Dec 182014

Touch me. Hold my hand. Let fingers intertwine as we mean our bodies to.20141219

Surprise me with rope sliding from your appendage to mine.

Tighten it. Mean it. Spin me around and push me onto the bed.

Take the other wrist and bind that as completely, force over my head, expose my breasts to you.

Spread my legs. Expose me. Make me vulnerable to you.

I am yours for the taking. Fucking take me as you want me.

I held your hand for a reason.

I trust you.

Now do as you want, bend me to your wanton will.

I’m yours.

*101 words, and such a fantasy (and luckily a reality from time to time) of mine. Forgive any errors, if I made any, I’m pretty floaty-minded on cold medicines. I could’ve had her orgasm to extend my word count out, but I love the anticipation of what is going to happen next moments – so she had to wait. 

Flash Fiction Friday

Dec 172014

I was giving him a blowjob and he moved my hair to get a better view, commented how much he loves that I love to give him pleasure.

His hand was in my hair…and gripped and yanked me off of him. I looked into his eyes, a small smile played about his lips, so gorgeous, those lips. “Whose penis is it?”

“Mine,” for years now, that’s what I called it. I saw his face and further explained, “it is mine. I have a place to keep it inside, you don’t. Therefore, it’s mine.” He knows I’ll respond the wrong way, I’m just stubborn like that.

“A reminder is in order,” he rolled over me, forced me on my stomach, stroked the place where I still had the bruise on the inside of one ass cheek from his lesson that his penis was his-yes this was not my first lesson. His arms reached under my waist and he forced me into a curled position, ass up. The arm remained threaded through my waist to keep me there. His spank was hard, more palm than fingers, more pain than sting. I don’t like the sting at all, but it still hurt. “No working you up to it.” He smacked until I admitted that it was his. This pattern of spanking continued four more times: reminders that it was His penis, my body was His body, this was His bed. By the end of the night I didn’t have a cute but incredible vivid bruise on the inside of one ass cheek – I had welts striping across an entire cheek which would prove to be sore even upon waking.

I hate the pain but love the bruised reminders for days after. I am seriously conflicted on this kink still.

In between each reminder, he would enter me, “I know you get off on this,” he confessed in my ear, slowly strained the length of him inside of me, “you get so tight, so clenched.” He would stroke in and out of my body, slowly so I wouldn’t orgasm, but bring me so close. He wasn’t allowing me to touch him, “if you want to touch so damn bad, touch yourself,” he instructed, and after awhile of being teased and spanked, my fingers wandered to my breasts and pinched my nipples. His gaze dipped to my hands – a rare treat, as I kneaded and played with them. His rythym increased with his excitement, so close – I was on the brink of an orgasm. He must’ve realized as he slowed down, “no getting off for you. Are you hoping to help yourself there?”

My groan of frustration wasn’t as silent as I would’ve liked, one hand going lower, the fingertips dipped between our bodies as I circled and danced around my clit.

Clitoral stimulation doesn’t do it for me unless I’ve already orgasmed by penetration. But his eyes watched between our bodies, the pace increased enough, and I hoped the distraction would be enough. My body strained for release, my whole core tensed, and I felt sweaty from the need. My legs wrapped around his waist, and I pulled him into me further, and then again when he dipped down, mimicked his movements to enhance them.

Was it too much to ask that I would get away with it? He knew what I was doing, waited until I got to the edge of the orgasm, and stopped, frozen midway in me. My eyes snapped open, a cry upon my lips. “Get your fucking legs off me, who is in control?” My legs unwrapped, opened in air useless on the sides. He pulled out, and I was half afraid it would be for another spanking session. He laid on his back. “Sit on top and grind.”

I scurried to straddle him, slowly, deliciously lowered, positioned my legs in the most ideal situation. Smiled and began to move my body to where it felt good.

His hands behind his head, watched me, told me: “you won’t cum from this, I guarantee you.”

As if to rebel against that statement, I raised further, felt his head at my entrance and slammed my body down, repeatedly. It felt so good.

“I said grind, not fuck me,” his stern voice cut into my pleasure. I grinded, frustrated as it wasn’t the full range of motion that I wanted, needed. And yet…my body was so ready for an orgasm, that it just may have been enough. He allowed me to get myself so close, then warned, “you won’t like the price for an orgasm.”

I froze, ended up edging myself.

His strong arms lifted me off of him, suspended a moment in midair, before he positioned me on my back and again he was inside of me. I begged for an orgasm, stated it was a need, not even a want by that point. “Tell me word for word, say ‘I am willing to pay for an orgasm’.”

Breathless, with him pushing such pleasurable sensations through me, I tried the phrase a few times before I could fully say it – partly it was the distraction of what he was doing, partly my unwillingness to fully commit to an unknown price.

He positioned himself up, thrusted down into me in a position that always delivered. My body tightened, I arched, so grateful, the warm tingling began…and then he withdrew. Disappointed, thwarted again, my feet kicked at his sides in anger and frustration.

A hand at my throat, he said, “you pay the price before the prize. Isn’t that how it works?” His cock eased in between my lips and pushed to the back of my throat. For some reason I couldn’t breathe through my nose, and failed at taking him deeper. He withdrew amid my coughing and pushed again. Coughed and struggled to not gag. Pushed again. And then praised me for trying and pushed into my eager body.

I screamed and came immediately.

“Uncurl your toes,” he reminded me as he drove me to another one. The position makes my toes curl, and then they cramp afterwards – a point I always complain about. I focused on flexing my toes (not for long) until the crest of pleasure swept me up. “Breathe,” he reminded me. Light-headed, unaware of held breath or tense toes, I gulped in air and he took me back up to a third orgasm.

Down, able to function again, he pulled out of me and rotated me to my side. “I’m not going to make you pay anymore,” he stated, gripped my throbbing ass cheek painfully, and entered me. “But it’s your turn. It’s your job to make me cum, isn’t it?” I nodded yes, enjoyed him fully inside of me. “So make me.” His pace was rough, fast, and the orgasm rushed me so quickly; I gripped him as best I could as I rode out the orgasm, and the second orgasm came before the first even left me. I heard him groan amid my screams and tightened further, held my breath and saw spots, held him until he fell on top of my body spent. Then gulped for air.

Held tightly against his chest moments later, I drifted off to sleep. I apologized for being so sweaty first. He really worked me over.

Wicked WednesdayThe prompt, which I did not follow, is body hair. While incredibly opinionated on this topic, both us sisters are sick and so I didn’t do a write up on the specific prompt; I did however make sure the post included something on hair pulling, something I love. 

 Posted by at 8:12 am
Dec 162014

Photo courtesy of SassyCat

Welcome to Elust #65 -

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 #66? Start with the rules, come back January 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

For our UK readers, we would like to make a special request that you take a moment and fill out this petition to repeal the new censorship laws.

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

“Does this look sexual to you?”
Submission Can Be Hard
You can have a secret sex blog and be ethical


~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

On Writing and Self Doubt

Online porn: the canary in the coalmine

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*

The Pendulum: Why Americans Should Care that British Porn is Fucked

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!


Erotic Fiction

Dark Desires
This Is How You Use Her
“Office Santa”—A Free Story for the Holidays!
Justin’s Rope
Santa Sutra & the Rebellious Rein-Girl
I Want You, My Way
Caught In The Act
The Smile

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Feminist Rape
The Sex I Like
Post-Revolution Kink: What kinds of kink?
Why MakeLoveNotPorn Has It Wrong


I Do It My Way

Erotic Non-Fiction

Slave Olive’s Ongoing Chastity Experience
Coast to Coast Traveling Panties.
My Headshaving – During
Tell me…..(want versus need)
flip fucking a punk boy but good

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

To Avoid Street Harassment, Dress Slutty!
“You’re not a Domme, you’re a hooker”
We Don’t Do That: On Vulnerability
He suspects something’s up…
Aust Sex Survey: Triumph, Trouble & Tragedy
Erections, Erections, Erections
Am I queer enough for you?


Quandary – A Lusty Limerick

Writing About Writing

A Sticky Vocabulary Situation

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Tickling, consent violations, and violence
A Few Things I Wish I’d Known About Sex, Dati


ELust Site Badge

Dec 112014

I was a wreck, naked and rushing to and fro; he was already dressed, calm and collected in his normal way. I began to feel frantic and panicked, taking far too long to just insert my earrings. I was making us late.

He moved into the doorway of the bathroom and I brushed beside him to get my evening gown.

An arm of iron swept across my chest, a hand weaved through the strands of hair at the base of my skull, and I was suddenly brought to my knees between his legs. My breath caught with the sudden action. He yanked my head back roughly to look at his face towering above, and I didn’t even have time to worry about the fact that he was ruining my hair that I had just spent thirty minutes styling. No, I couldn’t be bothered with such trifles, as my eyes beheld the lust in his eyes, his will demanding my position on the floor.

I was right where he wanted me, and I wanted to be there.20141212

While still gripping my hair, his other hand went around my throat and fingers stroked softly up and down the sides, the merest gossamer of touches. I longed for him to kiss me, could feel his breath wash against my face. My lips parted in anticipation. My body trembled – not due to a cold floor I was far too hot to feel. Please, I thought, kiss me.

His fingers gently wrapped around my throat. “You are mine,” he whispered down to me. “I will not have something I own so distraught over something so trivial. Understood?” His fingers slowly tightened, until breathing was a challenge. His look was one of love and concern; his look was one of wanting to throw me on the floor and make me beg.

How he managed to have such a magnitude of intentions written across his handsome face always astounded me. I tried to communicate my agreement to his statement. I was His, and I was at peace, unsure why I had felt so worried just moments earlier. He was always so good at getting the world to just stop when I needed it the most.

His fingers loosened the slightest degree, allowing a refreshing breath. “You are magnificent. You are just as gorgeous naked on this floor in your surrender as you will be in your formal gown tonight by my side. You are beautiful without effort, and you are mine.” And then he leaned down, and finally kissed me, both hands that had hurt to create my focused calm now moved to cradle the sides of my face tenderly. My lips parted at the soft pressure of his own, and my tongue swirled and met his eagerly, in a kiss that became so consuming that when it was done, I pondered why he was standing up and offering his hand to help me off of the floor.



Flash Fiction FridayKey Words: Lust, longing
Forbidden Words: Office, Suit
Word Limit: 426
Extra Credit: tell us about an encounter where your partner had ‘that’ look on their face
Bonus Words: +50 masturbation, owned


Kink of the Week is on “The Look

 Posted by at 9:30 am
Dec 102014

Most of the time, most of the sex blogs you read are hot, steamy, and everything goes perfectly. Rainbows fly out of genitals as confetti rains down from the ceiling with each orgasm…

My sex life is nowhere near that.

My body likes to do its own thing, and I’ve always struggled with Ph issues. Sometimes, my period will throw me off and so, as a preventative measure, I’ll use Monostat to stop that storm before it even brews. This month was just like many others, and I had a steady partner, so I did the usual routine at the end of my period and used one of the one day ovuls from an off brand because I had a coupon. Usually about two days later, everything is over, and I’m good to go.

I didn’t think anything about it, and a little over four days later I decided to wake my guy up with a good morning blowjob. I had on an oversized shirt and knee socks and was pretty excited about the hot sex I was about to have. I gave him a very enthusiastic oral performance, rolled over, tossed my panties, and told him to come over. I am a sex kitten! This was going to be epic!

He slid in and I sighed in wholehearted approval. The sex was just as steamy as I expected and I loved the sleepy look in his eyes while he was still giving powerful thrusts despite just waking up. My knee socks looked really good resting against his shoulders, and things were getting even hotter. He pulled out, flipped me over, and just sat there for a second…

I wagged my ass in anticipation and invitation…

Then he pushed me forward a little, and moved my legs apart a bit…

Then he mummbled “…what?”

A little louder “What is this?

I looked over my shoulder, confused. My eyes grew wide and I flipped fully back over. “Oh my God. Oh my God“. My mind went into full meltdown as I saw him covered in what only takes me a moment to identify as the insert I’d used four days ago. I tried to think for a half second of anything plausible other than the truth. There was nothing. I jumped up, cheeks blazing, and started pushing him towards the bathroom. “It’s ummm, feminine hiygene stuff, nothing big, didn’t expect it to still be there. Just wash it off, I promise nothing is going to happen to you!” Cue nervous laughter. It’s at this point that I couldn’t make up my mind if I should burst into tears, or pray the floor opened up and ate me.

This has got to be, hands down, one of the top three most mortifying things that has happened to me during sex. What is worse is there was so much of it! I might as well have whitewashed the man. I didn’t know something that small could produce that much stuff! And four days? FOUR DAYS. It’s like my vagina had suddenly turned into one of those doomsday prepers and was holding onto it in case the yeast apocalypse decided to roll through. I stood in the bathroom door and nervously explained the whole Ph thing and what it was. He nodded, and continued to clean up.

I walked into the other room while he was still cleaning up and could do nothing but sit there in mortified silence. He peeked his head around the corner and asked what I was doing. As he saw the look on my face he just laughed and came over and kissed me. It was no big deal. We were adults, things happen. He found it more funny than anything. He definitely took the situation with more grace than I did, and his laughter followed me around as, every time I looked at him, I couldn’t stop the blush from staining my cheeks.

Post script: As my day continued, just when I thought I was able to put it out of my mind, he turned to me and asked “By the way… is it supposed to tingle like this?”….

Dec 092014



1. My favorite travel companion is: my husband. We travel so much together now, most frequently on incredibly long car trips, to which it’s a good thing we get along so well, otherwise we’d be stuck in a small space arguing for a long time. My eldest child would probably be my second favorite, or a close first. She’s very easy going and when she stops being so busy, she has time to talk more; I learn the most about how she feels and thinks during travel. My other sister (not the one on here) and I are the most well-traveled together, however. As a travel agent, she would pick out the most amazing, and cheapest, places to go explore, and the two of us would be off on another adventure. We’d plan big trips at least four times a year, with smaller trips throughout. The past few years we haven’t done this, and I miss traveling so much.

2. I pass time on a plane by: reading if I’m traveling alone, talking to the person I’m traveling with.

3. My favorite part of my travel routine is: packing two weeks early and seeing my suitcase fill up with excitement!

4. When you travel with a companion who is the primary planner for the trip itinerary? Who is the primary planner for the days during your trip/holiday? Undeniably me. The only exception to this is when I used to travel constantly with my sister. I once left a trip’s plan up to my husband and his family (because it was his hometown) and it was horrible. My children were so bored, and we didn’t do hardly anything other than sit around and wonder what to do. I like to explore, a lot, and with my kids’ broad ages, have to be pretty creative; if I’m investing the time and money to travel, we will be doing a diverse range of things.

5. In 2014, how many times did you travel for leisure? For business? 2014 has been a pitifully woeful year of little travel. My husband’s schedule was hectic, and for some reason he is getting touchy about me leaving him. We used to have no issues with this. So these days, it feels like I sit around and wait for him to become available, something that frustrates me and I need to stop. All together, I probably traveled about 8 or 9 times, about half  of it was not for leisure.

6. In 2014, how many times did you travel more than 100 miles from home? How many times did you travel out of your county/state/region but remained in the same country? Traveling over 100 miles is at least a twice a month occasion, and often ends up being closer to four or five times (although I don’t count this as travel). I traveled out of state about 6 times.

7. In 2014, How many times did your travels take you out of your country? Where did you go? I never left the country this year, sadly. My passport is weeping.

8. Do you use a travel agent? Why or why not? Didn’t need to use a travel agent – I didn’t go to unknown places.

9. For the holiday season, do you prefer to travel/go away or do you prefer to stay home and have friends/family visit you? With living across the country from family, I prefer to travel now. The holidays at home (which is what my husband wants) is a sad tiny affair that makes me miss the holidays, but he’s had some rough holidays, so I need to support him as best I can. Despite my best intentions, I am starting to dislike the holidays, whereas I once adored them.

Bonus: Which all-expenses-paid travel destination listed below works best with your interests and why? All three appeal to me, because…

a. Walt Disney World  This works best for kids, and I’m trying to plan another trip there in the next year. I personally am a Disney fanatic, and used to go all the time to the amusement parks. I would go by myself, even, but my kids would kill me – regardless of their age, it’s a great place to go.

b. Tigh-na-mara Seaside Spa Resort A nature lover’s wonderland–hiking, biking, kayaking, wildlife viewing, beachcombing, and health farm amenities. A place like this hits all the things I love to do with my husband. We go hiking whenever I can drag us out, I love to kayak with him (because he does all the hard work, even if we’re in separate kayaks), he can have the quiet moments with me to appreciate nature, and we bike together and want to purchase a tandem bike to extend our trips even further (he jokes I’ll be on the back, not pedaling, reading a book – he’s only half right).

c. Macau, China The top gambling destination in the world, experience gambling and casino life excess on an unprecedented level. This is a place I would thrive in with either my parent(s), or by myself. I used to go to Vegas at least four times a year, and I love the atmosphere. Both my parents would be fun in this place – my father would leave me and check in a few times, but if he was winning, I would get some of it. My mother was brilliant as a gambler, but would only do it to earn money to go shopping; when she spent all her money, she’d sit down at another table and do it all over again. I always tried to sit next to her and learn, and then enjoy a leisurely shopping trip, and I don’t even like to shop.

By myself, I do pretty well starting a conversation with strangers at the table. I am vocal about my enthusiasm in winning, and tip well. Even at clubs, I’ve gone by myself and ended up meeting such great people – some have become friends that I socialize with even when I leave Vegas. My husband loves to go with me – I think it’s because I bring out his more social aspect in this type of environment. To go to China would be fun, and I would hope it would provide the same atmosphere. If nothing else, I’d love to try it.


How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link totmituesdayblog from your website!

Happy TMI Tuesday!

 Posted by at 9:16 am
Dec 082014

I masturbated and it all went horribly wrong. It started with me waking my husband so that I could run errands, but he decided to join me, seemingly stressed about time, rushing to do a few things. While impatiently waiting, I decided to surf tumblr, and then decided to masturbate.

I don’t do this activity often. And never if he’s home. But he was busy, I didn’t want to stop him getting ready as we had a lot to do that day, so I went into the bedroom, locked the door against children, and grabbed my vibrator. I didn’t give myself any warm up, and forced it through my dry entrance, slowly eased it in, pulled out and smeared my juices waiting inside around my lips. Then I thrusted my vibrating toy in and out, hard and rough and frenzied. I heard my orgasm as I felt the tension, and then I felt liquid hitting my hand, little splatterings that surprised me.


Okay, normally an activity that I don’t like, as I this is my only sexual hangup. But I’ve never been able to do it to myself (not that I’ve tried), and suddenly I had. It’s like victory music came on in my head, I felt so powerful and in control and proud. Yes, proud. I did it!

Right after the corny music in my head played and I soared on all sorts of self-congratulation-feelings, I thought that I needed to tell my husband – as he was the one who first got me to squirt.

Enter the perfectly timed knocked on the door. “What are you doing?” his voiced asked.

Pause, could kids hear? “Something,” I said, and hopped out of bed, going to door.

“Are you playing?” he asked, his voice angry. “Why are you playing? I’m in the fucking house!” he gritted out each syllable, and suddenly I “was fucking hot to being utterly ashamed of my body and my sexual urges and like so many of my desires/likes they became my dirty little secret(Molly’sDailyKiss). 

Shame is a powerful thing, it causes people to deny their true feelings, it makes us feel bad about ourselves, there is no happiness or freedom to be found in shame. It strips people of their ability to learn and explore who they are, it makes us secretive, lonely and confused and when it comes to the female body and female sexuality it has been used as a tool to control and suppress. You are not supposed to like and enjoy your own body and women who do are often viewed in a negative light. The fear of that light keeps women (and men) in the dark when it comes to owning and sharing their desires.(Molly’sDailyKiss).

I don’t even masturbate much when he isn’t home, perhaps once a month or every other month, (people view this as odd as I will gladly have sex all day long)  and didn’t see anything wrong with taking care of myself while I waited for him. I didn’t want to hear a no, or have him feel obligated, I wanted an uncomplicated quick orgasm, I also wanted to run errands as soon as possible. It seemed a win.

In discussing it, he felt left out, as I have never left him out before. I listened, apologized that he felt left out. I expressed he made me feel embarassed and ashamed that I had masturbated and explained my reasoning behind the decision, as well as the fact that I didn’t see anything wrong with it, but would make sure he didn’t feel left out in the future. He didn’t apologize, he stated that he was okay with me feeling bad, as I hurt him.

It was a juvenile thing to say that caused me to cry, as I was already feeling very vulnerable. Later, he apologized, but by that point, it didn’t make me feel listened to or respected.

And as for the squirting – that’s my very first hangup since becoming sexual active. It also occurred with my husband. The first time he made me squirt, he lifted his hand and smelled it. It wasn’t a sexy smelling he was doing, he was checking to see if I peed myself. And I had never done this before, so the sensation certainly felt like I  had. When I saw his hand lift to his nose, it was a horror-movie-moment of slow-motion what-is he-going-to-find? I immediately excused myself and went into the bathroom and cried, mortified and embarrassed. The sexy moment between us had come to a screeching halt and I wished I could have just vanished.

The talk afterwards didn’t go well, then, either. While we communicate openly and honestly, sometimes we just fumbled and stick our foot in our mouth. I hated squirting.

The resolution with this has been that he can’t sniff, no matter how strong the urge. He can get me to squirt whenever he wants, with ease, but I hate the mess, the sensation, the reminder of that first time that for some reason I can’t rid myself of, the fact that he’s never expressed that he finds it sexy or hot, rather that he viewed it as he first did. So while he continued to make me squirt over the years, it’s dwindling to now just in the shower.

When I made myself squirt, for some reason I was okay with it, which makes me question perhaps I am finally getting over my only issue, but the subsequent discussion and hurt feelings sends me curling inward with my feelings and thoughts, and I haven’t felt like reopening the wound to inspect it, except now in writing this.

*I am in no way trying to insult my husband. The issues are with me, and I am responsible for solving them. And he has allowed me to express my sexuality very freely, and tried to support me however he can. I have found more freedom in feeling safe to explore while being with him than ever before in my life.

Wicked Wednesday

 Posted by at 9:33 am