Working vacation

It's a working vacation. Different city, same offices.

We're tired when we fall into bed, the last several hours of the drive had become exponentially more difficult until I was forced to concede defeat and let him take over for the last 90 minutes.

I'm entirely not expecting it when he whispers "I like sex" into my ear. His breath is warm and I shiver, the contrast with the chilly room only half of the reason. He is pressing his cock against my hip, and suddenly I am transported - no longer weary road-worn traveler, but wanton sex toy. If he wants to use me then I am totally available. His hands are stroking my breasts, leaving trails of goosebumps along my upper chest. He pulls me tight against him. "I want to fuck you," he says, "and I will have what I want."

A sound comes from me, a gut-punch reaction to the words, the sort of thing I long to hear near-constantly. He is saying it and grinding his hard cock against me. I am putty, but while my brain is reacting in all the right ways, my exhausted body is playing catch up. When his fingers wander between my legs I am not as wet as I should be. He rises up over me, his cock fucking down into my face. It's his easy button, the face-fucking. While sometimes it backfires when I feel he is using it for that, this time it does not disappoint. I am moaning and his cock is pressing into my throat, filling me, blocking my air until he decides to withdraw.

I am wet now. When he moves down, he slides into me so easily and he comments on it. "Look at that, I just slid right in. Horny little fuck toy, aren't you?" I'm so easy for him, even when he has to work for it. We are fucking now, in earnest, the hours of hard travelling behind us and the restful night stretching ahead. We're suspended in a moment of bliss.

We sleep.

---

He has to be at the office by 9, and I am driving him, which means three people must be ready. He smells amazing, fresh from the shower. He slides into the bed next to me and it is already 8. His arms go around me and I murmur with pleasure as I snuggle back into him. "I need to get up and get dressed," I say.

"You need to give me a blow job," he replies.

I can only hope the moan his words coax from me indicate my surprised pleasure. I turn over and slide down, complying with him even as I whisper "There's no time for this." I am sliding his boxers down his hips, over his hard cock, and my lips are on it almost as soon as the words are out of my mouth. He is clean and he tastes amazing. I moan again as his scent fills me.

"There's time," he assures me, his hands in my hair as he turns on his side, tossing his leg over my shoulder. We're on the wrong sides now, so it feels a little weird and we're not quite sure how to fit together from this direction, but I slide my left arm under his knees and pull him into my face. Oh, yes. "This is what you're for, isn't it?" he asks me roughly, tugging on my hair as I suck, as I impale my face on his cock. The back of my throat is making noises as his cock presses into it.

It's 9:05 when we pull up to his office, but he still has to get inside.

It's okay. His meeting isn't until 10.

LOL - The aftermath!

It's Sunday night!

I have results for all of you, and boy this is exciting!

I had 28 unique commenters, which was absolutely fantastic and I was thrilled to read them all - the people who introduced themselves, the friends who don't say much, and my regular commenters of whom I'm already quite fond - all of it! Thank you everyone for participating!

Now for the drawing! I did this the awesome way, and generated myself a nice random number between 1 and 28:

The fourth commenter iiiissss:

Bella, congratulations! If you want it, you could get in touch with me via email (mine is over on the sidebar near the top). I'll be glad to talk with you about your prize. If you don't want it, feel free pick someone else from the last post. 

I will probably be incommunicado for a bit as I am on vacation, but I will get back with you when I can. 

If anyone else was curious, I have answered all of the comments on the previous post now. 

Love our Lurkers 7 - the giveaway!

Saturday morning update: I have decided to leave this open for the majority of the weekend, due to some craziness around here. I have loved all of your comments - so, so much - but I haven't responded to them individually as not to mess with the drawing. Thank you to everyone for participating - and feel free to continue! I will announce a winner Sunday evening - and all the unique individuals up to then are totally included in the drawing!

Bonnie over at My Bottom Smarts is quite the amazing gatherer of this community. She maintains an enormous blogroll of people who have spanking-related blogs, as well as hosting weekly brunches where she asks questions related to spanking. A ton of folks got their starts in this community due to her efforts - and encouragement to continue thanks to her links and "In with the new" listings.

Alongside all of that, she started and keeps Love our Lurkers going each year - for seven years now.

Which brings me to my point. You, out there. The one who reads and devours the words I write but never, ever says anything. I want to hear from you. I want to hear a bit about you, since you already know so very much about me. I'm at a little bit of a disadvantage, you know?

This is my second year participating in LOL, and I have a treat for you. Each unique person who comments here with some unique name and some information about him/herself will be entered into a random drawing - for a mini-flogger! 

Like this little one. Not this exact one - you can
even choose the handle color!

But wait, there's more! If your comment is randomly selected as the winner but you don't want the flogger or don't want to give me your information, you can pass it on to another person of your choice who does want it. (one whose comment you liked or someone who seems particularly awesome for whatever reason)

Want to participate? Please do!

Here's how:

Leave a comment - it can be "anonymous" - just pick some unique name or letter combo to sign it with.

In your comment, tell me how long you have been reading and a little about yourself. It needn't be anything too personal - perhaps even what you like most about this blog, or what brought you to this corner of the blogosphere. Include your favorite color, for the handle, and what uses you might have for a tickler/flogger. It can be either or both! 

The drawing is of course open to non-lurkers as well - everyone is welcome! 

I will leave the drawing open until Saturday morning, 9ish EST, at which time I will use a random number generator to select a comment. With anonymous commenting, this will require some semblance of the honor system, but the prize is not so valuable as to generate waste comments over it.

I will post a new post asking that commenter, if anonymous, to get in touch with me via email, and we will work out the details from there.

Happy LOL day, everybody!

Be excellent to each other!

edited to add: If, by some chance, you are one of the few who already have a flogger like the one pictured and you win, I will happily make you a different one! 

Hot anal action

I've had company for a while - it's made writing extraordinarily difficult. I'm back now though, and hopefully better than ever!

Readers will be happy to know that my last piece inspired all sorts of tingle-inspiring behavior in our bedroom over the past week. Most of them have faded into the mists of memory, washed out a bit by each successive experience. When my man is on, he is on.

My next thrilling tale is the fourth instance of anal play since my previous post, and it is a shocker. At least it was for me.

---

Having company for an extended period of time means that each night we go to bed quite late - having indulged in shared entertainment for bonding purposes with our guest really cuts into alone time. I don't begrudge it, because the bonding is good - I bond with my husband in slightly different ways during that time as well. Not being alone is okay, as long as we still get to fall into bed with our arms around each other.

Sunday night always reeks of lost potential. Monday morning looms, an early morning that will more than likely be even earlier due to having a small person who takes a while to adjust to the fact that the clocks have turned back. But, just in case, I performed my evening rituals the same as always. I was clean and damp when I crawled between the sheets next to my lover, and his arms went around me to pull me closer. 

We talked of assorted things, of the lovely day we had, of my friends, of a show we've started watching and the one we'd seen live that afternoon. Zombies, fairy tales, and spelling bees. Just a normal night's pillow talk. Somewhere in the midst of the conversation, his hand started wandering over my skin beneath my shirt, cupping and kneading my breast, raising goosebumps with the tips of his fingers across my stomach.

I wasn't very wet when he reached between my legs, but I was gasping. I wanted to fuck. I curled away from him to give him better access, and his fingers stroked from my pussy up across my anus, making me shiver and moan softly. 

"Can I help you?" he asked, his voice a low growl. Zombies and fairy tales were long forgotten. His finger stroked around my rear entrance as he pressed his cock against the back of my thigh. 

"Oh, God," I moaned again, inhaling sharply.

"Mmm, I think I'll take this cock and shove it in your ass. How do you feel about that?"

My entire body throbbed at his words. My throat closed and I squeaked, a shudder shaking me. His fingers moved back to my pussy, stroking around it. "Does this pussy want cock?" he asked.

"Uh-huh," I choked out. I felt lube, cool and soothing on his fingers as he stroked it against my ass, lubricating, stretching, and then his finger was inside me there. I groaned loudly. "Oh God, oh my God," I chanted, my hips moving slightly away from him as he slid inside me a little deeper.

Too soon, he removed his finger. I shivered in anticipation and a little fear. What if he hadn't stretched me enough? What if it hurt too much and I couldn't bear it? What if he made me anyway? I could feel my pussy creaming, my delicate membranes sliding against each other as I wriggled.

Hard does not really begin to describe how his cock felt when he pressed it against my tiny hole. "Take it," he urged, as I groaned and wriggled, effectively impaling myself as he applied a steady forward pressure, claiming my body as his fuck toy. "Such a good fuck hole," he whispered to me, his hand roaming my side as he was fully buried in my behind. My body was wracked with shudders and I was unbelievably aroused by this turn of events. I shook there, his cock buried in my ass, his hand on my throat, his other hand squeezing my breast. My own loss of control excited me even more and spurred more shudders, and he was still, just waiting until I stopped shaking and crying out.

He began to move once I stopped shaking - slow, steady thrusts deeper into me. "How does it feel to have a cock fucking your ass?" he asked roughly.

"Oh God, it feels helpless," I squeaked. So not sexy, I couldn't help but think about the squeaking. But the thought wasn't a long one, there was not room for much thought with his cock continuing to claim me, with the sensations pouring over me.

"My ass to fuck," he said in my ear. Shivers. Every time. I may have squealed loudly as his words pushed me into a free-fall deep into the well of submission.

I began to squeeze on him, and he seemed to appreciate this, his noises of pleasure growing louder each time I did. In the end, he was somehow managing to make me feel fucked hard while still being slow and careful, holding my body pulled tightly against his. He groaned quite loudly as he emptied himself inside me, pressing into me and continuing to move slowly, making me groan with sensation long after his pleasure had culminated.

"Oh my God," I kept whispering as we lay there together, disbelief at the entire situation combined with the amazing sensations still coursing through my body leaving me with not much else to say. I opened my legs, tossing one over his hip, and backed against him, his softening cock still inside me. His hand clutched my breast. I let my fingertips graze my sex and found it thickly coated with my slippery juices, making myself gasp at my body's blatant display of arousal. 

When I moved my hand to his and tried to dislodge it from my breast, his initial reaction was to clutch me tighter. When he realized that I wasn't trying to make him let me go, he let me move his hand to my pussy. "Oooh, pussy likes to be touched when it's wet, I see," he said, as his fingers stroked my clit, and slipped inside me. 

"Oh please, oh please don't stop," I begged him as he touched me. As I rocked up to his touch, his cock eventually slid out of my ass... and that's when he replaced it with his finger.

Explosions have nothing on what was going on between my legs, and behind my eyes. His fingers were everywhere, fuck, descriptions can only be a pale imitation. My ass was full, my clit was stimulated, I think something was in my pussy but that may have been a clever trick of pressure. 

I came. Holy hell, I came. My hips were lifted up and my legs were splayed wide and I was panting and gasping, vibrating and screaming. 

That's when I realized his leg and his hand were keeping me from closing my legs. My thighs struggled against his not-weakened-by-orgasm body and I couldn't stop him, I couldn't turn away. 

"Oh please, oh.. please," I pleaded, not knowing if I was begging for him to stop or continue. I was pinned in that position - he pushed into my ass a little harder and I screamed with pleasure, his fingers going crazy on my delicate, throbbing clit. I screamed and squealed and twisted but no matter what I did I could not close my legs and it was so fucking hot that I came again just thinking about it.

His fingers soothed me, and there was a quiet time when I thought he was drifting asleep. Oh, fuck, holy fuck, is he falling asleep with his hand inside me like this? I thought to myself. I was out of my mind, if he was doing such a thing, if he was claiming me to that extent... oh, hell, I could feel my insides throb at the thought of it. I shifted to relieve some of the arousal.

"Good fuck toy," he growled, shoving deeper into my ass, opening me up. His thumb had been almost expelled from me and he forced it in again, making me squeal. His fingers were dancing on my clit again, my legs still splayed and unable to close. 

"Oh my God," I began chanting again, and did not stop, though sometimes it was louder and sometimes it was softer, as he drove me to more orgasms, stretched up, his fingers impaling my soft, sensitive bits over and over, massaging the maximum pleasure from me until I thought I would go insane.

When it was over, and I was trembling helplessly against him, he gently disengaged his hand and pulled me into his arms, holding my head against his chest. I kept whispering "Oh my God" for a good few minutes as he stroked my hair and back.

The moral of the story?

Tell my man what I like, even if it seems like a dead end and I have to keep repeating myself.

Because holy fuck, once he gets something, he really fucking gets it.

Anal angst

If the title is not warning enough, this post may be a little too much information for some. 

---

I love anal sex.

There was a time in my marriage when I, as the more sexually educated half of us, the one who was more aware of the things she wanted and needed, perhaps should have stepped up to educate my husband a little better.

I mean, really, how hard is it to say "Lots of lube, love, and go slow, but often, please?"

Harder than you'd think. My submissive sexuality only complicated matters, since I so often confused "Giving him what he wants" with "Waiting until he finds out what he wants and then asks for it." My husband, while I adore him and think he's amazing, is not the most proactive of souls. He doesn't actively seek out things on his own the way I do. I still have remnants of that problem drifting around due to this fundamental part of his makeup.

What I did instead worked, but I don't recommend it. It can lead to some confusion.

I would bathe, cleaning myself thoroughly, inside and out - this part I still do. Afterward, my skin still damp from the bath, my long hair dripping down my back, I would lean over the bed provocatively to lube myself. The fantasy playing in my head in those instances was always one of non-consent. 

"No, not in my ass, oh, oh, that's so sensitive, please don't, don't," I would beg my imaginary tormentor as my own fingers made me slippery and ready for penetration. A subfantasy would often run alongside this one, that my husband would walk in and find me like that, call me names, tell me what a dirty, dirty girl I was. He'd be overcome with lust and take me, forcing me to stay bent over as he slid into my pre-prepared ass. 

"How nice of the dirty girl to lube her ass for me to fuck," he'd say as he slammed into me and I groaned, protesting, writhing, kicking my feet uselessly.

That never happened. He'd always stay in the other room politely until I came out.

The fact that I often screamed quite loudly in surprised terror the few times he did walk in on me (not in lube-mode) when I wasn't expecting it didn't help either.

So, unbeknownst to the man, I would be pre-prepared for anal. Later, during sex, I would ease myself off his cock, shift, making my desires known, and he would slide into my ass.

The worst part of that? I never knew how far along in the process we were. Sometimes I'd miss the window entirely, so enjoying the vaginal portion of the sex that I would not get anal because he'd come, not realizing I wanted more.

---

Now is better, because he decides. But it's also worse, because I expend all the effort to make myself presentable and so very often he does nothing about it.

"Why you no like anal sex anymore?" I asked him recently, as we lay spent in each other's arms after some particularly thrilling sex. Yeah, I sometimes talk like that when I'm all used up.

"I suppose I enjoy myself just fine without it!" he said, sounding a little surprised. "Also, it's a lot of extra effort, you know."

Lube. He meant the lube. The lube that he applies when he is ready. Perhaps he also meant the effort of slowing down so as not to tear me open, I'm not sure.

Visions of the effort it takes me to prepare myself flitted through my head. The effort that so often is for naught. The cumulative hours that I have spent for no good reason.

Being submissive doesn't mean I want to waste my time, not even if it's more convenient for my dominant 1/30th of the time.

Sometimes, it thrills me a little, to know that I do this for his convenience and he can choose not to partake. More often though, it feels like there is no recognition that anything is happening on my side. It's just one of those things that goes on out of his view, like brushing my teeth or washing my hair, that he may or may not be aware of. Part of what I love about him is how accepting he is of me, with joint compound and paint on my clothes, sawdust and spiderwebs in my hair, or all dressed up - he seems to find me equally appealing regardless. I realize this is possibly just the flip side of that. Man who doesn't care doesn't care. Gasp. 

So I still have those fantasies. Those bent over, lubed fingers sliding into my backside while I beg them to stop, dirty talking fantasies. He plays his part well when he chooses to play it, because I have had quite a lot of anal experience with my husband and it only serves to feed the fantasies deeper.

Typical for me, I am greedy. 

I want more.

I always, always want more. Kisses, blowjobs, vaginal, anal, manual, flogging, spanking, biting, pinching, pulling, twisting, hugging, touching, stroking, squeezing. I just want more. There is never a moment when I am thinking "Nah, no more contact for me for a while."

(Amusing aside: as I wrote this post, my husband came up behind me and kissed me, three times quickly as I tilted my face back to his. I left my face tilted back when he pulled away, and he came back to kiss me again. "You always want more than three kisses. What's up with that?" he asked, grinning. 

I smiled hugely at him and pointed to the sentences I had already written above. He laughed.)

It's surprising the man doesn't give up in exhaustion, because the more amazing he is, the more of that I want from him. Perhaps he is thinking "Can't this woman ever be satisfied?"

Technically, no, I can't.

Because while I can be suffused with elation, my every sense sated in the moment, I'm insatiable.

I think that's a credit to the man for whom my hunger burns.

Too late for sex

It started with his hand.

It was late. Too late for sex. Too late for anything beyond snuggling. But his hand wandered across my back, my breasts, and I moaned deeply. The way he touches me imparts his sense of ownership directly into my brain, and that is enough to ignite my desire. I turned a little onto my stomach, spreading my legs and lifting my ass in the air. His hand was gliding along my thighs, across my sex, and then he was slapping my pussy lightly but relentlessly.

My moans only got louder as I slowly writhed to his slaps.

"What has got you so worked up anyway, girl?" he asked as I kept moaning, my brain already short-circuited, already a sex toy and not much more. "Did I use you, fuck toy? Did I please myself with you? Did that excite you?"

"uh, uh, uh... yes sir," I managed, each syllable a long drawn-out cry as he kept spanking my pussy.

"Would you like me to fuck you now, girl?" he asked.

"yessss," I hissed softly. I could feel my wetness seeping out as he slapped my sex.

He pulled me onto my side, facing away from him, and guided his cock slowly into me, just the head at first. "Oh yeah, girl, is that good for you?" It was clearly good for him based on the new timbre his voice had gained. I shuddered and squirmed back onto him, trying to take him all the way into me. He let me, and then his hand was moving across my face, his fingertips at first, gentle touches that turned into his whole hand clamping down across my face.

"Take me, fuck hole," he ordered as I moaned, making me moan even louder, the pressure of his hand on my face and the words coming from his mouth combining to make me descend so, so far into subspace where the only thing that matters is us, our bodies joined, his words, our pleasure. His other hand gripped my hair tightly and he yanked my head back as I cried out against his palm. He was moving my body onto him as he fucked me, causing his cock to penetrate me even more deeply, deeply enough that the fullest length of the stroke was painful and I loved the little bang of pain as he started to withdraw. I groaned, drunk on sex and submission and love and adoration for the man who was taking me there.

His words continued crashing over me, and he let go of my face to slap my breasts, hard, over and over. I moaned. "Oh fuck, I love it when you hurt me," I whispered.

"I know you do, fuck toy," he responded, his hand still slapping my breasts, his other hand yanking gently on my hair.

"I love it.. oh, God, I love it when you hurt me while you fuck me," I managed to clarify.

"I know," he said, pulling me against him tightly as he fucked me, harder, harder, twisting my nipple so that I screamed a little scream that I cut short for the sake of the neighbors. God, how I miss living in a house where I could scream as loudly as I needed to.

He was coming inside me, yanking me against him tightly as he pulsed. His hands slowly stroked my breasts, my face. I purred.

"Love you," he said softly, pulling me close, wrapping his leg around me, "so much."

"Mmm, love you, husband," I whispered, wriggling against him, still so very aroused.

He fell asleep with his fingertips still slowly stroking my skin.

I was okay with it. It had been too late for sex in the first place. I purred softly as I lay there with his softening cock sliding out of my body. I do love him so, and I was delighted to have had sex. I'll take any sex with him I can get; especially insanely hot sex. I lay there imagining the entire thing, thinking about it, turning it over in my head. That is what I do after he falls asleep; I think. I don't ever fall asleep quickly.

I shifted slightly to relieve an ache in my back, rolling forward onto my stomach, and he stirred. It's funny because I don't think he's actually aware of falling asleep - he just continues on as if nothing has happened. His hand wandered possessively over my ass, slipping down between my legs, and I opened them for him, moaning softly because he felt so damn good.

His fingers worked their magic, sliding gently around my clit, delicately strumming directly on it, sliding briefly inside me and then back to my clit. I was panting, squirming, trying to climb away from the sensations. His other hand slipped under me, gripped my breast hard, and I was trapped between his hands, shivers travelling between them like an electric current running between my sensitive points - a current that was arcing from one hand to the other as his fingers danced. I moaned over and over, deeper and deeper as I sank into bliss.

"Come for me," he said.

"Oh, oh, nuh-uh," I whimpered, squirming, trying to lift myself from his hands, terrified of what I could feel coming, the glorious, glowing abyss that was about to open and consume me whole.

"Yes," he said, harder, his fingers insistent, his voice not brooking disobedience. "Come for me."

Orgasms. That's what I remember most about the whole thing. A chorus of screams that never ended. I saw God, who was perhaps summoned by my constant repetition of his name. My muscles could not even begin keep up with the intensity and I was shaking uncontrollably by the time he finally stopped, deep, animalistic grunts and groans emerging from my throat, completely bypassing my tongue and lips.

"Look at you go," I heard him say over the roaring sound of blood in my ears, over my own helpless cries after dozens of orgasms.

"Oh. FUCK," I panted, drenched in sweat, completely overwhelmed by the intensity of the experience I had just endured. "Oh fuck. Oh my God, oh my God ohmygodohmygod, ohfuck." My hands still slapped the bed at intervals as I recovered. I trembled all over, too hot, too hot. Stifling. I needed to breathe - my panting was not getting enough oxygen to my lungs. I shoved the lightweight bamboo sheet off of me, relishing the feeling of our fan as it oscillated over my sweaty body. Through all of that, his fingertips stroked my back, my legs, triggering aftershocks and loud, loud moans from me. As I lay there nude in the breeze from the fan, sighing and trembling with pleasure, his hand ceased stroking, tightening on my hip and pulling me toward him.

"Oh, please don't cover me up," I begged, pushing damp strands of hair away from my face. I wanted to be close to him but I'd just gotten enough air.

"I won't," he assured me. "Is it all right if I fuck you, though?" It wasn't really a question, though it was phrased as such. He pressed his hard-again cock against me and I moaned.

"Oh, yes, please," I whispered, leaning forward more, rubbing my backside against him, bending so his entrance would be as easy as possible for him.

"Girl isn't tired of fucking?" he asked as he pushed into me in one smooth stroke.

I moaned deeply in response. "Girl is for fucking," I murmured, pressing back into him and squeezing. Oh how I do love being his.

Good thing the man took a brief mid-sex nap.

I recommend it.

Use me

My self, my soul, was cast at once.
Yours was what I was made to be
And so, my love, to sate the prophecy
I ask of you - use me.

A companion to sit beside?
Gladly, if that is what you wish.
Company for the night, or life?
Use me.

Deep desires that lie within
A meal to feed your stomach's hunger
A kiss, a touch to feed the intangible yearnings
Use me.

Entertainment for your family,
The plans for each vacation.
All of these I do with glee
Because you are using me

Help with something difficult?
I am bright
I am delighted to provide.
Use me.

I am yours forever, love, and beyond that too, it's true.
But even so I find I must ask these things of you.
Use me.

Your pleasure is what I seek; instead your discomfort may arise.
I cannot help it, like the scorpion it is my nature.
Use me.


It is not enough to continue on, coasting as it were.
The auto-pilot might be set
but I need to know you feel in control.
I need those words from you.


Your hands
your voice
your wishes
banishing uncertainty.
Use me
Use me
Use me.