My life is brilliant. Every night I fall asleep in the arms of my delicious, fantastic, sexy husband who, even half asleep, keeps mumbling about how happy he is with me and how much he loves me.
Every night.
My life is a fairy tale dream from which I have no desire to be awakened.
It must be real, though, because the pain of his fingers clamping down on my nipple still makes me scream. My screams still seem to cause him to erupt. Those pinches do not change my reality except to sharpen it.
He revels in the power I have gifted him over my entire being.
"Your body is mine," he murmurs against my temple.
"Yes sir," I whisper in response.
"Your soul is mine," he says roughly, directly into my ear, and I shudder. His hand is causing pain somewhere. Slapping my breasts, making me arch into him, or perhaps smacking into my spread open vulva.
Showing posts with label pussy spanking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pussy spanking. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Monday, March 4, 2013
Hundreds of orgasms
He pulls me in close. "You like to think about sex, don't you?" he whispers right into my ear.
"Yes sir," I answer, my voice low with my mouth buried against his neck.
"You don't just like to think about it, though, you like to hear about it. You like me to tell you, remind you what a dirty slut you are, that you are mine."
"Yes sir."
He yanks my legs apart and he hits my inner thighs, and then my pussy with a measured force that hurts, but doesn't sting so badly I try to close my legs. I whimper with each one, and eventually I am arching into them, my whimpers changing to half-moans.
"Does this hurt, girl?" he asks, keeping his rhythm steady. My clit is hiding but the steady thump thump thump on my mound really feels good to it, despite the low-level pain on the external bits.
"Yes sir," I whimper.
"Do you like it when I hurt you, girl?"
"Yes sir," I moan. Oh, I really do.
"You like to be owned," he says, not really a question, as he moves his blows back to my thighs.
And then he stops hitting me and his fingers are sliding around, stroking my folds, dragging the wetness up to my clit, making me gasp. He holds me tightly against him, his beard is pressed into my cheek, his lips right against my ear. Later, my face will feel burned. Now, I don't notice.
"Look at you, moaning with your legs spread." The way he is holding me, his cock is pressing against the back of my hand. I turn my hand around so my fingers can encircle his erection, and he pushes it harder against me, fucking my hand.
"Feel that cock? You like the way that feels?" He waits for my head to nod against him as I release a shuddery breath, then continues. "I'm going to fuck you with it."
I gasp, trembling. His fingers are sliding over my clit, over and over, around, over. It feels amazing but the real treat, the true centerpieces of the experience, are the words coming out of him.
"Yeah, that's right. You're my fuck slave. My sweet little fucking slut-slave. Gonna take this cock and spread you open, invade you, fuck you. Or maybe I won't. Maybe I'll just rub it all over your face. Or let you take just the head in your mouth. Oh, you gonna come for me, bitch? Gonna come just from thinking about sucking on the head of my cock? Yeah, do it, bitch, come on, come for me, yeah, good girl."
Without the words I wouldn't be anywhere near orgasm, but with them I can't stop. I scream and arch into his touch and he just keeps talking while his fingers do the supplemental stimulation that pushes me over the edge, over and over. "Oh yeah, come for me again, bitch. Yeah, you just can't stop can you? 'cause that's how you work, once you get going you just....can't... stop. You like thinking about my cock down your throat? About me fucking your face like it's a pussy?"
"Oh, God... I can't breathe with your cock down my throat."
"Mmmm, I know, and you're so fucking helpless. You love that, don't you?"
I can't answer him, I'm too busy coming. God, the words just keep pouring out of him.
"You couldn't stop me if you wanted to, could you?"
"No sir," I pant, trying to catch my breath.
"Go on, girl, try and stop me." He tosses his leg over mine, pinning me down and open. He wants me to fight him? What? I struggle, trying to first arch up to get his leg off me, to pull away. I'm weakened by orgasms; he's stronger, pins me down, keeps me open to him, continues forcing orgasms out of me. His strength thrills me and I come again even as I struggle.
"See, girl? You're mine. Can't stop me," he drives his point home straight into my ear as I scream my pleasure.
He positions himself over me, his mouth over my left nipple. "I'm gonna bite your nipple now," he says.
"Oh, God, that'll hurt," I whimper.
"Yes it will," he says, and closes his mouth over me. I don't feel anything at all at first, just his fingers continuing to deliver the constant stream of pleasure between my legs, and then his teeth are biting down into the tender nub of flesh atop my breast, really, really biting it. It's sharp, it hurts, I scream. I arch up - into his bite. I scream again, and his fingers close over my right nipple, hurting it even more than his teeth are hurting the left one. I scream - loudly. A monster fucking orgasm comes barreling down onto me and I spasm into him.
"OH THAT FUCKING HURTS," I scream/growl. "FUCK YES, HURT ME, HURT ME, FUCKING HURT ME, YES, FUCK, I LOVE IT WHEN YOU HURT ME." My hands, completely free agents at this point, grab his head and press it hard against me. I don't want to lose this incredible feeling. The more I scream about loving it, the more he hurts me and the more I come. It's a feedback loop of incredibly intense proportions and oh GOD how can I come so intensely from having my nipples tortured so? But I do. He makes self-satisfied "mmhmm" noises. How someone can manage to sound so in control with his mouth full of nipple I'll never know.
I lose all track of time as the orgasms wash over me. Eventually he stops biting/pinching my nipples, but still I am completely owned, his voice has wrapped around my brain and I will do anything he tells me - including come.
"You want to suck my cock now?" he asks, years later, as I am gasping for air, spent, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it everywhere. The guttural noise of anticipation that comes from me is partially caused by the roughness in my voice from all the screaming, but it's mostly a genuine expression of desire. His cock has been fucking into my hand for ages now, and I really, really want it inside me. Anywhere.
"Yes sir," I gasp out, taking my face from his neck to look up at him. He's still touching me, still slowly delivering orgasms as he speaks.
"Or I could fuck your pussy," he says, pausing, clearly waiting for my response.
"Mmmhmm," I respond.
"Or your ass," he says, just as casually.
"Mmmhmmm," I say. "Want your cock inside me," I beg, squeezing it with my hand, my hips still moving to his touch as another orgasm slowly builds.
"And you don't care where, huh?"
"Just want your cock inside me," I repeat.
"Fuck-slave," he says.
"Yes sir," I agree, though his words shake me and my words come out even more tremulous than they had been.
"Suck it, then, slave," he orders.
"Yes Master," I say as I move. I lick all along his shaft first, getting it good and slippery before I slide my mouth on it in one smooth gliding stroke, making sure to compress the head the way he likes as it passes my lips. We both groan as his cock slides to the back of my throat.
He grabs onto my hair, tightening his hands into fists, and I scream around the hard flesh in my mouth. Oh, I do love it. The anticipation is driving me mad, and then his hips start moving. "Ohh, good fuck hole," he says. "My good fuck hole. Is it hard for you to breathe when I fuck your face like this, fuck hole?"
"Mmmhmm!" I manage to respond even as he keeps driving his cock all the way into my face. I'm sure my excitement about the entire situation is blatantly obvious.
"I don't care," he says, and I squeal with a new flush of arousal. His cock in my throat cuts off my squeal. "Just take it," he growls. His hips are moving smoothly, his cock never completely leaves my mouth, and we are both really, really enjoying ourselves. My tongue rolls over his cock as it plunders my mouth and I suck until he enters my throat, which makes pretty much any active participation difficult.
He gathers up all of my hair and hauls up on my head, popping his cock out of my mouth. It strains toward me, slick with my saliva, shiny, wanting. I open my mouth to take it in and start to move back down, but he has all of my hair in his fist. I moan helplessly.
"What's the matter, girl? Wanna suck the cock?"
"Uh-huh," I squeal, my head held captive by the hair.
"Go on, then, girl, suck the cock. What's stopping you?" He keeps holding my hair as I pull against it, feeling more and more tension as I try with all my might to take his cock in my mouth. I cry out with arousal and frustration - it so turns me on when he tells me to do something he's preventing me from doing, and added to that that he is forcing me to pull my own hair - oh, he is a diabolical sexy genius. I am panting, pulling, a stream of frustrated cries coming from my mouth. I can just barely reach the head of his cock with my tongue, and so I do. It darts out to lick and I moan as my tongue strokes over the smooth surface. I want it in my mouth! Why won't he just let me?
"How badly you want that cock, girl?" he asks over my frustrated squeals.
"Oh, God, fuck my face!" I beg.
He lets go of my hair, then, and taunts me between his own pleased noises as I consume him. "Horny slut," he murmurs, "I never did see a girl want a cock in her mouth so badly she almost pulls out her own hair."
He fucks my face, holding my head. "Maybe I should fuck your pussy now," he says. "I could get on top of you, hold you down, fuck you. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
My ability to respond is limited to "mmhmm," but I make it a good one.
"Or I could fuck you sideways... fuck you from behind.. put you on the ramp. I could fuck your ass." He keeps talking and I keep sucking, responding to each suggestion with equal enthusiasm. I just love fucking him any way he wants.
"Oh but you really like the cock in your pretty face, don't you?" he asks.
"Mmhmm," I agree, and I do, especially now after I had to work so hard for it. I wrap my arms around him, grip his ass, pull him into me hard, take him as deeply into my throat as I can and leave him there until I must breathe. I pull away to inhale great lungfuls of air and then repeat the entire thing, over and over. Oh, it's amazing. It's really, really amazing. He's loving it too, and eventually he's coming into my face.
"Oh, fuck, yes, take it down your throat, girl," he whispers, holding my head tightly against him as I swallow.
I keep sucking him for a long, long time, long after his cock has deflated and resumed its previous unassuming size. Eventually he pulls me up into his arms again, and we talk for a while about submission, about evolution and hard-wiring. I wind up feeling a little hurt and I go silent, but he's not having that, and we talk even more, until the entire thing is a nonissue because honestly he's incredible.
And then his fingers are exploring me again, but now I'm on my stomach and he's sliding his thumb inside me while his fingers stroke my clit, and he's saying something.
"Gonna come for me, girl?" he says. I shake my head, I'm not quite there.
"Yes you are," he says, "don't even bother trying to fight it. You're my fuck-slave and you'll fucking come for me when I tell you to. Now come for me!"
The entire speech sends me rocketing off into orgasm-land, much-aided by his manual ministrations, of course. After I settle, I feel his cock, hard again. "Turn on your side and give me your pussy," he says.
I do, facing away from him, bent over. I might have liked him atop me better, but it's gotten very late and we're probably both too spent for that. His cock slides into me easily because I'm soaked with arousal, and we both enjoy that sensation. He drags my top leg backward over his hip so he can stimulate my clit while we move together.
I move my hand down to feel his cock as it moves in and out of me. It's a busy area - his hand on my clit, my hand on the base of his cock, our bodies fucking. It's sex. It's the definition of sex and it is very, very, sexy. I groan. "Let me suck it again," I whisper.
He does. I suck him down my throat, a very enjoyable repeat of what we'd already done, flavored now with the countless orgasms I'd already had. When he comes again, he comes for a long time. It feels pretty intense from where I am. Some of it comes out of my nose, but not enough to burn.
His fingers are on me again, stroking my clit as he kisses me hotly. My body is his plaything; it responds to his touch quickly since I am already so very very primed.
"Gonna come for me?" he asks as my body arches up. I shake my head, not there yet, and he speaks again. "Yes Master. I'll come whenever you tell me to, Master."
Oh my God what is he doing? Oh, fuck, I have to say that. Oh, oh, oh my God. "Yes, Master," I manage, and the orgasm starts to overtake me as the words leave. "I-i-i'll come..." oh, fuck, I'm screaming, it's too much, "whenever you tell me to, Master," I finally manage to eke out the rest of the sentence between my spasms of pleasure and my screams of joy.
He gently soothes my flesh as I come down, kissing me, stroking my body. I am full of things to thank him for.
"Thank you for coming down my throat twice. Thank you for all the orgasms. Thank you for fucking me. Thank you for hurting me. Thank you for talking to me, and making me talk back to you."
He squeezes me close. "Thank you for being mine."
I purr. We are a pile of arms and legs, my head on his shoulder as we drift off to sleep.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Upping the ante, part 1
"Why are we going to bed so early?" I asked my husband, realizing it was only 9 PM, and secretly thrilling a little inside.
"Seemed like a good time to go to bed," he replied as he slid into bed next to me, pulling me close to him. "Is this new, what you're wearing?" He ran his hand down my body to indicate the nightie I'd put on.
"No," I was turned away from him so he couldn't see my smile. It's rare he seems to pay attention to what I'm wearing.
"Just don't wear it often?"
"I brought it from home when we came back," I answered. "I left a lot of stuff like this back there."
"Why is that?"
"I thought maybe we wouldn't be having sex so much after." I laughed at my own thought processes from the time. "And... maybe that you didn't care so much anyway."
He laughed too. "No sex for a year? What do you think now?" His voice was right in my ear, his lips grazing my neck after he spoke, sending shivers down my spine.
"Mmmm, which do you mean?"
"Do you still think I'm not going to have sex with you?"
I laughed pretty loudly then, the very concept foreign enough that it was ridiculous. "No," I said quickly amidst my laughter.
"Good," he said, his hands pulling me closer. "And I do care."
Huh. That's news to me. Never noticed him caring. Score one for communication.
He lit a candle, turned off the lamp, and turned back to me. I was purring as he stroked me, stretching into him. "What's on the menu tonight then?"
"Mmm... love. Maybe some pain." His hands kept stroking me and I made soft noises of appreciation with each item as he listed them. "Some claiming of you... some entering of you."
I had turned toward him as he spoke, and let my hands dance over his skin for a bit, being sure he was finished talking. "Sounds like a nice menu," I said appreciatively.
"I'd like it if you'd kiss me," he whispered.
I like to give him what he likes. So I tilted my face up to his and kissed him, softly at first and with more hunger as his responses fueled mine. My breast rested on his chest, he shoved my nightie out of the way and his fingers stroked my nipple there as we kissed, making me purr. "Love," he breathed out, his fingers gently rolling my nipple.
"Love you," I responded, sucking on his full lower lip.
He slapped my nipple then, pretty sharply. I yelped, jumping a little with the pain.
"Pain," he whispered.
Oh, I get it. It's the menu. He's delivering the menu. My thoughts didn't have much time to settle there because he was slapping my nipple over and over and I was groaning.
He pushed me onto my back so he could slap my breast full on, and I arched into each blow. Oh wow. How long must it have been since he'd done this? Days, at least. I moaned with every thud into my chest.
And then he stopped. What? I was unfocused, breathing hard, bereft of attention but not sure how to process. He'd turned away and was looking for something in his nightstand. "Ahh," he finally said, and turned back to me, rubbing the back of the wooden spoon against my nipple. I shivered and whimpered, a little fearful, but also excited.
He started tapping that spoon into my nipples, lightly at first, and harder as I rose up into the taps, groaning with deep satisfaction. "Oh wow, look at you," he said as he continued, on and on until I lost all thoughts except rising up into the strokes of the spoon, feeling the impacts into my nipples. I was so, so aroused. I could feel myself growing wetter with each blow.
I shivered as he leaned over to kiss me, the spoon resting against the inside of my forearm where it lay on the bed. He took advantage of that position to hit me there, all up and down my inner forearm while he kissed me. I cried out into his mouth as the wood left its mark on my sensitive skin. It felt incredible, and I was overwhelmed. As he hit me on the inner arm, as he kissed me and did whatever else he was doing, I felt myself begin to shake. I arched up as he kept slapping my sensitive skin with the spoon, and I felt an orgasm washing over me. I screamed, shaking as it went through me. "Oh my," he whispered as I vibrated beneath him.
It hurt more when he finally stopped; my flesh throbbed and complained.
"Open your legs for me," he said. He would normally knock them apart but he was propped on one elbow and his other hand was holding the spoon. I whimpered, a little fearful, but I obeyed. He ran the spoon over my inner thighs, over my pussy that was still covered by panties. He slipped them off, then ran the spoon over me again. I whimpered.
"Are you afraid of me?" he asked.
"A little," I answered.
He started slapping the spoon against my inner thighs, just enough to leave a sting behind but not enough to make me feel like I was dying. I was happy with that, lifting my hips and squirming, and then he brushed it over my pussy again, slowly, deliberately.
He is very, very good with the spoon. As he told me later - spoons don't hit people, people hit people. So my initial hate for the thing was on the way he was using it, of course. Residual traces of that fear still linger. I tensed up.
He bent over so that his upper body was across my midsection, facing my spread thighs, pinning me there. I cried out - this was unexpected. He slapped my pussy and my thighs with the spoon, making me writhe beneath him, making me moan and cry out unintelligible sounds.
He resumed his previous position beside me when he was finished, kissing me as he ran the spoon up my body. "Mine," he said against my lips, his free hand gripping my throat and keeping me there while he plundered my mouth. "So mine." His hand ran over my face, and I pressed my face into his hand as it passed, covering my eyes, my nose, my mouth. He pressed. I love it when he presses my face like that. I moaned into his hand.
The spoon rubbed against my cheek, and my mouth opened. He was looking at me, his gaze trapped mine as he slowly, deliberately, slapped my cheek with the spoon. I trembled, a cry spilling from my mouth as he did it again. "Mine," he said firmly, slapping my face with the spoon while I moaned helplessly.
Oh my God he's slapping my face with a wooden spoon. Oh my God. I writhed. Shivers overtook me and I couldn't stop shaking. He finally stopped, put the spoon down, and kissed me while his fingers found their way between my legs. I knew what he would find there.
"Oh my, what have we here?" he asked as his fingers delved into my wetness, as he made little noises come out of me with the slightest touch. "I think we have a nice wet pussy. I think it likes what I do to you."
He played with me a bit, his fingers sliding inside me, his thumb stroking my clit, making me twist and groan. He kissed me the whole time.
"I want you..." he said softly against my lips.
"I want you." I answered, kissing him more fervently.
"... to suck my cock," he finished.
Continued here...
"Seemed like a good time to go to bed," he replied as he slid into bed next to me, pulling me close to him. "Is this new, what you're wearing?" He ran his hand down my body to indicate the nightie I'd put on.
"No," I was turned away from him so he couldn't see my smile. It's rare he seems to pay attention to what I'm wearing.
"Just don't wear it often?"
"I brought it from home when we came back," I answered. "I left a lot of stuff like this back there."
"Why is that?"
"I thought maybe we wouldn't be having sex so much after." I laughed at my own thought processes from the time. "And... maybe that you didn't care so much anyway."
He laughed too. "No sex for a year? What do you think now?" His voice was right in my ear, his lips grazing my neck after he spoke, sending shivers down my spine.
"Mmmm, which do you mean?"
"Do you still think I'm not going to have sex with you?"
I laughed pretty loudly then, the very concept foreign enough that it was ridiculous. "No," I said quickly amidst my laughter.
"Good," he said, his hands pulling me closer. "And I do care."
Huh. That's news to me. Never noticed him caring. Score one for communication.
He lit a candle, turned off the lamp, and turned back to me. I was purring as he stroked me, stretching into him. "What's on the menu tonight then?"
"Mmm... love. Maybe some pain." His hands kept stroking me and I made soft noises of appreciation with each item as he listed them. "Some claiming of you... some entering of you."
I had turned toward him as he spoke, and let my hands dance over his skin for a bit, being sure he was finished talking. "Sounds like a nice menu," I said appreciatively.
"I'd like it if you'd kiss me," he whispered.
I like to give him what he likes. So I tilted my face up to his and kissed him, softly at first and with more hunger as his responses fueled mine. My breast rested on his chest, he shoved my nightie out of the way and his fingers stroked my nipple there as we kissed, making me purr. "Love," he breathed out, his fingers gently rolling my nipple.
"Love you," I responded, sucking on his full lower lip.
He slapped my nipple then, pretty sharply. I yelped, jumping a little with the pain.
"Pain," he whispered.
Oh, I get it. It's the menu. He's delivering the menu. My thoughts didn't have much time to settle there because he was slapping my nipple over and over and I was groaning.
He pushed me onto my back so he could slap my breast full on, and I arched into each blow. Oh wow. How long must it have been since he'd done this? Days, at least. I moaned with every thud into my chest.
And then he stopped. What? I was unfocused, breathing hard, bereft of attention but not sure how to process. He'd turned away and was looking for something in his nightstand. "Ahh," he finally said, and turned back to me, rubbing the back of the wooden spoon against my nipple. I shivered and whimpered, a little fearful, but also excited.
He started tapping that spoon into my nipples, lightly at first, and harder as I rose up into the taps, groaning with deep satisfaction. "Oh wow, look at you," he said as he continued, on and on until I lost all thoughts except rising up into the strokes of the spoon, feeling the impacts into my nipples. I was so, so aroused. I could feel myself growing wetter with each blow.
I shivered as he leaned over to kiss me, the spoon resting against the inside of my forearm where it lay on the bed. He took advantage of that position to hit me there, all up and down my inner forearm while he kissed me. I cried out into his mouth as the wood left its mark on my sensitive skin. It felt incredible, and I was overwhelmed. As he hit me on the inner arm, as he kissed me and did whatever else he was doing, I felt myself begin to shake. I arched up as he kept slapping my sensitive skin with the spoon, and I felt an orgasm washing over me. I screamed, shaking as it went through me. "Oh my," he whispered as I vibrated beneath him.
It hurt more when he finally stopped; my flesh throbbed and complained.
"Open your legs for me," he said. He would normally knock them apart but he was propped on one elbow and his other hand was holding the spoon. I whimpered, a little fearful, but I obeyed. He ran the spoon over my inner thighs, over my pussy that was still covered by panties. He slipped them off, then ran the spoon over me again. I whimpered.
"Are you afraid of me?" he asked.
"A little," I answered.
He started slapping the spoon against my inner thighs, just enough to leave a sting behind but not enough to make me feel like I was dying. I was happy with that, lifting my hips and squirming, and then he brushed it over my pussy again, slowly, deliberately.
He is very, very good with the spoon. As he told me later - spoons don't hit people, people hit people. So my initial hate for the thing was on the way he was using it, of course. Residual traces of that fear still linger. I tensed up.
He bent over so that his upper body was across my midsection, facing my spread thighs, pinning me there. I cried out - this was unexpected. He slapped my pussy and my thighs with the spoon, making me writhe beneath him, making me moan and cry out unintelligible sounds.
He resumed his previous position beside me when he was finished, kissing me as he ran the spoon up my body. "Mine," he said against my lips, his free hand gripping my throat and keeping me there while he plundered my mouth. "So mine." His hand ran over my face, and I pressed my face into his hand as it passed, covering my eyes, my nose, my mouth. He pressed. I love it when he presses my face like that. I moaned into his hand.
The spoon rubbed against my cheek, and my mouth opened. He was looking at me, his gaze trapped mine as he slowly, deliberately, slapped my cheek with the spoon. I trembled, a cry spilling from my mouth as he did it again. "Mine," he said firmly, slapping my face with the spoon while I moaned helplessly.
Oh my God he's slapping my face with a wooden spoon. Oh my God. I writhed. Shivers overtook me and I couldn't stop shaking. He finally stopped, put the spoon down, and kissed me while his fingers found their way between my legs. I knew what he would find there.
"Oh my, what have we here?" he asked as his fingers delved into my wetness, as he made little noises come out of me with the slightest touch. "I think we have a nice wet pussy. I think it likes what I do to you."
He played with me a bit, his fingers sliding inside me, his thumb stroking my clit, making me twist and groan. He kissed me the whole time.
"I want you..." he said softly against my lips.
"I want you." I answered, kissing him more fervently.
"... to suck my cock," he finished.
Continued here...
Monday, January 14, 2013
Too hot to handle
Overwhelmed may begin to describe it; I don't know if I can do a fair job of it beyond that. I do know that I spent a good deal of time just reliving the wonder of it in my head. Sometimes, the man I married is so truly magnificent that I can't understand what he is doing with me - with any human. Surely he should be consort to a goddess somewhere.
There was a thing between us. It was just a tiny thing, said by him in the heat of the moment, but it'd been under my skin for days. It's so rare that we argue, that he says anything at all hurtful, that this was major. I withdrew. I still participated in our marriage, still enjoyed his company, but during quiet moments those words came back to me, made me sad all over again.
He held me in his arms last night, and after several failed kisses, he extracted the problem from me. "But that was days ago!" he said, sounding surprised.
He apologized. It was sincere, and as his words melted the protective ice around my heart, I melted against his side. When his lips came down on mine again, his hand on my throat, a moan rose up to greet him as I kissed him back. I gloried in it as he claimed my mouth, little whimpers of release finally escaping. The ecstasy of belonging to him was unleashed on my brain again, a flush of excitement, of submission, creeping all over my body as our lips danced. "I want to keep you safe from the monsters," he whispered. "I want to make love to you. And I want to use you as my fuck toy."
I whimpered, all of those words hitting me in all the right spots, turning me to a quivering mess. "Do those things conflict?" he asked.
There was a thing between us. It was just a tiny thing, said by him in the heat of the moment, but it'd been under my skin for days. It's so rare that we argue, that he says anything at all hurtful, that this was major. I withdrew. I still participated in our marriage, still enjoyed his company, but during quiet moments those words came back to me, made me sad all over again.
He held me in his arms last night, and after several failed kisses, he extracted the problem from me. "But that was days ago!" he said, sounding surprised.
He apologized. It was sincere, and as his words melted the protective ice around my heart, I melted against his side. When his lips came down on mine again, his hand on my throat, a moan rose up to greet him as I kissed him back. I gloried in it as he claimed my mouth, little whimpers of release finally escaping. The ecstasy of belonging to him was unleashed on my brain again, a flush of excitement, of submission, creeping all over my body as our lips danced. "I want to keep you safe from the monsters," he whispered. "I want to make love to you. And I want to use you as my fuck toy."
I whimpered, all of those words hitting me in all the right spots, turning me to a quivering mess. "Do those things conflict?" he asked.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Alone together
What are two kinky grown people to do when they're left alone for an hour or so in her mom's living room?
What else?
"What you wanna do now?" I asked my husband as the car left the driveway. We were sitting on the sofa. He waggled his eyebrows at me suggestively and I giggled.
His arm was around me and I was kissing his throat, still giggling a little. He tightened his grip and just like that, I was there, his. He shoved my shirt up, shoved my bra out of the way, and his lips were fastened to my nipple - sucking, biting, hurting. I moaned, sliding into the corner of the sofa against the arm, half reclining.
He had my jeans off, and then the layer of long underwear, followed by my panties. "Gonna fuck you, girl," he growled, his hand on my back forcing me to arch my breasts more into his face. His other hand started slapping the breast that he wasn't torturing with his mouth. He was sucking and biting on one side and spanking on the other. I was twisting, but he held me fast.
"Are you for me to fuck?" he asked.
"Yes sir," I moaned.
He shoved my legs apart - one along the sofa's cushions, the other stretched out on the floor, and started spanking my inner thighs, forcing little cries from me with each slap. The Christmas tree twinkled at me.
"Look at you, all naked," he murmured, spanking my spread pussy, making me scream. "Well, mostly." My shirt and bra, pushed up over my breasts, accentuated my nudity rather than helping me feel more covered. I moaned. I felt his hips lift, heard the sofa's springs creak, as he divested himself of his own jeans. His hard cock poked through the slit in his boxers and pressed against my bare leg, the intense heat of it contrasting with the chill of the room that was already trying to settle on my skin.
He was enjoying slapping my sensitive parts far too much. Thigh, pussy, other thigh. I arched into him, and his fingers were gentle, touching my folds but not delving very deep. I groaned.
"Want me, girl?" he asked roughly.
Holy fuck. Is it not obvious?
"Yes sir," I whispered, hoarse from the crying out.
"Hmm... what to do with you," he pondered, pulling away a little. In the corner of the couch with my legs splayed open in either direction is certainly not a position that I recall us trying before. I groaned with disappointment when he was not touching me, but then there he was, the head of his cock nudging at my opening. I have no idea what he had to do to get into that position, to get his cock lined up with me just right. It can't have been easy. I used my hand to spread myself open just a little more around him, and he slid all the way in.
"Ohhhhhh," I moaned as he bottomed out, pressing just that little bit more inside me, stretching me out to accommodate him. I love that feeling.
He was thrusting, talking, saying dirty things. My head was tossed back and I was moaning, arching into him, so I have no idea how he was even moving, but it was good. I moved my legs so that one was up higher along the back of the sofa and the other was wrapped around his back, allowing him a better angle and allowing me to rock with him a little more.
"So fucking sexy," he kept saying, each time prompting a loud agreement from me. Fuck yes, this was sexy.
"You know what would be nice?" he asked eventually.
"Uhhh?" I moaned. This was nice. Nice? Hell, what's he talking about?
"If I threw you over the arm of the sofa and fucked you like that."
"Mmmmmmm," I agreed.
He slid into me a few more times, feeling so incredible I didn't want him to ever stop, but then he did, pulling away, standing up.
"Come on, fuck toy," he said. I groaned and did as I was told, bending over the arm of the sofa, standing on my tiptoes on the floor.
"Good girl," he praised me. He is so much taller than me. He grabbed my hips and slid in. Oh, fuck, so good. So hot, bent over the arm of the sofa and fucked. I was screaming, and then he started slapping my ass.
It was too too much. My tiptoes couldn't maintain contact with the floor. I lifted my feet into the air and then his hands were gripping my ankles as he pounded into me - faster, faster, faster.
"Oh my God," I screamed.
"Gonna come in you, bitch," he growled, as he did just that. He kept fucking into me then, as his cock softened. His hand was pulling up on my hair and I was screaming.
I crawled forward onto the sofa, collapsing with my legs still in the air over the arm, and he (rather abruptly) came around and sat down. I put my head in his lap and he rubbed my back while I cleaned his cock with my mouth.
All of that and the man never took off his boxers.
We pulled a blanket over us and lay like that, our fingers entwined, me mostly blissed out, until we felt we should probably wash up and put clothes on before the absent people returned.
What else?
"What you wanna do now?" I asked my husband as the car left the driveway. We were sitting on the sofa. He waggled his eyebrows at me suggestively and I giggled.
His arm was around me and I was kissing his throat, still giggling a little. He tightened his grip and just like that, I was there, his. He shoved my shirt up, shoved my bra out of the way, and his lips were fastened to my nipple - sucking, biting, hurting. I moaned, sliding into the corner of the sofa against the arm, half reclining.
He had my jeans off, and then the layer of long underwear, followed by my panties. "Gonna fuck you, girl," he growled, his hand on my back forcing me to arch my breasts more into his face. His other hand started slapping the breast that he wasn't torturing with his mouth. He was sucking and biting on one side and spanking on the other. I was twisting, but he held me fast.
"Are you for me to fuck?" he asked.
"Yes sir," I moaned.
He shoved my legs apart - one along the sofa's cushions, the other stretched out on the floor, and started spanking my inner thighs, forcing little cries from me with each slap. The Christmas tree twinkled at me.
"Look at you, all naked," he murmured, spanking my spread pussy, making me scream. "Well, mostly." My shirt and bra, pushed up over my breasts, accentuated my nudity rather than helping me feel more covered. I moaned. I felt his hips lift, heard the sofa's springs creak, as he divested himself of his own jeans. His hard cock poked through the slit in his boxers and pressed against my bare leg, the intense heat of it contrasting with the chill of the room that was already trying to settle on my skin.
He was enjoying slapping my sensitive parts far too much. Thigh, pussy, other thigh. I arched into him, and his fingers were gentle, touching my folds but not delving very deep. I groaned.
"Want me, girl?" he asked roughly.
Holy fuck. Is it not obvious?
"Yes sir," I whispered, hoarse from the crying out.
"Hmm... what to do with you," he pondered, pulling away a little. In the corner of the couch with my legs splayed open in either direction is certainly not a position that I recall us trying before. I groaned with disappointment when he was not touching me, but then there he was, the head of his cock nudging at my opening. I have no idea what he had to do to get into that position, to get his cock lined up with me just right. It can't have been easy. I used my hand to spread myself open just a little more around him, and he slid all the way in.
"Ohhhhhh," I moaned as he bottomed out, pressing just that little bit more inside me, stretching me out to accommodate him. I love that feeling.
He was thrusting, talking, saying dirty things. My head was tossed back and I was moaning, arching into him, so I have no idea how he was even moving, but it was good. I moved my legs so that one was up higher along the back of the sofa and the other was wrapped around his back, allowing him a better angle and allowing me to rock with him a little more.
"So fucking sexy," he kept saying, each time prompting a loud agreement from me. Fuck yes, this was sexy.
"You know what would be nice?" he asked eventually.
"Uhhh?" I moaned. This was nice. Nice? Hell, what's he talking about?
"If I threw you over the arm of the sofa and fucked you like that."
"Mmmmmmm," I agreed.
He slid into me a few more times, feeling so incredible I didn't want him to ever stop, but then he did, pulling away, standing up.
"Come on, fuck toy," he said. I groaned and did as I was told, bending over the arm of the sofa, standing on my tiptoes on the floor.
"Good girl," he praised me. He is so much taller than me. He grabbed my hips and slid in. Oh, fuck, so good. So hot, bent over the arm of the sofa and fucked. I was screaming, and then he started slapping my ass.
It was too too much. My tiptoes couldn't maintain contact with the floor. I lifted my feet into the air and then his hands were gripping my ankles as he pounded into me - faster, faster, faster.
"Oh my God," I screamed.
"Gonna come in you, bitch," he growled, as he did just that. He kept fucking into me then, as his cock softened. His hand was pulling up on my hair and I was screaming.
I crawled forward onto the sofa, collapsing with my legs still in the air over the arm, and he (rather abruptly) came around and sat down. I put my head in his lap and he rubbed my back while I cleaned his cock with my mouth.
All of that and the man never took off his boxers.
We pulled a blanket over us and lay like that, our fingers entwined, me mostly blissed out, until we felt we should probably wash up and put clothes on before the absent people returned.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
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.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Control is a many-splendored thing
"Maybe you should do something violent to me," I suggested to my husband. I was tired, had been wanting to go back to bed ever since our little one woke us up far, far too early on a holiday morning. But we were in bed early and I didn't want my exhaustion to overtake me.
"Really?"
"Really." Nothing to keep a girl awake like having some consensual violence visited upon her person.
"I haven't done that in a while..."
"I know."
His hands that had previously been stroking me gently and running the silky tails of our blue flogger against my skin became weapons, targeting my breasts, my nipples. "MINE!" he barked as I whimpered, twisting beneath the blows and then arching up for more, "I will do whatever the hell I want to you!"
He rolled more toward me as I twisted away from him, my brain becoming more aroused with every crash of his hand into my sensitive breasts, my body trying to escape the onslaught of pain. His leg was on top of mine, his cock pressing into my hip. His hand wandered down, slapping into my thighs, pulling them apart forcibly when they tried to close against the pain, holding them open to hit me. I cried out especially loudly when he slapped my calf. "Oh, does that hurt, girl?"
"Yes sir," I whimpered between cries. I was crying out with every blow, and he was slowly humping my hip, making me feel his arousal.
"Good. You know what I think?" he asked, his hands never stopping their attack on my body, my calves, my thighs, my breasts, my forearms. "I think that you like attention of any kind. Pain's just another kind of attention for you, isn't it?"
"Yes sir," I panted.
"'Yes sir,'" he repeated, still slowly humping my hip. "Oooh, you feel my cock? That cock wants to fuck you. I want to fuck you. You know what that means? It means I will fuck you. I will do whatever the fuck I want." His hand came up between my spread legs and he slapped my pussy lightly, over and over until I was gasping. "You like that kind of attention too, don't you? Does this turn you on?" He stopped slapping me, his fingers gently probing the extra-sensitized flesh, sliding the tip of his finger easily into my wetness.
"Yeah, I see it does," he said, sliding his fingers against me, stroking my clit gently until I gasped with pleasure. He started slapping me again, unexpectedly. Oh, it hurt. I twisted to get away but his leg had mine trapped. Spread, helpless, owned. "Mine," he confirmed my thoughts as he continued slapping my sex. "Turn on your side so I can fuck you."
I was breathing heavily as I turned over, facing away from him. I lifted my leg over his hip, opening myself to him. He rocked his cock against my wetness, back and forth, teasing the head across my opening, bumping into my clit repeatedly. It felt lovely but I wanted him inside me. "Oh my God," I moaned.
"What is it, girl? You want something?"
"Yes sir."
"What is it you want?"
"Fuck me..." I breathed out, the words barely escaping my tightening throat.
He teased me a while longer, clearly enjoying my whimpered noises of frustration. The head of his cock lodged inside my opening, and I groaned, rotating my hips, pressing back onto him. He wasn't moving at all; I wasn't sure if he meant to tease me or meant for me to do something, so I did something. I wriggled, I squirmed, I backed onto his cock that felt fucking enormous, and groaned and sighed and whispered "oh, fuck," as I did it.
"Good girl, go on, take that cock," he said as I backed onto him, finally, finally managing to squeeze all of him into me.
"Can I help you?" he asked as I squeezed around him, relishing the fullness. He just stayed there, buried fully in me, letting me squeeze around him over and over. My answers were my continual moans of enjoyment.
"I see, you didn't want to be fucked, you just wanted a hard cock shoved up your pussy. There is a difference, you know," he murmured, his hand grabbing a handful of my hair and tugging, shoving himself extra hard into me.
I squirmed, but without his equal and opposite motions from the other side, the position we were in was no good for me to fuck him, just to wriggle insanely on his cock, like a specimen pinned for examination, legs spread, breasts exposed. His fingers stroked my clit. I was getting more and more aroused by my own inability to do anything.
"Are you trying to fuck me?" I just squirmed, my arousal growing more with his words, hearing the slight condescending tone he delicately applied to them. Oh, God, he's good at this. "Let me see if I can help you," he said, and moved his hips back, withdrawing slightly and then thrusting fully into me. I screamed with pleasure, with the release of the built-up tension. Oh, that was one fine-feeling thrust. He rocked his hips slowly, drawing the pleasure out for both of us. His hand gripped my throat, and then it was pressing on my face. I screamed. I love having my face covered, especially if it's by his hand. My breathing was slightly restricted, my pants becoming gasps, and I loved it, loved feeling his hand smashing out the very thing that people identify as "me," so that I was nothing but his. Oh, fuck, yes.
"Good fuck hole," he whispered, at the perfect moment to make me scream again, around the side of his hand. My racing thoughts of self-eradication collided with his words and a glorious brain-explosion occurred inside my head.
"You are my good fuck hole," he confirmed as my scream faded. His fingers slid inside me alongside his cock, stretching me.
"Oh, God, full," I whispered, as he thrust his cock into me, holding his fingers still, for an eternity of pleasure, riding the edge of pain.
"I like to fill up my slut," he agreed, moving faster. I could feel his fingers and his cock stretching me, rubbing ever so delicately against my anus the way my legs were spread for him. Oh, I needed to be fucked there.
"I want you in my ass," I ventured, softly.
"You want to feel this hard cock fucking your ass?" he asked, driving the point home as he thrust into my soaking pussy.
"Yessss," I hissed, pressing against him, taking him as deeply as I could.
"What a fucking slut," he spat out.
"Oh, oh, oh," I panted. "I'm your slut."
"You are my good slut," he said as he pulled his hand away, reaching behind us for the lube. He kept thrusting into me while he retrieved it, and when he pulled away I whimpered with the emptiness.
"It's okay, slut, I'm going to fuck you more." His words were interrupted by the squeeze of a nearly-empty tube of lube, a singularly unsexy sound. I forgot about it as he applied the lube to me, and then pressed the slippery, rounded head of his cock to my hole. He pressed; bounced off. I groaned, reaching back to hold his cock, to angle my hips and press against him just so.
"Take it, that's it, good girl," he whispered. I groaned loudly, rocking my hips against him in an echo of our earlier penetration. Oh it was even more intense, though. I rocked my hips, and slowly, slowly, my ass opened to him, taking him inside. I relaxed briefly once he was all the way in, and he started moving, gently at first. His hand moved to my open pussy. "So fucking wet," he said, sinking fingers into my pussy, his thumb working at my clit as he thrust into me.
I was stretched between his cock and his fingers, my legs wide open, my body at his mercy.
"So full of you," I whispered between groans and sighs of pleasure.
"You are my collection of fuck holes, aren't you?" he asked sharply, his fingers twisting.
I screamed.
His hand started slapping my pussy while he moved in my ass. I'm sure it made it a more exciting fuck, as I squirmed, wriggled, and screamed. Already so sensitive, so full of blood, and he was slapping me there. "Oh oh, I'm a good slut," I begged softly as he continued hitting me.
His fingers were back inside me when he came, pressing his cock deeply into me and spilling his seed into my bowels, moaning deeply with satisfaction. I do so love hearing him sound so pleased, but I didn't have very long to relish it.
He kept working on my clit, kept thrusting into my ass, his other hand grabbing a handful of my hair. I began to convulse upward, my head raising up, my knees lifting. He tightened his grip on my hair, forcing my head to stay down, forcing the intensity to stay in my body rather than to release through the convulsion. "You're not going anywhere, slut. You'll stay right here and take it."
I did. Every time my head tried to rise, he yanked it back down by my hair. I trembled with unreleased tension. I screamed. I came, a great, shuddery wave of orgasm crashing over me, brought on almost exclusively by the violent control he was exerting. Well, and the fingers. Of course the magic fingers.
My breast hurt all day today. Somehow, I'm okay with that.
I know there's a challenge on, and that I'm somewhat of a CWS slacker... and a blog slacker! I had to get this post written, which means very few other things got to happen online. I SIMPLY HAD TO WRITE THIS. Sorry, y'all.
And further. My husband says he is in the process of writing out a post about the filthy sex talking. Just for you guys.
"Really?"
"Really." Nothing to keep a girl awake like having some consensual violence visited upon her person.
"I haven't done that in a while..."
"I know."
His hands that had previously been stroking me gently and running the silky tails of our blue flogger against my skin became weapons, targeting my breasts, my nipples. "MINE!" he barked as I whimpered, twisting beneath the blows and then arching up for more, "I will do whatever the hell I want to you!"
He rolled more toward me as I twisted away from him, my brain becoming more aroused with every crash of his hand into my sensitive breasts, my body trying to escape the onslaught of pain. His leg was on top of mine, his cock pressing into my hip. His hand wandered down, slapping into my thighs, pulling them apart forcibly when they tried to close against the pain, holding them open to hit me. I cried out especially loudly when he slapped my calf. "Oh, does that hurt, girl?"
"Yes sir," I whimpered between cries. I was crying out with every blow, and he was slowly humping my hip, making me feel his arousal.
"Good. You know what I think?" he asked, his hands never stopping their attack on my body, my calves, my thighs, my breasts, my forearms. "I think that you like attention of any kind. Pain's just another kind of attention for you, isn't it?"
"Yes sir," I panted.
"'Yes sir,'" he repeated, still slowly humping my hip. "Oooh, you feel my cock? That cock wants to fuck you. I want to fuck you. You know what that means? It means I will fuck you. I will do whatever the fuck I want." His hand came up between my spread legs and he slapped my pussy lightly, over and over until I was gasping. "You like that kind of attention too, don't you? Does this turn you on?" He stopped slapping me, his fingers gently probing the extra-sensitized flesh, sliding the tip of his finger easily into my wetness.
"Yeah, I see it does," he said, sliding his fingers against me, stroking my clit gently until I gasped with pleasure. He started slapping me again, unexpectedly. Oh, it hurt. I twisted to get away but his leg had mine trapped. Spread, helpless, owned. "Mine," he confirmed my thoughts as he continued slapping my sex. "Turn on your side so I can fuck you."
I was breathing heavily as I turned over, facing away from him. I lifted my leg over his hip, opening myself to him. He rocked his cock against my wetness, back and forth, teasing the head across my opening, bumping into my clit repeatedly. It felt lovely but I wanted him inside me. "Oh my God," I moaned.
"What is it, girl? You want something?"
"Yes sir."
"What is it you want?"
"Fuck me..." I breathed out, the words barely escaping my tightening throat.
He teased me a while longer, clearly enjoying my whimpered noises of frustration. The head of his cock lodged inside my opening, and I groaned, rotating my hips, pressing back onto him. He wasn't moving at all; I wasn't sure if he meant to tease me or meant for me to do something, so I did something. I wriggled, I squirmed, I backed onto his cock that felt fucking enormous, and groaned and sighed and whispered "oh, fuck," as I did it.
"Good girl, go on, take that cock," he said as I backed onto him, finally, finally managing to squeeze all of him into me.
"Can I help you?" he asked as I squeezed around him, relishing the fullness. He just stayed there, buried fully in me, letting me squeeze around him over and over. My answers were my continual moans of enjoyment.
"I see, you didn't want to be fucked, you just wanted a hard cock shoved up your pussy. There is a difference, you know," he murmured, his hand grabbing a handful of my hair and tugging, shoving himself extra hard into me.
I squirmed, but without his equal and opposite motions from the other side, the position we were in was no good for me to fuck him, just to wriggle insanely on his cock, like a specimen pinned for examination, legs spread, breasts exposed. His fingers stroked my clit. I was getting more and more aroused by my own inability to do anything.
"Are you trying to fuck me?" I just squirmed, my arousal growing more with his words, hearing the slight condescending tone he delicately applied to them. Oh, God, he's good at this. "Let me see if I can help you," he said, and moved his hips back, withdrawing slightly and then thrusting fully into me. I screamed with pleasure, with the release of the built-up tension. Oh, that was one fine-feeling thrust. He rocked his hips slowly, drawing the pleasure out for both of us. His hand gripped my throat, and then it was pressing on my face. I screamed. I love having my face covered, especially if it's by his hand. My breathing was slightly restricted, my pants becoming gasps, and I loved it, loved feeling his hand smashing out the very thing that people identify as "me," so that I was nothing but his. Oh, fuck, yes.
"Good fuck hole," he whispered, at the perfect moment to make me scream again, around the side of his hand. My racing thoughts of self-eradication collided with his words and a glorious brain-explosion occurred inside my head.
"You are my good fuck hole," he confirmed as my scream faded. His fingers slid inside me alongside his cock, stretching me.
"Oh, God, full," I whispered, as he thrust his cock into me, holding his fingers still, for an eternity of pleasure, riding the edge of pain.
"I like to fill up my slut," he agreed, moving faster. I could feel his fingers and his cock stretching me, rubbing ever so delicately against my anus the way my legs were spread for him. Oh, I needed to be fucked there.
"I want you in my ass," I ventured, softly.
"You want to feel this hard cock fucking your ass?" he asked, driving the point home as he thrust into my soaking pussy.
"Yessss," I hissed, pressing against him, taking him as deeply as I could.
"What a fucking slut," he spat out.
"Oh, oh, oh," I panted. "I'm your slut."
"You are my good slut," he said as he pulled his hand away, reaching behind us for the lube. He kept thrusting into me while he retrieved it, and when he pulled away I whimpered with the emptiness.
"It's okay, slut, I'm going to fuck you more." His words were interrupted by the squeeze of a nearly-empty tube of lube, a singularly unsexy sound. I forgot about it as he applied the lube to me, and then pressed the slippery, rounded head of his cock to my hole. He pressed; bounced off. I groaned, reaching back to hold his cock, to angle my hips and press against him just so.
"Take it, that's it, good girl," he whispered. I groaned loudly, rocking my hips against him in an echo of our earlier penetration. Oh it was even more intense, though. I rocked my hips, and slowly, slowly, my ass opened to him, taking him inside. I relaxed briefly once he was all the way in, and he started moving, gently at first. His hand moved to my open pussy. "So fucking wet," he said, sinking fingers into my pussy, his thumb working at my clit as he thrust into me.
I was stretched between his cock and his fingers, my legs wide open, my body at his mercy.
"So full of you," I whispered between groans and sighs of pleasure.
"You are my collection of fuck holes, aren't you?" he asked sharply, his fingers twisting.
I screamed.
His hand started slapping my pussy while he moved in my ass. I'm sure it made it a more exciting fuck, as I squirmed, wriggled, and screamed. Already so sensitive, so full of blood, and he was slapping me there. "Oh oh, I'm a good slut," I begged softly as he continued hitting me.
His fingers were back inside me when he came, pressing his cock deeply into me and spilling his seed into my bowels, moaning deeply with satisfaction. I do so love hearing him sound so pleased, but I didn't have very long to relish it.
He kept working on my clit, kept thrusting into my ass, his other hand grabbing a handful of my hair. I began to convulse upward, my head raising up, my knees lifting. He tightened his grip on my hair, forcing my head to stay down, forcing the intensity to stay in my body rather than to release through the convulsion. "You're not going anywhere, slut. You'll stay right here and take it."
I did. Every time my head tried to rise, he yanked it back down by my hair. I trembled with unreleased tension. I screamed. I came, a great, shuddery wave of orgasm crashing over me, brought on almost exclusively by the violent control he was exerting. Well, and the fingers. Of course the magic fingers.
My breast hurt all day today. Somehow, I'm okay with that.
I know there's a challenge on, and that I'm somewhat of a CWS slacker... and a blog slacker! I had to get this post written, which means very few other things got to happen online. I SIMPLY HAD TO WRITE THIS. Sorry, y'all.
And further. My husband says he is in the process of writing out a post about the filthy sex talking. Just for you guys.
Friday, August 24, 2012
How I fell in love with the wooden spoon
Yeah, you read that right.
I was grouchy. We're tired a lot, having a hard time adapting to shifting schedules, and I was in my submissive shutdown mode. My husband was waiting in bed and I was reading some random blog by someone I don't even know.
"Come to bed, my girl," he told me, standing naked, or nearly so, in the bedroom's door frame.
I waited a few minutes and then I did. I like obeying even when I don't think anything will come of it, even when my internal voice is telling me this is all stupid, that this game we play is clearly ridiculous and why are we even doing this? It's quite conflicted, living inside my head.
He grabbed me as I came into bed, pulling me against him. "Mine!" he said, not even letting me adjust my position. He held me against his chest and we talked, our voices low in the night.
Eventually he told me to turn over onto my belly, and he rubbed my back, adding a good scratch at my request. God, I love for him to scratch my back. I swear it's like magic. After all these years he knows exactly how much pressure to apply to make me groan with the release of perfectly scratched back skin.
"Give me your wrists," he said, tugging my hands behind my head. I bent my elbows and put my wrists together behind my neck. He slid the soft cuffs onto me, clicking them together and holding my hands in place. I moaned softly as I felt it, my submissive nature fully freed as soon as my movement was genuinely restricted.
"Whose are you?" he asked, close to my head.
"Yours," I whispered into the pillow.
"Whose?" he asked again, perhaps not having heard me, perhaps just to drive the point home.
"Yours," I said again, a little louder.
"And do you like to be mine?"
"Mmhmm!" I responded.
"Are you sure about that?"
"Yes!" I am definitely sure about that.
"You wouldn't prefer to just be my equal?"
"Noooo," I said.
"You like being my plaything? You like pleasing me? You like me using you?" His hands wandered over my back, my ass, my legs as he spoke.
"Yes," I answered softly to each question.
"Anything else? Or have I about covered it?"
"I think you got it."
I felt the soft tickler brush over my back, down my ass. "I like making you feel good," he said as I sighed softly with the gentle caress. The next thing he stroked me with was the smooth edge of our wooden spoon. I inhaled sharply, fear overtaking me. Oh, he can make that hurt so badly. He didn't, though, just tapped lightly with it, my fear releasing with each gentle tap against my skin.
He built it up slowly, covering my ass with little taps, then again with slightly heavier ones, and again, each time increasing the strength of his swing. It felt incredible and it went on for what seemed like forever.
I was moaning deeply, screaming with pleasure, lifting my ass up to meet the spoon.
"Oh, my girl likes that," he noted aloud, with a detached-sounding sort of interest. "Maybe I should stop." He did, briefly, not spanking me anymore.
"Oh, no," I pleaded.
"What's that, my girl? What do you want me to do?"
I was silent while I processed his question. "Spank me?"
"You want me to spank you with this wooden spoon?"
"Oh, yes."
"Okay then." He started again and it was brilliant. I raised up so high that he had easy access to the backs of my thighs, and he hit those too. I was soaring, each strike seeming to hit some sort of sweet spot inside me that released groan after groan of deep pleasure and fulfillment. I have never imagined I could feel so good from having that spoon applied to any part of me.
His hand followed the spoon and I was squirming, doing my best to get away, my backside unbelievably tenderized from the application of the spoon. "Mine, mine, mine!" he said with each impact of his hand on my rosy flesh. I lifted my ass even higher in the air, his chant of ownership flooding me with pleasure and the desire to please, and his hand was wrapping around and slapping my pussy at the same time. Oh, fuck, yes.
Several times during the entire spanking process I thought I might orgasm just from the feelings crashing over me. I was very, very vocal in my appreciation.
He stopped, pulling me over onto my side against him. "I'm going to fuck you," he announced into my ear, pulling my legs apart and sliding his fingers between them. I shivered as his voice traveled into my brain, the vibrations along my ear canal making me sigh with pleasure, the sound of his words striking glee into my heart.
But then his hand was moving, slapping my nipple. "Oh!" I cried out, surprised, arching my breast into his hands. He rained blows onto my nipples then, making me scream for what seemed an eternity. Oh, God. I writhed against him, feeling his hard cock pressing against my sensitized ass, thankfully unable to escape the blows as I backed into his body. He was spanking me deeper and deeper against him.
"I'm going to fuck you," he repeated softly. He pulled my legs open again, and then he was spanking my thighs. His fingers slid inside me easily. "Oh, my girl gets so wet from having her nipples slapped," he said into my ear. I shivered. I do. I can't help it. He pressed his cock against my pussy, rocking his hips.
"Oh, please fuck me," I broke down, begging.
"You want this cock?" he asked. He fisted his cock, sliding just the head inside me, his hand stopping more from going inside. I squirmed against him, trying to take more.
"Easy, girl," he whispered, his voice rough with passion. I tried to lunge back onto him, but his hand was in the way. "You'll get as much cock as I want you to have," he said roughly, his other hand squeezing my shoulder. I stilled, trembling, wanting to feel him buried all the way inside me, to feel his body pressed completely against mine. God. He is such a fucking tease.
I made a whiny noise. "Good girl," he said, pressing a little deeper into me. My pussy squeezed his cock in welcome and I tilted my hips, rocking just so slightly back onto him. He took the invitation and sank all the way in. I think we both groaned.
He started rocking with me, his hand returning to slapping my nipples as we moved. Oh, I was done for, and then his other hand was grabbing handfuls of my hair and squeezing, holding, then releasing and moving to a new handful, his voice ever present in my ear, telling me I was a good fuck hole, that I belonged to him, calling me a good girl, making me scream, groan, twist. Oh. Oh, yes. I couldn't have asked for a better fuck, and I had been a grouchy annoyance. Oh, hell, does he ever know how to set me straight. Or kinky.
And now I can't wait until he uses that fucking spoon again.
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.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Sunday satisfaction
Saturday night we had an lovely, lazy lovemaking and incredible blowjob session, which was awesome, but left me a little horny since there was no sexual release for me. A Sunday morning attempt to rectify that was interrupted by our little one barging in. As amusing as "Why did you just barge in without knocking? We're still asleep!" is when you have fingers buried in your soft, wet parts and are most definitely not asleep, it doesn't quite make up for the less than satisfactory nature of the orgasm that follows once the child has been banished.
Sunday night is always a little depressing, since what follows is the work week - five days where our togetherness is interrupted for many hours at a time. Add to all of that the fact that we went to bed late because I drastically misjudged how long it would take to finish the flogger I'd started that evening and you have a serious emotional stew brewing.
Sunday night is always a little depressing, since what follows is the work week - five days where our togetherness is interrupted for many hours at a time. Add to all of that the fact that we went to bed late because I drastically misjudged how long it would take to finish the flogger I'd started that evening and you have a serious emotional stew brewing.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Mind blowing spanking
So, back to our kinky sex and amazing spankings. Any objections? No. Good.
Disclaimer before I begin: The spanking that blew my mind was interestingly not one on my backside. A thigh and pussy spanking seemed to be what my husband was in the mood for, and he gets what he wants.
It had been a couple of days since we've had sex, and my husband disappeared into our bedroom right around 9:00 on Friday. I was sending a few emails in the living room, thinking he would come back and we'd watch something, when he poked his head out. "Are you coming to bed, girl-person?" he asked me.
"I... didn't know we were going to bed," I said, surprised, looking at the time.
"We are going to bed." His tone indicated he had plans.
Disclaimer before I begin: The spanking that blew my mind was interestingly not one on my backside. A thigh and pussy spanking seemed to be what my husband was in the mood for, and he gets what he wants.
It had been a couple of days since we've had sex, and my husband disappeared into our bedroom right around 9:00 on Friday. I was sending a few emails in the living room, thinking he would come back and we'd watch something, when he poked his head out. "Are you coming to bed, girl-person?" he asked me.
"I... didn't know we were going to bed," I said, surprised, looking at the time.
"We are going to bed." His tone indicated he had plans.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
A real pussy spanking
His hand is slapping my inner thigh, and a warm sting is beginning to envelop my entire leg. His hand shifts, his fingers running gently through my pubic hair. I begin to purr, but it is cut off into a slight shriek when he suddenly, unexpectedly, slaps me on my mound. I have never felt more owned than in this moment, as I make an effort to keep my thighs slightly parted, to not turn away from him. His fingers stroke me gently, and then slap again, again. I undulate beneath the blows, attempting to relieve the sting that is building in my soft parts. I moan constantly, interrupted only by my vocal responses to each strike. "Mine, mine, mine!" he says as he spanks me there. My eyes are glued open, fixing to any point they can as my head tosses - the edge of the curtain, the texture of the ceiling, the curve of his forehead.
"Kiss me," he says, and my lips meet his even as he continues delivering the stinging blows. The only difference now is that my squeals are consumed by him, but of course they always were his.
"I want to use your face for fucking," he whispers roughly into my ear, later. I shiver, whimpering in response to his words, to the texture of his voice as it slips into my ear. His hand cradles my jaw, turning my mouth to his, claiming it again, allowing no escape.
He slaps my pubic mound several more times as I don't move, hesitating because he is kissing me. "Get me that ramp," he says, and I barely hear him for the blood roaring in my ears.
He settles back onto the Liberator ramp to watch me as I service his cock. I kneel on hands and knees, my hands supporting my body on each side of his hips.
"You don't mind a bit of a workout to suck your master's cock, do you?" he asks as I raise and lower myself over his body, my arms working endlessly to move my head. His hands occasionally grab my head and shove it down harder, but my arms are still getting quite the workout. My answer comes in the grunts and squeals that I make as he uses me - of course I don't mind. His hands gather up all of my hair and pull it up, meaning that each time I fully lower my face onto his cock, I am pulling my own hair. I squeal with the glorious indignity of the idea as I take his cock all the way into my throat, cutting off my air.
I am exhausted when he pulls himself away from me, trembling, my breath coming in harsh labored gasps. "Come here, let me hold you for a minute," he says, and pulls me close to him, his wiry strength keeping me pressed tightly to his body. I continue shaking against his side, little whimpers emerging from me with each breath. He strokes my hair lovingly. "My good girl, how shall I take you now?" he asks. I am in no shape to respond. "I could put you up on this ramp," he says, and pauses, his hands roaming my shivering body. "Though maybe you couldn't handle that right now."
He tosses the ramp off of the bed once he has made his decision, turning me over and sliding easily into me from behind. His movements with me are tender, gentle, until his fingers slide inside me along with his cock. I squeal and try to move up, away from the too-big intrusion. "Take me!" he orders.
I stop, pressing down onto the multiple invaders with a groan. "Yes sir," I whisper.
After he comes, he strokes my body all over, his fingertips gliding across my bare skin. "What are you doing?" I ask him, pressed to his side, purring with pleasure.
"Making you purr." His fingers dance over me, each nerve ending he stimulates doing a little dance of joy. He spends a long time stroking me before his fingers find my clit, and skate all around it, circling, circling. My hips dance to his rhythm.
He takes his time, sometimes sliding his fingers inside me, sometimes not, always coaxing noises of pleasure from me, and he builds me to an incredible orgasm that makes me go still and silent, a heart-stopping moment before the loud groan makes itself heard.
He builds another one up and unleashes it upon me in much the same fashion before he decides I have had enough, and I definitely have. I curl gratefully into his arms and drift off on a pleasure-laden cloud of exhaustion.
"Kiss me," he says, and my lips meet his even as he continues delivering the stinging blows. The only difference now is that my squeals are consumed by him, but of course they always were his.
"I want to use your face for fucking," he whispers roughly into my ear, later. I shiver, whimpering in response to his words, to the texture of his voice as it slips into my ear. His hand cradles my jaw, turning my mouth to his, claiming it again, allowing no escape.
He slaps my pubic mound several more times as I don't move, hesitating because he is kissing me. "Get me that ramp," he says, and I barely hear him for the blood roaring in my ears.
He settles back onto the Liberator ramp to watch me as I service his cock. I kneel on hands and knees, my hands supporting my body on each side of his hips.
"You don't mind a bit of a workout to suck your master's cock, do you?" he asks as I raise and lower myself over his body, my arms working endlessly to move my head. His hands occasionally grab my head and shove it down harder, but my arms are still getting quite the workout. My answer comes in the grunts and squeals that I make as he uses me - of course I don't mind. His hands gather up all of my hair and pull it up, meaning that each time I fully lower my face onto his cock, I am pulling my own hair. I squeal with the glorious indignity of the idea as I take his cock all the way into my throat, cutting off my air.
I am exhausted when he pulls himself away from me, trembling, my breath coming in harsh labored gasps. "Come here, let me hold you for a minute," he says, and pulls me close to him, his wiry strength keeping me pressed tightly to his body. I continue shaking against his side, little whimpers emerging from me with each breath. He strokes my hair lovingly. "My good girl, how shall I take you now?" he asks. I am in no shape to respond. "I could put you up on this ramp," he says, and pauses, his hands roaming my shivering body. "Though maybe you couldn't handle that right now."
He tosses the ramp off of the bed once he has made his decision, turning me over and sliding easily into me from behind. His movements with me are tender, gentle, until his fingers slide inside me along with his cock. I squeal and try to move up, away from the too-big intrusion. "Take me!" he orders.
I stop, pressing down onto the multiple invaders with a groan. "Yes sir," I whisper.
After he comes, he strokes my body all over, his fingertips gliding across my bare skin. "What are you doing?" I ask him, pressed to his side, purring with pleasure.
"Making you purr." His fingers dance over me, each nerve ending he stimulates doing a little dance of joy. He spends a long time stroking me before his fingers find my clit, and skate all around it, circling, circling. My hips dance to his rhythm.
He takes his time, sometimes sliding his fingers inside me, sometimes not, always coaxing noises of pleasure from me, and he builds me to an incredible orgasm that makes me go still and silent, a heart-stopping moment before the loud groan makes itself heard.
He builds another one up and unleashes it upon me in much the same fashion before he decides I have had enough, and I definitely have. I curl gratefully into his arms and drift off on a pleasure-laden cloud of exhaustion.
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