Sep 192014

Flash Fiction Friday

Key Phrase:  Bad Idea
Word Limit:  2000 Characters, including Spaces
Forbidden Words: Naked, Shower
Bonus Words:  Tell us about a bad idea of your own.
Extra Credit:  Come up with a new bad idea…..

She thought it was bad idea. Of course, it was already too late to say that. And the idea had been hers to begin with.

But it was just a fantasy.

Okay, he made it a reality. They were in the pool swimming with their mutual friend, when he announced oh-so-casually that Mike was having sex with her.

“Wait-what?” She almost forgot to stop treading water until the water covered her mouth and reminded her she was, in fact, in danger of drowning.

“You wanted to be given away, Mikey wants you. Seems like the  perfect arrangement. So with that, I’m leaving.” He proceeded to climb out of the pool, grabbed his towel, and headed inside. But not without shouting over his shoulder, “no glove, no love.”

She watched him go. Still in the deep end, chin deep in water, abandoned with that statement, her eyes darted to Mike. He was sitting on the steps, his trunks barely covered in water, his broad chest exposed, arms casually on his knees leaning forward, his adorably curly dark hair still dripping wet. He gave a lopsided smile, kept her gaze.

She felt like a sitting duck. And like ducks do, she hoped she looked calm on the surface, because underneath she all chaos to stay on top of things. She felt pounding in her ears and sucked in a nervous breath.

A nervous, anxious wreck, and yet, and yet, her pussy clenched in excitement.

She smiled, hoped it looked passable and sexy, felt like she grimaced in her attempt. What should she do? Should she take off her swimsuit in the water, throw it out in a sexy spray of water and challenge him to join her? Oh god, what she got tangled in the water and drowned? Besides, she hated sex in the pool. It didn’t allow her natural juices to really lubricate with the pool water getting in the way. Her heart beat so hard she was sure she was going to have a stroke…wait, stroke…swim. Deep breath, she decided to swim towards him. Surely by the time she reached him, she would have a plan.

What the hell was she thinking by confessing this desire? What the hell was her idiotic boyfriend thinking in giving it to her?

Mike stood up right when her feet hit the bottom of the shallow end. God, he was hot. God, she loved her boyfriend for this incredibly hot present. She just hoped she had the guts to open it. He was so shiny and new.

“Shall we?” he asked, his voice so calm and cool. Tall, dark, and handsome, and offering his hand. She walked towards him, keeping her eyes on his hand instead of his stiffened penis so obvious even through his trunks. Yum.

Her hand took his, and she was thankful she was soaking wet, as her trembling hand would definitely be sweating as well. Shit, hopefully he didn’t notice her trembling. She was so excited, she was so nervous.

He gently pulled her towards the bathroom that led into the guest room, that then led into the rest of the house, where her boyfriend was. Oh god, he was really going to let her sex with Mike! She gave him a silent high-five and cursed him all the same time. How could he do this with no warning?

She watched the ground, sure she was going to trip, thankful her feet instinctively moved. She felt a towel go around her shoulders, looked up at Mike…gorgeous dark eyes almost black to match his hair, stumble around his face…mumbled, “thank you.” His hands wrapped the towel around her shoulders, hands stayed there, moving the fabric to her upper arms, lower arms, god she wanted the towel/his hands all over her. Before she lost her nerve, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him, lips pressed too hard against his before she eased up from excitement and his tongue was in her mouth, kissing her. Kissing her!

Oh god, she was kissing Mike. He was the hottest friend they had, and she was making out with him. Her hands couldn’t get enough, and she fumbled at his shoulders, down his muscular arms, back up to the back of his head, around his back. One arm went around her and pulled her tight to his body and she felt his desire, hard against her lower belly. His other arm reached past her and opened the door and she backed slowly into it, holding the towel around her waist carefully. As they broke apart when she tripped over the threshold, he closed the door and she wrapped the towel around her waist.

Wait?! Why did she do that? God, she was such an idiot. She wasn’t trying to be modest, she was trying to have sex with Mike.

Her back to him, berating herself silently, she felt his hands at the band of her bikini top, undoing the clasp. Before she could tear the towel off of her, he spun her around and picked her up, placed her on the sink in the tiny enclosed space. He leaned into kiss her again, and her hair felt deliciously cool against her hardening nipples. She placed her hands on the sink for balance and let his delicious kisses consume her again.

Fuck this was hot. Fuck she loved her boyfriend.

…And she was about to fuck Mike!


Okay, almost double the character allowance, but with extra credit and bonus, I deserve it. 

A bad idea of my own was very similar to this. I went to a relative’s pool with a new lover once on a hot summer day, and we had sex in the pool and guest room more times than I can count. Anyone could’ve come in-all the family was regularly there during summer, and my relative could’ve come home. Yet, he was so hot, so shiny and new, and lust took over my common sense. Mmm, pool sex, how I love and hate it. 

The new bad idea is partly why this story ran so long-I have a fantasy to be “given away”. Granted, it better not be in a fucking pool, that would be awkward. But I really want to be an object for a short period of time. And I don’t want to know in advance, because I would back out of it once my brain was done with me. And that would be a shame. 


Sep 182014

*Not intended to offend any deeply religious people. 

I looked up at the enormous cross that went from floor to cathedral ceiling on the wall of the church and shivered. Jesus hanged there with nails through the wrists and ankles, the thorns on his head, tattered clothing modestly hung around his waist, limply with eyes closed and blood dripping from his wounds. He was gigantic.

I shuddered again. Jesus terrified me. He always had.

I left my seat from the front pew, a seat that was familiar to me, and walked out.

No question, I still felt the same way. It had been close to twenty years since I had been in the church, and nothing had changed. The same church that I was in at least five days out of the week, the one that was attached to the Catholic School I attended. Sometimes my lack of knowledge of sexual slang shocks people (even myself), but I think people primarily learn it in whispers at school, just not my school.

Yep, I attended Catholic School.

It’s amazing how that sentence gets an arched brow, a knowing look, a wink and nudge; maybe it’s cliché; I personally hate the stereotype. I think it’s as annoying as hell.

And I attended it for thirteen years. It was a big part of my growing, shaping, and molding me as a person. I had aspirations to be a nun.

I am not deeply religious, and I certainly don’t follow the Catholic religion anymore. That being said, I can’t work against it, either. It makes me slightly nauseous. I’m not rebellious against it, don’t want to twist it, don’t know if I (personally) could.

No nuns giving blow jobs, or priests having sex.

No church sexual acts.

No choking by rosary.

Oh hell no!

And I did wear the school uniform, for thirteen years. Every Monday-Friday I put on the thin see-through white button down collared shirt, the itchy plaid skirt (even wearing it during physical education classes). I would walk into my classroom and kneel, not for prayer, but to make sure that my skirt was long enough. I dealt with the no-nonsense nuns; the priests – my favorite being on the from South America whose English wasn’t good but could play a guitar and had a gentle nature. I sang hymns in church most of the school day on Fridays. My History and English education was mostly Bible Studies.

This is one kink that I just can’t get into. I don’t understand it; I couldn’t do it. It goes against my upbringing. I never once attended school (before college) thinking sexy thoughts about someone in the classroom. I still can’t go into a classroom and think sex.

But I still fully support others who find this a turn on, who get off on it. And I can’t wait to read the whys. Understanding and respecting other people’s healthy kinks is important to me.

The closest I can come to this kink is finding it hot to see someone wear a work uniform, like military, firefighters, law enforcement.

So follow the badge to read about those who do explain this kink.

Sep 172014

How does Rori ever find the time? I’m in awe of her work sorting through picking 100 top bloggers of the year, but now she’s adding top posts of the year 2014. With three categories (though you don’t have to nominate in all three.)

Go to Between Your Sheets and Nominate now!

I did. For erotica, I’m nominating my own Repetitions, as that scene seriously gets me hot and bothered, not to mention the overwhelming pain-pleasure mix that I so enjoy on occasion.

For Op-Ed, I nominated Bawdy Bloke’s Comment Why Can’t I Write Gay Erotica. Besides the fact that I adore this blogger, I love his points made about what’s acceptable to write.

For Educational/Review, I nominated Ruby Ryder’s Pegging Paradise’s No Fun for Her Yet. She takes a concern of someone and eloquently addresses it. And I’m really tired of men who like anal stimulation and/or pegging to be labeled gay when it’s inaccurate.

 Posted by at 8:07 am
Sep 162014

Photo courtesy of Bawdy Bloke

Welcome to Elust #62 -

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 Elust. Want to be included in Elust #63? Start with the rules, come back October1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Sex Blogger Life: Real Talk

Selfies, Shame and Safety

‘Dress me like a slut and punish my cock’

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

I live in a sex-positive bubble.

Wicked Wednesday: Silent Memories


~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
Are you guilty of slut-shaming sex doll lovers?

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!


Writing About Writing

Why can’t I write gay erotica?!
Cream doesn’t rise: the state of UK erotica
Coming clean about writing dirty…
The Big Book of Submission: 69 Kinky Tales

Erotic Non-Fiction

I’ve Collared Myself a Human Pony
Strapped Back In
View From The Bridal Suite
It’s a date (2/2)
Your Tears Make Me Wet.
Spanking – the ultimate mood changer

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Yes, I am a slut. So?
M feels that labeling myself “gay” erases him
“Appearance Not Important”
Traditional sexual consent vs bdsm consent
Bigger Doesn’t Mean Better!
All in One Person: Thoughts on Non-Monogamy
I Lust, Therefore I Am
Buddhism and Poly
The Great Outdoors
My Love Is Not About You #SameSexCouples
Thinking of You
Tantra Massage For Multiple Male Orgasm


Blogging: My Layout Pet Peeves
An Unpleasant Outing

Erotic Fiction

The Flight Attendant’s Return Home…
Kinky Cocktail Story Time: The Jelly Bean
Spanked Silent

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Quantification of Everything (Especially Sex)
Polyphobia – The New Homophobia


Thoughts and Advice on Kink and Fetish

For Submissives.
Protocols. I Want.
When You Can’t Trust Your Body
Masters Guilt
BDSM Is Not (the only) Kink


ELust Site Badge

Sep 152014

Blogging Frustrations: 

Suggestive Tongue write about the frustration of being in a box, a category, of writing. Sometimes I do want to share other aspects of my life, but for the most part I know readers are here for the erotica, the struggle and victory in relationships, the intimate moments. And I am quite happy to turn on people I’ve never met, to show the positives and negatives of what society deems taboo or needs to silence. But still…yeah, people aren’t static or just about one thing.

Writing in 1,000 words or less. So frustrating. Specifically with A Darker Flame meme (King or Forbidden Item), or my Fairy Tales, where I can really get into stories. I may just have to expand these ideas into a full fledge story. But online readers don’t like to read much, they like their words packaged neatly.

Why Blog:

Inspired by Lustful Literate

Chen: “the shame and anxiety she felt after her sex blog got popular and everyone started judging her, and how she learned some lessons about human nature, and how she decided to “retire” from sex blogging and pursue an actual writing career” Writing About Yourself Trap. It is such a shame that sex is so taboo still in most societies, that it needs to be secret, negatively associated. I felt this painfully about myself, being so sexually active, that I really don’t want others to shun who they are or feel ashamed. I am quite proud to write erotica. I consider this actual writing.

“Blogging brings like-minded people together. Starting a blog can help you find those people and share your opinions and thoughts.”

“…they break down the boundaries that divide us by making individual circumstances universal, allowing us to share an experience in the most important sense.” By David L. Ulin, Los Angeles Times Book Critic. One of the reasons I love Dumb Domme is that she is authentic, honest, real. She shares her flops, her fails, with a great sense of humor. Sure she also writes some steamy stuff, but she hooked me by being a real person that makes mistakes. A writes brilliantly about The Things No One Tells You and about her struggles in becoming a Domme. Want to try something new? Great! Just be aware it always be perfect. Want to explore your kinkier side? Awesome! You aren’t alone in your desires, you aren’t bad, or a freak (unless you want to be).

Ten reasons why sex bloggers blog – N. Likes (I’m listing the ones I feel apply to me)

  • I have (kinky) secrets I want to share while preserving some anonymity
  • I’m an attention whore
  • Writing about sex gets me wet
  • I love the broader community centered on joyful, open love of sex
  • I’m genuinely proud of my sex life
  • I know I’ll get laid (why I got married – oh no, wait…love, love is why I married him). But blogging will give ideas and feedback now that he is reading.

How Does Military Enter Erotica?

“But my way of writing is rather to think aloud, and follow my own humours, than much to consider who is listening to me; and, if I stop to consider what is proper to be said to this or that person, I shall soon come to doubt whether any part at all is proper.” Thomas de Quincey

From the start, we began this blog as two sisters tangled up in the hottest way with military men. If you have ever been a military spouse, or in the military, you know how consuming it is to your life; and while it isn’t your whole life’s identity, it’s the biggest. Truly.

“After 10 years of war, service members have begun to feel isolated from American society; not just physically — due to long, repetitive deployments — but often emotionally as well. But in the online world, you can follow and friend just about anyone.” NYTimes. I would argue military spouses as well (though no where near to the degree the service members feel).

When we began the blog, I had just moved (typical for military families) to a location that was incredibly isolating. There weren’t even other military spouses around. My children were struggling with transition. My husband was never home, and so stressed and sleep deprived when he was. I didn’t socialize outside brief summer trips to visit family, face-to-face with adults except coworkers, for nearly three years. And I am a social butterfly. I needed to be at home as much as possible to support my family, but I needed an outlet too, and a way to not feel so alone. Enter the blog. The blogging community is selfishly for me, for my friendships. And if I help someone else, that is all the more amazing.

And the military frowns upon a lot of sexual activity, so many military couples will not discuss their sex life. I was beginning to feel really isolated and strange with loving my kinks. I needed to feel that I was accepted and not alone.


To see why, how, what, or when other people communicate, follow the rainbow…


Wicked Wednesday

Sep 142014

Hello, and welcome to Poly: a PSA by A.

Getting into the online dating world can be hard. Getting into it being poly can lead to a flood a messages curious about your lifestyle and views.

I love these messages! Even if it’s not trying to hook up with me, I love people who are genuinely curious and want to learn. I have zero problems having a discussion with someone on life views. As long as we’re all respecting each other as individuals I welcome the discourse.

Poly/open isn’t something you can explain in a sentence, at least not to where people understand how it actually CAN and DOES work. However on a dating site, no one wants a novel. Typing it out over and over again was becoming a bit much. So being the crafty A I am, I made a memo so I can now copy and paste!

So, here for your edification is A’s super condensed, as concise as possible, basic explanation of poly, and why it’s fucking fabulous:

“Relationships all have the same basic tenants: communication, honesty, caring, time, and attention.

Poly relationships are no different, and meet all these same tenants. In fact, communication is often better in poly because people don’t feel the need to hide, and it’s a crucial part.

When you get into a relationship, your eyes and attractions don’t turn off. You just no longer act on them. People are capable of having more than one connection, and it’s not at the sacrifice of another, it can be a mere compliment to it.

With poly, you’re honest about your desires and needs. Not everyone is going to hit them all perfectly. So, as long as everyone is honest and lets their partner know beforehand of any new interactions, and everyone is safe, it’s no big deal.

A very important part is balance… making sure your partner still knows they’re desirable to you, and that you spend enough time and attention on them. It doesn’t work if you’re on a date with someone else every night. But if I feel you’re out too much, it’s also on me to tell you I need more time. EVERYONE has to communicate.

I also believe in veto power! Sometimes people just give you the wrong vibe. So everyone is allowed to veto another’s choice with no explanation needed. You need to be able to feel comfortable. Clearly this can’t be abused. This isn’t everyone’s view, but it’s a good rule of thumb for me.

There’s more too it, but that’s the most concise I can break it down.”

So there you have it, my basic poly 101. If they come back and ask about it being just about sex, I give them my open vs poly talk…. come to think of it, I should probably make a memo on that.

 Posted by at 12:40 pm
Sep 112014

Everything in the world tears apart. Everything rips apart. Atoms don’t just stay together-but when they do it’s to stabilize, energy clashes-but when it works together it can lead to overcoming resistance. Two people in a shipwreck will hold hands until the sea sweeps them apart, a baby is separated from its mother at birth, children grow and become independent of parents, we depart the very earth in death.

The blizzard was no different. So thick that visibility was challenging, if not for your bright red cap I wouldn’t be able to follow. Our snow boards cutting through the ice and snow weren’t heard through the howl of fierce winds, would snatch our voices and carry them far away from the intended. I simply followed you down the unfamiliar mountain side and thought about silly things like atoms and energy. Lectures I’ve heard you give at the science conferences around the world – you’re brilliant and I am me. People look at us-opposites-and it’s not that you can even claim a genius like you has a trophy woman-for I am no trophy. I am me.

When the shards of ice began to pierce through the thick clothing meant to repel, when my skin felt on fire despite the cold, you sat down and unstrapped from the board. I did the same. A few steps ahead, some branches pulled back, and you pointed me into the entrance of a cave. Hesitantly, with the sound of Hell at my back and unnerving silence ahead, I walk in.

You bump into my back as the sight a few feet inside amazes me. Crystals, large and with almost a glow, hang from the ceiling of rock. A small clear pool of water takes up the center of the misleading large cave. There is no breeze to even come through and the air is noticeably warmer.

“We’ve escaped death,” I voice, “and yet still found Heaven.”

You sit on a large rock and chuckle, taking a glove between your teeth and pulling it off.

I shiver.

“Come,” you say simply, in your way that  you do when you don’t present or lecture. I do, sitting at the ground at your feet and look up as a child would a parent while awaiting the next order. My head rests of your knee and I feel you rearranging your clothing, hear the zipper of what must be your jacket. My own cap comes off, wet by this point, and I know my hair is a mess, but I can’t be bothered to pat it down; I’m tired of struggling through the atmosphere. However, your fingers brush through the damp strands and make some semblance of order. You take my chin and nudge my head up. I stare at your face as you take my small hands and expose them to the air then unzip my jacket; I get lost in your pale blue irises that would rival any freezing. My jacket is peeled back and placed on the ground, and your hand in the center of my chest tells me to follow the warmth of fleece lining. My head rests at the top of the soft-newly-made-blanket, and you kneel beside me and undo my boots, pulling them off.

I know where this is going, am surprised by your passion in the midst of a storm, in an unknown cave on unfamiliar territory. I think of atoms and energy, of rendering apart as you pull my pants off of me and place your own jacket under my legs to extend the blanket. My skin marvels at the lack of cold, gets goose bumps in anxious excitement anyhow.

The tempest no longer scares me, I am not lost or split apart. You and I intertwine, fuse, to contrast this. We are together in no less desperation than the shipwrecked, no less need than the infant or child. We meld together to be alive. We consciously rage war on what keeps distance. Two puzzle pieces fitting together and locking in. My bare legs open, your hips fit in the space, cover half my body, up on an elbow beside my head. Your tongue swirls against mine in a lovely tempo, a hand cups and pinches at my nipple through my sweater-but I can still feel your heat on my globe. Suddenly I am parted and prodded open by you, an almost searingly hard heat. I envelop you, welcome, grasp, clench.

We begin a dance that is as old as storms or mountains or caves. We stabilize and overcome resistance. Nothing exists except you buried deep within me, stroking my inner core, making me burn. We consume each other as fuel, a source of light far brighter than even the lovely crystals hovering above, or the sun somewhere above the weather’s barrier illuminating and penetrating most everywhere else in our solar system. Here, you saturate me. Metamorphosis, a synapsis occurs, I am no longer me; I am all that is around me.

 Posted by at 8:56 am
Sep 102014

Bucket List since creating the blog:

Curious/Want:                                       Accomplished

Crop                                                                Flogger

Electricity                                                      Spanking

Paddle                                                            Suspension

Rape Play                                                      Hair Pulling

“Given” away                                                 Hot Wax

Unknown/blindfolded partner                         Hand around Throat


                                                                        MFM threesome

                                                                        FMF threesome

                                                                        Spouse Swapping

                                                                      Record sex




                                                                             Deep throating



                                                                                 Orgasm Control

                                                                                   Rope Bondage

* Recent to kink (as the list covers real basic things that I’ve just tried), though this does not include other things I was doing before the blog and didn’t consider kink (such as knife play). And not all things were on my list, but I ended up doing them anyhow, so included them completed (life can throw some surprising curve balls). 


 Posted by at 8:03 am
Sep 092014

It was the worst day she could remember in years. The ugly sky above pouring buckets on her head as she hurried to the subway merely seemed to reflect her mood. As she rushed through the puddles her knee suddenly buckled as she hit a particularly deep hole. She laid where she landed, stunned and breathless for a moment before rubbing her bruised posterior.

Suddenly a hand appeared before her and she looked up from tailored slacks and shiny shoes to a face that took her a moment to recognize. Her face heated into a blush when she realized that it was a man from her work, well her former work, seeing as she got canned just that morning. She reached up to take the proffered hand and tried to push her soaking skirts down. “Thanks” she mumbled, not making eye contact. Her mind swirled with shame, wondering if he’d heard about her unceremonious firing.

She heard a sigh right before “Listen, I think it’s bullshit they fired you for getting the wrong number for the Hanes account. If they were so worried about the deadline they should’ve called before the last minute.” His words, spoken with such firm assurance somehow seemed to lighten her spirits a little and she looked up. Good Lord, why hadn’t she noticed before how green this man’s eyes were? She’d always noticed he was handsome, but she suddenly felt her cheeks heating up with something other than embarrassment.

She had to tell herself to close her mouth. He smiled at her bemusement, tucked her hand in his arm, and started guiding her down the street. “Tell you what, why don’t you come with me, I’ll get you dried off, pour you a drink, let you relax a little then I’ll drive you home”. His words sounded like the best thing she’d heard in ages and she could only nod along and walk with him.

His car was mere feet away and soon she was shivering in its dark interior. He slide in the driver’s seat and concentrated on the wet roads. The drive was silent but strangely comfortable. She shifted in her seat and saw his eyes flick to the healthy amount of thigh she was showing, having not realized it had shifted when she got in. Having his eyes on her body for that tiny moment made her feel sexy. It made her want more. She shifted again, rubbing her thighs together and parting them ever so slightly. She steadily looked at his face and watched his eyes linger. It was now the road that was getting the fleeting glances.

He turned into a parking garage and parked in a place clearly reserved for him. They were here already. She suddenly couldn’t believe her boldness of a moment before, but decided not to care. Her life had changed on this strangest of days, but she decided the worry could wait. He helped her out of the car and once again tucked her hand into his arm after softly trailing his fingers down the length of it. She shivered. He smiled.

His apartment was plush, beautifully decorated, and overwhelmingly masculine. She was a bit taken aback to see the huge platform bed in an alcove. No separate rooms here. Her eyes stayed on the bed prompting him to comment “Do you like it? It was custom made for this space.” She looked back at his face, gazed at his lips, and did something she had never done in her life… She kissed him.

She grabbed his face and kissed him for all she was worth. His arms were strong as they slid around her and gripped her tight. She was beyond aroused and felt that he was too. His hardness against her heightened her own excitement and she was suddenly ready to rip off his clothes. Her fingers went to the buttons of his shirt as his mouth went to her neck. Shivers ran through her body, and her knees went weak. He pulled away and kissed her lightly on the forehead. He said “we need a drink” before pulling a bottle of wine from the fridge. She tried to steady her breath as he poured two glasses then handed her one. The wine was sweet and seemed to warm her blood immediately. She looked over her glass at him to see his frank admiration of her body outlined in her still wet dress.

She set her glass down and slowly peeled off the clinging garment, her eyes never leaving his. She slid her body against his seductively and reached to kiss him again. The sweet taste of the wine was still on their tongues as they explored each other’s mouths. He suddenly picked her up and her ass felt the cool marble of the island counter as he laid her on it. His mouth and his hands suddenly seemed to be everywhere and she felt like a buffet of nerves and sensation.

Her body was writhing with the rhythm of his movements and she wanted to beg him to fuck her. He grabbed the bottle of wine and removed the cork with his teeth before pouring the delicious liquid on her body. Section by section he poured then devoured, his tongue swirling on her heated skin. She was at a fever by the time his tongue swirled around her sex. His lips closed around her clit and he gently drew it into his mouth. Her hips bucked into his face and he had to wrap his free arm around her to keep her still.

She yanked and pulled at his hair trying to bring him to her mouth and, after what seemed like eternity, he finally complied. She kissed him hungrily, the taste of her mixed with the wine. She wrapped her legs tight around his waist. He finally put the wine on the counter and gripped her legs tight. He lifted her off the counter, spun them around, and slammed her against the wall right as his hard shaft entered her.

She screamed. She thought she might faint. She had never in her life been so worked up, so ready, that within a few thrusts she could feel her body tighten around him. “That’s right baby, squeeze me hard. Good girl.” His words fueled her further and her body continued to throb and squeeze him as her orgasm continued. He continued to rock into her, each thrust feeling just as good as the last. She could feel his arms tighten around her just before his head dropped to her forehead and he let out a rush of air. Inside of her she could feel him throbbing with his release. It had always been her favorite part of sex, feeling her partner finding his release inside of her, and the intensity of this orgasm was amazing.

She slid down his body, her legs unsteady as they touched the ground. Her head was swimming and she didn’t know if she could walk. He scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the massive platform where he placed her under the covers. She was suddenly exhausted and could feel her eyes drifting shut… a smile drifted across her lips as she had the thought “wasn’t there something I was supposed to worry about today? Oh well.”

Wicked Wednesday

 Posted by at 5:46 am