SexBlogyssey

Erotic Writing for the Kindle

badinfluencegirl: tryst

March 27th, 2012

Tags: badinfluencegirl

our laughter precedes us into the room, as do the hordes of bags we’ve collected along the way.  you point to a corner and watch as the packages are unloaded neatly and then dismiss their carrier without another thought. “now” you say as you sprawl indolently on the couch and loosen your collar “show me.”

and i do.

i prance over to that same corner and kick off my shoes, plop myself on to a chair and slowly roll my nylons down my legs as  you watch with heavy lidded eyes and intense pupils.  i stand and slowly, very slowly unbutton my blouse and skirt.  i slide the skirt down to my knees and then let it drop to the floor, panties follow.  your eyes narrow slightly at the glimpses of curls revealed and hidden by my swaying shirt.

i paw through the bags until i find the one i want.  thigh high tights slide up my legs and grip my upper thighs.  immediately my arousal increases. your eyelids, if possible, drop even heavier.

i search again and pull a very small bag from the pile.  beautiful translucent lace panties caress my silk clad legs and snap into place over my curls.  i smile at you over my shoulder and reach behind myself to unsnap my bra.  it falls at my feet and i hear your breath catch.

i allow the shirt to fall.

naked save for tiny panties and thigh high stockings i bend over to the small bag again.  nipples crinkling with their exposure (and my arousal) hurt slightly as i trap them in the bra that matches the panties.

i bend, deeply from the hips, to lean over the gathered packages once more.  i can feel myself dampening my panties even as my bottom waggles at the ceiling.  i glance at you through my legs and see your pupils burning into my body and another shaft of desire hits my center.

i find a little dress that you didn’t see me buy and slide it slowly up my body, caressing my skin as i go.  it settles on to my curves and i hear your breath catch once more.  i drop gracefully into a little squat and find the shoes to match.

standing once more, i slide my feet into beautiful pumps that are dizzyingly high and turn to strut toward you.

you growl, deep and low in your throat, your erection bulging against your trousers and enticing my hips to sway even more.  i stop and pose before i drop my mouth to your lips and allow you to capture my tongue.  i resist the urge though and pull back to dance back to the pile.

i stand tall, back toward you, and slowly drop one strap from my shoulder and then the other.  innocently i glance over my shoulder “shall i dress for dinner or show you another outfit?” the mischief implicit in my voice causes you to growl again.

“dinner.”

i continue to slide the tiny dress along my silken skin.  as my buttocks come into view i hear you groan and i let the dress drop to the floor.  i slide my new panties down my thighs as they would show through the sheer dress i have chosen for dinner.  i can feel my arousal coating my pussy as  i bend and start pawing through the bags, stilettos and thigh highs framing my naked womanhood even as my nipples crinkle inside my bra.

i don’t hear you move but suddenly you are there, hot erection pressing through your trousers against the cleft of my bottom. you turn me slightly until i am facing a chair and you mutter “brace yourself.”

i feel arousal flood me still further as i reach over and brace my hands against the chair.  you lean your still clothed body against my nakedness and reach around to fondle my nipples inside my bra.

i moan and press back against the raging hard-on i can feel through your layers of material.  i start to rub back and forth against you.

“don’t move”

i mewl and focus on my hands, body quivering and nipples excruciatingly aware of each scrape and flick of your blunt nails.

one hand drops to my swollen folds and begins to stroke the slickness waiting there “good girl” floats through my ears as i moan and fight to keep still.  you step between my legs and kick them further apart.  kick them to the exact distance apart that lets my sopping channel rest against your pants.

you stroke and stroke and stroke again as i gasp and fight the movement but buck slightly in spite of myself.

i hear the zip and slide as your pants drop to the floor and i mewl again.  shocks are coursing through my body and then you slide the head of your erection along my channel to rub my incredibly sensitized button.

i move with you.

you stop moving, grab both my my hips in your powerful hands and say “don’t move, and don’t make me tell you again.”  i flood the penis resting against my clitoris with my arousal.

you stay there, leisurely stroking your penis up and down my channel and bringing me to the edge or orgasm and retreating each time.  the slick shaft sliding against my clitoris is killing me and i mewl helplessly as shocks course through my system and pulsations start deep and low in my body and jet through my vagina.

you laugh and slide once, twice, thrice more until i cry out again and then, even as the shocks continue you slam your shaft into my aching hole.  i fight every urge i have and brace myself firmly but don’t push back against you.

you laugh, you know i want to slam my bottom into your pelvis and you don’t care.

slowly you pull all the way out and wait, wait and wait some more until i cry “please” in a broken little voice.  you laugh and slam back home.

you bend me slightly more fully over and proceed to use me as you will, erection sliding in and out of my body and utterly covered in my sexual lubricants; testicles slapping my clit and driving me further into mindless ecstacy.

every slam leads to a slap against my clit and i am already so lost in your body that i don’t even notice the space between the orgasms as i surf one long wave of pleasure inflicted by your body.

eventually you can tell that i am about to collapse from the pleasure and you root yourself deep within me once more before pulling all the way out.  i cry out again as you withdraw.

you leave me there, one hand on your penis and the other under my hips.  i am coming helplessly now and my legs are shaking, if you removed your hand i would surely fall to the floor in a helpless puddle of my own juices.

but you don’t.  you wait until the pulsations slow a little, until my breath deepens a little in my chest.  you wait.  stroking your penis just enough.  you wait.

and then you slam home and hold both my hips as you thrust deeply and forcefully into my body, once, twice, thrice and i cry out and come again and this time, this time i am rewarded with the feeling of your hot seed spurting deep into my waiting depths and i groan long and deep in the back of my throat.

you hold me there for a moment and then drop me to the chair.

“no, don’t wipe yourself up, just get dressed and we’ll go.”

“and skip the panties…”

 

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Joanna Cake: Making Love

March 27th, 2012

Tags: Joanna Cake

It seems so long now since I wrote about the difference and similarities between Fucking and Making Love but a reader found the old prose and asked for more.

So, it’s three o’clock in the morning… on yet another night where we have sat until the small hours on opposite sides of the room with our heads buried in our computer screens.

Analysing data, fiddling with code and cussing. Solitary but so companionable.

We have been at it for almost two whole weeks, with just two days off for Christmas, but there is still so much to be done, so much to be learned, so much to be achieved if our future together is to be rosy.

And yet, in a few short hours he will be back on the train and I will be left in my empty flat… with just my computer for company.

Lying snuggled in his arms, I know that I cannot let him go without showing him how very much I love and want him – if only stuff wasn’t getting in the way all the time.

We’re both exhausted mentally and physically but those primal urges remain.

An instinctive attraction that refuses to go away, no matter how many years roll past.

I reach up my face and touch my lips to his.

Tentative… soft… nuzzles.

One moment my bottom lip on his, the next noses touching, lip on nose, nose on lip. Almost pecking oral caresses that culminate in an almost imperceptible suck of the tip of his exposed tongue.

The sharp intake of breath and I know I’ve still got it. The skill to surprise and seduce him in the stillness of a black night.

With smells and touch and taste, finding the lesser known erogenous zones and using them to build him into a swirl of passion.

But still my body lets me down.

I hate this hormonal thing, this age, this growing old, this feeling broken.

The need to adapt to accommodate the passion.

I reach for the Wand and it takes just a couple of minutes before the first one hits.

The introduction of his fingers produce a reciprocal gasp. I have always loved his digits and, even now, my dried up body will attempt to respond.

After a suitably polite number of orgasms, he snuggles in and positions himself behind my prone form before attempting entry.

Where once, he would be in like Flynn, now he has to wait for my body to adjust. Slipping in millimetre by millimetre as the flesh moistens before him.

These days there is a short stretch that thwarts us every time and if we are not prepared with lubricant to hand, we have to work until it will permit his passage, no matter how much my mind desires him.

And then there is bliss and joy and coming together in a hot, sweaty exhausted heap – the way I remember it. Energetic giving and receiving as our bodies join and meld and writhe.

But I understand now.

This is where our emotional desire has to accommodate the physicality of our bodies. Where we care for each other, not just for ourselves.

This is Making Love.

 

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Tess Danesi: Answering His Call

March 27th, 2012

Tags: Tess Danesi, submission

He calls me before he leaves the office.

“I want you at the house when I get there,” he demands.

I know that voice, the tone crisp and curt as if he’s talking to a subordinate and will brooch no argument. I know better then to argue; the mood his voice conveys suggests that tonight will not be easy for me. I consider for the briefest of moments not heeding his call, but it’s a disingenuous thought. I know I will not subvert his will.

I quickly gather my purse, do my usual search and rescue mission for my keys (my scatterbrained ways infuriate him but I am powerless to change certain things despite being repeatedly punished), shut the lights and clatter down the stairs on my usual perilously high heels.

I am nervous the entire drive. It is only twenty minutes but then his drive takes the same time and he was so short with me that I don’t know if he was ready to leave or was staying late as usual to make a dent in his insane work load. I only know I need to be there before he is, if I’m not I can’t imagine how much worse he’ll make it on me. I ponder what the hell must be wrong with me that I put up with, hell I crave, his excesses.

I feel relief as I pull into the driveway and see that his car is not there yet. I hurry to the house and let myself in, unsure of what to do or how long I will have to wait. I content myself with grabbing a magazine and settling into my favorite chair, the big overstuffed wing chair in the library. He usually prefers to sit in that, with me at his feet, reading aloud whatever he happens to be in the mood for. He claims that the sound of my voice calms him. I doubt calm is what I’ll be getting tonight.

I look up only when I hear his voice. He has been doing that since we met, sneaking up on me. He is a tall man and strong, but he is agile and moves with the stealth and grace of a panther.

“Made yourself comfortable, bitch? That’s fine,” he murmurs with a derisive laugh, “enjoy it while you can.”

His voice frightens me. It isn’t often he has moods so black, but when he does it turns my blood cold.

“Dar, please,” I beg my words ending abruptly, my heart beating so hard I’m sure he can see it through the thin silk of my blouse.

“Excuse me,” he says, “do you have something to say?”

“No, Dar, I’m sorry, I just…..,,it’s just that I love you Dar,” I mutter realizing I am only making this worse for myself.

When he is in these moods he expects my total obedience, my acquiescence, not a word of dissent should be spoken. Why did I screw up already?

“You love me, eh,” he says, “let’s see how much you love me after. Now stand the fuck up.”

I hasten to my feet hoping that my obedience will mellow his temper. The buttons of my blouse scatter as he rips it off me, his strength is terrifying; he keeps it so tightly reined in most of the time, and I know he has never fully unleashed it on me, his promise to me has always been never to hurt me more then I can bear. He is a man of his word. I rely upon my faith in that promise at times like these.

He grabs a handful of my hair, long enough to wrap once around his large fist, and pulls me, whimpering, to his oversized cherry desk. The window directly behind the desk provides me a view of the rapidly darkening sky. He presses my chest to the desk with one hand and releasing my hair, uses the other to hike up my skirt.

“Stay put,” he says.

He falls to his knees and slides my panties down my thighs and shins and finally, over my ankles. Taking them in hand, he walks to the front of the desk, blocking my view of the dusk.

“Open you fucking mouth, cunt,” he growls as he gags me with my panties.

I am shaking at this point, not sure what he has in mind, sometimes he needs to scourge my flesh, see me bleed from the lash, see my skin redden then bruise, sometimes he merely needs to assert his dominance over me, make me bend to his will, testing my obedience as a symbol of my love, and sometimes he simply needs to come, to orgasm hard and like a beast with no pretext, no emotion.

Normally when he sees me nervous, he will attempt to calm me; stroke my hair, my cheek, whisper good girl, not this time. This time he craves my fear.

He strides behind me and I hear his zipper open just before I feel his fingers violently digging into my ass, spreading me wide. Despite or because of my fear, I am already dripping with sweet juices. He pushes two fingers deep into me as another presses too roughly on my clit, eliciting a low muffled groan that emerges through the gag. Removing his fingers, he uses my come, thick and creamy, to lubricate my ass.

I want to spit the panties out and beg him to please, please, please get lube, real lube, tons of it. He knows well of my ambivalence to anal, how I cringe every time at his entry no matter how well lubed I am. How my ass clenches involuntarily attempting to block his access. His cock is large and thick, it fills my pussy so well, so perfectly, but in my ass it is always torture at first, until I give over and give up and then it is magnificent.

I feel his cock head rest there, just there. He lets it linger making no movements at all from his hips. His cock is the only thing that moves, it pulsates and throbs, growing more and more rigid as it lingers. I grasp the far side of the desk tighter anticipating the thrust that will spread me beyond my imagined capacity.

The thrust comes, violent and persistent, as he holds his cock to guide it into my defiant ass. Once so impaled he reaches around and grabs the panties out of my mouth.

“Let me hear you scream, cunt. Let me hear how it feels, me buried to the hilt in that tight ass of yours,” he growls.

I don’t disappoint him, the tears streaming down my cheeks, wrecking my carefully applied makeup, are now accompanied by my moans and sobs.

“Please Dar,” I say, “it hurts, it hurts so fucking much….”

My tears only increase as he laughs and whispers, “Why yes, pet, of course it hurts. I have my big cock in your beautiful little ass and I am going to fuck you as good and as hard as I like and you know what, you dirty little whore, you’re going to beg for it.”

I struggle to find the words that he demands; they seem buried in the searing pain that begins at the little bud of my ass and shots like a blazing comet through my entire being. “Fuck me, Dar, fuck my ass. Yes…oh god, oh god…..,” are the only words I can manage before they trail off into little sobs and grunts as I struggle to take what he gives me.

He grabs my hair, pushing me so that my cheek rests against the desk. He wants to see my tears today. His fingers run along my cheek gathering the saline drops on his fingertips and then inserting them into his mouth. As if he consumes my pain and makes it his own.

Growling into my neck, teeth sharp against that point just where my pulse thumps hardest under the skin, his body goes rigid and then spasms with his orgasm. Warm streams of come shoot into my ass as his teeth bite into my neck, his body convulsing on top of mine, his weight uncomfortably pressing my hips into the edge of the desk.

He pulls his cock out of my ass with an audible pop, again not taking my discomfort into account.

“Don’t you dare move, not one fucking inch. You should see yourself there. My cum dripping out of your ass, like the filthy whore you are.”

His words wound me more then his cock just did. It’s one thing when he balances out the cruelty by rewarding me, calling me his good girl, petting me, kissing my face, but tonight that will be far off, if I am to receive it at all. Darkness consumes him at times. Why is not always clear or apparent to him, no matter introspective he may be, and it is even less clear to me. My place is to accept and to offer my pain to soothe his.

He leaves the room with just one word, a command, “Stay.”

And so I do. Uncomfortably bent over the desk, my ass leaking cum that cascades down my thighs, my hands turning white from tightly gripping the front of the desk, I peer out the window into the increasing gloom, take a deep breath and wait.

He doesn’t keep me waiting long, though he can when he wants to, his control is great. Tonight is about appeasing demons and the demons are greedy and impatient.

He stands behind and whispers sweetly into my ear, “Close your eyes.”

My eyes shut and I feel him place the heavy blindfold over them. The air, thick with my fear, crackles with tension. A sound, a whoosh, and the air is disturbed close to my face. I cringe to escape whatever has caused the tear in the air. When my mind clears enough to process the sound, in the lull between the next disruption of the air, I know precisely what he holds in his grip – the cane. The one he carefully tends to, as he does all his implements, oiling the smooth rattan after each use or having me do it when he sees fit.

Though all I see is darkness, my mind pictures his fingers clutching the braided leather grip. I cringe again when I hear the cane slice through the air, not knowing if he will bring it down on my already sore ass or just keep me off balance, letting my anticipation and fear build and multiply.

He remains uncharacteristically silent. My heart beats, thumping fast and hard against my chest, all I hear is the sound of blood rushing through my airs. The silence kills me. If I weren’t so frightened I’d beg him to talk, to call me anything, just to please let me hear his voice. There is reassurance in his voice and he knows it and he denies me.

The first strike that he lands, after an eternity of fucking my mind with light taps and slicing the cane through the air, is not where I have come to expect it, my ass, but on the top of my thighs. The intensity of the sting makes me nearly fall over and I feel his large hand grab my hair, holding me in place for the next strike. My breath comes is short, sharp gasps punctuated with deep inhalations and moans when a blow is landed. Even when it is only feigned I mewl. I know my ass and thighs must be striped in crimson slashes. The worst of it though is his continued silence.

The next blow is followed by the sound of the cane dropped on the desk. His fingers catch in my hair as he pushes the blindfold up and off and kisses the top of my head.

He walks slowly to the chair I had been so cozy in such a short time and such a lifetime ago. I slowly rise off the desk only to find that I am too weak to walk, my legs betray me and I end up curled in a ball on the floor. When I look up I see him, cupping his handsome face in his hands. Pensive, sated, sad, I am unsure which.

I don’t chance walking again but crawl to him, my knees cushioned by the thick wool rug, my hiked up skirt falling uncomfortably back over my bruised ass.

At his feet, I lay my head in his lap, my face still wet with tears that his trousers rapidly absorb. His hand drifts down from his face and so softly caresses mine. It seems impossible that the same man is so capable of both extremes. I feel his love and his gratitude flow through the fingers capable of so much brutality.

“My good girl,” he finally says bringing forth fresh tears from my eyes, “my best girl.”

And it’s worth it; those words, those loving fingers, the soft kiss on the top of my head, his unspoken gratitude, his ability to use my pain to silence his demons, makes it all worth it to me.

The dusk has been replaced by the light of the full moon and I lay there, his cock beginning to stir against my cheek, content and eager to please him again.

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MonMouth: Posing

March 27th, 2012

Tags: MonMouth, restraint, blindfold

Some things were not working out for Ms. T – most frustratingly her body had rebelled against our plans for fucking by starting her period an hour before I was due to arrive.

She emailed me while I was on the way, starting the message: “Consider this a test of your patience, resourcefulness and sense of humour…”

I did my best to live up to expectations.

The plan was to take some photos of her. We took a while to get around to the actual photographing. When I took the picture I had wrapped her whole torso in rope and tied her hands behind her back. She was blindfolded, kneeling in front of me on the bed, upright. She looked so good, it almost pained me to take the next step…

She had found, in some obscure corner of a sex shop, a roll of black rubber – 10 metres long, 10 cm wide, .5mm thick, sturdy. For one thing, it’s remarkably heavy. I wound it around her, from shoulders to hips, encapsulating her in the dense stretchiness of the black rubber.

Everything except an opening across her chest, leaving her breasts and nipples exposed.

This was when the photo was taken. I photographed her. Breasts. Arse. Documented her while she was malleable and unselfconscious beneath the blindfold.

Then I put a pillow beneath her hips, arse raised, exposed. Slowly, I inserted a buttplug inside her. Stretching. She struggled agains the ropes, the rubber wrap… Enjoying the pressure of the toy pushing out against her confinement.

I think she was a little surprised when I stuck my cock in her mouth. Pleasantly. She sucked me with greed, which intensified when I told her: “I’d like you to make my cock nice and wet. Then, I’ll remove the plug and sodomise you at my own leisurely pace.” (She is intensely aural. Words and sounds are almost enough to make her come…)

I withdrew from her mouth.

A quiet “yes” came out when she heard me rip the foil off a condom, roll it on. “Yes.”

I removed the plug. Replaced it with my cock. And called her “a good girl” while I fucked her.

Later, neither one of us seems to remember the experience, except vaguely, through a veil of intense pleasure. One thing she’s absolutely clear on, however: She says that I lost the power of speech at some point, devolving to a rhythmic series “yes, yes, yes…” as I came.

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Elegant Slut: Afternoon Debauchery

March 27th, 2012

Tags: Elegant Slut,anal sex,restraint

He raised an eyebrow at me over the carafe of water placed between us on the table. As I lifted a forkful of deliciously rare steak to my lips, he asked me:

“Did you enjoy yourself this afternoon? You were wet; god, so wet. Gushing. Like… wow. Unbelievable.”

The casually tossed out sentence spiraled me back in time approximately four hours. In my mind’s eye, I was detached from myself; floating above where I’d lain on the bed. Well, when I say lain, I mean positioned on all fours. Cuffed. Bound. Blindfolded.

My wrists were shackled by two sweet, minx-fur handcuffs, crossed and positioned over my head, so that i veered between balancing on my elbows and forearms, and occasionally adding my blindfolded forehead to the mix. The covering for my eyes was a rather elegant scarf made of silk jersey that I’d worn last for my sister’s wedding. I loved the irony of how elegant an item could also function so well in such depraved circumstances. My ankles were tied with rope, crossed firmly in place to ensure that my ass and cunt were on full display to him, and that he could do anything he wanted to or with me.

Ah, sweet submission.

In my cunt buzzed a rabbit vibe. The ears were hit-and-missing my clit, but to be honest, i was so overwhelmed by sensations that this was the least of my concerns. Occasionally he’d push it further inside me, from where it had involuntarily escaped due to slickness and enthusiastic vibrations.

In my ass — well, there was no stability of routine to what was going on with my ass. Between his fingers, another vibrating dildo and his cock, my ass was fair game for pretty much anything that afternoon.

*******************

He’d begun this adventure by blindfolding me as I lay supine and expectant. I was sad to no longer see the evil look in his eye as he thought of tasks and punishments to delight and arouse me, but i acquiesced, like a good sub.

I’m learning. And this learning curve is way more fun than any such curve I was on in school.

He’d tapped my face with a finger, and commanded me to suck his taut upstanding cock. I’d reached out a hand to find it, and bring my mouth closer, when i suddenly felt a massive blow to my left buttock.

Thwack!

“Did I tell you that you could use your hands?”

I shook my sightless head mutely.

“Understand, Juno. Only your tongue. I want you to learn the layout of my body with your tongue. If you use your hands again, your next punishment will be more extreme.”

It was a shame that he couldn’t see my eyes glitter with excitement behind the silk jersey. I think he noticed my excited shivers though, as he seemed pleased with my quietly nodded response.

I felt his cock come close to my face, grazing my cheeks and nose. I reached out my tongue, to catch it, taste it, wrap it in my soft warmth — and then felt it move away abruptly.

Thwack! Another spank, this time on my other buttock.

“Your blow jobs are terrible today, Juno. I don’t know what’s wrong with you.”

In my heart of hearts I could sense him biting back ferocious giggles. I wasn’t sure I could hear any withheld laughter in his voice, but I knew he was laughing. He knew what he was doing, he knew that under no circumstances could anyone achieve anything even vaguely resembling the most rudimentary form of blow job with the time allowed for contact between cock and tongue. He also knew that I knew how much he loved the way in which I performed fellatio on him. This was his game, his way of teasing and delighting me.

“Get on all fours, ” he directed, pushing me onto my side in order to give me a fighting chance at getting into position relatively unaided.

And then began the games with my ass.

He began by starting to slide an unlubed finger into me — and immediately I forgot the game, forgot the rules, and cried out for mercy.

“Please, baby, please. Use the lube… i know I’m not supposed to speak, I know you’ll spank me for this… I don’t care. Use the lube. Please. Have mercy!”

He made no comment to my outburst, but paused, and I could hear lube-squirting-onto-finger noises. I knew he’d heard my plea as it had been intended — one from the heart. I thanked heaven silently that he was a compassionate person, and that since I’d been the first person to ever finger-fuck his ass (an event that had taken place only that morning) and had made a point of using lube when I did, he’d know that I wasn’t being cheeky in an attempt to have my ass paddled.

His finger slid into my ass, and I gasped as it was withdrawn and then replaced with an almost-identical companion digit.

“That’s good, baby… yes?”

I nodded.

“Does it feel good when I combine it with this?” he asked.

Suddenly my cunt was filled with 8.5″ of rabbit vibrator. The fingers continued to move in and out of me. I was floating in bliss, experiencing mini-orgasms in rapid succession. The fingers were once again withdrawn, and this time replaced with a (well-lubricated) plain vibrator.

Dual penetration. And buzzing vibrations with it. I was nearing complete ecstasy. I cried out in blissed-out joy, which was what he’d been waiting for.

Thwack! Whack! Smack! His hand landed a series of blows on my buttocks.

“Who said you could speak, slut?”

I bowed my head penitently.

He leaned over until I could feel his lips against my ear, and his breath on my cheek. “Now I’m going to punish you,” he murmured meaningfully. My mind raced as to what my punishment might entail. I knew what I hoped it would be.

Slowly and deliberately, he removed the plain vibrator from my ass, and pushed the rabbit further into my cunt from where it had strayed. He paused to sweep his hand beneath the rabbit to collect some of my previously gushed juice, and added a judicious dollop of lube, smearing the mixture up and down his shaft. I couldn’t see this, but I knew it was what he was doing by the action that followed. And it was exactly what I’d hoped.

I felt his cock nudging at my anus. Idly I wondered whether the dildo that had been in it previously would have had any kind of stretching effect. And then, as the initial pain hit and I wondered afresh why i ever allowed men anywhere near my poor little ass if this was the effect (immediately prior to the mumbling blissful feelings that followed during which I mercifully forgot and blocked out all thought of the agony), i realized that no great stretching had been effected.

But then, as it always does, the pain receded and the pleasure began. For a Dom who was fucking my ass but good, he was surprisingly gentle and smooth, and i allowed myself a whimper or two of ecstatic bliss. The vibrator buzzing within me combined with the ass-fucking sensations brought me closer and closer to orgasm until it suddenly hit, and i gasped as the vibe flew onto the bed, when my cunt shuddered from within and forced it out.

As I subsided into a quivering heap of happiness and post-orgasmic satisfaction, he removed my blindfold, and my shackles, thereby ending the Dom/sub session. It was just me and him again.

“Did you come?” I whispered, all but spent from the hours of fucking.

“I came in your ass,” he grinned. “I’ve wanted to do that since I met you.”

And playfully spanked me once more on my ass… for luck.

 

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Tess Danesi: Darkness

January 6th, 2012

Tags: Tess Danesi, fiction, bdsm, submission

It takes a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. When they do I see her there as I left her, of course it isn’t as if she could go anywhere.  She looks lovely suspended there, her skin glows in the pitch illuminated by its own inner radiance.  I know if I were to take off the blindfold, her eyes would be moist with tears.  I want to see those eyes, but not yet.  I am a patient man.

Her fear of the dark has prompted me to play with her in this manner; a delightful mind-fuck.  “Is it the dark you are afraid of, pet or what you imagine lurks in it,” I had asked her earlier.  She couldn’t quite answer, she knows it to be irrational, yet she always sleeps with a light on.  Less and less of a light over the years, but never in complete darkness, certainly not if she is alone in a strange place.

Though I have her standing on a small stool, she still isn’t quite my height but I am a tall man and she is a petite woman. Her wrists are wrapped in heavy leather restraints; ropes attach those to the eye bolts in the ceiling.  She has to stand on the balls of her feet or her toes a bit to remain in contact with the stool.  I love to watch the strain manifest itself in her calves, arms and back; to see her muscles tremble under the pressure, but it is too dark to do that now.  I don’t want her overly uncomfortable as tonight I intend to keep her there for a long, long time.

Though I am silent, I can see that she senses my presence as she turns her head from side to side as if that will help her penetrate the shadows.  I actually have to stifle a cruel laugh seeing her trying, despite the overwhelming obstacles, to intuit what or who is in the room with her. She doesn’t even know where she is.  I blindfolded her and took her to the car, only to drive around for a bit, turn around and return to the house.  But she doesn’t know that.  She could be anywhere, but I like her here, where I am most comfortable.

”Dar,” she whispers, “Dar, are you there? Please, love, answer me.”

Of course I don’t answer her.  I sit and watch; watch her toes stretch, watch her chest heave as she takes bigger breaths trying to calm herself.  I decide to leave her and come back in thirty minutes or so but not before picking up the whip and slicing the air close to her with it.  The sharp distinctive snap makes her jump, whimper and finally scream my name.  Again I don’t answer; instead I make my way to the door and let it slam loudly, wordlessly announcing my departure.

Imagine what I can do with her in the dark.  When I touch her, she can’t even be sure it is I doing so.  Sounds are magnified.  Her other senses strain to make up for the lack of sight.  I smile thinking about it, about how I have no intention of speaking to her tonight, refusing to give her the comfort of my voice.  But, you see, I am a bastard.  I allow myself to manifest this side more completely with her than with anyone else, justified by the fact that though she is chained and bound at the moment, she is always free to leave without recrimination.  Staying is her choice.  If she stays there will always be pain. It is my way.  I accept it and so must she if is to remain.

She likes the pain for the most part, though she is constantly amazed at how I find new ways to torment her; emotionally and physically.  I love her, don’t think for a moment that she means nothing to me; I’d die to protect her.  I love how she accepts and embraces my dark side.  And a significant dark side it is.  I am not a kind person, I have accepted my sadistic nature; it is as much part and parcel of who I am as being far too trusting is ingrained in her.  We discuss all the time the need for her to moderate and to gauge how much trust she puts in others but it never seems to take.  It is as deep-rooted in her soul as my need to have her cry, to scourge her lovely back and to watch as her lips are pulled tight in a manifestation of pain is fixed in mine.

I wait and listen to soft music.  Classical.  It relaxes me and tempers my tendencies to brutality.  She had enraged me earlier in the week and though I firmly believe in immediate punishment my schedule sometimes supercedes even my sadism.  Now I need to gather myself, to find myself in a place of control before I engage her.   The music, ah the music helps.

I become so engrossed in it that the knock at the door startles me.  I look at my watch and note that she is right on time and has remembered not to ring the bell.  The distinctive tone would allow my pretty little pet, all tied up in the cellar play room, to realize where she is.

I pull the heavy wooden door open and there is Lilia, all polished white skin, as smooth as the well worn ivory keys of a much beloved and often played piano and ruby red lips that stretch wide in a smile of greeting.  Half her face is obscured by a curtain of waist length ebony hair revealing only one flashing chocolate brown eye.  A long black coast opens to reveal a tiny skirt and thigh high fetish boots that steal my attention away from her face for a moment.  Lilia is a beauty to behold, a dark beauty to be sure, but a beauty no less.  Her darkness is almost a match for mine – almost.  Her face reveals none of maliciousness, it is sweet and unlined, however I know all too well what lies underneath that surface loveliness.

This is a perfect assignment for Lilia.  She will put her all into tormenting my Tess.  The bitch deserves it.  Does it matter if I tell you why? I think not, if I say she is deserving of punishment then she is.  It is really that simple.

I welcome her in and kiss her softly on the lips.  I have her undress, except for those kick ass boots, before accompanying her downstairs with instructions not to say a word to Tess, nothing.  She may touch her anywhere, slap her, pinch her nipples, lick her pussy, whatever she likes, but not a sound and she isn’t to allow Tess to come.  I light a candle and hand it to her.  The candlelight throws shadows that illuminate her beautiful alabaster breasts. Once she has it in hand, I lean in and bite first one nipple then the other, not gently, savagely, knowing it will encourage her in her abuse of Tess.

I let her follow me down the stairs.  Hearing the sound of those boots on the stairs, knowing that Tess must be going out of her mind wondering who or what this may be.  This pleases me.  Opening the door that separates the playroom from the more usual cellar, I hear her as she purrs my name ending in the higher pitch of a question, “Dar? Dar? Dar?”  I sit on the bench and watch as Lilia goes up to her and without any warning braces her with one arm around the small of her back and sinks two beautifully manicured fingers of her other hand deep into her cunt.  The shock that is evident in her gasp is sweetness to my ears.  Her body trembles as Lilia moves her fingers in and out in a silence only broken by the sweet sucking sounds of Tess’s juicy cunt.

Lilia stops for a moment, picks up her candle, and lets the small puddle of wax that has collected tip over Tess’s swollen mound.  Her body jolts against her restraints and she shrieks one word, “No.”  Lilia waits till there is a bit more wax and this time spreads her pussy lips with the fingers of one hand, I watch as Tess’s body stiffens, preparing herself for the intense heat.  Lilia looks at me for confirmation and as I nod my head she let’s the wax spill onto Tess’s engorged clit.  This time she barely has the energy to scream. She moans instead, lyrical mournful moans.  She knows it pleases me for her to endure her punishment, to stand up to the pain and when she softly moans instead of screaming she knows I will be happy with her.  My obedient little pet.

I let Lilia torment her a bit more.  She pinches her nipples roughly, removes the stool from under her feet so that she is free to bite along the tender inside of her thighs.  Lilia steals me a wicked glance when she notices the D still healing on Tess’s inner thigh.  She licks and sucks at the lips of Tess’s shaven pussy, judiciously avoiding any contact with her clit.  And finally, finally she lets the flat her tongue run along Tess’s clit and seals her lips over it sucking and lapping, making sounds that drive me to distraction, while I see a finger begin to work at entering Tess’s tight asshole.

Rising, I walk over to Lilia and grab her by her hair lifting her to her full height.  My teeth find her neck as I propel her until her back rests against the cool concrete wall. She lifts her legs and wraps them tightly around my waist as I slide my throbbing erection into her.  I fuck her hard, without mercy, though I know that the roughness of the wall must be abrading her back.  Lilia is a pain slut; she wouldn’t want it any other way.  I bite her lower lip until it bleeds into my mouth, enjoying the metallic tang which replaces her usual taste somehow reminiscent of apricots.

Her muscles squeeze me tight, pulsating rhythmically with my thrusts.  Lilia has always been an incredible fuck and tonight is no exception.  The sounds of her wetness combines with her ever increasing moans and though she has promised silence, she breaks her promise with a loud, “Oh my god, Dar, don’t you fucking stop,” as the orgasm she has been trying to contain courses through her body.  I clamp a hand over her mouth and she shakes her head from side to side trying to escape it before her body falls limp against me.  I need to use my strength to ensure she doesn’t fall to the ground.

My poor pet sobs softly.  I see her chest moving up and down in as she breathes in little hiccups of air.  I almost feel sorry for her.  She is a jealous little bitch.  I am sure this is more painful for her then even the whip, but that is after all the idea.  Pain.  My choice.  Emotional, physical or some combination.  My choice.  Do I sound like a malevolent bastard?  I am.  But as much as I cause her pain, I give her pleasure in equal if not greater amounts.  One for the other.  Simple.

I whisper to Lilia to go upstairs and dress before releasing Tess from her bounds.  I choose to leave the blindfold in place.  Her body is rag doll limp and she crumbles to the ground.  I kiss her lightly on the forehead and make sure she is comfortable on the carpeted floor.

“Stay,” I say.  She is only able to nod her head in reply.

I return upstairs to find Lilia dressed and ready to go.

“It’s always my pleasure to be of service to you, Daray,” she says with a smile, “please feel free to call me anytime.”  And she turns, opens the door and exits without a backward glance.  Lilia is quite the tart and I am sure that this is just the beginning of her escapades for the evening.

I return to find Tess just as I left her.  I kneel beside her, remove the blindfold and watch as she blinks her eyes to adjust to the candlelight.  I see her mouth move, she wants to speak, but I place my mouth on hers and swallow her words with my kiss.  I know what she wants to know and that information will not be forthcoming.  She will never know it was Lilia’s touch and tongue she felt.  I will never tell her whose tight little cunt I pounded as she listened unable to escape from the sounds.  It makes me smile. It gives me something to remind her of when she steps out of line again.  She’ll wonder when we go out among our crowd if the woman over there looking at her and whispering in her friend’s ear is speaking of this evening.

I think about the words I know she wants to hear and wonder for a moment if I need to withhold them just a little longer, but she looks me in the eyes with such tenderness that I stop thinking and simply react.

“Good girl, my good girl,” I murmur into her neck as I nuzzle her, “you did well.  Are you ready for your reward, love?”

She answers by placing her arms tightly around my neck and hugging herself close to me.  I lift her into my arms, her soft golden skin cool against my warmth and begin the ascent up the two flights of stairs as my cock begins to stir in anticipation of being drowned once again in her wetness.

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Joanna Cake: Where No One Can Hear You Scream…

January 6th, 2012

Tags: Joanna Cake, bdsm, bondage

After showering me, he led me into the bedroom and removed the towel. He was laughing because there, on the bed where I had placed them earlier, was the tape and some toys. All our regular ones had been left at his place but these are two that I keep in my travel bag – just in case. A mini wand clit stimulator and a slim vibrator. I’m pretty sure both of them came as freebies or special offers when I’ve bought stuff from LoveHoney. But the piece de resistance was the tape.

We’d wanted to try some ‘proper’ bondage for a while. Normally we improvise and use cotton belts but these have a tendency to be uncomfortably tight or to come undone so they are not totally reliable. A friend had waxed lyrical about the joys of bondage tape but, on checking, the stuff he had recommended contained latex. In fact, everywhere I tried, all the brands seemed to have it… until now. LoveHoney stock this as ‘lightweight bondage ribbon‘ and list it as latex-free so I thought we should give it a go.

It seemed a bit too clinical to go straight from the loved-up passion in the shower to the mindset needed for bondage so we started by playing with the toys… well I did, whilst Ruf looked on. Freed from the restriction of worrying about alerting the other houseguests to our activities, I was in my element. Effusive in expressing my enjoyment.

It never normally takes long before he wants to join in and we indulged ourselves with a little doggy, accompanied by a side serving of clit vibration. This, on top of the remnants of arousal from the shower episode, continued the process of stimulation. We have discovered that my orgasms are like tides where, with each ebb and flow, the height of the next exceeds the last… culminating in the massive spring flood. My excited squeals were signalling the first rumblings of a seismic shift that would rock me at the denouement.

As we lay there, snuggling for a moment of refraction, I just drank him in. I love being in this position, tucked under his arm with my head on his shoulder and my hand stroking his chin and his chest – my Sanctuary. It has the most calming effect on me.

It makes me realise how lucky I am to have found him. Tess did a post about gspots recently and said that she would far rather have a man who could find her soul. But what I have found with Ruf is a someone who can do both. A man who makes me feel so beautiful and special that I walk around like the Ready Brek kid with a glowing external aura.

Lying there, thinking about how relaxed I feel with him, about how turned on I was earlier in the shower, I just felt this huge surge of emotion rising up inside me and overwhelming me.

And then he started to whisper. Telling me about what was going to happen next. How he was going to use the bondage tape to restrain me and have his way with me. Reminding me how totally helpless I was going to be… Completely at his mercy and unable to stop him. Ruf at his most dominant.

Lifting myself onto my elbow, he could see the uncontrollable desire in my eyes and our lips met as our bodies intertwined. Two lusts joining and overlapping and consuming us as he pushed me back and grabbed hold of my wrists. Yanking at the tape, he secured my forearms together, just below the elbow and then did the same with my wrists.

At first I thought it wasn’t going to work. The tape was like a ribbon, soft and fragile. But I was so wrong. As soon as it was wound around so that two pieces touched each other, it adhered and stuck firm to itself… but not to my skin. I tried to pull my arms apart but I was, as he had predicted, powerless to protect myself. He sat between my legs and lifted one onto his shoulder, resting the ankle there as he dragged my arms up and secured my wrists to the lower part of my leg. Trussed like a chicken and, revelling in my impotence, he took full advantage.

Applying his fingers to my clit, as I bucked and wriggled beneath his attentions, before pressing home his advantage in no uncertain terms as the pressure recommenced its ascent inside me.

Taking me to a point where I was begging for my tulip.

‘Can you hold it?’ he queried as he placed the stem between my restrained but supplicant palms and watched me bend my leg to apply the buzzing bulb to the specific part. He laughed as the orgasm hit almost immediately. Waiting for the onset of the next, he pulled me towards him and rested my foot on his chest, lifting my pelvis off the bed so that my weight was on my shoulders and upper back. My other leg naturally hooked itself around his hip to give him just the right angle to slide himself in at the optimum moment and start to pump. This is one of my favourite positions for a really strong climax, especially when I’ve already had several… and it didn’t fail me on this occasion.

With no one within earshot to hear my noisy exclamations, I could just let rip and scream as the tension accumulated and compounded to a crescendo of explosive release, leaving me gasping and shaking. And, this being Ruf, he wasn’t happy to just finish it there so he continued his rhythmic hip jerks in and out as the tulip continued to wreak havoc with the nerves leading from my groin to my brain, agitating and impatient, pushing out a second and then a third shrieking eruption.

As soon as my brain showed any semblance of regaining its natural equilibrium, he pushed me over onto my fastened knee, insisting that I maintain the pressure of the tulip, despite my pleas that I couldn’t turn. He manhandled my body into the position he had envisaged, with one knee up and the other leg long before penetrating me again and riding another wave of shrill approval.

There was no time for my mental state to recover itself before he made use of the final toy. The small vibrating dildo was inserted. First into the sodden gash of my cunt and pressing back against the opposing force of the tulip. Squeezing my gspot in some devilish sandwich of delight until he received his squelchy and vociferous reward.

I didn’t even have to tell him where I wanted it next, although he made me plead for it just the same as he teased at the little round rosebud. And then it was inside, the sensory pleasure pushing the pressure higher and higher, until I thought my head would burst open, despite the screams venting the energy from my mouth.

Before long, he was unable to resist the urge to be inside me too. The muscles there had tightened to such a degree that he could hardly make any inward progress. So slipping in and out at the entrance, enjoying the stereo vibrations from the two little helpers on either side, he waited for the moment of release when the screams reached their zenith and subsided; when my rigid musculature relaxed sufficiently for him to push forward and take me back up to the summit again. My body clenching around him, effectively pinning him inside me before forcibly ejecting him and blocking his attempts to regain entry.

Wave upon cataclysmic wave building to a tsunami as my fingers gripped the bedding convulsively, knuckles white with the restrained energy fighting to extricate itself as I yelled and shrieked to liberate the pent-up storm whirling around my body.

And then there was silence.

This amazing sense of complete calm. Total relaxation after discharging all the furious tension that had built up inside me. I don’t know how much time passed before I watched him as he gently released me from the tape bindings and noted that there had been no form of reaction against my skin. I lay completely still and emotionless as he tidied up the bed, focussing only on the activity that occurred immediately within my field of vision.

I remember that he asked several times if I was alright but I was incapable of responding. I’m not really sure that I knew the answer.

Everything was in slow motion and accompanied by a soft buzzing in my ears. Like watching a scene through a lens smeared with vaseline, all sort of smudged around the edges. There were half-formed sentences in my mind that my mouth could not begin to utter without the connection. Nothing seemed to matter. Catatonic. Drugged by the excesses of our passion.

Someone later likened it to a mini-stroke but I’m glad I didn’t think that then. I just let it have me – totally numb, yet engulfed in this curiously warm glow of satisfaction. As I drifted off, I was aware of him wrapping himself around me and pulling me close. Tucking the quilt in beneath me. Safe and warm, he held me tightly as I slept, exhausted by our endeavours.

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Elegant Slut: Fisted First

January 6th, 2012

Tags: Elegant Slut, fisting

It was never an ambition of mine to be fisted.

In fact, when reading this piece, I was reminded of how I once felt about the whole fisting experience. Except I was far less enthusiastic than she sounds.

“Euw,” I thought to myself on more than one occasion.

“A whole fist? Inside my poor little pussy? What if it goes too far in, and I feel his watch in me– and it snags on one of the leftover pubic hairs (goddamn them) that evaded the all-pervading destruction of my depilatory efforts? What then? Aiieee!!!”

When I imagine the bad of a situation, I tend to go straight to worst-possible-case scenario, and wallow there for a while. It’s one of the joys of being neurotic. Of which there are many.

And then it happened for the first time.

I lay in his arms, and I could feel his fingers inside me, probing into the deepest part of me, furiously. It was his desire to make me gush my come all over his hand, and by golly he was giving it his all.

“How many are inside me?” I asked him. “Fingers, I mean.”

He giggled. (How sexy is it when a guy giggles with pure pleasure? It could sway even the most frigid of hearts, I’ll bet.)

“Umm… all of them.”

“All of them? All???”

“Yeah. All.”

“All. Four. Fingers.”

“Yes, all four. And don’t forget my thumb.”

“You mean you’re….”

“Yeah. I’m fisting you. How does it feel?”

It felt fabulous, if the truth be told. I felt filled up, but it was different than the thick-cock-filling-me-feeling. And it was lovely, because the movements made by his fist inside me were so different to a cock. So sensual, yet so raw and so powerful. I could liken the smooth, fullness of the moments to how it felt immediately after my anal passage relaxes and allows a cock that is fucking it full access.

It was wonderful.

But I was still doubtful. I mean, if it was this easy, what had stopped all my other lovers from trying it? Was it because this guy was more perverted? Unlikely. Perverted in a different way, maybe?

Yeah — maybe.

I strained to look. “I wanna see!”

“Here, I have an idea. Hold on a second…”

His voice trailed away as he reached behind him and grabbed a large professional digital camera from the stand next to the bed. He fiddled with it a little, and then handed it to me and started positioning my arms with his free hand.

“Wait… let me move your hands for you… lift your arms up a bit… yes.. that’s it. Now push the button.”

I duly pushed the button, and heard the satisfying click-whirr-clunk of a photo taken. He took the camera from me, and single-handedly adjusted it so that it reflected the last picture taken, and then showed me.

Sure enough, there was my cunt, and his fist… all the way inside it. (And he wasn’t wearing a watch.)

It’s the oddest thing to see your pussy iconized like that. The whole picture was my pussy and his wrist protruding from it. And as I was looking at it, I could feel his fist inside me. Accommodating myself to fit him had been far easier than I’d thought, although I am not terrifically big in the cunt area.

Practicalities dispensed with, we returned our attentions to fucking. Specifically, to him fucking me with his hand.

His whole hand all the way inside me. Fisting me.

The sweetest and most intense pressure as his pace increased and my grip on reality started to unhinge. The build-up inside me of pre-orgasmic excitement and an almost-but-not-quite unbearable tension in my bladder or thereabouts spiralled me higher and higher to orgasmic bliss until i came and gushed out rivers of fluid all over his hand, and I heard his contented sigh of satisfaction.

“That’s it, come for me baby. Yesss….”

I exhaled, and lay back, exhausted. I felt his hand slide out of me, caressing me as it slid. I heard his satisfied breathing complementing my own jagged coming-down gasps and i felt blissed-out and dazed.

My first fisting.

 

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Elegant Slut: Love That Ass (His Perspective)

January 6th, 2012

Tags: Elegant Slut, anal sex

I watch her as she walks in front of me, and opens the door. I see a glimpse over her shoulder of soft lighting and enticing folds of chiffon draped over a high and inviting bed, and i fantasize about how she’ll look lying on it, face down, and ass in the air.

Damn, but I love that ass. Pure and simple. The sight of that soft white flesh makes my heart race, and my cock stiffen until I can barely stand it.

I want her, Jesus fuck! How I want her. And the best thing about it is that I know I can have her. Whatever I want, whenever I want. All I have to do is say the word.

She’s a slut, of course, but no ordinary slut. Obedient and accommodating. Educated, intelligent and charming. A magnificent cocksucker, and a glorious fuck. My fabulous slut.

I grab her by the hair, and growl into her ear:

“That’s right, isn’t it? You’re my slut, aren’t you?”

She nods briefly and murmurs her concurrence. Once we leave the portals of this sweetly-scented chamber, to all intents and purposes we are equals. But as long as we are in here, she submits to my command; to my every whim.

My educated slut. I love it, and so does she.

And right now, my whim is to fuck that glorious ass. It was pre-ordained, pre-discussed and pre-determined — and we both know it.

I motion to her to get naked, and quick. She removes all her clothing, and stumbles a little as her panties catch on her heel, but she recovers quickly, and stands in front of me in all her soft, curvy glory, expectantly awaiting my command.

“Turn around.”

She does as she is bid. I see her tremble slightly. Is it the cold? An unlikely reason, since the temperature in here is beautifully regulated. I presume that the cause of the tremor is her growing excitement and feel my own build inside me — partly at the thought of calming those anticipatory quivers with a touch of my hand.

“Bend over and touch your toes.”

Again, she obeys me. I reach out to stroke across and down her hip, feeling the soft swell of her flesh beneath my fingers… and her agitation fades, as I knew it would. I slide my hand under her ass cheek and between her legs, which she automatically begins to open to give me further access, and then, suddenly remembering herself, she pauses, waiting for me to indicate that this is what I want her to do.

Naturally, I oblige.

“Spread those thighs for me, baby. Give me your pussy.”

Upon slipping two fingers into her cunt I discover that she is deliciously slippery and wet. I finger her idly for a moment, before suddenly removing my hand and belting a spank across her ass.

Not a hint of flinch. Excellent.

“Stand up, baby, and go lie on the bed. On your stomach.”

I step out of my jeans, and remove my shirt, watching as she positions herself on the bed, on her stomach, with her head buried in the bedsheets. Taking the lube from where I pre-prepared it on the nightstand, I dribble a judicious amount onto her ass.

I massage the lube into and around her anus, and insert two fingers into her, and as I do, I feel her lift her ass towards me. I roll a condom on, maneuver myself into her pussy and hold myself there. Her gasp of joy hangs in the air as I stay where i am, filling her pussy and ass, immobile and impassive. I feel her muscles clench around me, urging me into her yet further but I make no move.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Moof maymee.”

I lean over and grab her hair, pulling her head sharply up from the bed.

“Pardon? Speak clearly, my slut.”

“You, baby,” she repeats. “I want you.”

“You want me to…?”

“Fuck me. Please. I want you to fuck me.”

Once again, I oblige my slut. I slide out of her, and then slam straight back into her. I pound that beautiful pussy hard and fast. Her cries of joy do not go unnoticed, and i remove my hand from her hair, only to stuff it in her mouth, and feel her lick and nip at my fingers.

I lean towards her, and bring my mouth close to her ear so she can hear me breathe.

“I’m going to fuck your ass now.”

She sighs happily.

Swiftly, I add more lube to her already glistening ass crack, and replace the condom on my taut cock. I enter her, and she squeals with pain.

“Relax baby. I want you to relax the muscles in your ass. Will you do that for me?”

She nods mutely. I hold my cock in her ass, just the head, and I wait until I feel her muscles relax around me. Only then do I begin to slide myself into her, feeling that tight peach of an ass surround me as I move.

“Good girl,” I growl quietly. She gives me her ass, and I fuck her hard and slow. I fold my arms around her so that she feels safe and secure, and I feel her snuggle into them contentedly as I fuck her.

“I’m all the way inside your ass,” I whisper in her ear, and she nods. “Do you like that, baby?” She nods again, more vigorously.

I increase in speed and intensity until i groan and shudder as I shoot a fountain of come, for what seems like hours. And then subside as I lie on top of her.

Love that ass.

 

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The Fury: 69 Ways To Spice Up Your Sex Life

January 6th, 2012

Tags: The Fury, advice, ideas

When you woke up and rolled over this morning, did you see some “regular old crackers”? Are you three days, three months, three years, seven years or more in a relationship and thinking things have to get better because this gumbo has lost its spice?

Need some help spicing up your relationship?

Never fear. The Fury is here.

1) You first have to decide if your partner really wants to spice things up. If not, it won’t matter. This kitchen needs two cooks. If both people aren’t focused on the dish, it won’t be successful.

2) Honest communication. It’s time to share those deep, dark, filthy fetishes without judgement and then decide what you both feel comfortable doing.

3) Explore, push the envelope and go at it with reckless abandon!

A friend of mine decided she was ready to explore her freaky side with her new mate. One morning when he walked back into the bedroom after his morning shower, she was playing with her toy, well lubed and told him to give it to her…anally.

He was shocked, thrown off balance…and intrigued.

Another friend, web cammed from work with her husband and proceeded to pleasure herself right then. She stopped before climax and instructed him that it was his job to finish it when they got home.

They never put their kids to bed faster.

Pushing the envelope works. Here’s 69 ways you can do it:

1. Go to the sex club and watch…hell…participate!
2. Go to the strip club together.
3. Strip for your man/woman at home
4. Give each other lap dances with a happy ending.
5. Role play as soon as they walk in the door.
6. Wear a sexy costume
7. Do that freaky thing you always fantasized about but were scare you’d be judged.
8. Watch porn together.
9. Give her/him so unprovoked, out of the blue, surprise head in the kitchen
10. Swallow for the first time… and enjoy it [or do a great job of acting as if you do]
11. Be gentle with her
12. Tease her.
13. Give her/him a massage with a happy ending.
14. Have sex in public
15. “christen” every room in your place (both places if you live separately)
16. Dress. No panties. Let him see you/touch you in public
17. Try new positions. There are LOTS of them.
18. Have a threesome
19. Have a foursome
20. Have a fivesome […get the picture?]
21. Have sex with all the lights on
22. Have sex with only candles lit
23. Have sex in pitch blackness with only your voices and bodies to tell the tale
24. Have anal sex
25. Titty f#ck
26. Ask for the facial if you really want it
27. Ask her if you can give her a facial if you really wanna try it
28. Record it, watch it together, have more sex, erase it…[ERASE IT!]
29. Record something for him/her
30. Do it with the music blasting
31. Send him sexy pictures while he’s out with his boys
32. Send her a sexy picture while she’s out with the girls [Don't show anyone those pictures]
33. Go to the spa together
34. Write a sexy story for each other and read them aloud
35. Exercise together
36. Cook for him/her wearing something sexy..or just an apron
37. Talk dirty during sex
38. Tell him/her how you want it…during
39. Spank her
40. Spank him
41. Whip him
42. Whip her
43. Tie her/him up
44. Blindfold her/him
45. Bring out the toys.
46. Use her toy on her
47. Use his on toy him
48. Use her toy on him [no judging]
49. Let him watch you pleasure yourself
50. Let her watch you pleasure yourself
51. Mutual masturbation
52. Give him head during Sportscenter
53. Give her head during Basketball Wives
54. Sext
55. Read The Dirty Details together [shameless plug]
56. Have tipsy sex (wine is a wonderful de-inhibitor)
57. Rent a hotel and leave it a wreck from the wild sex you had
58. Have sex in a hard back chair
59. Have sex on a counter top
60. Have sex on a table [please don't break the table]
61. Give him head while driving [stay in the left lane, proceed with caution]
62. Digitally stimulate her while driving [see note above]
63. Flirt with another woman in front of him
64. Whip cream, honey, chocolate syrup, peanut butter…[that was not a recipe]
65. Baby oil, plastic sheets… [that was not a child care tip]
66. Use a toy on her while you’re having sex
67. Lick her from the back
68. Lick him from the back
69. 69

They call me The Fury and I suggest you print out this list and leave it on his/her pillow with your favorites circled.

 

 

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