Oct 042015

Masturbation Monday: Week 57Here’s what I don’t like about this picture. I don’t like how they’re posed, as if only for the camera or an audience. They don’t seem to be all that into each other. If I kiss my girlfriend, it will not be for an audience, not even for an appreciative husband, we will not be in a position that an outside view would favor.

It will be because her and I can’t wait to kiss, to clash tongues and taste each other’s sweetness. My body would be towards her, pressing against her, as much as I could, skin to skin, arms around and mouths melded – not just weakly touching tongues. I want her tongue into my mouth, I want to recognize her harsh breath of her excitement inside my own mouth, against my lips as it inhales and exhales through her nose. I don’t want to give her air, that gives her space. I want her passion to dance delightfully between my lips.

If my hands are touching her, odds are at least one arm is pulling her even tighter into my body. My free hand would caress, stroke, explore the small spaces between our bodies. It would grip and pull her ass cheek closer to me. If I fingered her, my fingers would sneak between our heat and tweak a nipple, it would reach between our bodies – for the brief moment that I require space, and curve and thrum between her lower lips, slip into her wetness and celebrate her desire for me. My fingers would move slowly at first, but not for long. I want to feel her clit become more prominent, feel her come and pulsate around my fingers, to drench my palm.

Then and only then might our mouths move a space apart, for me to smile triumphantly, to tease her lips with the tip of my tongue; my fingers likewise gently tracing her sensitive lower lips.

 Posted by at 7:00 am
Oct 032015

Having the most amount of energy in the morning, I had every intention of cleaning the house before beginning my day. I rolled out of bed, threw on a bra and shirt, and heard his voice telling me to turn around before I could scrounge around for pajama pants. He clicked a picture, told me how sexy I was in this state, and told me to get my butt back in bed to use some of that energy towards more pleasurable pursuits.Hidden 001

Sinful SundayIt’s funny, this post has been in the drafts for awhile with this name. Perfectly suited the prompt for Sinful Sunday!
Oct 022015
unknown erotica cammies on the floor 6
skype mutual masterbation 2
army, make her famous 2
responses to yummy 1
prince albert penis pics 1

Sexy Searching reveals one of my biggest fantasies: the unknown. It’s going to take readers to this fantasy, and also a book review that explores why this fantasy may be so desirable.

I have a fantasy where I am shared by my partner (has to be shared so I know that they at least know and trust and person). But I have no clue who this person is because I am bound and blindfolded. I also am thinking I would like to be gagged, so that I cannot be my curious self and try to reach out to the person for a confession of who they are, nor can my words  of “no” or “stop” halt them (though some safe word/action would be in place, as well as my husband who knows when I’ve hit my limit).

Absolved on the ability to do anything creates a feeling of blamelessness of fulfilling this dark fantasy of mine. There’s the true reason I want to be bound – I cannot escape my own desires, and in doing so I am free to accept what is being done to me. I don’t have to behave, control myself, perform in any way, I can simply be a vessel of pleasure and pain. I am passive, a complete opposite to who I normally am.

I am also blindfolded so I don’t know who this person is, adding an unknown variable and tiny bit of fear and uncertainty to keep this a bit hotter for me.

Perel states that unknown factors increase excitement and desire, hence the giddy love-rush feelings at first. But unknown isn’t synonymous with security, so we seek to make each other more known in a commitment: “to control the risks of passion, you have tamed it out of existence.” (Perel, 10)

As a side note: even reading other bloggers really helps my own sex life. It has made me curious to try new things, to get out of my comfort zones, to point towards someone else’s words who have more effectively communicated wants that I’ve been trying to tell my husband. There are even some great videos that bloggers provide to offer how-to for so many numerous kinks. – Unknown Leads to Desire

Perhaps this compares to New Relationship Energy, where two partners are excited at the prospect, the adventure, the not knowing each other and discovering. I can explore this type of energy with my own husband, in exploring BDSM, my kinky self, and even enacting (or even just confessing to) my fantasies. I have experienced this unknown variable without having additional partners, though of course I long to push the limits even further in this fantasy of being shared – but my husband is still present in this dream, to add that security, to make it feel safe and acceptable, to “control the risks of passion”.

Though in a way, it feels like he would be protecting the risks from myself.


 Posted by at 8:55 am
Oct 012015

Malflic wrote a post that made me laugh so hard I was crying. True, it references my own post, but still…counting during sex…hilarious!

Tabitha Rayne writes about an apple and temptation in such an erotic and creative way.

Will Crimson writes about Erotica’s Future on the Erotic Writer, and he also reflects on two powerful pieces of writing that I fell in love with, and yet for some reason didn’t reference here. So go read all three!

Graydancer, the first man to teach my husband and I how to tie, writes about how soon is it safe to suspend. Overall, I really like his attitude towards this subject, not to mention that I likes how he tips his hat at the Marine Corps (a sexy group of men and women).

The Other Livy writes about a conflict with her blogging/open sexual self and how people perceive her in person. So much I can relate to, and have thought about, and am slowly overcoming myself.

Johnny, from Id’s Redbook, writes about going down on a woman, and as a woman who loves being on the receiving end, I thoroughly enjoy reading about the enthusiasm.

I really want a moment like this! Christina Mandara previews a hot scene.

 Posted by at 4:59 am
Sep 292015

b2554February 2015: Cold Water

A play partner had wrapped me again, this time leaving my nipples exposed. Then he turned me over to my husband, who had already tortured my nipples in clamps during a suspension. Sure enough, back on when the clamps and I found myself laying down. He ordered me to cum after moving the wraps aside enough to thrust a vibrator in, and I silently did – in a quiet corner of a dungeon with him holding and blocking the view from others. It was so hot by the time I came, my face was damp with perspiration and the rest of me sweltered in the wraps. He removed the clamps and pulled the wrapped opening around my nipples as much as he could from the skin, taking a cold water that my play partner had grabbed (for my aftercare) and dribbled a bit of the shocking cold liquid into the wraps.

I heard the dungeon-owner comment that while it may not look torturous, it was to me. I am almost always cold and it takes me a long time to warm up. I avoid cold temperatures if I can.

I couldn’t avoid it, I gasped as the artic water slipped into my hot wraps, slid against my heated flesh, ran where it could and pooled where it couldn’t. He pulled the other side and carefully poured a small amount in. I protested, and though I was bound tightly, I bent my knees and kicked out with my feet, managing to turn myself over onto my stomach so that he couldn’t get into the wraps again.

I heard a few comments about how determined I must’ve been – I was tightly bound from neck to ankle in wrappings, after all.

Gosh, I hate being cold. And to be so hot from inside a wrapping that has now been invaded by cold liquid was so shocking to my skin.


Being held after the cold water hit me, black lights affected the picture without the camera’s flash on

My husband was having none of it, and rolled me back around, adding more wrap to my feet and knees so that I couldn’t even manage the brief amount it took to roll over.

I heard my play partner laugh and thought that it was his fault I was in this predicament – after all, he left my nipples exposed and open to the possibility.




April 2015: Anal Orgasm: Gosh I suck at not immediately writing about it but I still feel the need to share. I don’t normally like anal penetration of anything. I don’t like plugs and only rarely feel in the mood for a finger up my ass. And yet, somehow he got me so sensitive from orgasms that when he inserted a finger in my ass, it increased my own orgasms to the point where he pulled away from all other sensations but kept the finger, I continued to orgasm. He told me before I came that he wanted me to be fully aware that I was about to climax strictly from anal stimulation.

Somehow I feel this deserves something awesome like a high-five, a pat on the back, or a trophy. It feels like a victory of sorts that needs to be congratulated.

April 2015: Rope Around: he grabbed a long piece of rope and doubled it, placed it underneath my breasts and around my chest, then up the back and around to my mouth, pressed the rope into my mouth to serve as gag. Then back around to use the rest of the rope to tie my wrists behind me. Now I was gagged and wrists bound. He fingered me to several orgasms, licked around my lips where the rope prevented me from kissing his soft lips and taunting tongue, and stroked himself above my face, sliding his hard cock against the rope in my mouth. I could smell his scent that was uniquely his own. My mouth watered but I couldn’t taste him.

As he had sex with me, he flipped me sideways and moved the gag to around my neck, gently pulling it taunt, enough that I could feel the pressure around my delicate neck. He watched me carefully in this position, the side angle giving him the view of my neck and half my face. I orgasmed.

He flipped me onto my stomach, his hand replaced the rope and squeezed a bit more as he ordered me to tighten and make him cum, his breath harsh in my ear as his body rocked against my thighs, butt, and back. We both orgasmed.

*Wicked Wednesday is the prompt: revisiting. Here are some moments that I have written but not published.Wicked Wednesday

 Posted by at 2:17 pm
Sep 282015

My hand started drifting down his body and at the last minute it stopped. I’m not allowed to touch one area without permission – something that’s been a hard lesson for me.

“May I?” I asked, my voice squeaked barely above a whisper since an illness swept over me this week, leaving me practically voiceless.

“May you what?” he asked, raised an eyebrow and a revealed a smile that clearly was up to mischief. “What do you want to touch?”

“You.” I whined.

“What part of me?” he pushed.

*Disclaimer: while I am writing some words for male and female genitalia (and even then I take a deep breath and then hold it while I quickly type them), thirteen years of Catholic School are still at force and I won’t read them out loud, nor can I say word connotations with any sort of ease. I’ll come up with other words that simply describe or avoid it altogether. It’s amazing how I don’t embarrass easily, how I will delve into most things sexual without fear, and yet cringe over semantics.

So that was his game…I actually debated calling surrender and giving up sex for the night when he refused to let me go around saying a word – I’m sure quite a few words would have been acceptable to him – but I wasn’t using any of them.

He gripped my hair and kissed the side of my neck, pressed his body down against me. That was nice, it was a cocoon around my sudden shyness and he wasn’t staring at me fumbling and refusing with his mouth on my neck. “Say ‘I want to touch'”.

“I want to touch,” I squeaked out, winced at my tiny voice, yet taking comfort that even if I was coerced to say something, it wouldn’t be loud.

“‘your large-‘”

I giggled. “Why do I have to lie?” I teased.

He laughed, confident in the fact that it was quite large, and I was just giving him a hard time. He also wasn’t letting me distract his intent, “‘your large”.

His teeth grazed my neck and I felt goosebumps appear down the side of my body. “Your large,” I breathed out.


Well, at least he didn’t want me to use one of the more (considered) vulgar words – though truthfully no words bothered me reading them – I just couldn’t say them out loud.

I faltered, despite his warm body on me, despite him not looking at me, and encouraging me slowly. “Why do I have to say it? You know what I mean.” I whined.

“Because I said so,” he insisted firmly and then he walked through the statement again.

I squirmed after the word large, hesitated, and then whispered the word “penis”. Unfortunately, a whisper with no voice is just air.

“I didn’t hear you,” he said, “here, my ear is right beside your mouth. Start over.”

“I said it!” I whined.

“Didn’t hear it.”

I started again, took a deep breath, and then said the word “penis” again.

He leaned up, a triumphant smile on his face, and granted me permission to touch, adding, “you dirty little wife.” Somehow those words made it more bearable – his pride in that statement, his love and approval, and calling me “dirty” – something he really hasn’t done before. I did feel dirty in saying the statement, but him using that word and turning it into something so positive and yet naughty really helped. I beamed, enjoyed the victorious feel of him in my hand.

He leaned down and kissed me, his whole mouth crashed on me and his tongue was assertive against my own. After a few seconds, we both realized I couldn’t breathe through my nose; I was, after all, still sick. I let go of him to use both hands to push against his chest. He pressed even more firmly against my mouth for another second, and then let up.

“You can’t breathe through your nose,” he said, surprised.

I was still gulping in air. “Nope,” I affirmed.

He positioned himself at my entrance and entered me roughly, then gripped my hair and pushed for another kiss. I was surprised, and within a few moments I was panicked because I couldn’t breathe – his obvious intent. He let me push against him a few times before relenting. “Mmm, breath play without choking. How nice,” as he thrusted in and out of me, he pressed for another kiss, and I welcomed it, loved the feel of his mouth taking as much possession of me as him being inside of me did, felt the pleasure build, struggled to breathe, trusted him, and felt the beginnings of an orgasm. My nails dug into his shoulders and yet he still denied me breath, his hand so firm in my hair that I couldn’t move my mouth to the side.

There may have been other ways for me to breathe, but I wasn’t thinking of any. When he allowed me to gasp in a breath I was clenched so tightly around him in the throes of orgasm, and yet he didn’t give me any time to do other than one breath before he was stifling another.

It terrified me…it excited me.

I had two really strong orgasms that way before he allowed me to take a few calming breaths. I was exhausted in the short amount of time. My panic and struggle to breathe combined with the pleasure and tension of my orgasms, not to mention still feeling weak from being sick, left me no energy. I laid there limply, gasped for breath, barely aware of his pleased smile – yet enough to try to smile back.

But he hadn’t found his own orgasm yet. He leaned back and stroked in and out of my body at a different angle, his mouth far away from my own so I could breathe through a slower orgasm, my body tightening to bring his own to pleasure.

Afterwards, my body a heaving and exhausted mess safely tucked in his arms, I whispered how I appreciated him calling me dirty so proudly, and his cleverness for using breath play and working (against?) with my sickness.

 Posted by at 5:20 am
Sep 272015

I’m in rope, suspended, sweat is gathering about my skin like a futile shield, my eyes are shut.

Sadist: “Turn her around, I want to see her face. Have you ever just watched her face?”

Husband: “Sometimes. I can tell by her body language and her noises how much she’s going through.”

 Posted by at 8:28 am
Sep 252015

Questions found from Insatiable Desire:

Day 2: List your kinks.

Mind: tell me what I can and can’t do, order me to do something, tease and tempt my mind. My thoughts, your ability to lead and manipulate them, are by far my favorite kink. This is the dessert of power dynamics, communicating, and/or intelligent lovers. Put me in the right head space to find subspace.

Impact: I’m a lightweight, but: floggers, spankings, paddles, slapping, anything with a thud. I hate sting, but will endure some whipping from rope, misery stick, etc..

Control: breath play, choking, orgasm control: both ordered to come and not to come, orgasm denial, edging, held down, forced down, thrown down; oh please take control so I know it’s safe for me to let go of it!

Sensation: knife, wax, cold, blindfold, things that increase one sensation (especially touch) is such a win. I view this as more sensual play.

Bondage: rope is my absolute love; but cuffs, ribbons, torn clothing, pant legs, anything that binds me is erotic and signals that I can do nothing else other than enjoy myself.

 Posted by at 5:25 am