissed me while his fingers found their way between my legs. I knew what he would find there.
"Oh my, what have we here?" he asked as his fingers delved into my wetness, as he made little noises come out of me with the slightest touch. "I think we have a nice wet pussy. I think it likes what I do to you."
He played with me a bit, his fingers sliding inside me, his thumb stroking my clit, making me twist and groan. He kissed me the whole time.
"I want you..." he said softly against my lips.
"I want you." I answered, kissing him more fervently.
"... to suck my cock," he finished.
Continued here...
Monday, January 14, 2013
Too hot to handle
Overwhelmed may begin to describe it; I don't know if I can do a fair job of it beyond that. I do know that I spent a good deal of time just reliving the wonder of it in my head. Sometimes, the man I married is so truly magnificent that I can't understand what he is doing with me - with any human. Surely he should be consort to a goddess somewhere.
There was a thing between us. It was just a tiny thing, said by him in the heat of the moment, but it'd been under my skin for days. It's so rare that we argue, that he says anything at all hurtful, that this was major. I withdrew. I still participated in our marriage, still enjoyed his company, but during quiet moments those words came back to me, made me sad all over again.
He held me in his arms last night, and after several failed kisses, he extracted the problem from me. "But that was days ago!" he said, sounding surprised.
He apologized. It was sincere, and as his words melted the protective ice around my heart, I melted against his side. When his lips came down on mine again, his hand on my throat, a moan rose up to greet him as I kissed him back. I gloried in it as he claimed my mouth, little whimpers of release finally escaping. The ecstasy of belonging to him was unleashed on my brain again, a flush of excitement, of submission, creeping all over my body as our lips danced. "I want to keep you safe from the monsters," he whispered. "I want to make love to you. And I want to use you as my fuck toy."
I whimpered, all of those words hitting me in all the right spots, turning me to a quivering mess. "Do those things conflict?" he asked.
There was a thing between us. It was just a tiny thing, said by him in the heat of the moment, but it'd been under my skin for days. It's so rare that we argue, that he says anything at all hurtful, that this was major. I withdrew. I still participated in our marriage, still enjoyed his company, but during quiet moments those words came back to me, made me sad all over again.
He held me in his arms last night, and after several failed kisses, he extracted the problem from me. "But that was days ago!" he said, sounding surprised.
He apologized. It was sincere, and as his words melted the protective ice around my heart, I melted against his side. When his lips came down on mine again, his hand on my throat, a moan rose up to greet him as I kissed him back. I gloried in it as he claimed my mouth, little whimpers of release finally escaping. The ecstasy of belonging to him was unleashed on my brain again, a flush of excitement, of submission, creeping all over my body as our lips danced. "I want to keep you safe from the monsters," he whispered. "I want to make love to you. And I want to use you as my fuck toy."
I whimpered, all of those words hitting me in all the right spots, turning me to a quivering mess. "Do those things conflict?" he asked.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Owned
He joins me in bed, and I immediately put my Kindle away and turn toward him, into his embrace. "No one said you had to put that away," he says, sounding amused as his arms wrap around me, his fingertips tracing goosebumps along my bare skin.
"Mmm, I know what's good for me," I answer softly, kissing his chest, peppering his warm skin with my love.
"I know what's good for me, and it's here in my arms," he says. Smoothness, rolling off his tongue like honey. I purr, and before the sound even finishes coming out of my throat, he's got my nipple between his fingers, pinching it hard. Harder, harder, and I'm squealing because it's an intense pain. The nipple is still sore from what he did to it the night before. He lets it go, briefly, rubs his palm across it and then grabs it between his fingers again, pulling up on it. I scream as quietly as I can manage.
"Mmm, I know what's good for me," I answer softly, kissing his chest, peppering his warm skin with my love.
"I know what's good for me, and it's here in my arms," he says. Smoothness, rolling off his tongue like honey. I purr, and before the sound even finishes coming out of my throat, he's got my nipple between his fingers, pinching it hard. Harder, harder, and I'm squealing because it's an intense pain. The nipple is still sore from what he did to it the night before. He lets it go, briefly, rubs his palm across it and then grabs it between his fingers again, pulling up on it. I scream as quietly as I can manage.
Friday, November 30, 2012
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Working vacation
It's a working vacation. Different city, same offices.
We're tired when we fall into bed, the last several hours of the drive had become exponentially more difficult until I was forced to concede defeat and let him take over for the last 90 minutes.
I'm entirely not expecting it when he whispers "I like sex" into my ear. His breath is warm and I shiver, the contrast with the chilly room only half of the reason. He is pressing his cock against my hip, and suddenly I am transported - no longer weary road-worn traveler, but wanton sex toy. If he wants to use me then I am totally available. His hands are stroking my breasts, leaving trails of goosebumps along my upper chest. He pulls me tight against him. "I want to fuck you," he says, "and I will have what I want."
A sound comes from me, a gut-punch reaction to the words, the sort of thing I long to hear near-constantly. He is saying it and grinding his hard cock against me. I am putty, but while my brain is reacting in all the right ways, my exhausted body is playing catch up. When his fingers wander between my legs I am not as wet as I should be. He rises up over me, his cock fucking down into my face. It's his easy button, the face-fucking. While sometimes it backfires when I feel he is using it for that, this time it does not disappoint. I am moaning and his cock is pressing into my throat, filling me, blocking my air until he decides to withdraw.
I am wet now. When he moves down, he slides into me so easily and he comments on it. "Look at that, I just slid right in. Horny little fuck toy, aren't you?" I'm so easy for him, even when he has to work for it. We are fucking now, in earnest, the hours of hard travelling behind us and the restful night stretching ahead. We're suspended in a moment of bliss.
We sleep.
He has to be at the office by 9, and I am driving him, which means three people must be ready. He smells amazing, fresh from the shower. He slides into the bed next to me and it is already 8. His arms go around me and I murmur with pleasure as I snuggle back into him. "I need to get up and get dressed," I say.
"You need to give me a blow job," he replies.
I can only hope the moan his words coax from me indicate my surprised pleasure. I turn over and slide down, complying with him even as I whisper "There's no time for this." I am sliding his boxers down his hips, over his hard cock, and my lips are on it almost as soon as the words are out of my mouth. He is clean and he tastes amazing. I moan again as his scent fills me.
"There's time," he assures me, his hands in my hair as he turns on his side, tossing his leg over my shoulder. We're on the wrong sides now, so it feels a little weird and we're not quite sure how to fit together from this direction, but I slide my left arm under his knees and pull him into my face. Oh, yes. "This is what you're for, isn't it?" he asks me roughly, tugging on my hair as I suck, as I impale my face on his cock. The back of my throat is making noises as his cock presses into it.
It's 9:05 when we pull up to his office, but he still has to get inside.
It's okay. His meeting isn't until 10.
We're tired when we fall into bed, the last several hours of the drive had become exponentially more difficult until I was forced to concede defeat and let him take over for the last 90 minutes.
I'm entirely not expecting it when he whispers "I like sex" into my ear. His breath is warm and I shiver, the contrast with the chilly room only half of the reason. He is pressing his cock against my hip, and suddenly I am transported - no longer weary road-worn traveler, but wanton sex toy. If he wants to use me then I am totally available. His hands are stroking my breasts, leaving trails of goosebumps along my upper chest. He pulls me tight against him. "I want to fuck you," he says, "and I will have what I want."
A sound comes from me, a gut-punch reaction to the words, the sort of thing I long to hear near-constantly. He is saying it and grinding his hard cock against me. I am putty, but while my brain is reacting in all the right ways, my exhausted body is playing catch up. When his fingers wander between my legs I am not as wet as I should be. He rises up over me, his cock fucking down into my face. It's his easy button, the face-fucking. While sometimes it backfires when I feel he is using it for that, this time it does not disappoint. I am moaning and his cock is pressing into my throat, filling me, blocking my air until he decides to withdraw.
I am wet now. When he moves down, he slides into me so easily and he comments on it. "Look at that, I just slid right in. Horny little fuck toy, aren't you?" I'm so easy for him, even when he has to work for it. We are fucking now, in earnest, the hours of hard travelling behind us and the restful night stretching ahead. We're suspended in a moment of bliss.
We sleep.
He has to be at the office by 9, and I am driving him, which means three people must be ready. He smells amazing, fresh from the shower. He slides into the bed next to me and it is already 8. His arms go around me and I murmur with pleasure as I snuggle back into him. "I need to get up and get dressed," I say.
"You need to give me a blow job," he replies.
I can only hope the moan his words coax from me indicate my surprised pleasure. I turn over and slide down, complying with him even as I whisper "There's no time for this." I am sliding his boxers down his hips, over his hard cock, and my lips are on it almost as soon as the words are out of my mouth. He is clean and he tastes amazing. I moan again as his scent fills me.
"There's time," he assures me, his hands in my hair as he turns on his side, tossing his leg over my shoulder. We're on the wrong sides now, so it feels a little weird and we're not quite sure how to fit together from this direction, but I slide my left arm under his knees and pull him into my face. Oh, yes. "This is what you're for, isn't it?" he asks me roughly, tugging on my hair as I suck, as I impale my face on his cock. The back of my throat is making noises as his cock presses into it.
It's 9:05 when we pull up to his office, but he still has to get inside.
It's okay. His meeting isn't until 10.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Sex for sex's sake
"I'll stop hurting you for a while, now."
"Do you have to?" I moaned.
"Well, while you suck my cock," he continued. I had interrupted him; how rude of me. His fingers closed sharply over my nipple, squeezing it painfully. A cry escaped me. "I like for you to be," he squeezed again, making me cry out again as he spoke, "somewhat in control of yourself while you suck my cock."
I turned on my side and began to lick his cock, slowly and gently at first, just swirling my tongue, before I sucked it into my mouth. His pleasured groans filled my ears, but soon his thigh was over my shoulder and I couldn't hear much. I could feel the vibrations of his pleased noises, could feel the heat of his cock jumping in my mouth, down my throat, as I gagged. His hand found my nipple and he squeezed it hard again, making me scream around his cock. "Nice nipple, nice face to fuck," he murmured.
I pulled him into me with my hand, causing his hips to fuck my face as I moved back and forth, and I pulled especially hard after a while, my enthusiasm not happy with my own movements. I pulled hard enough that he decided to just go ahead and rise up over me and fuck down into my face. We both rolled over and I felt him adjust himself, get a pillow, as I kept sucking. I grabbed his thighs and used them as leverage to repeatedly lunge my face upward onto his cock, meeting his thrusts and sucking for all I was worth. His hands found the sides of my head, grabbed my hair, held my head down and still, while he fucked my mouth. My gurgled moans of extreme excitement merged in midair with his grunts. I kicked, but he was still fucking my face.
His orgasm approached slowly, intensely. "Oh God," he grunted over and over as he spasmed. I sucked his seed down my throat greedily, and after a moment of recovery for him, I kept sucking his cock like nothing had happened. It slowly softened in my mouth, and I kept sucking. I love sucking his soft cock, as long as it's clear it's soft because it's just finished or because it hasn't started yet.
Eventually I pressed lightly on his hip, indicating he could roll back over and lie down, but I sucked hard on his cock as he did so it did not slip from my mouth.
We lay there, him on his side and me suckling his soft cock, listening to his moans of enjoyment, for so long that my jaw began to hurt. That is no small feat, since I can suck cock for 45 minutes or so with no pains. He asked me a question, and I pulled away long enough to say "My jaw hurts."
"Well why don't you stop then, silly girl?"
"You told me to start, not to stop," I answered.
He laughed. "You can stop," he said, amused.
I sucked a bit more. He laughed again.
"You can stop!" I sucked him one last time, to the sound of more male laughter. "Stop and come up here, girl," he said. Aha, instructions. I like instructions. I scooted up and rested my head on his chest. His arms went around me, a band of love and comfort. His hands stroked my back as we just relished the excellent company. I sighed softly, enjoying his touch. We chatted. I was drifting in that space between waking and sleep when he moved suddenly, pushing me over onto my back, pushing my legs open.
"Ahhh!" I squealed, awake now, "What are you doing, don't!"
"Don't?" he asked, his fingers already pressing my folds apart, finding my core, drawing out my wetness. "Did you think you were going to get away without being played with?"
"Uh-huh," I whispered, my head falling back, my eyes closing as he drew my lubrication over my clit. I shuddered. Ohhh that feels amazing, that first drag of a finger across that spot.
"Why would you think a thing like that?" his fingers circled my clit over and over, eliciting groans and sighs of pleasure from me.
"Uhn... it's easier," I said. We were almost asleep, and getting me to orgasm is not a simple feat most of the time. He hardly ever wants to play for the sake of playing - he goes for the gold.
"It's easier, huh?" he asked, but words were beyond me. My body was undulating to his touch, and his fingers were filling me up, overfilling me, pressing into my g-spot. If the first touch of the clit is amazing, the first press of the g-spot is some indescribable feeling beyond amazing - possibly because it doesn't always happen.
As I'd suspected though, amazing as he felt to me, it wasn't happening fast. But his words were there, pressing me along. "You suck my cock just like a pro, don't you, girl? You SAY you don't stop because I don't tell you to, but I'm pretty sure you just keep going because that's what you want to do..."
I wasn't in any position to argue. The way he was playing me I could barely grunt my uh-huhs.
My breathing was coming faster and harder, as he kept pumping his fingers inside me. With his other hand, he squeezed a nipple and I squealed, arching up into him. "Come for me, baby," he whispered harshly. And I did. Fuck, I did. I screamed and clutched him against me, barely able to hang on as my body shuddered to an intense climax, whether I'd wanted to go with it or not.
He kept touching me afterward, making my hips buck, until I begged him to stop. I'm not sure if he was just tormenting me or trying for another. But I was completely spent, and soon after we slept, all curled up into each other.
"Do you have to?" I moaned.
"Well, while you suck my cock," he continued. I had interrupted him; how rude of me. His fingers closed sharply over my nipple, squeezing it painfully. A cry escaped me. "I like for you to be," he squeezed again, making me cry out again as he spoke, "somewhat in control of yourself while you suck my cock."
I turned on my side and began to lick his cock, slowly and gently at first, just swirling my tongue, before I sucked it into my mouth. His pleasured groans filled my ears, but soon his thigh was over my shoulder and I couldn't hear much. I could feel the vibrations of his pleased noises, could feel the heat of his cock jumping in my mouth, down my throat, as I gagged. His hand found my nipple and he squeezed it hard again, making me scream around his cock. "Nice nipple, nice face to fuck," he murmured.
I pulled him into me with my hand, causing his hips to fuck my face as I moved back and forth, and I pulled especially hard after a while, my enthusiasm not happy with my own movements. I pulled hard enough that he decided to just go ahead and rise up over me and fuck down into my face. We both rolled over and I felt him adjust himself, get a pillow, as I kept sucking. I grabbed his thighs and used them as leverage to repeatedly lunge my face upward onto his cock, meeting his thrusts and sucking for all I was worth. His hands found the sides of my head, grabbed my hair, held my head down and still, while he fucked my mouth. My gurgled moans of extreme excitement merged in midair with his grunts. I kicked, but he was still fucking my face.
His orgasm approached slowly, intensely. "Oh God," he grunted over and over as he spasmed. I sucked his seed down my throat greedily, and after a moment of recovery for him, I kept sucking his cock like nothing had happened. It slowly softened in my mouth, and I kept sucking. I love sucking his soft cock, as long as it's clear it's soft because it's just finished or because it hasn't started yet.
Eventually I pressed lightly on his hip, indicating he could roll back over and lie down, but I sucked hard on his cock as he did so it did not slip from my mouth.
We lay there, him on his side and me suckling his soft cock, listening to his moans of enjoyment, for so long that my jaw began to hurt. That is no small feat, since I can suck cock for 45 minutes or so with no pains. He asked me a question, and I pulled away long enough to say "My jaw hurts."
"Well why don't you stop then, silly girl?"
"You told me to start, not to stop," I answered.
He laughed. "You can stop," he said, amused.
I sucked a bit more. He laughed again.
"You can stop!" I sucked him one last time, to the sound of more male laughter. "Stop and come up here, girl," he said. Aha, instructions. I like instructions. I scooted up and rested my head on his chest. His arms went around me, a band of love and comfort. His hands stroked my back as we just relished the excellent company. I sighed softly, enjoying his touch. We chatted. I was drifting in that space between waking and sleep when he moved suddenly, pushing me over onto my back, pushing my legs open.
"Ahhh!" I squealed, awake now, "What are you doing, don't!"
"Don't?" he asked, his fingers already pressing my folds apart, finding my core, drawing out my wetness. "Did you think you were going to get away without being played with?"
"Uh-huh," I whispered, my head falling back, my eyes closing as he drew my lubrication over my clit. I shuddered. Ohhh that feels amazing, that first drag of a finger across that spot.
"Why would you think a thing like that?" his fingers circled my clit over and over, eliciting groans and sighs of pleasure from me.
"Uhn... it's easier," I said. We were almost asleep, and getting me to orgasm is not a simple feat most of the time. He hardly ever wants to play for the sake of playing - he goes for the gold.
"It's easier, huh?" he asked, but words were beyond me. My body was undulating to his touch, and his fingers were filling me up, overfilling me, pressing into my g-spot. If the first touch of the clit is amazing, the first press of the g-spot is some indescribable feeling beyond amazing - possibly because it doesn't always happen.
As I'd suspected though, amazing as he felt to me, it wasn't happening fast. But his words were there, pressing me along. "You suck my cock just like a pro, don't you, girl? You SAY you don't stop because I don't tell you to, but I'm pretty sure you just keep going because that's what you want to do..."
I wasn't in any position to argue. The way he was playing me I could barely grunt my uh-huhs.
My breathing was coming faster and harder, as he kept pumping his fingers inside me. With his other hand, he squeezed a nipple and I squealed, arching up into him. "Come for me, baby," he whispered harshly. And I did. Fuck, I did. I screamed and clutched him against me, barely able to hang on as my body shuddered to an intense climax, whether I'd wanted to go with it or not.
He kept touching me afterward, making my hips buck, until I begged him to stop. I'm not sure if he was just tormenting me or trying for another. But I was completely spent, and soon after we slept, all curled up into each other.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
What I think: CWS challenge #2
CWS challenge #2: What's going through my head in the moments preceding a blow job, in 55 words. With perhaps a bit more eloquence than I ever have in those precise moments; the emotion behind the words remains the same.
Husband, Master, amazing lover mine,
I am yours. I was made to pleasure you.
What you want is what I want.
Silky hardness filling my mouth, evidence of your desire, is a thrill all its own.
Of course I will open my mouth for your gorgeous cock.
Maybe soon you will fuck my face, too.
Husband, Master, amazing lover mine,
I am yours. I was made to pleasure you.
What you want is what I want.
Silky hardness filling my mouth, evidence of your desire, is a thrill all its own.
Of course I will open my mouth for your gorgeous cock.
Maybe soon you will fuck my face, too.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Finally flogged
I posted my blue and white flogger a while ago, the one that I gifted to my husband. It was only this week that we finally got around to more than a perfunctory test flogging with it. In fact, someone else bought, received, and used one just like it before we ever got around to using ours. But it was worth the wait.
I loved it. The knots were perfect, thudding into my flesh, bouncing away. The ends were silky soft; he even used it as a tickler to make me moan with pleasure. He worked my ass and the backs of my thighs to a rosy glow that I could feel, and then he applied the spoon deliciously, making me squirm, writhe, generally having an awesome time while little gasps and moans emerged from my mouth.
He followed the spoon with the crop, tap-tap-tapping little bites all over, and it was just a fabulous spanking. I was panting when he finished, trailing the ends of the flogger over my sensitive skin. While what he said next was a little bit of a surprise, it shouldn't have been. "Turn over and suck my cock. You're not the only one who likes to feel good, you know."
I drew a ragged breath, pulling oxygen into my lungs, gathering the physical strength to turn over. After the flogging, the spoon, and the crop, I needed a moment to collect myself. I turned over slowly, moving down as I did, and his cock was in my face. I opened my mouth and pressed a hot, wet kiss to it, relishing the velvety feel of his foreskin against my face. Oh, right, I love sucking his cock. I moaned softly as I slid my mouth onto him, and my brain disengaged. Just sucking, listening to his words, rolling my tongue, working my throat.
In my excitement I kept tugging on his hips, drawing him as far into me as I could, and one of the tugs had him over my face, kneeling above me and fucking down into my mouth. "What a good fuckhole your face is for me," he said, tugging on my hair, his hands pressing down on my forehead, leaving me unable to do anything but take his hardness. I moaned at the helplessness of the position, at his words, my hands flopping uselessly off to the side, unsure what to do with themselves until they landed on his thighs. I squeezed his legs as he fucked my face.
"Is your pussy ready to be fucked?" he asked me roughly, the head of his cock moving slowly in the entrance of my throat, soft gagging noises coming from me due to the motion. I managed to turn one of the noises into a fervent positive.
"You think you can get on the ramp and be fucked?"
"Nnnnn," I said around the cock filling my mouth. Late, tired, ugh.
"Of course you can," he answered for me, ignoring my actual response. He pulled away and I chased his cock with my mouth. "Cockslut, it's really hard for you to let go of that cock, isn't it?" I groaned, pinned by his words, letting my head fall back again. He stood next to the bed, put the Liberator ramp on it, and I went after his shiny hard cock with my mouth again, moaning happily as this position put more of his cock in me with less stress. He pulled my hair, fucking my face, eliciting squeals of delight that vibrated all along the length of his hardness. "You think you're clever, don't you? This isn't your pussy."
He pulled me into him, forcing more and more of his cock into my willing throat. It burned as it opened my throat even more than it had previously. "Turn around and let me fuck your pussy now," he ordered, thrusting into my face a few final times.
I turned around slowly, my muscles resisting as I lifted my ass, presenting my pussy for his penetration. He sank inside me with a long, slow stroke and we groaned in unison. "Oh, fuck, yes," I gasped as he filled me, stretching me open.
Pleasure. Pure pleasure, enhanced by the slight amount of pain being stretched so far, pounded so hard, overtook me, and I was a constant moan, "Oh fuck," escaping from me with every other breath.
His hands found their way underneath my torso and he slapped my breasts, first one then the other. "Mine!" he said when I moaned with delighted pain, perhaps a touch of indignity coloring my tone.
"Yours," I agreed, whether loudly or softly I had no way of gauging. My arms gave out after an extended period, and I dropped to my elbows, my ass still lifted high for his cock to slide into my pussy.
"Oooh, I should fuck this ass," he mused, running his thumb across my hole that must have been exposed due to the position I was in. I groaned, both excited and a little concerned by the prospect. "Shouldn't I? You want that don't you? Of course you do," he answered his own question as I continued groaning, overwhelmed. "Get me the lube."
I moved to do so, but as I moved the ramp tried to fall over. "Nuh-uh," I murmured, trying to adjust myself so the ramp stayed on the bed. "What you mean, nuh-uh? Get the lube!" he repeated himself. I did, returning, still dealing with the problem and making muttery noises. "Too much complaining!"
"This is falling," I whispered.
"Fix it, then," he said, squeezing lube onto his fingers. I planted my feet on the floor, pressing my ass into his cock as I wriggled to move the ramp back into place. He humped against me, making me moan. His fingers were lubing my ass even as I climbed back up into the hands-and-knees position.
As his cock penetrated my ass, I fell forward, crying out. It wasn't even an overwhelming sensation, just my own fear that it would be. "Get up," he barked, and something else I couldn't hear for my breathing was heavy, catching in my chest and coming out in gasps, I was so terribly excited that I could only hear half the things he was saying.
Then he was buried in my ass, pulling my hair back toward him with one hand, his other hand pressing and squeezing my throat, making me gasp with arousal. Oh, wow. "Oh, fuck," I kept keening softly as we rocked together, my ass stretched taut around his cock that was so engorged I hadn't been able to believe it when I was sucking it.
He came loudly, nearly collapsing against my back, pulling me up into him. I breathed heavily, great gasps of air filling my lungs. Eventually we managed to shove the ramp away and curl up into each other, whispering words of appreciation for one another.
He is magnificent, even though I lack the time to write about it all the time, and I am so grateful.
I loved it. The knots were perfect, thudding into my flesh, bouncing away. The ends were silky soft; he even used it as a tickler to make me moan with pleasure. He worked my ass and the backs of my thighs to a rosy glow that I could feel, and then he applied the spoon deliciously, making me squirm, writhe, generally having an awesome time while little gasps and moans emerged from my mouth.
He followed the spoon with the crop, tap-tap-tapping little bites all over, and it was just a fabulous spanking. I was panting when he finished, trailing the ends of the flogger over my sensitive skin. While what he said next was a little bit of a surprise, it shouldn't have been. "Turn over and suck my cock. You're not the only one who likes to feel good, you know."
I drew a ragged breath, pulling oxygen into my lungs, gathering the physical strength to turn over. After the flogging, the spoon, and the crop, I needed a moment to collect myself. I turned over slowly, moving down as I did, and his cock was in my face. I opened my mouth and pressed a hot, wet kiss to it, relishing the velvety feel of his foreskin against my face. Oh, right, I love sucking his cock. I moaned softly as I slid my mouth onto him, and my brain disengaged. Just sucking, listening to his words, rolling my tongue, working my throat.
In my excitement I kept tugging on his hips, drawing him as far into me as I could, and one of the tugs had him over my face, kneeling above me and fucking down into my mouth. "What a good fuckhole your face is for me," he said, tugging on my hair, his hands pressing down on my forehead, leaving me unable to do anything but take his hardness. I moaned at the helplessness of the position, at his words, my hands flopping uselessly off to the side, unsure what to do with themselves until they landed on his thighs. I squeezed his legs as he fucked my face.
"Is your pussy ready to be fucked?" he asked me roughly, the head of his cock moving slowly in the entrance of my throat, soft gagging noises coming from me due to the motion. I managed to turn one of the noises into a fervent positive.
"You think you can get on the ramp and be fucked?"
"Nnnnn," I said around the cock filling my mouth. Late, tired, ugh.
"Of course you can," he answered for me, ignoring my actual response. He pulled away and I chased his cock with my mouth. "Cockslut, it's really hard for you to let go of that cock, isn't it?" I groaned, pinned by his words, letting my head fall back again. He stood next to the bed, put the Liberator ramp on it, and I went after his shiny hard cock with my mouth again, moaning happily as this position put more of his cock in me with less stress. He pulled my hair, fucking my face, eliciting squeals of delight that vibrated all along the length of his hardness. "You think you're clever, don't you? This isn't your pussy."
He pulled me into him, forcing more and more of his cock into my willing throat. It burned as it opened my throat even more than it had previously. "Turn around and let me fuck your pussy now," he ordered, thrusting into my face a few final times.
I turned around slowly, my muscles resisting as I lifted my ass, presenting my pussy for his penetration. He sank inside me with a long, slow stroke and we groaned in unison. "Oh, fuck, yes," I gasped as he filled me, stretching me open.
Pleasure. Pure pleasure, enhanced by the slight amount of pain being stretched so far, pounded so hard, overtook me, and I was a constant moan, "Oh fuck," escaping from me with every other breath.
His hands found their way underneath my torso and he slapped my breasts, first one then the other. "Mine!" he said when I moaned with delighted pain, perhaps a touch of indignity coloring my tone.
"Yours," I agreed, whether loudly or softly I had no way of gauging. My arms gave out after an extended period, and I dropped to my elbows, my ass still lifted high for his cock to slide into my pussy.
"Oooh, I should fuck this ass," he mused, running his thumb across my hole that must have been exposed due to the position I was in. I groaned, both excited and a little concerned by the prospect. "Shouldn't I? You want that don't you? Of course you do," he answered his own question as I continued groaning, overwhelmed. "Get me the lube."
I moved to do so, but as I moved the ramp tried to fall over. "Nuh-uh," I murmured, trying to adjust myself so the ramp stayed on the bed. "What you mean, nuh-uh? Get the lube!" he repeated himself. I did, returning, still dealing with the problem and making muttery noises. "Too much complaining!"
"This is falling," I whispered.
"Fix it, then," he said, squeezing lube onto his fingers. I planted my feet on the floor, pressing my ass into his cock as I wriggled to move the ramp back into place. He humped against me, making me moan. His fingers were lubing my ass even as I climbed back up into the hands-and-knees position.
As his cock penetrated my ass, I fell forward, crying out. It wasn't even an overwhelming sensation, just my own fear that it would be. "Get up," he barked, and something else I couldn't hear for my breathing was heavy, catching in my chest and coming out in gasps, I was so terribly excited that I could only hear half the things he was saying.
Then he was buried in my ass, pulling my hair back toward him with one hand, his other hand pressing and squeezing my throat, making me gasp with arousal. Oh, wow. "Oh, fuck," I kept keening softly as we rocked together, my ass stretched taut around his cock that was so engorged I hadn't been able to believe it when I was sucking it.
He came loudly, nearly collapsing against my back, pulling me up into him. I breathed heavily, great gasps of air filling my lungs. Eventually we managed to shove the ramp away and curl up into each other, whispering words of appreciation for one another.
He is magnificent, even though I lack the time to write about it all the time, and I am so grateful.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Some other beginning's end
Every new beginning comes from one, you know. This night was one of the ending ones: my mom's last night here in our apartment with us before she goes back to the other side of the country.
My husband's been playing with me without a lot of pain lately - spankings turned to love taps, although thankfully the nipple pinching never went anywhere. I was beginning to feel that he thought pain was the only way to turn me on. It's not. I like lots of things, pain just happens to be one. When he started flogging my ass last night by gently smacking the flogger against my skin, and it made a pathetic little "flup," sound, I giggled.
"What? That's funny?" He did it again.
I giggled again. "I can barely even feel that!"
"Oh, huh. I thought you didn't want any pain."
"Husband, let me tell you something. It's going to be pretty hard to hurt me there."
"I see. As opposed to your thighs?" he confirmed.
"Mmhmm," I giggled again as he let the flogger flup against my backside once more. The giggle dissolved into a deep moan when he brought the flogger down with more force, feeling incredible as it thudded heavily against my body. He kept that up, actually bringing it down harder and harder, and I began to squirm as the delicious thumps built heat and sensitivity into my skin. He paused for breaks now and then, trailing the soft rope ends of the flogger over my ass, hearing my soft moans of pleasure from the delicate sensation.
His hand crashed into my ass, hard, making me jump. He did it again, swapping sides, and again.
"Oh, God, you can actually leave my ass there," I whispered. It felt like he was trying to eradicate it.
"I thought it would be hard to hurt you here?" he asked, landing another smack down just as hard.
"That is hard, love," I explained, jumping at the contact as he rubbed gently over the inflamed skin.
"I see," he said, and let his blows become a little less like anvils, a little more like hands. I resumed my happy moaning and wriggling.
He had me turn over after a while, pulling my legs open, gently slapping my spread thighs and my pussy until I arched up into his touch. Oh, the fire he was building was going to be spectacular when it was lit. "Mine!" he whispered at intervals as his open hand slapped into my delicate parts, making me groan each time.
He moved suddenly, his face between my spread thighs, and his tongue was working against my clit as his fingers slipped inside my pussy, pressing into my g-spot, making me buck and moan. His lips pressed against mine afterward and I responded gleefully, licking and sucking his lips that tasted and smelled of me.
"I am going to shove something in your ass." He paused for effect, then continued: "Then I'm going to make you suck my cock. Because I can. Because I want to."
He took out a plug and the lube, pushing me over gently onto my stomach again, lubing me for the invasion.
"It's a little cold. But it's okay, you'll warm it up," he assured me as he slipped the plug inside me. This was the Mood Naughty, a lot smaller and easier to accept than the Big End.
That's when he started the pleasure, the endless rolling waves of pleasure that crashed over me. My hair eventually worked itself all around my face, forming a net that caught my panted breath as surely as any more solid barrier. Steam built against my face as I writhed under the movements of his hand on my clit, inside me, pressing against my g-spot, teasing the base of the plug. I screamed, over and over, and could not get enough air. My hands moved to wipe the hair out of my face but they kept stopping to claw at the sheets, to slap against the bed. My screams bled into deep, satisfied moans as my body lifted, curling against the onslaught and then back down into his unrelenting touch.
"This," I panted, several orgasms in, "Oh, God, this is not... oh, god, this is not what getting your cock sucked looks like."
"Oh, I know," he responded smoothly, deftly bringing another orgasm, enjoying the way I curled, whether into it or against it, the way that I vibrated helplessly under the spell he wove with his magical fingertips. "This is all still part of shoving something in your ass. Thanks for the reminder, though." His voice rose slightly so I could hear him over my own pants and squeals, over the sound my open palms kept making when they slapped against the mattress.
"Is my girl ready to suck my cock?" he asked softly as my screams quieted and my breathing returned to a less ragged state. I nodded, my face still lost in the steamy cage created by my fallen hair. "Does she need a minute?" he asked, as I lay there, unmoving except for the rise and fall of the deep breaths I was taking. "I don't think I want to give her a minute. I want my cock sucked now. Come on, girl."
I inhaled roughly as I brushed the hair away from my face, the damp strands clinging to my hot skin. The cooler air of the bedroom rushed against my flushed face and it felt heavenly as I moved, turning on my side and scooting down so my face was even with his gorgeous cock. I filled my lungs with fresh air, with the newly clean scent of him, and I moaned as I sucked his cock into my mouth, swirling my tongue, using my lips to gently tug at his foreskin as he slid all the way to the back of my throat.
"Oh, yes, that's a good, good cocksucker," he praised me, causing another moan to rise from the depths of my being. Oh, yes, I do love being his good cocksucker. My deep moan around his cock was accompanied by a renewed surge of sucking, harder, deeper, gagging ever so slightly as he passed the entrance of my throat. My hands pulled his ass to me, stroked his balls, and we moved together, a timeless dance punctuated by our mutual sounds of pleasure and the occasional gag from me. I poured every ounce of the devotion that I feel toward him, of my appreciation for the pleasure he had already granted me, into my actions.
He was loud. He moaned repeatedly when he came, his hands tugging on my hair, pulling my head close to him. I rejoiced in his loudness as I struggled to swallow the copious amounts of seed he spilled into my mouth, down my throat. I suckled gently at his cock as it softened, whispering to him how perfectly it is formed, how much I love touching him there.
I finally left him alone and scooted up, his arms going around me automatically, his hand cupping my face as our lips met in a final kiss before sleeping.
My husband's been playing with me without a lot of pain lately - spankings turned to love taps, although thankfully the nipple pinching never went anywhere. I was beginning to feel that he thought pain was the only way to turn me on. It's not. I like lots of things, pain just happens to be one. When he started flogging my ass last night by gently smacking the flogger against my skin, and it made a pathetic little "flup," sound, I giggled.
"What? That's funny?" He did it again.
I giggled again. "I can barely even feel that!"
"Oh, huh. I thought you didn't want any pain."
"Husband, let me tell you something. It's going to be pretty hard to hurt me there."
"I see. As opposed to your thighs?" he confirmed.
"Mmhmm," I giggled again as he let the flogger flup against my backside once more. The giggle dissolved into a deep moan when he brought the flogger down with more force, feeling incredible as it thudded heavily against my body. He kept that up, actually bringing it down harder and harder, and I began to squirm as the delicious thumps built heat and sensitivity into my skin. He paused for breaks now and then, trailing the soft rope ends of the flogger over my ass, hearing my soft moans of pleasure from the delicate sensation.
His hand crashed into my ass, hard, making me jump. He did it again, swapping sides, and again.
"Oh, God, you can actually leave my ass there," I whispered. It felt like he was trying to eradicate it.
"I thought it would be hard to hurt you here?" he asked, landing another smack down just as hard.
"That is hard, love," I explained, jumping at the contact as he rubbed gently over the inflamed skin.
"I see," he said, and let his blows become a little less like anvils, a little more like hands. I resumed my happy moaning and wriggling.
He had me turn over after a while, pulling my legs open, gently slapping my spread thighs and my pussy until I arched up into his touch. Oh, the fire he was building was going to be spectacular when it was lit. "Mine!" he whispered at intervals as his open hand slapped into my delicate parts, making me groan each time.
He moved suddenly, his face between my spread thighs, and his tongue was working against my clit as his fingers slipped inside my pussy, pressing into my g-spot, making me buck and moan. His lips pressed against mine afterward and I responded gleefully, licking and sucking his lips that tasted and smelled of me.
"I am going to shove something in your ass." He paused for effect, then continued: "Then I'm going to make you suck my cock. Because I can. Because I want to."
He took out a plug and the lube, pushing me over gently onto my stomach again, lubing me for the invasion.
"It's a little cold. But it's okay, you'll warm it up," he assured me as he slipped the plug inside me. This was the Mood Naughty, a lot smaller and easier to accept than the Big End.
That's when he started the pleasure, the endless rolling waves of pleasure that crashed over me. My hair eventually worked itself all around my face, forming a net that caught my panted breath as surely as any more solid barrier. Steam built against my face as I writhed under the movements of his hand on my clit, inside me, pressing against my g-spot, teasing the base of the plug. I screamed, over and over, and could not get enough air. My hands moved to wipe the hair out of my face but they kept stopping to claw at the sheets, to slap against the bed. My screams bled into deep, satisfied moans as my body lifted, curling against the onslaught and then back down into his unrelenting touch.
"This," I panted, several orgasms in, "Oh, God, this is not... oh, god, this is not what getting your cock sucked looks like."
"Oh, I know," he responded smoothly, deftly bringing another orgasm, enjoying the way I curled, whether into it or against it, the way that I vibrated helplessly under the spell he wove with his magical fingertips. "This is all still part of shoving something in your ass. Thanks for the reminder, though." His voice rose slightly so I could hear him over my own pants and squeals, over the sound my open palms kept making when they slapped against the mattress.
"Is my girl ready to suck my cock?" he asked softly as my screams quieted and my breathing returned to a less ragged state. I nodded, my face still lost in the steamy cage created by my fallen hair. "Does she need a minute?" he asked, as I lay there, unmoving except for the rise and fall of the deep breaths I was taking. "I don't think I want to give her a minute. I want my cock sucked now. Come on, girl."
I inhaled roughly as I brushed the hair away from my face, the damp strands clinging to my hot skin. The cooler air of the bedroom rushed against my flushed face and it felt heavenly as I moved, turning on my side and scooting down so my face was even with his gorgeous cock. I filled my lungs with fresh air, with the newly clean scent of him, and I moaned as I sucked his cock into my mouth, swirling my tongue, using my lips to gently tug at his foreskin as he slid all the way to the back of my throat.
"Oh, yes, that's a good, good cocksucker," he praised me, causing another moan to rise from the depths of my being. Oh, yes, I do love being his good cocksucker. My deep moan around his cock was accompanied by a renewed surge of sucking, harder, deeper, gagging ever so slightly as he passed the entrance of my throat. My hands pulled his ass to me, stroked his balls, and we moved together, a timeless dance punctuated by our mutual sounds of pleasure and the occasional gag from me. I poured every ounce of the devotion that I feel toward him, of my appreciation for the pleasure he had already granted me, into my actions.
He was loud. He moaned repeatedly when he came, his hands tugging on my hair, pulling my head close to him. I rejoiced in his loudness as I struggled to swallow the copious amounts of seed he spilled into my mouth, down my throat. I suckled gently at his cock as it softened, whispering to him how perfectly it is formed, how much I love touching him there.
I finally left him alone and scooted up, his arms going around me automatically, his hand cupping my face as our lips met in a final kiss before sleeping.
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