He holds me close to him, his fingers working, his magic voice telling me that I am his, that he can do what he likes with me, that I will come for him before I will be allowed to suck his cock.
I am begging him, pleading to be allowed to pleasure him as his fingers gently stroke me closer and closer to the edge of bliss. "Please, please let me suck your cock," is the last thing I can say before my words are stolen by the things he is saying, by the way his fingers are making me feel.
"You saying you want to pleasure me BEFORE you come? That doesn't seem fair, fuck toy," he growls in my ear, his breath raising tingles all down the side of my face, my neck, my side... all the way to my toes. "You're gonna come for me, all right. Who owns you, girl?" he demands as I am right at the edge.
The effort of answering him makes me fly off. "YOU own me," I squeal, the last syllable trailing into a long scream of pure sexual release.
"Good girl," he whispers, and he keeps going and going and going, making my body dance on the tips of his fingers.
Finally, finally, his touch slows, he lets me breathe. "Suck cock now?" I manage.
"Yes, girl, you can suck my cock now." But his mouth is on mine, he is kissing me long and hard, a kiss that embodies passion itself. My hand moves to stroke the cock he's promised me and I find it big and hard, poking out of the top of the waistband of his boxers.
"There's a monster in your pants," I whisper into his mouth.
"It's got your name ALL over it, girl," he growls, moving more onto his back.
I gasp as his words reach their target, and I slide my body down his. I take him in my mouth with no preliminary teasing - my desire to have him invade me is too strong for that. His groans of pleasure reach my ears and I am emboldened. His boxers are a nuisance, we make them go away together as I settle between his legs, sliding my arms under his ass as his legs go over my shoulders and his feet rest on my back.
"Yeah, that's where you go, girl, with your face impaled on my cock," he growls as I take him as far down my throat as I can. My moan cannot leave my body because its exit route is full of hard male flesh, but I tremble with arousal anyway. He must feel my shaking in his cock, under his feet, because he makes a pleased noise too. I pull my face away to breathe, gasping in great lungfuls of air while rubbing my face against his cock, letting my tongue lick before I dive down onto him again.
His cock in my throat, I grab the outside of his thighs and press his legs together around my head, trapping myself. I would scream from the intensity of it but I can't. He makes a half-strangled noise that I don't hear from him often, and after I have run out of air, I pull off him to breathe again. I breathe heavily as I rub my face along his cock, and I am so absorbed in the intensity of what I am feeling that I realize he's coming only as it goes up my nose.
It stings.
It's hot. It's sexy-hot and I can't believe this just happened, but I slurp his cock back into my mouth to consume the rest of what he gives.
For the first time, he's come up my nose.
I'll take it.
Showing posts with label orgasm. Show all posts
Showing posts with label orgasm. Show all posts
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Friday, August 2, 2013
Orgasm trigger
He's fucking me. It's hot and he's been talking since he started - he's pulling out all the stops. He's on top and we rock, a perfect rhythm. His hand goes to cover my face; I whimper with all the lust that action causes, and as I do he says it.
"Fuck object doesn't get to talk. Fuck object doesn't get to make a sound. Fuck object just gets to be fucked."
Beyond my heavy breathing I am silent as he instructed, and I bite into the side of his hand where it presses slightly into my mouth. But as he keeps moving and as the orgasm gains strength, as his words bounce around inside my skull, a half-choked scream emerges from me, and the orgasm itself completely saps my energy.
Ohhhh he's soo good.
"Fuck object doesn't get to talk. Fuck object doesn't get to make a sound. Fuck object just gets to be fucked."
Beyond my heavy breathing I am silent as he instructed, and I bite into the side of his hand where it presses slightly into my mouth. But as he keeps moving and as the orgasm gains strength, as his words bounce around inside my skull, a half-choked scream emerges from me, and the orgasm itself completely saps my energy.
Ohhhh he's soo good.
Monday, July 1, 2013
Step 3: Fuck the slave girl's brains out
Step 2 is here.
He climbs atop me and he slips his cock against my entrance. He's slow, easing it into me even though I would surge up into him and devour him into me. When he is completely buried inside me and I am pulsing around him, he grinds. He rocks into my clit just so and he's saying something about me, about owning me and me existing for his pleasure and being there for his cock. My body arches into him and I tremble, a series of short sharp pants emerging from my mouth.
"Did I say you could come again?" he asks sharply.
"Oh, God, no," I whimper, shaking. He wants this, wants me to come on command, and I'm not so good at it. But I can stop, though I tremble with the effort.
He puts his head down so that his lips are near my ear as he growls. "Then don't. I'll tell you when you can come."
My head swims. It swims and pounds and I'm not sure exactly what he's doing but it's making me crazy. I groan, shuddering, at the edge of orgasm - right where he put me.
"Now," he finally says, driving his cock down into me, his lips still at my ear. "Come for me now!"
I do. I let go of the tenuous thread holding me to sanity and I fly, screaming, into the blissful abyss where he has sent me.
Time stretches, suspends, as he continues fucking me. He is brilliant, a sex god, a lover of epic proportions and all I want is to please him and feel the pleasure he gains from me in all the ways he does.
"I'm going to fuck your ass next," he growls down at me. I whimper.
"You like the sound of that?" he asks.
It occurs to me now, that a lot of what he says during sex is making sure I'm happy. At the time it sounds like growling, sounds like orders and like him requiring me to vocalize. But he wants to be wanted too - of course he does. I wonder how much of his pleasure comes from knowing how much he pleases me. I think it might be a lot. I know he likes this blog, likes having the window into my experience of him.
I do like the sound of it - anal sex - his cock invading my ass, pushing me open, claiming me. I like the sound of it very very much. He circles his hips against me and I arch up into him. "Yes, Master, I like your cock invading me," I gasp.
He pulls away from me. Oh, no. Now I'm empty. I groan with disappointment as he rolls to my side.
"Is the poor girl empty?" he asks gently, not too mockingly.
I dive after his wet cock with my mouth, making sure to cover my lip with my hand again. I lick my arousal off of him, suck him as best I can, while he gets the lube from the nightstand drawer.
"Turn over, girl," he finally says once he has retrieved the tube of slippery substance.
I do. I turn my back to him, bend myself nearly in half to provide him access to the part he wants. I'm shaking. I'm excited and a little afraid. We have anal sex rarely enough that each time is a little scary. Will he push too hard? Will he make it hurt? Will he go slowly enough so it's not overwhelming pain?
And this time, after the lube is applied and my tiny opening prepared for him, he is perfect. I reach behind me and hold his cock steady, and he pushes just a tiny bit, then retreats and repeats. Over and over, each time entering me just a little more, making me open for him, penetrating my resistance as I moan deeply. It's overwhelming but not with pain, just sensation and awe at how absolutely perfect the entire experience is.
"Going to fuck your ass," he growls as he is finally all the way inside me. He grabs my hip and thrusts. I cry out - it's amazing, he feels amazing. My muscles squeeze around his foreskin and his cock slides within it as it's meant to.
His hand cups my breast, lifts the warm weight of it. His fingers press gently around my nipple. "Going to pinch your nipple," he says roughly, right in my ear.
Shivers run down my spine. "Okay," I whimper.
"Going to pinch it hard," he continues.
Oh, God. "Okay," I whimper again.
"Going to pinch your nipple hard while I fuck you in the ass," he clarifies.
"Oh my God," I moan, and then he is doing what he said, slowly compressing my nipple between his thumb and forefinger until I squeal with the pain of it. It's intense, and sharp, and he never stops moving his cock.
"Does it hurt, slave?" he asks. When I merely continue squealing he says "Good. Good girl."
He stops pinching, and he slaps. He slaps my nipple and I groan. It burns, it stings, then it tingles. My nipple turns into a little pebble and he slaps it again. He's talking now too, something about ownership and pain and love.
I am out of my mind with pleasure, but he is pulling my leg backward over his waist. It's slightly different than vaginal sex in this position, but he still has free access to my pussy - now pulled open for his enjoyment. He's talking, still, as his fingers find my wetness and play there. Fingers enter my body, my flesh separating his fingers from his cock, and I moan. "Is my girl full?" he asks.
I am beyond words. I respond but it's a mumbled grunt. God, I love being his, I love him filling me up, love having him occupy my body and my space. I think about sex with him so often that when it does happen - every time it happens, even if it's every day - it's like a long-desired dream coming true.
I cannot say all that, but the feeling of it rushes through me and I scream as his fingers work their magic, as his cock fucks me in a place no one else has ever even touched me.
He comes - he must have come - but I can't process it. I'm too far gone. His fingers gently stroke me as I come down from the mountain. We're still in the same position, my leg backward around his waist, his softening cock in my ass. My hand closest to him fumbles around, trying to find a place to touch him - his shoulder, his neck, his cheek, his head, and back again. My arm can't find a place where I can rest it on him without it sliding off. It's a weak sort of floppy arm movement and he laughs at me.
"What are you doing with that arm, girl?" he laughs.
"Want to love you," I mutter. He moves his arm, crooks it so that his forearm is holding mine in place so I can rest my hand on him comfortably.
I am spent.
But much later, when I am almost asleep and I am wrapped around him from behind, squeezing him and kissing his neck softly as I drowse, he suddenly says "Turn over so I can fuck you some more."
Oh my God. My stomach does flip-flips. Just to hear those words come out of his mouth sends me all aflutter. I do as he's asked, and he has his way with me from behind. It's like a birthday and a road trip and an excellent homecooked meal all rolled into one. This happens even more rarely than anal, that he interrupts my sleep to take me.
"Where did that come from?" I ask him.
"Mmm, I was thinking about how sexy you are and I got turned on and I thought I should take it since it's mine."
Holy hell. Hotter words were never spoken.
He climbs atop me and he slips his cock against my entrance. He's slow, easing it into me even though I would surge up into him and devour him into me. When he is completely buried inside me and I am pulsing around him, he grinds. He rocks into my clit just so and he's saying something about me, about owning me and me existing for his pleasure and being there for his cock. My body arches into him and I tremble, a series of short sharp pants emerging from my mouth.
"Did I say you could come again?" he asks sharply.
"Oh, God, no," I whimper, shaking. He wants this, wants me to come on command, and I'm not so good at it. But I can stop, though I tremble with the effort.
He puts his head down so that his lips are near my ear as he growls. "Then don't. I'll tell you when you can come."
My head swims. It swims and pounds and I'm not sure exactly what he's doing but it's making me crazy. I groan, shuddering, at the edge of orgasm - right where he put me.
"Now," he finally says, driving his cock down into me, his lips still at my ear. "Come for me now!"
I do. I let go of the tenuous thread holding me to sanity and I fly, screaming, into the blissful abyss where he has sent me.
Time stretches, suspends, as he continues fucking me. He is brilliant, a sex god, a lover of epic proportions and all I want is to please him and feel the pleasure he gains from me in all the ways he does.
"I'm going to fuck your ass next," he growls down at me. I whimper.
"You like the sound of that?" he asks.
It occurs to me now, that a lot of what he says during sex is making sure I'm happy. At the time it sounds like growling, sounds like orders and like him requiring me to vocalize. But he wants to be wanted too - of course he does. I wonder how much of his pleasure comes from knowing how much he pleases me. I think it might be a lot. I know he likes this blog, likes having the window into my experience of him.
I do like the sound of it - anal sex - his cock invading my ass, pushing me open, claiming me. I like the sound of it very very much. He circles his hips against me and I arch up into him. "Yes, Master, I like your cock invading me," I gasp.
He pulls away from me. Oh, no. Now I'm empty. I groan with disappointment as he rolls to my side.
"Is the poor girl empty?" he asks gently, not too mockingly.
I dive after his wet cock with my mouth, making sure to cover my lip with my hand again. I lick my arousal off of him, suck him as best I can, while he gets the lube from the nightstand drawer.
"Turn over, girl," he finally says once he has retrieved the tube of slippery substance.
I do. I turn my back to him, bend myself nearly in half to provide him access to the part he wants. I'm shaking. I'm excited and a little afraid. We have anal sex rarely enough that each time is a little scary. Will he push too hard? Will he make it hurt? Will he go slowly enough so it's not overwhelming pain?
And this time, after the lube is applied and my tiny opening prepared for him, he is perfect. I reach behind me and hold his cock steady, and he pushes just a tiny bit, then retreats and repeats. Over and over, each time entering me just a little more, making me open for him, penetrating my resistance as I moan deeply. It's overwhelming but not with pain, just sensation and awe at how absolutely perfect the entire experience is.
"Going to fuck your ass," he growls as he is finally all the way inside me. He grabs my hip and thrusts. I cry out - it's amazing, he feels amazing. My muscles squeeze around his foreskin and his cock slides within it as it's meant to.
His hand cups my breast, lifts the warm weight of it. His fingers press gently around my nipple. "Going to pinch your nipple," he says roughly, right in my ear.
Shivers run down my spine. "Okay," I whimper.
"Going to pinch it hard," he continues.
Oh, God. "Okay," I whimper again.
"Going to pinch your nipple hard while I fuck you in the ass," he clarifies.
"Oh my God," I moan, and then he is doing what he said, slowly compressing my nipple between his thumb and forefinger until I squeal with the pain of it. It's intense, and sharp, and he never stops moving his cock.
"Does it hurt, slave?" he asks. When I merely continue squealing he says "Good. Good girl."
He stops pinching, and he slaps. He slaps my nipple and I groan. It burns, it stings, then it tingles. My nipple turns into a little pebble and he slaps it again. He's talking now too, something about ownership and pain and love.
I am out of my mind with pleasure, but he is pulling my leg backward over his waist. It's slightly different than vaginal sex in this position, but he still has free access to my pussy - now pulled open for his enjoyment. He's talking, still, as his fingers find my wetness and play there. Fingers enter my body, my flesh separating his fingers from his cock, and I moan. "Is my girl full?" he asks.
I am beyond words. I respond but it's a mumbled grunt. God, I love being his, I love him filling me up, love having him occupy my body and my space. I think about sex with him so often that when it does happen - every time it happens, even if it's every day - it's like a long-desired dream coming true.
I cannot say all that, but the feeling of it rushes through me and I scream as his fingers work their magic, as his cock fucks me in a place no one else has ever even touched me.
He comes - he must have come - but I can't process it. I'm too far gone. His fingers gently stroke me as I come down from the mountain. We're still in the same position, my leg backward around his waist, his softening cock in my ass. My hand closest to him fumbles around, trying to find a place to touch him - his shoulder, his neck, his cheek, his head, and back again. My arm can't find a place where I can rest it on him without it sliding off. It's a weak sort of floppy arm movement and he laughs at me.
"What are you doing with that arm, girl?" he laughs.
"Want to love you," I mutter. He moves his arm, crooks it so that his forearm is holding mine in place so I can rest my hand on him comfortably.
I am spent.
But much later, when I am almost asleep and I am wrapped around him from behind, squeezing him and kissing his neck softly as I drowse, he suddenly says "Turn over so I can fuck you some more."
Oh my God. My stomach does flip-flips. Just to hear those words come out of his mouth sends me all aflutter. I do as he's asked, and he has his way with me from behind. It's like a birthday and a road trip and an excellent homecooked meal all rolled into one. This happens even more rarely than anal, that he interrupts my sleep to take me.
"Where did that come from?" I ask him.
"Mmm, I was thinking about how sexy you are and I got turned on and I thought I should take it since it's mine."
Holy hell. Hotter words were never spoken.
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.
Monday, June 17, 2013
Sex with an alien
The nonstop screaming orgasms that leave me a sweaty, panting mess, unable to speak or move, will come soon. He will shove a huge plug in my ass and then his fingers will make me lose my mind as well as my breath.
But now, he is holding me. I am on my back, his arm is around my neck, and his other hand strokes my breasts. He raises his hand and slaps my breast pretty hard, then returns to gentle stroking while I inhale sharply from the unexpected pain.
"It's okay," he croons, his voice soft in my ear, sending shudders over my body. "It's all right." His fingers stroke, then he slaps my breast again. I squeal. "It's just a beating," he continues, "I'm perfectly entitled to it."
I melt. I melt right there, even as he keeps delivering firm blows to my breast, as the pleasure/pain of the blows waves through my body, and his voice continues: "And you're perfectly deserving of it."
Ohhh he is really good at this. He claimed to be human but I'm still on the fence. Otherwordly man with godlike powers of orgasm - can he be human? I say he's a sex god but he denies that outright.
Maybe all the humans from Europe are like this. . . but I have my doubts.
Damn.
But now, he is holding me. I am on my back, his arm is around my neck, and his other hand strokes my breasts. He raises his hand and slaps my breast pretty hard, then returns to gentle stroking while I inhale sharply from the unexpected pain.
"It's okay," he croons, his voice soft in my ear, sending shudders over my body. "It's all right." His fingers stroke, then he slaps my breast again. I squeal. "It's just a beating," he continues, "I'm perfectly entitled to it."
I melt. I melt right there, even as he keeps delivering firm blows to my breast, as the pleasure/pain of the blows waves through my body, and his voice continues: "And you're perfectly deserving of it."
Ohhh he is really good at this. He claimed to be human but I'm still on the fence. Otherwordly man with godlike powers of orgasm - can he be human? I say he's a sex god but he denies that outright.
Maybe all the humans from Europe are like this. . . but I have my doubts.
Damn.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
High-minded pursuits in the bedroom
It is a long conversation. At the end, I merely say "It's like you're all pure and high-minded and I'm running around pursuing earthly pleasures."
He gets his kicks from math and programming. I can do too but I also want to go out, go hiking, see a show, be with friends - and I've always preferred sex to math.
He scoffs. "There's nothing high-minded about it. My earthly pleasures are just different from yours," he says.
I am quiet. Well, he said it at least, and that's all right. The world didn't explode. I feel ridiculous, dressed in a flimsy bit of lace lying in bed with him. I want to go put on something more substantial but my ruined foot would make that far more of a production than I would intend it to be.
I suppose I am quiet for too long. "What are you thinking, my girl?" he asks softly.
No reason not to be honest. "That I want to put on more clothes, but I can't walk."
"I like you naked," he says, and he too is honest. The words coil around my heart, around my stomach, and squeeze warmly. I feel my pulse speed up. "I think you should have on less clothes," he continues, his hand running under the bit of lace I'm wearing, across my skin. He makes my breath catch, my skin raise into goosebumps. I moan softly. I don't move, though.
His hand presses against my face and I moan again. He covers my whole face with his hand and presses, his lips settling against my ear. "You're mine, and you like to do what I tell you," he says. "I'm telling you to take off your clothes."
He gets his kicks from math and programming. I can do too but I also want to go out, go hiking, see a show, be with friends - and I've always preferred sex to math.
He scoffs. "There's nothing high-minded about it. My earthly pleasures are just different from yours," he says.
I am quiet. Well, he said it at least, and that's all right. The world didn't explode. I feel ridiculous, dressed in a flimsy bit of lace lying in bed with him. I want to go put on something more substantial but my ruined foot would make that far more of a production than I would intend it to be.
I suppose I am quiet for too long. "What are you thinking, my girl?" he asks softly.
No reason not to be honest. "That I want to put on more clothes, but I can't walk."
"I like you naked," he says, and he too is honest. The words coil around my heart, around my stomach, and squeeze warmly. I feel my pulse speed up. "I think you should have on less clothes," he continues, his hand running under the bit of lace I'm wearing, across my skin. He makes my breath catch, my skin raise into goosebumps. I moan softly. I don't move, though.
His hand presses against my face and I moan again. He covers my whole face with his hand and presses, his lips settling against my ear. "You're mine, and you like to do what I tell you," he says. "I'm telling you to take off your clothes."
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, 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 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.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Belted, flogged, fucked
My Christmas spanking went on forever. His hand smacked into my backside until I was tender, crying out, protesting with each blow.
"It hurts," I begged.
"Hmmm.. you're right. My hand does hurt," he murmured, and rummaged in the drawer for something. I felt the cool faux leather of his old belt brush against my heated skin and I inhaled sharply, anticipating the blow that was to come to my already tenderized flesh. It did not disappoint. I yelped loudly as it smashed against me.
"Oh my God, it hurts so much," I whimpered as he kept striking my ass and the backs of my thighs with the belt. I squirmed. I wanted it over and I didn't want it over at all. I wanted it to go on forever but I thought that might just destroy me.
"Poor thing," he whispered, giving me a break, smoothing his hand gently over my heated bottom. I gasped as even his gentle touch hurt. A flogger, then, glorious and soft and cool, draping over my burning rear, trailing its tiny knots up my back. Oh, it felt amazing, soothing my pain as it settled from a fiery burning sting to a deep ache.
"Ahhhhhhh," I breathed out with relief, and then he was flogging me. Smack, swish, smack. Oh, that felt divine too, the softness of the cold rope falls thudding into and gliding over my hot skin, my legs, my back. I was squirming in an altogether different way, presenting my ass to him and writhing in sheer pleasure as long soft moans of delight came from me.
"Turn over," he ordered after a long time of this.
I moaned at the thought of putting weight on my back and ass, but I did it. My bottom complained, but it settled to a dull roar as my husband began to flog my breasts. Oh. Yes, I like that. My body surged up into the blows, offering my breasts to the lash of the flogger each time it retreated. My mouth was open, a stream of delighted gasps and pleased moans issuing from it. I was on, all right.
Suddenly, he was on top of me, and his cock was sliding into my extremely wet pussy. I groaned as his hardness filled up all the space inside me, and he thrust down into me a few times, making me clench around him and purr with the delicious feeling of being impaled.
He withdrew far too soon, though, and slid up my body to slide his cock into my mouth, letting me taste my own arousal on his skin. I was out of my mind with want, and I sucked on him fervently. But then he was gone. He was sitting on my midsection, and I heard sounds. My head was still tossed back, my eyes squeezed shut - wet sounds were coming from him, but he wasn't moving.
Oh, God, what is he doing? I thought to myself, and slowly, slowly, I moved my head to look at him.
He was straddling my midsection, slowly masturbating his hard cock. The wet sounds were the moisture from my body on his cock as his foreskin slid over the shaft. "What if I just sit here and masturbate? What will you do?"
I groaned, twisting beneath him, mouth open, tilting my hips up more. I thrashed. There was no way I could get to his cock with any part of me, the way he was sitting.
"I see. You'll go crazy. Which part of you should I fuck?" he asked deliberately, still sliding his foreskin over the head of his cock. "Does your mouth want it more? Or your pussy?"
"I don't care, I just want it in me," I panted, and even as I spoke he was sliding down between my legs.
"Was that an order? I don't take orders so well, you know." He nudged the head of his cock against my sex, letting it slip inside just a very little bit.
"God, no, please... please fuck me," I begged, tilting my hips up to him.
"That's better," he whispered, letting his cock press all the way into me. "Good fuck toy," he said, a groan from him indicating how good it felt, even as I was gasping with the sensations flooding me.
A blur. Moving, sighing, whispered words of pleasure, love, dominance. Oh, it felt amazing.
After he was finished, his fingers found their way inside me and I was screaming. Screaming, as he said "Come for me, yes, good girl, come for me - merry Christmas, fuck hole."
Over and over. Until I was begging for him to stop, for the pleasure to end. Begging, because I was exhausted, soaked with sweat, and sore. My muscles vibrated with the intensity of the repeated release.
But "lots of orgasms" is what I asked for.
He does love to give me what I want.
"It hurts," I begged.
"Hmmm.. you're right. My hand does hurt," he murmured, and rummaged in the drawer for something. I felt the cool faux leather of his old belt brush against my heated skin and I inhaled sharply, anticipating the blow that was to come to my already tenderized flesh. It did not disappoint. I yelped loudly as it smashed against me.
"Oh my God, it hurts so much," I whimpered as he kept striking my ass and the backs of my thighs with the belt. I squirmed. I wanted it over and I didn't want it over at all. I wanted it to go on forever but I thought that might just destroy me.
"Poor thing," he whispered, giving me a break, smoothing his hand gently over my heated bottom. I gasped as even his gentle touch hurt. A flogger, then, glorious and soft and cool, draping over my burning rear, trailing its tiny knots up my back. Oh, it felt amazing, soothing my pain as it settled from a fiery burning sting to a deep ache.
"Ahhhhhhh," I breathed out with relief, and then he was flogging me. Smack, swish, smack. Oh, that felt divine too, the softness of the cold rope falls thudding into and gliding over my hot skin, my legs, my back. I was squirming in an altogether different way, presenting my ass to him and writhing in sheer pleasure as long soft moans of delight came from me.
"Turn over," he ordered after a long time of this.
I moaned at the thought of putting weight on my back and ass, but I did it. My bottom complained, but it settled to a dull roar as my husband began to flog my breasts. Oh. Yes, I like that. My body surged up into the blows, offering my breasts to the lash of the flogger each time it retreated. My mouth was open, a stream of delighted gasps and pleased moans issuing from it. I was on, all right.
Suddenly, he was on top of me, and his cock was sliding into my extremely wet pussy. I groaned as his hardness filled up all the space inside me, and he thrust down into me a few times, making me clench around him and purr with the delicious feeling of being impaled.
He withdrew far too soon, though, and slid up my body to slide his cock into my mouth, letting me taste my own arousal on his skin. I was out of my mind with want, and I sucked on him fervently. But then he was gone. He was sitting on my midsection, and I heard sounds. My head was still tossed back, my eyes squeezed shut - wet sounds were coming from him, but he wasn't moving.
Oh, God, what is he doing? I thought to myself, and slowly, slowly, I moved my head to look at him.
He was straddling my midsection, slowly masturbating his hard cock. The wet sounds were the moisture from my body on his cock as his foreskin slid over the shaft. "What if I just sit here and masturbate? What will you do?"
I groaned, twisting beneath him, mouth open, tilting my hips up more. I thrashed. There was no way I could get to his cock with any part of me, the way he was sitting.
"I see. You'll go crazy. Which part of you should I fuck?" he asked deliberately, still sliding his foreskin over the head of his cock. "Does your mouth want it more? Or your pussy?"
"I don't care, I just want it in me," I panted, and even as I spoke he was sliding down between my legs.
"Was that an order? I don't take orders so well, you know." He nudged the head of his cock against my sex, letting it slip inside just a very little bit.
"God, no, please... please fuck me," I begged, tilting my hips up to him.
"That's better," he whispered, letting his cock press all the way into me. "Good fuck toy," he said, a groan from him indicating how good it felt, even as I was gasping with the sensations flooding me.
A blur. Moving, sighing, whispered words of pleasure, love, dominance. Oh, it felt amazing.
After he was finished, his fingers found their way inside me and I was screaming. Screaming, as he said "Come for me, yes, good girl, come for me - merry Christmas, fuck hole."
Over and over. Until I was begging for him to stop, for the pleasure to end. Begging, because I was exhausted, soaked with sweat, and sore. My muscles vibrated with the intensity of the repeated release.
But "lots of orgasms" is what I asked for.
He does love to give me what I want.
Monday, December 10, 2012
No pain, all gain
His hand brushed my nipple and I jumped. It was so sensitive. "Oooh, does girl like that?" he asked, doing it again. I whined. My stomach was unhappy and there seems to be some sort of direct connection between my stomach and my nipple. Normally, yes, I would have loved it.
Now, I covered my nipple with my hand. "So sensitive, and my stomach feels icky," I explained.
"Poor baby," he said, moving his hand elsewhere, delicately stroking the skin of my throat, the upper slope of my breasts, my back. I made little breathless sounds of pleasure as he raised goosebumps all over me. "I'll leave your nipples alone - for tonight." I should hope he wouldn't leave them alone for longer.
He was holding me on his arm, my head nestled against his shoulder. My back had been turned to him but I rolled over more to give him better access to my front. My left wrist moved to find itself captured by his left hand. Oh, I love that. I twisted my wrist a little in the loose circle of his fingers.
"Should I stop this?" he asked, his fingers lightly dancing, sweeping, chasing tingles all over my body. Oh, his magic, magic fingers.
"Oh, you should," I whispered reluctantly, between my little moans of pleasure. I didn't want him to, but should was a different matter altogether.
"Why should I?" he asked, not stopping.
"Mmm, mmm.. it's late," I answered. We'd used the entire weekend up on fun activities and he had to be at work in the morning.
"Oh, is that all?"
"Uh-huh, were you expecting a different answer?"
He let his fingers drift over my throat, down my side. I was purring. "No. Just glad I didn't get a different answer."
He kept stroking me, whispering words of affection, drawing the pleasure out for an eternity. My legs spread wider and wider, but he hadn't yet touched me between them. I was humping the air by the time the side of his hand brushed against my folds. I jumped, a little shriek of delight and stimulation making its way out of my lips. "Ahh, is that sensitive like your nipple?" he asked, his fingers gently stroking my sensitive surfaces, not yet intruding.
"It is, but it doesn't make me feel sick," I answered, arching up, desperate for his fingertip to delve a little deeper.
He obliged me. "That's good. I'd hate to make you feel sick," he said, slipping his finger between my folds, running the tip around my opening, and up, up, up. He stopped just short of my clit, the little bud throbbing, begging for his attention.
I groaned deeply and tilted my hips, trying to guide his finger to that magic spot. God, how ridiculous I must look, I thought to myself, before he banished all thoughts by letting his finger glide up against my clit. I moaned deeply with pleasure and rocked my hips against his finger.
He is so good at this. I was lost. A little orgasm didn't take very long from my extreme state of arousal, but he kept going, not satisfied with the little cries and the little involuntary kicks.
"So good to fuck you. Such a good fuck hole," he murmured. I squealed. His words, so harsh, contrasting not only with the softness of his voice but with his actual actions, burrowed deep into me and chained me to him. I could feel myself grow even wetter. His fingertips gathered some of the extra moisture around my opening and spread it to my clit, where he kept his fingers moving quickly and lightly, making my body dance to his rhythm.
Another orgasm, and I writhed. Another, and my legs were spreading wide, my hips lifting as he touched me. I wasn't even sure if I was trying to move with him or get away from him. His finger never did slide inside me - just rocked against my clit as I thrashed next to him, whimpering, moaning, crying out. I could feel his hard cock pressing against my hip, but he was ignoring it in favor of tormenting me with endless pleasure. I lost count of the orgasms. My body was sweating lightly in the cool air and was arching up and down, my head lifting off the pillow and tossing itself back down again as I spasmed over and over and over, as he told me again and again to come for him.
"No," I said once, breathlessly, unable to summon the energy.
"Sure, you can come for me," he said, his finger continuing to move so lightly and so quickly. And I did. I couldn't stop myself.
"Good girl does what she's told," he murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Isn't it amazing how much pleasure you can bring a girl with one little fingertip?"
I could only pant my agreement.
When I was utterly spent, he slowly, slowly stopped, weaning my clit off the attention. I could still feel his cock pressing against my hip.
"Going to fuck you with my cock now," he said, his hand on my hip.
"Mmhmm," I agreed heartily, ready for that. So wet. He'd made me feel incredible already but I am always up for more if I'm not already asleep.
I turned to face away from him, leaned forward so my body was at an angle to his, and tossed my top leg backward over his. Such a lovely position. His cock slid inside my wetness easily, but he took his time about giving it all to me - just a little at a time, nice and slow. I was panting for it by the time our bodies were pressed together.
His finger found my clit again, something that particular position really, really has going for it. Already sensitized by the dozens of orgasms he'd just drawn from me, it didn't take long before he had me there again, at the shaking, trembling edge of the chasm. Another slow gentle nudge, a sexy word rasped out just for me, and I was tumbling over. Oh, ye gods, the pleasure. I was out of my mind with it.
Orgasms around his cock are divine - especially when I am trying to get away because he's already driven so many out of me. I was so, so sensitive, and as he gently prodded a third orgasm in this second set out of me with his finger, I writhed, squirming and kicking, trying to close my legs, to turn slightly away. I was breathless; reedy, helpless cries and pants were coming from me as I struggled to get enough oxygen to make the noises he was spurring from me. He wasn't having any of my escape. Despite his tenderness, the love burning out of him into me, he was firm. He was having what he wanted, and what he wanted was for me to come on his cock. Repeatedly.
"Oh, God, you're making me come all over your cock," I panted, realization dawning that the orgasms hadn't been convenient side effects of what he was doing.
"That's right, girl. Go on, come for me."
I did. I came, the most powerful orgasm yet washing over me, making me cry out. My legs shook from the sheer intensity of it - I could feel my lips start to go numb. As I writhed and shook, I could feel him throbbing within me, his own climax brought about by either my screams, my shaking, or the involuntary pulsing of my muscles around him.
We lay connected like that, our hands slowly stroking each other as his cock softened inside me. My screams and gasps for air had dried my throat out something terrible, though, and eventually I stirred to ask for water. He came back with it and let me drink before getting back in bed.
"I like the power I have over you," he whispered as he gathered me into his arms.
"I do, too," I answered softly.
Now, I covered my nipple with my hand. "So sensitive, and my stomach feels icky," I explained.
"Poor baby," he said, moving his hand elsewhere, delicately stroking the skin of my throat, the upper slope of my breasts, my back. I made little breathless sounds of pleasure as he raised goosebumps all over me. "I'll leave your nipples alone - for tonight." I should hope he wouldn't leave them alone for longer.
He was holding me on his arm, my head nestled against his shoulder. My back had been turned to him but I rolled over more to give him better access to my front. My left wrist moved to find itself captured by his left hand. Oh, I love that. I twisted my wrist a little in the loose circle of his fingers.
"Should I stop this?" he asked, his fingers lightly dancing, sweeping, chasing tingles all over my body. Oh, his magic, magic fingers.
"Oh, you should," I whispered reluctantly, between my little moans of pleasure. I didn't want him to, but should was a different matter altogether.
"Why should I?" he asked, not stopping.
"Mmm, mmm.. it's late," I answered. We'd used the entire weekend up on fun activities and he had to be at work in the morning.
"Oh, is that all?"
"Uh-huh, were you expecting a different answer?"
He let his fingers drift over my throat, down my side. I was purring. "No. Just glad I didn't get a different answer."
He kept stroking me, whispering words of affection, drawing the pleasure out for an eternity. My legs spread wider and wider, but he hadn't yet touched me between them. I was humping the air by the time the side of his hand brushed against my folds. I jumped, a little shriek of delight and stimulation making its way out of my lips. "Ahh, is that sensitive like your nipple?" he asked, his fingers gently stroking my sensitive surfaces, not yet intruding.
"It is, but it doesn't make me feel sick," I answered, arching up, desperate for his fingertip to delve a little deeper.
He obliged me. "That's good. I'd hate to make you feel sick," he said, slipping his finger between my folds, running the tip around my opening, and up, up, up. He stopped just short of my clit, the little bud throbbing, begging for his attention.
I groaned deeply and tilted my hips, trying to guide his finger to that magic spot. God, how ridiculous I must look, I thought to myself, before he banished all thoughts by letting his finger glide up against my clit. I moaned deeply with pleasure and rocked my hips against his finger.
He is so good at this. I was lost. A little orgasm didn't take very long from my extreme state of arousal, but he kept going, not satisfied with the little cries and the little involuntary kicks.
"So good to fuck you. Such a good fuck hole," he murmured. I squealed. His words, so harsh, contrasting not only with the softness of his voice but with his actual actions, burrowed deep into me and chained me to him. I could feel myself grow even wetter. His fingertips gathered some of the extra moisture around my opening and spread it to my clit, where he kept his fingers moving quickly and lightly, making my body dance to his rhythm.
Another orgasm, and I writhed. Another, and my legs were spreading wide, my hips lifting as he touched me. I wasn't even sure if I was trying to move with him or get away from him. His finger never did slide inside me - just rocked against my clit as I thrashed next to him, whimpering, moaning, crying out. I could feel his hard cock pressing against my hip, but he was ignoring it in favor of tormenting me with endless pleasure. I lost count of the orgasms. My body was sweating lightly in the cool air and was arching up and down, my head lifting off the pillow and tossing itself back down again as I spasmed over and over and over, as he told me again and again to come for him.
"No," I said once, breathlessly, unable to summon the energy.
"Sure, you can come for me," he said, his finger continuing to move so lightly and so quickly. And I did. I couldn't stop myself.
"Good girl does what she's told," he murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Isn't it amazing how much pleasure you can bring a girl with one little fingertip?"
I could only pant my agreement.
When I was utterly spent, he slowly, slowly stopped, weaning my clit off the attention. I could still feel his cock pressing against my hip.
"Going to fuck you with my cock now," he said, his hand on my hip.
"Mmhmm," I agreed heartily, ready for that. So wet. He'd made me feel incredible already but I am always up for more if I'm not already asleep.
I turned to face away from him, leaned forward so my body was at an angle to his, and tossed my top leg backward over his. Such a lovely position. His cock slid inside my wetness easily, but he took his time about giving it all to me - just a little at a time, nice and slow. I was panting for it by the time our bodies were pressed together.
His finger found my clit again, something that particular position really, really has going for it. Already sensitized by the dozens of orgasms he'd just drawn from me, it didn't take long before he had me there again, at the shaking, trembling edge of the chasm. Another slow gentle nudge, a sexy word rasped out just for me, and I was tumbling over. Oh, ye gods, the pleasure. I was out of my mind with it.
Orgasms around his cock are divine - especially when I am trying to get away because he's already driven so many out of me. I was so, so sensitive, and as he gently prodded a third orgasm in this second set out of me with his finger, I writhed, squirming and kicking, trying to close my legs, to turn slightly away. I was breathless; reedy, helpless cries and pants were coming from me as I struggled to get enough oxygen to make the noises he was spurring from me. He wasn't having any of my escape. Despite his tenderness, the love burning out of him into me, he was firm. He was having what he wanted, and what he wanted was for me to come on his cock. Repeatedly.
"Oh, God, you're making me come all over your cock," I panted, realization dawning that the orgasms hadn't been convenient side effects of what he was doing.
"That's right, girl. Go on, come for me."
I did. I came, the most powerful orgasm yet washing over me, making me cry out. My legs shook from the sheer intensity of it - I could feel my lips start to go numb. As I writhed and shook, I could feel him throbbing within me, his own climax brought about by either my screams, my shaking, or the involuntary pulsing of my muscles around him.
We lay connected like that, our hands slowly stroking each other as his cock softened inside me. My screams and gasps for air had dried my throat out something terrible, though, and eventually I stirred to ask for water. He came back with it and let me drink before getting back in bed.
"I like the power I have over you," he whispered as he gathered me into his arms.
"I do, too," I answered softly.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Two for one
"Your nipples are sensitive and need toughening." It started as a joke, we were reading The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty, and that's a line in the novel. His fingers began toying with my nipples as we continued reading our chapters, making me squirm long before we put the book down.
When we did, his fingers began tracing delicate trails all over my back before I could turn over. His beard brushed against my lower back, his hands exploring my ass. "It's been a long time since your body's been properly touched."
He touched my back until I was purring with pleasure, and then he pulled out a wooden ruler and began to spank me with it. "You're getting nice and red back here," he said, and switched implements.
Something unfamiliar, painful, hard but bouncy. "What IS that?" I asked, already a little foggy with desire.
"What is this? Hm. I think it's commonly called a belt. How does it feel?"
"I like it," I gasped out between cries. It hurt, deep, thudding pain with a sting in the head, but it was good, like deep tissue massage. I could not hold still as he applied it to my rear, though. I squirmed and wiggled and lifted my ass and lowered it again - but he kept right on.
He switched implements again - the braided flogger, snapping across my back and across the places on my ass where he'd been belting me. It felt much like the belt, with more texture. I gasped as it landed over my back, raising my ass to provide a better target.
He knocked my knees apart roughly, and started spanking my sensitive inner thighs. I was still on all fours, a new position for this sort of spanking, and I cried out over and over. He wasn't playing around, his hand smacked roughly into my flesh and I gasped and cried out and he mocked me. My pussy was already spread and helpless from the position so when he started spanking it, I was even more sensitive. I squirmed and panted and little screams came out of me. Oh, hell, my clit, the position made my clit more sensitive and more involved in the spanking, oh, hell.
His fingers spread me open, finding my wetness. "Oh, wow. I think someone likes being used, being beaten... being touched. Does this feel good, slut?" he asked, his finger slowly circling my clit.
"Uh-huh," I moaned, squirming.
"I didn't realize we'd moved on to the feeling good portion. I thought we were still in the pain portion," he said, pulling his hand away, looking for something. "Oh, wait, there's no difference, is there?"
"No," I whispered.
"Well, no difference for you.. I suppose if I asked you to pleasure me, you'd know not to hurt me, wouldn't you?"
"Yes sir."
"Good girl. You like everything, don't you my girl? I can think of something else you might like." He reached across me, his arm across my lower back holding me down, and lubricated my ass. He slid the mood naughty plug into me as I writhed. "Take it, girl," he whispered as he pressed it all the way in.
"Turn and face me," he said then.
I did, exclaiming as I rolled toward the lamp. My hair was all over my face at this point, but the light was still bright.
"Is the light too bright for you, fuck toy?"
"Mmhmm," I murmured, trying to duck my head close to his chest.
"But I want to look at you. You don't mind if I look at you, do you, fuck toy?"
"No sir." I shuddered as the words left me.
"But... it might be nice to switch to candlelight," he conceded, and leaned over to light a candle.
When he turned back over, he seized on my breasts and nipples. Breast torture. Oh, the most divine torture ever. His mouth, sucking hard, biting at my nipples in the most exquisite ways, tugging, pulling, squeezing. I swear I could have come from that given enough time. I started humping at him, instinct controlling my movements.
"Do you want me to fuck you while I torture your breasts?"
"Uh-huh.."
"Do you want me to fuck you while you have a plug in your ass while I torture your breasts?"
"Uh huh..."
On top of me. "Oh, my, slut, you're so wet."
"No room," I panted as he nudged his way inside me, the plug in my ass making it harder, making me cry out.
"Oh, there's plenty of room, it just slides right in there..."
He pulled away a little, started moving with short quick strokes just barely into me. I groaned.
"Oh, God, what are you doing?" I begged, arching up, wanting to feel him driving deeply inside.
"You want more cock, girl?"
"Yes," I panted, struggling to lift my hips higher, to take more of him.
"Better beg for it then." He continued fucking just the head of his cock into me.
"Oh, fuck, please, please," I was babbling, no proper method of begging existing in my brain at that moment, "please, want more cock, please, please."
"You want more cock?"
"Yes, please, please."
"Where?"
"In my pussy, please, please!" I was writhing desperately, my hands clutching at his hips, trying to pull him into me.
"Mmm, okay, girl. Have more cock. In your pussy." He drove into me fully then, grinding, my clit throbbing between us as we moved. I gasped.
He grabbed my hair, two big handfuls on each side of my head, and pulled it up diagonally away from my head, effectively holding my head in place in the center. I felt stretched, pinned, helpless.
When he kissed me, his cock still driving, his hands still keeping up the pressure on my hair, I felt like I was flying away - or falling. Or both all at once. I screamed against his mouth, uncontrollably, kissing him back and screaming as I flew and fell and flew.
He was finished, and he rolled off me. His fingers began to pleasure me - inside, against my clit. Orgasm.
Again.
Again.
"Oh, wow, you are completely out of control, aren't you? You just keep coming.. I don't think you could stop if you tried."
Again.
Again.
Screaming, writhing under his touch, wanting it to end and wanting it to never, ever end, the waves of pleasure that kept crashing over me taking my breath away and leaving me wanting more, more, more.
He rolled atop me, and I gasped with surprise as his cock plunged inside me again. "Oh my God..."
His kisses sent me spiraling again, as he took his pleasure with me a second time. "You don't mind if I fuck you some more now, do you?" he asked roughly, as if I had a choice in the matter. I quivered internally at the entire situation.
He took his time this time too, extracting the maximum amount of pleasure for both of us.
We lay exhausted afterward, his body wrapped around me in my husband-cage, holding me tightly to him. "You belong to me," he said softly, a touch of wonder mingled with the matter-of-factness of his tone.
"I know," I murmured happily, settling as closely in to him as I could before we fell asleep.
When we did, his fingers began tracing delicate trails all over my back before I could turn over. His beard brushed against my lower back, his hands exploring my ass. "It's been a long time since your body's been properly touched."
He touched my back until I was purring with pleasure, and then he pulled out a wooden ruler and began to spank me with it. "You're getting nice and red back here," he said, and switched implements.
Something unfamiliar, painful, hard but bouncy. "What IS that?" I asked, already a little foggy with desire.
"What is this? Hm. I think it's commonly called a belt. How does it feel?"
"I like it," I gasped out between cries. It hurt, deep, thudding pain with a sting in the head, but it was good, like deep tissue massage. I could not hold still as he applied it to my rear, though. I squirmed and wiggled and lifted my ass and lowered it again - but he kept right on.
He switched implements again - the braided flogger, snapping across my back and across the places on my ass where he'd been belting me. It felt much like the belt, with more texture. I gasped as it landed over my back, raising my ass to provide a better target.
He knocked my knees apart roughly, and started spanking my sensitive inner thighs. I was still on all fours, a new position for this sort of spanking, and I cried out over and over. He wasn't playing around, his hand smacked roughly into my flesh and I gasped and cried out and he mocked me. My pussy was already spread and helpless from the position so when he started spanking it, I was even more sensitive. I squirmed and panted and little screams came out of me. Oh, hell, my clit, the position made my clit more sensitive and more involved in the spanking, oh, hell.
His fingers spread me open, finding my wetness. "Oh, wow. I think someone likes being used, being beaten... being touched. Does this feel good, slut?" he asked, his finger slowly circling my clit.
"Uh-huh," I moaned, squirming.
"I didn't realize we'd moved on to the feeling good portion. I thought we were still in the pain portion," he said, pulling his hand away, looking for something. "Oh, wait, there's no difference, is there?"
"No," I whispered.
"Well, no difference for you.. I suppose if I asked you to pleasure me, you'd know not to hurt me, wouldn't you?"
"Yes sir."
"Good girl. You like everything, don't you my girl? I can think of something else you might like." He reached across me, his arm across my lower back holding me down, and lubricated my ass. He slid the mood naughty plug into me as I writhed. "Take it, girl," he whispered as he pressed it all the way in.
"Turn and face me," he said then.
I did, exclaiming as I rolled toward the lamp. My hair was all over my face at this point, but the light was still bright.
"Is the light too bright for you, fuck toy?"
"Mmhmm," I murmured, trying to duck my head close to his chest.
"But I want to look at you. You don't mind if I look at you, do you, fuck toy?"
"No sir." I shuddered as the words left me.
"But... it might be nice to switch to candlelight," he conceded, and leaned over to light a candle.
When he turned back over, he seized on my breasts and nipples. Breast torture. Oh, the most divine torture ever. His mouth, sucking hard, biting at my nipples in the most exquisite ways, tugging, pulling, squeezing. I swear I could have come from that given enough time. I started humping at him, instinct controlling my movements.
"Do you want me to fuck you while I torture your breasts?"
"Uh-huh.."
"Do you want me to fuck you while you have a plug in your ass while I torture your breasts?"
"Uh huh..."
On top of me. "Oh, my, slut, you're so wet."
"No room," I panted as he nudged his way inside me, the plug in my ass making it harder, making me cry out.
"Oh, there's plenty of room, it just slides right in there..."
He pulled away a little, started moving with short quick strokes just barely into me. I groaned.
"Oh, God, what are you doing?" I begged, arching up, wanting to feel him driving deeply inside.
"You want more cock, girl?"
"Yes," I panted, struggling to lift my hips higher, to take more of him.
"Better beg for it then." He continued fucking just the head of his cock into me.
"Oh, fuck, please, please," I was babbling, no proper method of begging existing in my brain at that moment, "please, want more cock, please, please."
"You want more cock?"
"Yes, please, please."
"Where?"
"In my pussy, please, please!" I was writhing desperately, my hands clutching at his hips, trying to pull him into me.
"Mmm, okay, girl. Have more cock. In your pussy." He drove into me fully then, grinding, my clit throbbing between us as we moved. I gasped.
He grabbed my hair, two big handfuls on each side of my head, and pulled it up diagonally away from my head, effectively holding my head in place in the center. I felt stretched, pinned, helpless.
When he kissed me, his cock still driving, his hands still keeping up the pressure on my hair, I felt like I was flying away - or falling. Or both all at once. I screamed against his mouth, uncontrollably, kissing him back and screaming as I flew and fell and flew.
He was finished, and he rolled off me. His fingers began to pleasure me - inside, against my clit. Orgasm.
Again.
Again.
"Oh, wow, you are completely out of control, aren't you? You just keep coming.. I don't think you could stop if you tried."
Again.
Again.
Screaming, writhing under his touch, wanting it to end and wanting it to never, ever end, the waves of pleasure that kept crashing over me taking my breath away and leaving me wanting more, more, more.
He rolled atop me, and I gasped with surprise as his cock plunged inside me again. "Oh my God..."
His kisses sent me spiraling again, as he took his pleasure with me a second time. "You don't mind if I fuck you some more now, do you?" he asked roughly, as if I had a choice in the matter. I quivered internally at the entire situation.
He took his time this time too, extracting the maximum amount of pleasure for both of us.
We lay exhausted afterward, his body wrapped around me in my husband-cage, holding me tightly to him. "You belong to me," he said softly, a touch of wonder mingled with the matter-of-factness of his tone.
"I know," I murmured happily, settling as closely in to him as I could before we fell asleep.
Monday, November 5, 2012
Hot anal action
I've had company for a while - it's made writing extraordinarily difficult. I'm back now though, and hopefully better than ever!
Readers will be happy to know that my last piece inspired all sorts of tingle-inspiring behavior in our bedroom over the past week. Most of them have faded into the mists of memory, washed out a bit by each successive experience. When my man is on, he is on.
My next thrilling tale is the fourth instance of anal play since my previous post, and it is a shocker. At least it was for me.
Having company for an extended period of time means that each night we go to bed quite late - having indulged in shared entertainment for bonding purposes with our guest really cuts into alone time. I don't begrudge it, because the bonding is good - I bond with my husband in slightly different ways during that time as well. Not being alone is okay, as long as we still get to fall into bed with our arms around each other.
Sunday night always reeks of lost potential. Monday morning looms, an early morning that will more than likely be even earlier due to having a small person who takes a while to adjust to the fact that the clocks have turned back. But, just in case, I performed my evening rituals the same as always. I was clean and damp when I crawled between the sheets next to my lover, and his arms went around me to pull me closer.
We talked of assorted things, of the lovely day we had, of my friends, of a show we've started watching and the one we'd seen live that afternoon. Zombies, fairy tales, and spelling bees. Just a normal night's pillow talk. Somewhere in the midst of the conversation, his hand started wandering over my skin beneath my shirt, cupping and kneading my breast, raising goosebumps with the tips of his fingers across my stomach.
I wasn't very wet when he reached between my legs, but I was gasping. I wanted to fuck. I curled away from him to give him better access, and his fingers stroked from my pussy up across my anus, making me shiver and moan softly.
"Can I help you?" he asked, his voice a low growl. Zombies and fairy tales were long forgotten. His finger stroked around my rear entrance as he pressed his cock against the back of my thigh.
"Oh, God," I moaned again, inhaling sharply.
"Mmm, I think I'll take this cock and shove it in your ass. How do you feel about that?"
My entire body throbbed at his words. My throat closed and I squeaked, a shudder shaking me. His fingers moved back to my pussy, stroking around it. "Does this pussy want cock?" he asked.
"Uh-huh," I choked out. I felt lube, cool and soothing on his fingers as he stroked it against my ass, lubricating, stretching, and then his finger was inside me there. I groaned loudly. "Oh God, oh my God," I chanted, my hips moving slightly away from him as he slid inside me a little deeper.
Too soon, he removed his finger. I shivered in anticipation and a little fear. What if he hadn't stretched me enough? What if it hurt too much and I couldn't bear it? What if he made me anyway? I could feel my pussy creaming, my delicate membranes sliding against each other as I wriggled.
Hard does not really begin to describe how his cock felt when he pressed it against my tiny hole. "Take it," he urged, as I groaned and wriggled, effectively impaling myself as he applied a steady forward pressure, claiming my body as his fuck toy. "Such a good fuck hole," he whispered to me, his hand roaming my side as he was fully buried in my behind. My body was wracked with shudders and I was unbelievably aroused by this turn of events. I shook there, his cock buried in my ass, his hand on my throat, his other hand squeezing my breast. My own loss of control excited me even more and spurred more shudders, and he was still, just waiting until I stopped shaking and crying out.
He began to move once I stopped shaking - slow, steady thrusts deeper into me. "How does it feel to have a cock fucking your ass?" he asked roughly.
"Oh God, it feels helpless," I squeaked. So not sexy, I couldn't help but think about the squeaking. But the thought wasn't a long one, there was not room for much thought with his cock continuing to claim me, with the sensations pouring over me.
"My ass to fuck," he said in my ear. Shivers. Every time. I may have squealed loudly as his words pushed me into a free-fall deep into the well of submission.
I began to squeeze on him, and he seemed to appreciate this, his noises of pleasure growing louder each time I did. In the end, he was somehow managing to make me feel fucked hard while still being slow and careful, holding my body pulled tightly against his. He groaned quite loudly as he emptied himself inside me, pressing into me and continuing to move slowly, making me groan with sensation long after his pleasure had culminated.
"Oh my God," I kept whispering as we lay there together, disbelief at the entire situation combined with the amazing sensations still coursing through my body leaving me with not much else to say. I opened my legs, tossing one over his hip, and backed against him, his softening cock still inside me. His hand clutched my breast. I let my fingertips graze my sex and found it thickly coated with my slippery juices, making myself gasp at my body's blatant display of arousal.
When I moved my hand to his and tried to dislodge it from my breast, his initial reaction was to clutch me tighter. When he realized that I wasn't trying to make him let me go, he let me move his hand to my pussy. "Oooh, pussy likes to be touched when it's wet, I see," he said, as his fingers stroked my clit, and slipped inside me.
"Oh please, oh please don't stop," I begged him as he touched me. As I rocked up to his touch, his cock eventually slid out of my ass... and that's when he replaced it with his finger.
Explosions have nothing on what was going on between my legs, and behind my eyes. His fingers were everywhere, fuck, descriptions can only be a pale imitation. My ass was full, my clit was stimulated, I think something was in my pussy but that may have been a clever trick of pressure.
I came. Holy hell, I came. My hips were lifted up and my legs were splayed wide and I was panting and gasping, vibrating and screaming.
That's when I realized his leg and his hand were keeping me from closing my legs. My thighs struggled against his not-weakened-by-orgasm body and I couldn't stop him, I couldn't turn away.
"Oh please, oh.. please," I pleaded, not knowing if I was begging for him to stop or continue. I was pinned in that position - he pushed into my ass a little harder and I screamed with pleasure, his fingers going crazy on my delicate, throbbing clit. I screamed and squealed and twisted but no matter what I did I could not close my legs and it was so fucking hot that I came again just thinking about it.
His fingers soothed me, and there was a quiet time when I thought he was drifting asleep. Oh, fuck, holy fuck, is he falling asleep with his hand inside me like this? I thought to myself. I was out of my mind, if he was doing such a thing, if he was claiming me to that extent... oh, hell, I could feel my insides throb at the thought of it. I shifted to relieve some of the arousal.
"Good fuck toy," he growled, shoving deeper into my ass, opening me up. His thumb had been almost expelled from me and he forced it in again, making me squeal. His fingers were dancing on my clit again, my legs still splayed and unable to close.
"Oh my God," I began chanting again, and did not stop, though sometimes it was louder and sometimes it was softer, as he drove me to more orgasms, stretched up, his fingers impaling my soft, sensitive bits over and over, massaging the maximum pleasure from me until I thought I would go insane.
When it was over, and I was trembling helplessly against him, he gently disengaged his hand and pulled me into his arms, holding my head against his chest. I kept whispering "Oh my God" for a good few minutes as he stroked my hair and back.
The moral of the story?
Tell my man what I like, even if it seems like a dead end and I have to keep repeating myself.
Because holy fuck, once he gets something, he really fucking gets it.
Friday, October 26, 2012
Too late for sex
It started with his hand.
It was late. Too late for sex. Too late for anything beyond snuggling. But his hand wandered across my back, my breasts, and I moaned deeply. The way he touches me imparts his sense of ownership directly into my brain, and that is enough to ignite my desire. I turned a little onto my stomach, spreading my legs and lifting my ass in the air. His hand was gliding along my thighs, across my sex, and then he was slapping my pussy lightly but relentlessly.
My moans only got louder as I slowly writhed to his slaps.
"What has got you so worked up anyway, girl?" he asked as I kept moaning, my brain already short-circuited, already a sex toy and not much more. "Did I use you, fuck toy? Did I please myself with you? Did that excite you?"
"uh, uh, uh... yes sir," I managed, each syllable a long drawn-out cry as he kept spanking my pussy.
"Would you like me to fuck you now, girl?" he asked.
"yessss," I hissed softly. I could feel my wetness seeping out as he slapped my sex.
He pulled me onto my side, facing away from him, and guided his cock slowly into me, just the head at first. "Oh yeah, girl, is that good for you?" It was clearly good for him based on the new timbre his voice had gained. I shuddered and squirmed back onto him, trying to take him all the way into me. He let me, and then his hand was moving across my face, his fingertips at first, gentle touches that turned into his whole hand clamping down across my face.
"Take me, fuck hole," he ordered as I moaned, making me moan even louder, the pressure of his hand on my face and the words coming from his mouth combining to make me descend so, so far into subspace where the only thing that matters is us, our bodies joined, his words, our pleasure. His other hand gripped my hair tightly and he yanked my head back as I cried out against his palm. He was moving my body onto him as he fucked me, causing his cock to penetrate me even more deeply, deeply enough that the fullest length of the stroke was painful and I loved the little bang of pain as he started to withdraw. I groaned, drunk on sex and submission and love and adoration for the man who was taking me there.
His words continued crashing over me, and he let go of my face to slap my breasts, hard, over and over. I moaned. "Oh fuck, I love it when you hurt me," I whispered.
"I know you do, fuck toy," he responded, his hand still slapping my breasts, his other hand yanking gently on my hair.
"I love it.. oh, God, I love it when you hurt me while you fuck me," I managed to clarify.
"I know," he said, pulling me against him tightly as he fucked me, harder, harder, twisting my nipple so that I screamed a little scream that I cut short for the sake of the neighbors. God, how I miss living in a house where I could scream as loudly as I needed to.
He was coming inside me, yanking me against him tightly as he pulsed. His hands slowly stroked my breasts, my face. I purred.
"Love you," he said softly, pulling me close, wrapping his leg around me, "so much."
"Mmm, love you, husband," I whispered, wriggling against him, still so very aroused.
He fell asleep with his fingertips still slowly stroking my skin.
I was okay with it. It had been too late for sex in the first place. I purred softly as I lay there with his softening cock sliding out of my body. I do love him so, and I was delighted to have had sex. I'll take any sex with him I can get; especially insanely hot sex. I lay there imagining the entire thing, thinking about it, turning it over in my head. That is what I do after he falls asleep; I think. I don't ever fall asleep quickly.
I shifted slightly to relieve an ache in my back, rolling forward onto my stomach, and he stirred. It's funny because I don't think he's actually aware of falling asleep - he just continues on as if nothing has happened. His hand wandered possessively over my ass, slipping down between my legs, and I opened them for him, moaning softly because he felt so damn good.
His fingers worked their magic, sliding gently around my clit, delicately strumming directly on it, sliding briefly inside me and then back to my clit. I was panting, squirming, trying to climb away from the sensations. His other hand slipped under me, gripped my breast hard, and I was trapped between his hands, shivers travelling between them like an electric current running between my sensitive points - a current that was arcing from one hand to the other as his fingers danced. I moaned over and over, deeper and deeper as I sank into bliss.
"Come for me," he said.
"Oh, oh, nuh-uh," I whimpered, squirming, trying to lift myself from his hands, terrified of what I could feel coming, the glorious, glowing abyss that was about to open and consume me whole.
"Yes," he said, harder, his fingers insistent, his voice not brooking disobedience. "Come for me."
Orgasms. That's what I remember most about the whole thing. A chorus of screams that never ended. I saw God, who was perhaps summoned by my constant repetition of his name. My muscles could not even begin keep up with the intensity and I was shaking uncontrollably by the time he finally stopped, deep, animalistic grunts and groans emerging from my throat, completely bypassing my tongue and lips.
"Look at you go," I heard him say over the roaring sound of blood in my ears, over my own helpless cries after dozens of orgasms.
"Oh. FUCK," I panted, drenched in sweat, completely overwhelmed by the intensity of the experience I had just endured. "Oh fuck. Oh my God, oh my God ohmygodohmygod, ohfuck." My hands still slapped the bed at intervals as I recovered. I trembled all over, too hot, too hot. Stifling. I needed to breathe - my panting was not getting enough oxygen to my lungs. I shoved the lightweight bamboo sheet off of me, relishing the feeling of our fan as it oscillated over my sweaty body. Through all of that, his fingertips stroked my back, my legs, triggering aftershocks and loud, loud moans from me. As I lay there nude in the breeze from the fan, sighing and trembling with pleasure, his hand ceased stroking, tightening on my hip and pulling me toward him.
"Oh, please don't cover me up," I begged, pushing damp strands of hair away from my face. I wanted to be close to him but I'd just gotten enough air.
"I won't," he assured me. "Is it all right if I fuck you, though?" It wasn't really a question, though it was phrased as such. He pressed his hard-again cock against me and I moaned.
"Oh, yes, please," I whispered, leaning forward more, rubbing my backside against him, bending so his entrance would be as easy as possible for him.
"Girl isn't tired of fucking?" he asked as he pushed into me in one smooth stroke.
I moaned deeply in response. "Girl is for fucking," I murmured, pressing back into him and squeezing. Oh how I do love being his.
Good thing the man took a brief mid-sex nap.
I recommend it.
It was late. Too late for sex. Too late for anything beyond snuggling. But his hand wandered across my back, my breasts, and I moaned deeply. The way he touches me imparts his sense of ownership directly into my brain, and that is enough to ignite my desire. I turned a little onto my stomach, spreading my legs and lifting my ass in the air. His hand was gliding along my thighs, across my sex, and then he was slapping my pussy lightly but relentlessly.
My moans only got louder as I slowly writhed to his slaps.
"What has got you so worked up anyway, girl?" he asked as I kept moaning, my brain already short-circuited, already a sex toy and not much more. "Did I use you, fuck toy? Did I please myself with you? Did that excite you?"
"uh, uh, uh... yes sir," I managed, each syllable a long drawn-out cry as he kept spanking my pussy.
"Would you like me to fuck you now, girl?" he asked.
"yessss," I hissed softly. I could feel my wetness seeping out as he slapped my sex.
He pulled me onto my side, facing away from him, and guided his cock slowly into me, just the head at first. "Oh yeah, girl, is that good for you?" It was clearly good for him based on the new timbre his voice had gained. I shuddered and squirmed back onto him, trying to take him all the way into me. He let me, and then his hand was moving across my face, his fingertips at first, gentle touches that turned into his whole hand clamping down across my face.
"Take me, fuck hole," he ordered as I moaned, making me moan even louder, the pressure of his hand on my face and the words coming from his mouth combining to make me descend so, so far into subspace where the only thing that matters is us, our bodies joined, his words, our pleasure. His other hand gripped my hair tightly and he yanked my head back as I cried out against his palm. He was moving my body onto him as he fucked me, causing his cock to penetrate me even more deeply, deeply enough that the fullest length of the stroke was painful and I loved the little bang of pain as he started to withdraw. I groaned, drunk on sex and submission and love and adoration for the man who was taking me there.
His words continued crashing over me, and he let go of my face to slap my breasts, hard, over and over. I moaned. "Oh fuck, I love it when you hurt me," I whispered.
"I know you do, fuck toy," he responded, his hand still slapping my breasts, his other hand yanking gently on my hair.
"I love it.. oh, God, I love it when you hurt me while you fuck me," I managed to clarify.
"I know," he said, pulling me against him tightly as he fucked me, harder, harder, twisting my nipple so that I screamed a little scream that I cut short for the sake of the neighbors. God, how I miss living in a house where I could scream as loudly as I needed to.
He was coming inside me, yanking me against him tightly as he pulsed. His hands slowly stroked my breasts, my face. I purred.
"Love you," he said softly, pulling me close, wrapping his leg around me, "so much."
"Mmm, love you, husband," I whispered, wriggling against him, still so very aroused.
He fell asleep with his fingertips still slowly stroking my skin.
I was okay with it. It had been too late for sex in the first place. I purred softly as I lay there with his softening cock sliding out of my body. I do love him so, and I was delighted to have had sex. I'll take any sex with him I can get; especially insanely hot sex. I lay there imagining the entire thing, thinking about it, turning it over in my head. That is what I do after he falls asleep; I think. I don't ever fall asleep quickly.
I shifted slightly to relieve an ache in my back, rolling forward onto my stomach, and he stirred. It's funny because I don't think he's actually aware of falling asleep - he just continues on as if nothing has happened. His hand wandered possessively over my ass, slipping down between my legs, and I opened them for him, moaning softly because he felt so damn good.
His fingers worked their magic, sliding gently around my clit, delicately strumming directly on it, sliding briefly inside me and then back to my clit. I was panting, squirming, trying to climb away from the sensations. His other hand slipped under me, gripped my breast hard, and I was trapped between his hands, shivers travelling between them like an electric current running between my sensitive points - a current that was arcing from one hand to the other as his fingers danced. I moaned over and over, deeper and deeper as I sank into bliss.
"Come for me," he said.
"Oh, oh, nuh-uh," I whimpered, squirming, trying to lift myself from his hands, terrified of what I could feel coming, the glorious, glowing abyss that was about to open and consume me whole.
"Yes," he said, harder, his fingers insistent, his voice not brooking disobedience. "Come for me."
Orgasms. That's what I remember most about the whole thing. A chorus of screams that never ended. I saw God, who was perhaps summoned by my constant repetition of his name. My muscles could not even begin keep up with the intensity and I was shaking uncontrollably by the time he finally stopped, deep, animalistic grunts and groans emerging from my throat, completely bypassing my tongue and lips.
"Look at you go," I heard him say over the roaring sound of blood in my ears, over my own helpless cries after dozens of orgasms.
"Oh. FUCK," I panted, drenched in sweat, completely overwhelmed by the intensity of the experience I had just endured. "Oh fuck. Oh my God, oh my God ohmygodohmygod, ohfuck." My hands still slapped the bed at intervals as I recovered. I trembled all over, too hot, too hot. Stifling. I needed to breathe - my panting was not getting enough oxygen to my lungs. I shoved the lightweight bamboo sheet off of me, relishing the feeling of our fan as it oscillated over my sweaty body. Through all of that, his fingertips stroked my back, my legs, triggering aftershocks and loud, loud moans from me. As I lay there nude in the breeze from the fan, sighing and trembling with pleasure, his hand ceased stroking, tightening on my hip and pulling me toward him.
"Oh, please don't cover me up," I begged, pushing damp strands of hair away from my face. I wanted to be close to him but I'd just gotten enough air.
"I won't," he assured me. "Is it all right if I fuck you, though?" It wasn't really a question, though it was phrased as such. He pressed his hard-again cock against me and I moaned.
"Oh, yes, please," I whispered, leaning forward more, rubbing my backside against him, bending so his entrance would be as easy as possible for him.
"Girl isn't tired of fucking?" he asked as he pushed into me in one smooth stroke.
I moaned deeply in response. "Girl is for fucking," I murmured, pressing back into him and squeezing. Oh how I do love being his.
Good thing the man took a brief mid-sex nap.
I recommend it.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Nearly squirting
I don't have the intense details of the sex, the spanking, the flogging that I know occurred.
But I do have an interesting anecdote.
I have the Mirena IUC for birth control, and while it has never bothered me on its own and has done many things to make my life better, occasionally particularly vigorous or rough sex will push the strings up behind my cervix. It hurts. Besides that, I've heard horror stories about the device migrating and even after several years of having it there, those don't leave my head. So when, after awesome sex, I feel pain around my cervix, I have a need to check it.
Don't read any further if you're the sort to shout "TMI!"
I reached my fingers inside myself, but either my husband's cock or his hand that followed had lengthened my vagina and I couldn't feel my cervix.
"My cervix is gone," I groaned, exhausted after multiple screaming orgasms. I tottered off into the bathroom to try to get a better angle, because I knew it was in there somewhere. I squatted over the toilet, and as I reached inside my vagina, my knuckles bumped into my g-spot. From that little bump, clear fluid came pouring out of me, all over my hand. "What the..." I muttered to myself.
I spent some time examining my hand, sniffing it, even tasting it at one point.
Not urine.
Huh.
It didn't feel like anything at all when it happened. It was certainly interesting.
I fixed my strings, washed my hands, and told my husband the story as I curled up in his arms.
So bizarre.
But I do have an interesting anecdote.
I have the Mirena IUC for birth control, and while it has never bothered me on its own and has done many things to make my life better, occasionally particularly vigorous or rough sex will push the strings up behind my cervix. It hurts. Besides that, I've heard horror stories about the device migrating and even after several years of having it there, those don't leave my head. So when, after awesome sex, I feel pain around my cervix, I have a need to check it.
Don't read any further if you're the sort to shout "TMI!"
I reached my fingers inside myself, but either my husband's cock or his hand that followed had lengthened my vagina and I couldn't feel my cervix.
"My cervix is gone," I groaned, exhausted after multiple screaming orgasms. I tottered off into the bathroom to try to get a better angle, because I knew it was in there somewhere. I squatted over the toilet, and as I reached inside my vagina, my knuckles bumped into my g-spot. From that little bump, clear fluid came pouring out of me, all over my hand. "What the..." I muttered to myself.
I spent some time examining my hand, sniffing it, even tasting it at one point.
Not urine.
Huh.
It didn't feel like anything at all when it happened. It was certainly interesting.
I fixed my strings, washed my hands, and told my husband the story as I curled up in his arms.
So bizarre.
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.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Long time coming
For various reasons, this past week has been a rough one on sex. We'd played, but I hadn't had cock anywhere but in my mouth since last weekend. I count blow jobs as sex for my "more than once a day" desire, but I was really, really missing attention.
To make it even worse, we were about to embark on a journey that would put us with extremely limited privacy for the whole next week. My future stretched out in front of me, bleak and mostly sexless. I was depressed about the days both behind and in front of me.
I was showing signs of stress and depression, and my husband suggested I go to lie down after dinner. I took a quick bath and then did just as he had suggested. He followed me after cleaning up the kitchen, joining me in bed and pulling me into his arms. We talked for a bit and he stroked my face and arms, kissing along my neck. He pressed into my back and I could feel his erection.
"Why are you turned on?" I asked him.
"Mmm, maybe because you're not stopping me, even though you don't feel like me doing these things to you."
"I belong to you," I responded softly, seriously. I had no reason to stop him.
"I love you, girl who belongs to me," he said. In a whirlwind of motion his hand was in my hair, his fingers curled into a perfect tight grip, pulling my face to his. His other hand was at my throat, squeezing roughly, making me feel his dominance. "I like to kiss you, girl who belongs to me." His lips claimed mine and then he was sucking my tongue into his mouth. He does this thing where he keeps it, not letting me pull it away, and I was squealing as I tried. He didn't let me have it, just kept sucking on it, squeezing my throat, pulling me close to him. I kicked my feet at nothing and tapped my hands uselessly against him. He finally let my mouth go and I panted against his chest, my tongue feeling too big for my mouth, like it no longer belonged inside me.
"I could make you suck my cock right now, girl who belongs to me," he whispered. "And you'd do it, wouldn't you? Because you belong to me."
"Yes sir." I was breathing hard still.
"But I should probably leave your mouth alone for now." his fingers wandered down between my legs. I'm so used to being naked below the waist in bed that I do it even when I'm not planning to stay there. His fingers slid inside me and played while he talked to me. I moaned softly as I felt his cock press against my leg.
"Oh, God, I want you," I pleaded with him.
"I know, girl who belongs to me," he said, his fingers pressing against my g-spot and rolling against my clit.
I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close to me. "Oh, please, please," I begged.
"Please what, love?" he asked as I humped his hand, unable to stop myself.
"Please fuck me," I begged. "Oh, please, please."
"Mmm, can't have me yet, girl. You'll have to wait for bedtime. It's not bedtime." He kissed me, his fingers working their slow magic.
I groaned loudly and bucked, pulling him closer to me. I was losing it. "Please, Master, please, it's been so long, I'll be a good fuck hole," I pleaded.
He groaned and pressed his hardness against me even harder, exciting me so fucking much more.
"You have to wait, my girl," he whispered. That was it, the cock that I couldn't have, his words, his incessant denial, his magic fingers, and my own willingness to debase myself for his cock inside me sent me spiraling into orgasm. I clung to him as I shook, barely managing to restrain my cries of pleasure. He kept touching me.
Our little one knocked on the door and came meandering in. I clung to my husband, whispering "Oh my God," as they had some sort of conversation. He rolled away from me to continue the conversation and I snuggled up to his back, sliding my hand up between his legs to stroke his hard cock beneath the comforter.
The little one was gathered up for his own date night and my husband rolled back to me, his fingers finding my sensitive places again. "I still want you," I begged.
Despite the fact that light was still streaming through our window and it wasn't yet "bedtime," his shorts were gone quickly, and his boxers, and then he was inside me, holding on to me and fucking me hard from behind as we lay on our sides. It was glorious. "My pussy has missed your cock so much," I moaned out.
"My cock has missed your pussy," he assured me, cupping my breast in his hand and applying slow, intense pressure to my nipple, making me scream.
It didn't last long; it wasn't meant to. After he'd spent himself, his fingers were back inside me, playing me like his own personal instrument, and I was close. So fucking close. I was tossing my head, moaning, he was saying the perfect things to me.
Knock knock sounded at the door.
I don't know if you know this, but Friday night there was a massive blackout on the east coast. Several popular websites went completely down due to it. One of them was Netflix, which is where most of our entertainment comes from. "We need one of you!" said the little person. None of us knew about the blackout at this time either.
"Give us a minute!" said my husband. I groaned deeply. He kept touching me, harder, faster. "I guess one of us should go," he said.
"I'll go if you want me to," I moaned. I'd go anywhere he wanted me to.
"I suppose it would be better if you did. I do smell like sex." He kept fucking me with his hand, driving me closer to the edge of the cliff. I wanted him to push me over.
"And I don't? But I'll go if you want me to."
"Okay. You should go." He moved faster and faster, pressing against my g-spot.
"I can't go if you don't stop," I said, or something that would have resembled that if I was speaking English and not Nearing Orgasmish.
"I'll stop," he whispered, and he did, once he had pushed me right up to the very edge. I shook with unreleased sexual tension.
I sat up and pulled on my clothes. "You're a bad man and I'm not altogether sure I like you," I said in a shaky voice. I was trembling all over, my nipples hard points underneath my shirt.
To make it even worse, we were about to embark on a journey that would put us with extremely limited privacy for the whole next week. My future stretched out in front of me, bleak and mostly sexless. I was depressed about the days both behind and in front of me.
I was showing signs of stress and depression, and my husband suggested I go to lie down after dinner. I took a quick bath and then did just as he had suggested. He followed me after cleaning up the kitchen, joining me in bed and pulling me into his arms. We talked for a bit and he stroked my face and arms, kissing along my neck. He pressed into my back and I could feel his erection.
"Why are you turned on?" I asked him.
"Mmm, maybe because you're not stopping me, even though you don't feel like me doing these things to you."
"I belong to you," I responded softly, seriously. I had no reason to stop him.
"I love you, girl who belongs to me," he said. In a whirlwind of motion his hand was in my hair, his fingers curled into a perfect tight grip, pulling my face to his. His other hand was at my throat, squeezing roughly, making me feel his dominance. "I like to kiss you, girl who belongs to me." His lips claimed mine and then he was sucking my tongue into his mouth. He does this thing where he keeps it, not letting me pull it away, and I was squealing as I tried. He didn't let me have it, just kept sucking on it, squeezing my throat, pulling me close to him. I kicked my feet at nothing and tapped my hands uselessly against him. He finally let my mouth go and I panted against his chest, my tongue feeling too big for my mouth, like it no longer belonged inside me.
"I could make you suck my cock right now, girl who belongs to me," he whispered. "And you'd do it, wouldn't you? Because you belong to me."
"Yes sir." I was breathing hard still.
"But I should probably leave your mouth alone for now." his fingers wandered down between my legs. I'm so used to being naked below the waist in bed that I do it even when I'm not planning to stay there. His fingers slid inside me and played while he talked to me. I moaned softly as I felt his cock press against my leg.
"Oh, God, I want you," I pleaded with him.
"I know, girl who belongs to me," he said, his fingers pressing against my g-spot and rolling against my clit.
I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close to me. "Oh, please, please," I begged.
"Please what, love?" he asked as I humped his hand, unable to stop myself.
"Please fuck me," I begged. "Oh, please, please."
"Mmm, can't have me yet, girl. You'll have to wait for bedtime. It's not bedtime." He kissed me, his fingers working their slow magic.
I groaned loudly and bucked, pulling him closer to me. I was losing it. "Please, Master, please, it's been so long, I'll be a good fuck hole," I pleaded.
He groaned and pressed his hardness against me even harder, exciting me so fucking much more.
"You have to wait, my girl," he whispered. That was it, the cock that I couldn't have, his words, his incessant denial, his magic fingers, and my own willingness to debase myself for his cock inside me sent me spiraling into orgasm. I clung to him as I shook, barely managing to restrain my cries of pleasure. He kept touching me.
Our little one knocked on the door and came meandering in. I clung to my husband, whispering "Oh my God," as they had some sort of conversation. He rolled away from me to continue the conversation and I snuggled up to his back, sliding my hand up between his legs to stroke his hard cock beneath the comforter.
The little one was gathered up for his own date night and my husband rolled back to me, his fingers finding my sensitive places again. "I still want you," I begged.
Despite the fact that light was still streaming through our window and it wasn't yet "bedtime," his shorts were gone quickly, and his boxers, and then he was inside me, holding on to me and fucking me hard from behind as we lay on our sides. It was glorious. "My pussy has missed your cock so much," I moaned out.
"My cock has missed your pussy," he assured me, cupping my breast in his hand and applying slow, intense pressure to my nipple, making me scream.
It didn't last long; it wasn't meant to. After he'd spent himself, his fingers were back inside me, playing me like his own personal instrument, and I was close. So fucking close. I was tossing my head, moaning, he was saying the perfect things to me.
Knock knock sounded at the door.
I don't know if you know this, but Friday night there was a massive blackout on the east coast. Several popular websites went completely down due to it. One of them was Netflix, which is where most of our entertainment comes from. "We need one of you!" said the little person. None of us knew about the blackout at this time either.
"Give us a minute!" said my husband. I groaned deeply. He kept touching me, harder, faster. "I guess one of us should go," he said.
"I'll go if you want me to," I moaned. I'd go anywhere he wanted me to.
"I suppose it would be better if you did. I do smell like sex." He kept fucking me with his hand, driving me closer to the edge of the cliff. I wanted him to push me over.
"And I don't? But I'll go if you want me to."
"Okay. You should go." He moved faster and faster, pressing against my g-spot.
"I can't go if you don't stop," I said, or something that would have resembled that if I was speaking English and not Nearing Orgasmish.
"I'll stop," he whispered, and he did, once he had pushed me right up to the very edge. I shook with unreleased sexual tension.
I sat up and pulled on my clothes. "You're a bad man and I'm not altogether sure I like you," I said in a shaky voice. I was trembling all over, my nipples hard points underneath my shirt.
"I know," he said smugly, a laugh barely restrained behind his words.
Have you ever tried to do tech support on a problem that is literally impossible for you to fix while you are right at the edge of orgasm? It's fucking hard. It took all my concentration just to stand on my feet. And then there are the user questions like "Try it on your computer," which you know won't work but they won't be satisfied that it won't until you show them. Trying to type? Impossible. I trembled all over and this whole scenario took a long time to rectify, finally having to supply them with a laptop and DVDs, and being interrupted several times after that when they did something retarded to the laptop.
There's more to the night - but I have to go sleep. It's been a long hard day and a lovely soft bed is waiting for me now. I hope everyone is having a wonderful July!
Have you ever tried to do tech support on a problem that is literally impossible for you to fix while you are right at the edge of orgasm? It's fucking hard. It took all my concentration just to stand on my feet. And then there are the user questions like "Try it on your computer," which you know won't work but they won't be satisfied that it won't until you show them. Trying to type? Impossible. I trembled all over and this whole scenario took a long time to rectify, finally having to supply them with a laptop and DVDs, and being interrupted several times after that when they did something retarded to the laptop.
There's more to the night - but I have to go sleep. It's been a long hard day and a lovely soft bed is waiting for me now. I hope everyone is having a wonderful July!
Sunday, June 17, 2012
All you need is love
It was late when we finally stopped chattering like teenagers and turned off the lights. "What can I do for you, love?" I asked him as I wrapped my arms around him, resting my head on his shoulder, running my palms over his back and chest, squeezing him to me.
"Mmm, hold me. Love me. Touch me. Kiss me. Be mine," he whispered, his lips lowering to settle gently on mine as I tilted my face to look at him.
"I am yours," I said when our lips finally parted, slipping my hand under his shirt, letting my fingers dance over all his sensitive places. I know them well after the years I've spent touching him.
I teased him, and he let me. I slid off his shirt, gliding my hands over his bare chest, setting to work on one of his nipples gently with my teeth. He moaned with pleasure and I rolled his other nipple between my fingers. I could feel the vibrations of his cock thumping periodically against his belly. I moved my lips up to his and kissed him as I climbed over his body to his other side, the one that rarely gets attention from my lips.
I worked his boxers off, kissing his hips and thighs, slowly licking his cock on my way back up to his chest. "Oh, good girl," he moaned as I dragged my tongue up the length of his cock.
I spent a long time touching and kissing him, wrapping my fingers around his cock at intervals, squeezing, stroking it, relishing his moans of enjoyment, before I let my fingertips dance away to glide across some other part of his body. I kissed the head of his cock once, a long, wet kiss with tongue, sucking the entire head into my mouth and rolling my tongue across it.
"Oh, yes, suck it, baby," he groaned.
"Mmm, not yet," I whispered as I pulled my mouth away, letting my lips linger against the straining head while I spoke. I went back to touching him all over, at one point sliding down his body to love on the tops of his feet, making him squirm. I turned the fan away from us while I was at the foot of the bed, then slid back up his body.
I straddled his knees and took his hand, sucking his thumb slowly into my mouth, all the way into my throat, stretching my lips around the base of his hand while my other hand delicately stroked over his chest. I moaned as I felt the tip of his thumb enter my throat. It just barely reaches there, a terrible tease. I groaned and sucked hard on it before pulling my mouth away, to switch to his other thumb. My free hand wandered over his body, rubbing his cock, his nipples, his lips, as I sucked his thumb into my mouth, letting my teeth sink gently into the fleshy part when it stretched my mouth. I pulled my mouth off his thumb and just bit hard into the fleshy part, which is a thing I do when overcome by desire, managing to restrain the bite so it's not painful. He's used to it, and he groaned too.
I pulled my mouth away from his hand and licked up the underside of his cock as it lay straining for attention against his belly. I slid back and forth, skating on my tongue, until it was too much for both of us and I slowly sucked his entire cock into my mouth, feeling it enter my throat and block my air.
"Oh, good, good girl, you suck that cock," he groaned, his hands tightening in my hair.
I did. Oh, yes, I did. I pulled away briefly to remove my own shirt, letting my breasts become part of the blow job too, squeezing them around him occasionally as I sucked just on the head of his cock.
Eventually my arms grew tired and I rolled onto my side, tugging him over with me to toss his leg over my shoulder. This is when he began to torment my nipple, making me groan with the pain as I sucked him.
I heard him as he approached orgasm, those wonderful noises of pleasure too intense to bear. It was a long time coming, and he came for a long time as I sucked it all out of him. I rested, my head near his hip. He held my hands in both of his as we rested, letting go of me for just long enough for me to turn the fan back toward us. It was hot. We dozed.
"You're wonderful to me," he whispered. "Why are you so good to me?"
"I am for you," I responded, half asleep.
I think we might have slept then, but when I woke to him moving over me, kissing me, the tea light on our nightstand was still burning, so it couldn't have been for very long. He kissed me passionately, his hands pulling my legs open, trapping my right one between his thighs. His fingers slipped between my folds and he made a pleased noise, as did I. "Ooh, my girl gets so turned on sucking my cock," he whispered, his lips finding mine again and claiming them, sucking my tongue into his mouth and capturing it as his fingers continued making me feel incredible.
"You like when I fuck you, don't you?
"Yes sir," I responded, breathless, moaning, unable to deal.
"You like being my slave, don't you?" he asked, deliberately, calculated, timed with his movements to make me squeal.
"Oh, yes, master," I squealed, my hips undulating to his every little movement.
He slid his fingers out of me, returning to rolling his fingers all around my pussy, making sure to give lots of attention to my clit, moving his head and capturing my nipple between his teeth, effectively trapping me, pinning me, as I writhed beneath him. He bit into my nipple hard enough to make me cry out.
"Oh, fuck, that hurts, master," I whined, bucking under him, enjoying the bite of pain, but wanting desperately to move more.
He pulled his mouth away briefly. "It's supposed to hurt, girl," he whispered against my skin, making me squeal again with the intentional nature of the act as he sucked my nipple back into his mouth and bit it again. His fingers were building the pleasure between my thighs to a level I couldn't tolerate, and I kicked and struggled, arching my hips up into him as much as I could as a scream emerged from me, starting as a small cry and building, building into a crescendo of sound that I couldn't dampen, my legs kicking out straight my back arching, forcing my nipple even harder into his mouth as the orgasm took everything that I had, leaving me an exhausted mass of nerve endings.
He wasn't stopping. Oh, God. I screamed again and rolled into him, his arm tightening around my shoulders and holding me tight to him as his fingers continued their nearly intolerable dance on my sex. "Oh I know, it's so hard to be mine, isn't it? I force you to do such horrible things. Or maybe just things you're too exhausted for," he murmured against my temple as he slowly coaxed more orgasms, more screams from me.
Finally, he stopped, gently soothing me before he pulled away. As I whispered words of love and thanks, the candle on our nightstand finally burned itself out.
We were asleep very very soon thereafter.
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