Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Merry Christmas!

My man's idea of Christmas presents is tons and tons of screaming orgasms. Orgasms until I am begging for them to end.

And I am perfectly okay with that.

Merry Christmas, y'all!

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.

Wednesday, December 19, 2012


Jetlag is a killer.

We're having a hard time adjusting to our new time zone, but otherwise everything is lovely. Friends, shows, family, fun. Just as arranged.

Something I ate didn't agree with me, and when we went to bed so, so early, my husband merely wrapped me in his arms, told me a story, and we fell asleep.

Later - much, much later, his fingers drifted across my face, he cupped my breast. His gentle touches were pulling me from the depths of sleep. I moaned softly.

"Mine," he whispered. I felt his cock pressing against my leg. His fingers kept stroking my skin - waking me up more and more. I resisted internally, though I did nothing to stop him. He'd already reminded me to whom I belonged.

"What you doing with the sleepy girl?" I asked groggily.

"I thought I might fuck the sleepy girl," he answered. He knocked my legs apart and stroked me between them, adding a slap or two for good measure.

He drew me out of sleep, he fucked me, and I thanked him for it.

"Thought it would be a shame for the fuck toy to go a night without being fucked," he said as his fingers drove me to the heights of pleasure.

After the screaming, he gathered me into his arms and squeezed me tightly. We lay awake for a long time like that, our limbs entangled. In an odd twist of events, I fell asleep before he did.

One of my favorite parts of our dynamic is when he takes what he wants - even if it means waking me from a sound sleep.

There's an indignant feeling at first, and then comes the realization that this is good and right and exactly what I've always wanted. There's a brief internal conflict and then I am swept away, all my walls down, his for the taking.

He's very, very good at this.

Sunday, December 16, 2012

e[lust] #42

Welcome to e[lust] - The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at e[lust]. Please check the site in January to find out if e[lust] will be continuing under a new owner, or not. Thanks for participating!

~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~

My Stint as an Escort

Gone Daddy Gone

Showing My Spots

~ e[lust] Editress ~

Curtain Call

~ Featured Post (Lilly’s Pick) ~

Thoughts: Safe Words

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Ask Aunty Dee: Anal Play and Buttplugs
Being sexy
I'm Monogamish, Apparently
Orgasms, Spontaneous
Profoundly in love
Rape Fantasies
Why Don't You Go Fuck Yourself?

Kink & Fetish

An Unexpected Gift
Cathartic Sex
Confession: The Stalking of a Doll
He got off to my laugh
Kink Guide to Fifty Shades Darker: conclusion
Kinky erotica from the top's point of view
Pain and Collars
Pegging Prep for Virgin Territory
The Cowboy (1 of 4)

Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor

a different kind of scene

Erotic Writing

Dream Lover
Everything You Give
From the Inside
Get Back in Line
Just Hands
Lust in the Dunes - Part VII: The Love Elite
nching on "Special K"
On The Phone
Out of the Blue
Take Two
The Stranger
White Stockings, White Stockings She Wore
What if?
Writing Challenge - A Question

Thursday, December 13, 2012

Just right

Aisha has a lovely, lovely post and poll up on her blog about whether people are getting enough D/s - control, kink, sex, in their lives.

I've seen the time when I would have answered - not enough - never, ever enough.

And while I count myself among the truly insatiable people of the world, I answered honestly that I have just the right amount of kink and sex in my life. I am truly, truly fortunate that my husband has decided to travel this path with me and give me everything I ever fantasized about, and beyond.

We could add more kink to our lives - and will - why hello there, mister rope - and it would not feel like "too much," for me. But right now, I have stunningly kinky sex almost every day, sometimes twice!

I sit at his feet and he strokes my hair.

He wraps himself around me every night, and I am safe and warm and absolutely, completely his.

He may have never seen himself owning a person, but he does it incredibly well and I am very very grateful to him for taking on the responsibility.

In other news, Lily's book is out! I had the amazing good fortune to be a beta reader, and it is good stuff. Go, read it and be enlightened!

Monday, December 10, 2012

No pain, all gain

His hand brushed my nipple and I jumped. It was so sensitive. "Oooh, does girl like that?" he asked, doing it again. I whined. My stomach was unhappy and there seems to be some sort of direct connection between my stomach and my nipple. Normally, yes, I would have loved it.

Now, I covered my nipple with my hand. "So sensitive, and my stomach feels icky," I explained.

"Poor baby," he said, moving his hand elsewhere, delicately stroking the skin of my throat, the upper slope of my breasts, my back. I made little breathless sounds of pleasure as he raised goosebumps all over me. "I'll leave your nipples alone - for tonight." I should hope he wouldn't leave them alone for longer.

He was holding me on his arm, my head nestled against his shoulder. My back had been turned to him but I rolled over more to give him better access to my front. My left wrist moved to find itself captured by his left hand. Oh, I love that. I twisted my wrist a little in the loose circle of his fingers.

"Should I stop this?" he asked, his fingers lightly dancing, sweeping, chasing tingles all over my body. Oh, his magic, magic fingers.

"Oh, you should," I whispered reluctantly, between my little moans of pleasure. I didn't want him to, but should was a different matter altogether.

"Why should I?" he asked, not stopping.

"Mmm, mmm.. it's late," I answered. We'd used the entire weekend up on fun activities and he had to be at work in the morning.

"Oh, is that all?"

"Uh-huh, were you expecting a different answer?"

He let his fingers drift over my throat, down my side. I was purring. "No. Just glad I didn't get a different answer."

He kept stroking me, whispering words of affection, drawing the pleasure out for an eternity. My legs spread wider and wider, but he hadn't yet touched me between them. I was humping the air by the time the side of his hand brushed against my folds. I jumped, a little shriek of delight and stimulation making its way out of my lips. "Ahh, is that sensitive like your nipple?" he asked, his fingers gently stroking my sensitive surfaces, not yet intruding.

"It is, but it doesn't make me feel sick," I answered, arching up, desperate for his fingertip to delve a little deeper.

He obliged me. "That's good. I'd hate to make you feel sick," he said, slipping his finger between my folds, running the tip around my opening, and up, up, up. He stopped just short of my clit, the little bud throbbing, begging for his attention.

I groaned deeply and tilted my hips, trying to guide his finger to that magic spot. God, how ridiculous I must look, I thought to myself, before he banished all thoughts by letting his finger glide up against my clit. I moaned deeply with pleasure and rocked my hips against his finger.

He is so good at this. I was lost. A little orgasm didn't take very long from my extreme state of arousal, but he kept going, not satisfied with the little cries and the little involuntary kicks.

"So good to fuck you. Such a good fuck hole," he murmured. I squealed. His words, so harsh, contrasting not only with the softness of his voice but with his actual actions, burrowed deep into me and chained me to him. I could feel myself grow even wetter. His fingertips gathered some of the extra moisture around my opening and spread it to my clit, where he kept his fingers moving quickly and lightly, making my body dance to his rhythm.

Another orgasm, and I writhed. Another, and my legs were spreading wide, my hips lifting as he touched me. I wasn't even sure if I was trying to move with him or get away from him. His finger never did slide inside me - just rocked against my clit as I thrashed next to him, whimpering, moaning, crying out. I could feel his hard cock pressing against my hip, but he was ignoring it in favor of tormenting me with endless pleasure. I lost count of the orgasms. My body was sweating lightly in the cool air and was arching up and down, my head lifting off the pillow and tossing itself back down again as I spasmed over and over and over, as he told me again and again to come for him.

"No," I said once, breathlessly, unable to summon the energy.

"Sure, you can come for me," he said, his finger continuing to move so lightly and so quickly. And I did. I couldn't stop myself.

"Good girl does what she's told," he murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Isn't it amazing how much pleasure you can bring a girl with one little fingertip?"

I could only pant my agreement.

When I was utterly spent, he slowly, slowly stopped, weaning my clit off the attention. I could still feel his cock pressing against my hip.

"Going to fuck you with my cock now," he said, his hand on my hip.

"Mmhmm," I agreed heartily, ready for that. So wet. He'd made me feel incredible already but I am always up for more if I'm not already asleep.

I turned to face away from him, leaned forward so my body was at an angle to his, and tossed my top leg backward over his. Such a lovely position. His cock slid inside my wetness easily, but he took his time about giving it all to me - just a little at a time, nice and slow. I was panting for it by the time our bodies were pressed together.

His finger found my clit again, something that particular position really, really has going for it. Already sensitized by the dozens of orgasms he'd just drawn from me, it didn't take long before he had me there again, at the shaking, trembling edge of the chasm. Another slow gentle nudge, a sexy word rasped out just for me, and I was tumbling over. Oh, ye gods, the pleasure. I was out of my mind with it.

Orgasms around his cock are divine - especially when I am trying to get away because he's already driven so many out of me. I was so, so sensitive, and as he gently prodded a third orgasm in this second set out of me with his finger, I writhed, squirming and kicking, trying to close my legs, to turn slightly away. I was breathless; reedy, helpless cries and pants were coming from me as I struggled to get enough oxygen to make the noises he was spurring from me. He wasn't having any of my escape. Despite his tenderness, the love burning out of him into me, he was firm. He was having what he wanted, and what he wanted was for me to come on his cock. Repeatedly.

"Oh, God, you're making me come all over your cock," I panted, realization dawning that the orgasms hadn't been convenient side effects of what he was doing.

"That's right, girl. Go on, come for me."

I did. I came, the most powerful orgasm yet washing over me, making me cry out. My legs shook from the sheer intensity of it - I could feel my lips start to go numb. As I writhed and shook, I could feel him throbbing within me, his own climax brought about by either my screams, my shaking, or the involuntary pulsing of my muscles around him.

We lay connected like that, our hands slowly stroking each other as his cock softened inside me. My screams and gasps for air had dried my throat out something terrible, though, and eventually I stirred to ask for water. He came back with it and let me drink before getting back in bed.

"I like the power I have over you," he whispered as he gathered me into his arms.

"I do, too," I answered softly.

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Amusing D/s conundrum

There's this movie.

My husband, and most everyone in our circle, has seen it.

I have not.

I consider it part of my identity that I have specifically chosen not to see this particular film, and my husband has never taken issue with that. I chose not to watch it before we were ever a couple. In fact, in the world in my head, this film does not exist.

When it came out on DVD, I bought it for him. When he wanted to watch it with a friend, I left the house for the day and they had a day of it - I even made and brought them dinner!

Now we have a munchkin, and he wants the munchkin to see it. I'm fine with that, if it's important to him - I told him I'd go off to goodwill and browse while they watched it. He's not happy with that, though. He wants us all to watch it together.

I suppose you could say this film is a hard limit for me.

I'd do anything for him. Seriously, I would - he's amazing and he does so much for me, not just sex, though, holy hell, the sex.

Move across the country? Sure! Leave everything I ever loved behind? Sure, I'll cry a bit, but for you, babe, I'll do it. Suck your cock every morning before work? Yeah, that sounds awesome. Pay the bills? Plan the meals? Cook the food? Yes, yes, yes. Bear a child? Absolutely. Anything for you, love. Plan every outing that we have? Okay, I can do it. Plan a last minute trip for all of us so we don't have to be apart when you must travel on business? That takes some wrangling, but I can do it.

Watch this movie? .... I dunno. 

I asked him to put it on a scale of 1-10 how important it was to him for me to do it, and that was a spectacular flop and he wound up giving up, so it's not like getting me to watch it will grant him some fantastic experience he'd be missing out on otherwise.

So, submission. Not a problem. 

Except this.

It's a testament to how awesome the man is that I'm even considering this and not dismissing it out of hand.

I'd love to hear some thoughts on this - sacrificing something I consider part of my identity for his momentary, fleeting pleasure. It's not like he'd bask in the grand sacrifice of it or anything.

Monday, December 3, 2012


He joins me in bed, and I immediately put my Kindle away and turn toward him, into his embrace. "No one said you had to put that away," he says, sounding amused as his arms wrap around me, his fingertips tracing goosebumps along my bare skin.

"Mmm, I know what's good for me," I answer softly, kissing his chest, peppering his warm skin with my love.

"I know what's good for me, and it's here in my arms," he says. Smoothness, rolling off his tongue like honey. I purr, and before the sound even finishes coming out of my throat, he's got my nipple between his fingers, pinching it hard. Harder, harder, and I'm squealing because it's an intense pain. The nipple is still sore from what he did to it the night before. He lets it go, briefly, rubs his palm across it and then grabs it between his fingers again, pulling up on it. I scream as quietly as I can manage.

Sunday, December 2, 2012

A bit of business

If anyone who reads here is thinking of ordering a custom flogger for the holidays, please do so within the next week or so. At the minimum, email me to let me know what you want so I can go ahead and make it. I'm easy like that. I am going out of town for a very, very extended period and won't be able to make custom floggers until late January.

I will bring my current stock along with me, so if you have your eye on one of those, everything's good.

Friday, November 30, 2012


It's early. Our alarm is vibrating.

We don't care.

He's wrapped around me and my hand is gently stroking his inner thighs, his cock, his balls, his belly. Anything I can reach in that area. As he hardens, I focus my rubbing more on his cock, rubbing down, cupping and lifting his balls, then back up. He's wearing boxer briefs, so everything is in one neat area for me to play.

When the alarm finally gives up, we take that as notice. "You should go get ready," I murmur reluctantly, "but maybe you can come back?"

He's showering, and I doze. We haven't had sex for two days; virtually forever in my world. My half-asleep brain just keeps thinking about the last several times we've had sex, about how awesome he is, how awesome we are together.

He comes back. Oh, he smells divine. He feels amazing. He's kissing me, his hand is cupping my breast. Oh, I want him. I want him now. I slide down and take his hard-again cock in my mouth with a hungry moan, turning him on his side to face me. God, it's good just out of the shower. I run my tongue over it, moving my head, fucking him with my mouth. His leg slides over my neck just the way I like it.

I hear it before it registers; he's slapped my breast while I'm sucking him. I moan; I love it.

His hands tangle in my hair, and I am making more noises of pleasure than he is. He's pulling, he's talking to me, saying all the things that get me going, that make me his. "Such a lovely face to fuck," he's saying, as I gag on his cock. I shift my body to make my throat more of a straight line, so it can take more of him. His hands are on my back. How are his hands everywhere? I want. I want everything and I want it all now.

"Good, good cocksucker," he says, and I moan deeply, feeling the vibrations travel through his cock in my mouth.

I rock back and forth, briefly noticing that my hair is providing a nice replacement for ball-bearings as my face slides on it. He's groaning then, and all my attention focuses on him as I fully impale my throat on his cock, sucking him down into me, feeling the pulses along his shaft with my tongue as I keep stroking him with it.

I want.

I slide up, into the crook of his arm as he wraps his arms around me. "Good girl," he praises me, stroking my hair. "So good to me."

He strokes my hair, my back. He kisses me, long and tenderly. Our tongues dance. Kissing the fuckhole, I think to myself, and tremble. My breath comes out all shaky when he pulls away. I move so my sex is pressing against his knee, and I press myself ever-so-slightly against it. Not enough pressure to do anything but make me crazy. He's not helping.

"Is my girl horny?" he asks, knowing the answer already.

"Mmhmm," I moan.

He strokes my breast, down my belly. His fingers graze my pubic hair, and even though I know it's pointless, I arch up to him.

He withdraws his fingers before he touches my wide-open sex, and I groan.

"Why you do this to me?" I whisper against his side.

"Mmm, my girl. I have to do things like this once in a while, or you'd lose interest in having sex with me. Wouldn't you?" He twists my nipple a little, and I arch into the touch.

"Maybe," I reluctantly agree. I've been in that place where I lose interest in sex, so I can't deny it. But this seems extreme. He disentangles himself from me and gets dressed. I watch him, soft sounds of craving coming from me without my permission. The hunger threatens to overwhelm me entirely, to consume me alive.

"What are you looking at, girl?"

"You're so mean to me," I whisper, trembling with desire.

"You like it when I'm mean," he says, sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed now. "Teasing is what you're for, girl. It's one of your myriad uses."

"Oh..." I gasp, barely able to think, feeling an extra surge of moisture between my legs at his words. How can he use a word like 'myriad' at a time like this? He leans over and kisses me as he speaks, his hand smoothing a path over my belly, my breast. My nudity contrasts so fully with his clothed form that my trembling doubles. He squeezes my breast hard, his lips inflaming my need even more as he torments me.

"Will you miss me, my girl?" he asks, his hand stroking my face now.

"Oh, yes," I respond fervently, turning my face to kiss his palm. I am so wet.

"Good," he says, and the satisfaction in his voice is evident. "I'll be right here, just out of your reach."

I whimper as he gets up to have breakfast, and I get up and get myself dressed too, shaky though I am.

And he works. Right there. Just out of my reach.

Thursday, November 29, 2012

The look in his eyes

Each time I think "maybe my next post will be a chatty discussion," my husband overwhelms me with sex and I must do my best to record it. Chatty discussion postponed, even though my efforts at recording this particular interlude fall far, far short of the experience. When your brain has blown a few gaskets, recall is bound to suffer.

 He likes to start with a spanking. It seems to be the dividing line between bedtime chat and sexytime fun. A reminder, perhaps, that he owns me. He does this during the day, too, randomly smacking my thigh or my calf when it's near him.

I love it.

The smacks landing on my ass were hard, but when he turned me over and started on my inner thighs I squirmed more. He mocked me as I cried out: "Are you sensitive there, girl?" and then started slapping my spread pussy.

The blows were different, not covering my whole pussy, but seeming to directly target my opening. He was spanking me between my legs, but the force of the blow - in his fingertips this time - was directed onto my opening, and I arched into each strike as if my life depended on it.

Afterward, he fingered me, deliciously. I burned and tingled while I writhed against his fingers, feeling wanton, needy, greedy. "You want me to fuck you, toy?"

"Oh yes sir," I purred.

"What if I don't want to fuck your pussy? What if I want to fuck your face instead?"

"You can," I moaned, simultaneously distressed and aroused. God, how I wanted him.

"I know I can," he whispered.

He was driving down into my face. I moaned, helplessly aroused, intolerably turned on. I sucked when I could, hauling him into me with my hands on his hips. He pulled away briefly, and I moaned for lack of him. His cock was just out of reach of my mouth. "Fuck my face, fuck my face," I begged.

He complied. His cock slid back into my mouth and filled it. "Look at you, slut. Hungry for cock," he growled as he pinned my head to the mattress. I could only moan.

The next time he pulled away, I was arching up for him, pleading with my mouth open. He slipped his thumb inside, pressing my tongue down, fucking into my open mouth with his thumb. I groaned. He kept going, and I opened my eyes, looking up into his face. His eyes burned into mine with a look I can't quite describe. Power. Power and ownership burned out of him and seared into me as he continued stroking my tongue with his thumb. If I ever had any doubt that he enjoyed what he was doing, the look in his eyes completely banished it.

I coughed, distracting us from the moment, and his cock was back in my mouth again.

When he pulled away the next time, I was still trying to recapture his cock. "Move up," he ordered.

"Nuh-uh," I complained, desperately wanting his cock back in my mouth.

"Nuh-uh?" he asked darkly, slapping me across the breast several times. "Who's in charge here?"

"You, you, you are," I managed through the moans his blows were causing, scooting up as he'd ordered.

"You sure?" he asked, his cock finding its way into my insanely wet pussy.

"Oh, fuck," I cried out. So good. So fucking good.

"That's what I'm doing, girl," he said, as he moved.  Indeed he was.

He pinned me over and over, and I arched up into him. He was bumping into my clit just exactly right, and letting me grind on him quite a lot on the downstroke. Our positions were perfect, and before long I was shaking, crying out as an orgasm overtook me, squirming on his cock as he held me in place with it.

It surprised me since that happens so very rarely. Not that I'm complaining, mind.

"I'm thinking about putting you up on that ramp. But I'll be nice. I'll let you choose which fuck hole faces me."

I shuddered as he moved away from me, resting the Liberator ramp on the bed, leading up to his cock as he stood next to the bed. I arranged myself on it facing him, sucking his cock back into my mouth, tasting myself all over him. His hands twisted in my hair, tugging on it. "Girl is still hungry for cock, isn't she?" he said, grabbing my hair and shoving his cock almost into my throat. I worked my throat around him, noises escaping between us that weren't strictly made by me.

Time lapses in the midst of extreme arousal - sometimes it dilates, sometimes it shrinks. It doesn't even matter any more. Was I there for ten minutes, twenty? Long enough to feel thoroughly used, thoroughly owned. My mouth was a fuck hole; he said as much as he used it.

"I think I'll turn you around and fuck your pussy... and then, you can get me the lube and I'll fuck your ass."

I groaned loudly, nearly melting right into the ramp just from the words, sucking even harder.

"How does that sound?"

I made a lot of noise. It sounded amazing. But I was sucking.

"Or I could just come in your face." I squealed loudly around his cock.

 "Would you like that? Is that what a fuck hole is for?"

My bones were melting. This entire thing was much too hot for me. "Mmhmm!" I managed to grunt enthusiastically even as he kept fucking my face.

Perhaps it was my very enthusiasm that sent him over the edge then, as he tugged hard on my hair, pulling my face harder into him as he came down my throat.

I kept sucking for a while, cleaning him thoroughly as his hands stroked my hair, as he recovered normal breathing.

"Lie down with me, girl," he eventually said, and we shoved the ramp away.

I always love sleeping in his arms, but sleeping in his arms after an amazing fuck session is particularly blissful.

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?"


"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."


"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.



"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."



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.

Thursday, November 22, 2012

Say thank you

12:45 AM. What the hell? How? A chat with a good friend, a project to complete, lots of wonderful emails to respond to, and a bath. That's how. Time just flies away when you're mixing work and pleasure so very thoroughly.

Climbing into bed with my husband, I was a little put-out. Just a little. He'd coaxed me out of bed in the late morning with an implication we would go back to bed in the afternoon, and it hadn't happened. "In the interest of open communication," I told him as I cleaned up the bathroom vanity and then climbed in next to him, "when you coax a girl out of bed with promises of going to bed later, not going to bed later is going to lead to a discontented girl."

I wouldn't have even been put out if it was earlier, and of course the lateness of the hour was not entirely his fault, although he did nothing to stop my mad typing in the late evening. He is meant to be the one making the command decisions.

He drew me close to him, spooning me with his arm draped around me, and I started playing a game on my Kindle Fire. No tech in the bedroom has been suffering due to my cold - so I just started playing. Fruit Ninja. I assumed he would go to sleep. He didn't. His hand started to slowly, slowly squeeze a nipple until I was gasping in pain, and then he moved to the other one.

"What are you doing?" I squeaked, as he squeezed it hard and moved back to the first one.

"Playing with you," he said blithely, alternating slow painful squeezes with hard, sharp, twisting ones as he moved between my nipples. I was still trying to play. "I bet it makes it hard to slice fruit," he observed as I gasped. Eventually I let the Kindle drop to the bed and I gave myself to the sensations he was causing. God, I love when he hurts my nipples. I raised my arm over my head to provide better targets, breathing through it as he slowly, slowly, slowly squeezed. Through pleasure and into pain that was just a more intense pleasure and I was panting. I could feel myself getting wet just from this.

His hand moved and he slapped my ass, hard. Oh, that's been a while. Pain, spanking, oh, fuck, yes. Who cares how late it is? I rolled over enough to offer my ass up for more, and he gave it. He was landing hard smacks that resonated deep into my being, making me groan because they were so delicious and shook my very bones. "Good girl," he said, and tugged on my shoulder to pull me back onto my side, so he could access my nipples again. He alternated between smacking my ass and slowly pinching my nipple then, until I was groaning near-constantly, my breath coming in short sharp pants.

He pulled me onto my back and then he was smacking me right on my nipples, back and forth between them. "Oh my God," I cried out, far too loudly, arching up into his smacks. Oh, so good. So fucking good.

He yanked my legs apart and then he was smacking me on my inner thighs.

It's been weeks since I've been hit anywhere but on the nipples, and I was super-sensitive to it all, the thighs most of all. I cried out. "Oh my God, that hurts, that hurts, it's sensitive," I panted as I struggled to keep my legs open.

"Is my girl sensitive?" he asked mockingly, knowing that I was, not caring, knowing that it turned me on like a faucet. "Does it hurt when I hit you here?" he asked, slapping my right inner thigh several times.

"God, yes," I squealed.

"And here?" he switched to the other leg, slapping even harder.

"Oh, fuck, yes, hurts," I begged.

"And here?" he asked, centering the blows, right on my pussy. He wasn't slapping nearly as hard, but was doing it faster.

"No no no no no," I panted with each fast strike, and with each "no," he increased the force behind the next blow.

"No no no no no," I said, and then he hit the pain point and it did hurt. "Yes yes yes," I was squealing, squirming, as he continued his rapid-fire assault on my genitals.

When he stopped, his fingers gently explored and found me soaking wet. "Ooooooooooh, what have we here?" he asked, his finger slipping inside and making me groan. "Does the fuck toy like to be played with? Does the fuck toy like to be used?"

"Yes sir," I whispered, arching into his touch.

"Good girl," he said. "Let's see what else you might like."

He climbed up over me, pulled off his shirt in front of me, and put his cock in front of my face, just out of reach of my mouth. I was panting. I am still stuffy and can't breathe well, so most of my breathing is through my mouth, but this was beyond just mouth-breathing. He was straddling my body, so I couldn't bend at the waist to lift up and take his cock in my mouth.

He rubbed it against my cheek, over my open lips. I licked it as it passed, groaning.

"You like that cock?" he asked roughly, already knowing the answer.

I moaned in response, lifting my head as best I could to lick it. He rubbed it against my other cheek, and humped against my face as if he was fucking it, just not quite letting his cock in my mouth. I groaned, and then he was pushing into my mouth, pressing his cock in as I moaned, pushing it in as far as he dared considering my sore throat. He pulled away for me to cough and breathe, and then he pushed in again, fucking my face slowly until I had to breathe, then giving me a moment for air again.

I can't quite put into words how hot it was for me that he was fucking my access to air, and he knew it.

He pressed in so deeply he was almost in my throat, pinning my head to the pillow, and I couldn't breathe. I could feel myself becoming wetter and wetter, and then he pulled away for me to cough, to haul in lungfuls of air.

"Poor fuck toy. You like sucking cock?"

I nodded desperately, as he rubbed his saliva-slick cock against my cheek while I panted for air.

"It's one of your favorite things, isn't it?" he said, shoving his cock back into my mouth.

I sucked, nodding slightly.

"I know. One day, you'll be able to have your face fucked without needing to cough, without needing to breathe. Won't that be nice?"

"Uh-huh," I grunted, as he pulled his cock away again for me to breathe.

He slid down my body then, and unceremoniously started to sink his hardness into my soaking wet pussy. I grunted as the head penetrated me - it felt enormous and I made a lot of noise.

"Good girl, take it, take me," he said, slowly, slowly pressing more into me. Slowly. So fucking slowly. I was writhing beneath him as he made his way into my body, making a lot of noise. He felt so incredible, stretching my internal walls apart, all the way down, and then he kept driving all the way through me, as if I wasn't there, pinning me thoroughly with his cock. I moved under him, squeezing my muscles around his hardness, relishing the feeling of being full of him. It was good. He pulled away slightly only to drive just as hard back down again, and then he was fucking me in earnest, pausing periodically to pin me down with both his cock and his gaze.

"Good fuck hole." My shuddery moan must have prodded him to keep talking, because he continued in the same vein. "This is what you're for, isn't it? For me to shove my cock into over, and over, and over." He accentuated each "over" with a hard thrust into my body that I gladly met, moaning with pleasure.

"Uh-huh," I agreed, out of my mind as we moved together.

"I give it to you and you just say 'thank you,' isn't that right, fuck toy?"

"Uh-huh," I agreed again, not processing what he was doing, the pleasure nerves that kept firing interfering with my normal brain function.

He drove into me, leaned his face down. One of my ears is dead right now, his lips were near my good ear. "Say thank you," he ordered roughly, his voice rasping along my ear canal all the way into my brain.

"Thank you," I whispered, breathless, and then, as if his command and the following words had unleashed some floodgate holding back my voice, I continued as we fucked. "Thank you, thank you, oh my God, thank you," I babbled, unable to hold it back.

"Good girl," he praised me through my babbling. "Are you thankful for my cock, fuck toy?" He drove it inside me and flexed for emphasis.

"Yes sir, ohmyGod, thank you." I was overwhelmed. I kept periodically babbling "Thank you, thank you," when he felt particularly amazing, his body moving against me. His hands grabbed my legs, pulled them up higher as he fucked down into me, and my eyes were rolling, open, closed, open. They caught his gaze once.

"That's right, fuck hole, look at me," he said. I did, as long as I could.

"Oh my God," I murmured, as his eyes burned heat into my soul and I couldn't stand it anymore - the pleasure was too great and my head rolled back, tossing as he kept fucking me. My hands roamed his back, pulling his hips into me hard when he allowed it. Sometimes he pulled away, lifting himself higher to slam into me with more force, but mostly he let me pull him close, our bodies merged and moving together.

His climax approached slowly, intensely. He was groaning for long moments as he came, as the pleasure washed over him. I glanced up at his face - if there ever was an image of bliss, it was his face at that moment.

Before he slid his fingers inside me and made me scream with pleasure over and over, as we lay tangled together, he whispered, breathlessly, "You forgive me for this afternoon?"

I laughed, loudly.

"No, that's not what this was about," he assured me, as he let his fingers take over the pleasure they had initiated so long ago.

Said to my friend, regarding holidays on my blog:
"Sometimes I just ignore these things and pretend they don't exist.
Unless we have special Thanksgiving-themed sex or something. Which would be hilarious
and I'm about to burst into laughter thinking about it."

Turns out, it's not so funny. It's actually insanely hot.

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Sick and tired

I am insatiable.

Even when I am completely exhausted, my body rebelling at the thought of moving, when he wants sex, I want it. 

I had a long, long drive Saturday. Fifteen hours. That's at least as many as it sounds like.

We finally got home safely, and my husband took the munchkin off to get ready for bed. The two of them fell asleep in the little one's room, all snuggled together.

I was dealing with a little business and some pleasure - bills and blogs, trying to wind down, let everyone who cared know we were safe, taking a brief shower to wash away the grimy feeling of traveling for too long. My eyes were streaming tears of exhaustion when I finally called it and snapped my netbook shut. I stumbled into the little one's room, wondering if we were going to sleep in there with him. That didn't sound appealing - the siren call of our own bed and our own sheets was far too strong to resist.  

I gently tapped my husband's side and he snapped awake.

"What are we doing? Are we going to bed?" I asked softly, as not to disturb the knocked-out little one.

"Yeah," he mumbled sleepily, and stumbled bedroom-ward. He was brushing his teeth when entered behind him. 

The smooth pale blue sheen of our bamboo sheets called to me, and I gladly fell into their embrace. My eyes, held open by sheer force of will for hours by this point, gratefully slammed closed.

My husband climbed between the sheets behind me and pulled my hips back into him, spooning me tightly. I purred as his hands wandered my body, stretching and rubbing against him, letting my legs intertwine with his. His cock stirred against my backside. "You'll forgive me if I wind up fucking you, won't you?" he asked softly.

I groaned. What? "Holy hell, are you kidding?" I vocalized.

"Will you?" he said, humping against me.

He wasn't kidding. His hands wandered up under my shirt, pulling me close to him. He pulled my legs open.

"You can sleep if you like, while I fuck you." He pressed his cock against me harder, grinding. "On the other hand, you probably can't. Can you sleep, fuck toy, while a man's cock is fucking you?"

"No." I whispered.

"I didn't think so." His hand was slapping my spread pussy, over and over.

"What is this for, girl?" he asked roughly.

"For you to fuck," I managed between my yelps of pleasure/pain.

"Yeah, it is, isn't it? Even when you just want to sleep, this pussy is still for me to fuck, huh? I want to fuck you and I will fuck you."

I was exhausted, yes, but his words excited me. I was extraordinarily aroused even though I didn't have the energy to do anything about it, so when he finally slid his cock inside me, it felt amazing. My eyes still stayed closed through the entire thing though - there wasn't enough arousal in the world to pry those lids open.

He was on top of me, driving his cock down into me, talking to me near-constantly. "What a good fuck toy. You know I take you when I want you, don't you? That's right, fuck toy, fuck that cock."

Where he got the energy to do missionary after the day we had I'll never know. Oh, wait, it was that nap.

We fell asleep almost immediately after, tangled all up in each other. Despite my cold, I slept very, very well that night.

Moments like these - when he takes what he wants and I just go along with it because that's what I'm for - sink me deep, deep into subspace. I love feeling owned like that, protected, needed. For me, it feels like love.

Forgive him? I think the man deserves a medal.

Sunday, November 18, 2012

Journeys end in lovers meeting

The minute I heard my first love story,
I started looking for you, not knowing
how blind that was.

Lovers don't finally meet somewhere,
they're in each other all along.

-From Essential Rumi
by Coleman Barks

Just thought I'd share. 

Life is running me pretty hard right now, but this struck a lovely chord inside me and I wanted to tell the world that I identify with it.

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Working vacation

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

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

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

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

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

We sleep.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunday, November 11, 2012

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. 

Thursday, November 8, 2012

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! 

Monday, November 5, 2012

Hot anal action

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The moral of the story?

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

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

Sunday, October 28, 2012

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.

Friday, October 26, 2012

Too late for sex

It started with his hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Come for me," he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I recommend it.

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

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.

Friday, October 19, 2012

Chest of secrets

My favorite piece of furniture in our apartment, besides our bed, for obvious reasons, is a tufted storage ottoman with a hinged lid.

Almost exactly like this.
We bought it brand-new from Goodwill for $40. Apparently Target donates a lot of stuff to Goodwill; who knew?

It's very, very roomy. Inside I have stored hundreds of feet of rope that I have dyed, my scissors, matches, candles, dozens of reels of hand-dyed twine, and two large bags of D-rings. On top of all that sits the more vanilla stuff - two hundred feet of paracord and buckles for making bracelets, a 2-lb weight that I use for holding one end of my bracelets when I make them, and my little one's potholder weaving stuff.

We call it my rope chest. When we sit in the evenings, I often have my feet propped on it. We had guests recently, and one of them spent the evening unknowingly sitting on top of all that stuff, while we laughed and chatted and had a good time.

When you open the lid, the stuff on top gets your attention first, but you move that out of the way and all these glorious, beautiful, glowing layers shine out. My rope addiction aside, the layers are interesting to peel back. A gorgeous bit of rope may be lurking at the bottom, forgotten because of the newer things piled on top.

I think everyone has a metaphorical chest of wonders inside themselves. Inside that chest are all our kinks, our innermost desires, the ways that we best relate to others people within relationships. Some people have lots of kinks in theirs, while some people have hidden talents that they show no one. The secrets inside our chests sparkle, but we're afraid to take them out.

Many people keep theirs locked up tight and never even peek inside, but those of us who have taken that leap and opened the chest are greedy. Taking out the first layer is terrifying and exhilarating all at once, but is hardly ever enough. After the breathtaking experiences that first layer gives us, we want to drag out every little thing inside and decorate our lives with it all. The things inside are too spectacular, too wonderful, too fantastic to shove them back in that chest and close it again, to live our lives without acknowledging and celebrating some of the most amazing parts of us. Some of us want to take the things out slowly and examine them, explore and savor each individual wonder, while others want to just dump the whole thing out and let the items inside erupt everywhere in glorious chaos, dealing with the fallout as it comes.

Both of those approaches are completely valid.

It doesn't matter how you explore your wonders, as long as you explore them.

What happens, though, when you have two people in a relationship, they've both agreed to explore those chests, and one is the more thoughtful, savoring type, while the other one wants it all out now? We could of course complicate this endlessly by adding more partners to the equation, but I will stick with two.

Logic seems to dictate that you go at the slower pace, since you can both keep up with that. Unfortunately, life doesn't always follow patterns of logic. To the person who wants more, more, please just let me see/feel/do/experience more, the slower pace can seem torturous, perhaps even intentionally so, if that person is the s-type.

What then?

The way I see it, there are a few options.

  • The partners talk. I know, right? While I don't think this is an issue where compromise is necessary, - especially if a power exchange is involved - if the partner with the longing can be let in, in detail, on the thought processes of the other person, I think that would go a long long way toward relieving some of that need to be on to the next thing.
  • The slower partner picks up the pace ever-so-slightly. Not enough to feel rushed, but enough to give the other person a sense of progress. Perhaps examine several things at once instead of just one. If you have three or four new activities or ideas to ponder instead of just one, that can let the other person feel more of a sense of progress, more like the bottom will eventually be uncovered.
  • The faster partner chills the hell out. Probably most useful in combination with the above options. It's never done anyone any good to shove a person where they're not quite ready to go yet. In concert with chilling out, talking more about what's on the other person's mind, perhaps even bringing up something new that is tangentially related to what you're already exploring, is bound to go a long long way toward building that bridge between the two of you.
I love my rope chest. I love that it occupies so much floor space in my living room, I love that it's the most attractive piece in our home so far, and I love that no visitors know what's there unless I choose to show them.

I love my kink chest too. We're still only a few layers deep, and I have no idea where the bottom is. We're having a blast exploring it though - even if I do get a little greedy sometimes.

I've just given new meaning to the phrase "Something to get off my chest," haven't I?

Happy Friday, everyone!