Aug 022015
 

 

When I ovulate, I masturbate. If given the opportunity, I would orgasm all day. All day – that’s not a dramatized statement, it’s a want and need that some rare days I am fortunate enough to experience.

Softly, delicately, I may trace the tips of my nipples, the puckered skin around, cup the full weight of my breasts as much as I can. Recently, I am never in the mood for soft, even with myself, so the initial soft exploration ends rather quickly.

I tug and pinch my nipples, feel the pleasurable pain go through my core and connect with my cunt. I will reach down between my legs, spread my lips and dip a finger inside. When I’m ovulating, I’m already very wet with no prompting. I will sink my finger further, feel my walls wrap around my finger, nerve sensations awake at every minuscule movement. My other hand stays busy, pinching and pulling my nipple in earnest as the harder I pinch, the more I tense around my own finger inside of me.

Taking the moisture, I withdraw my finger and spread it up between my legs, circle my clit with it, dip back in and smear myself until I’m sopping. My finger makes a small bit of noise as it pushed in and out, and another finger is added. My own fingers dance along without a fantasy, having no pace to follow but sensation of slippery travels between and inside my own lips. I stay in the moment, the present, of where I am and that I am pleasing myself.

My hand pulls at my own nipple, switches to the other side, leaving the one sore, hot, and oh so deliciously sensitive and now bereft of attention. It will feel the sheets shift, the bobbing of my arm, the kiss of cool air.

I inevitable grab a wand with the attachment, or a vibrator so that I can go deeper, harder. In a frenzy of pleasure and pain, I try not to cry out into the silent room, alone but for the sensations of an orgasm crowding around me, a brief respite before the craving for another.

 Posted by at 11:09 am
Jul 312015
 

A Dissolute Life Means writes about desires and wanting what she can’t have. The longing in this post really connected with me to an uncomfortable level – which is a great piece of writing.

Vanillamom wrote Vibed and while short, it’s incredibly hot.

I’ve been interested in publishing the last couple of years (but haven’t pursued it) so Remittance Girl’s recents posts on this topic have been interesting. She writes Why Publishing Doesn’t Matter To Me Anymore.

I don’t often reference pictures, but Molly (Molly’s Daily Kiss) has a photo that I just can’t stop viewing.

 Posted by at 11:07 am
Jul 302015
 

We argued, and I couldn’t sleep. Finally around midnight, I pulled him into bed. “Make it right,” I demanded.

He laughed and kissed me softly, no tongue. I rolled my eyes, not quite what I had in mind and he knew it, so I pushed the covers off of him and kissed the head of his penis, just as softly. Then I looked up – not quite what he had in mind when I went down, I could tell. I winked and then moved my mouth as low as I could on the shaft, felt the thick head hit the back of my throat, increased the suction, and pulled up. One hand steadied his thickly engorged member at the base, the other hand cupped and gently played with his balls as I kept move my mouth up and down. He whispered encouragements, or quiet sighs, his hand swept my hair away and held it up so that he could watch.

After a few minutes I moved up, kissed a trail up his body until I got to his neck, and then gently nipped it and applied more pressure on his more sensitive areas, felt his pulse throb under my probing tongue. His hand moved between my legs and stroked up and down my lips. I wasn’t quite wet enough for him to dip in yet. The hand moved up to nipples, pinched each other briefly between his fingers, and then to my shoulder. He gently pushed me to my back, off of his neck, and then rolled me to my side, positioned his mouth between my legs. One hand held my top leg up and his tongue swept up and down my lips, before his hand separated my lips for his tongue to settle into my sex more fully. He sucked while moving his tongue around and in and out of my entrance, and soon I panted and begged for more. One hand moved to my clit, an awkward angle considering I was still lying on my side, and teased the bud while his mouth still fucked me. I tried to push myself more fully onto his mouth, unable to stop myself from moving into him.

Taking his mouth away, he rotated me so I lay on my stomach, inserted a finger in my own very slick sex, his tongue almost doing a questioning lick at my anus. He normally doesn’t go back there, but I was too gone in my own pleasurable sensations to do anything more than moan my appreciation, and hinged my hips against his tongue and fingers. Two fingers, and rimming in earnest began, and I moaned and climaxed, not in my usual hard way, but slowly and softly.

“Hold on,” he said quietly, and stretched to over the side of the bed. By this point I was chest down, ass up on the bed, and swiftly I had a buzzing and vibrating toy thrusted down into me, rubbed my g-spot easily from this angle, his mouth back between my cheeks, and I orgasmed so quickly and hard, screamed. Before one orgasm had even ebbed another one began and then another and I was lost completely to the world, swept up in pleasure.

After three incredible orgasms, he positioned himself up between my legs, entered me violently, reached over for some lube and made me slick before slipping his thumb in my ass, pushed down slightly, giving me a full feeling. His other hand smacked my ass hard. His cock pumped in and out at a downward angle, continued to slide against my g-spot as his head slammed against my wall, and I screamed with an immediate orgasm, my body so tense, so full. Again, his other hand came on to spank my already red cheek. Again, before one orgasm could completely allow me down another built and crest, and I clenched around his shaft, his thumb, held my breath, felt my already sensitive heated cheek being smacked, became dizzy, moaned, screamed, and cursed as yet another orgasm came. I felt him push himself more fully, shudder with the force of his own orgasm.

When he pulled out, I already came again, moaned softly at the feeling of the ridges of his head moving along my walls before he was gone. His thumb slowly moved out, and I couldn’t believe how sensitive I was even there. I let my shaking legs straighten and sunk into the soft mattress, utterly spent. My head was foggy, my thoughts incoherent, but I turned my head and smiled, unable to see his hand descend upon that same fiery cheek. I yelped at the sting, instinctively moved up towards the source of pain; found that a strange reaction instead of moving away, a moan followed a yelp.

“God that feels good,” the words dripped out of my mouth, unbidden, like my wetness flowed down my thighs from the sudden tightening the spank gave me. His hand came down again, and again I moaned into it. Suddenly his fingertips ran softly over my oh-so-sensitive skin, and I tightened and tensed, raised my hips, thighs pressed together as my body clenched itself into another orgasm. I was just surprised as he was, and he spanked my ass a few more times, the pain intense, the pleasure overrode the pain. His mouth followed his hand, licked up and down the hand imprints, and I begged for something incoherently, his mouth now alternated between soft licks, hard suction. He smacked a few more times, following with his mouth a few more times, and I came in the tension my body created.

His fingers sunk between my legs and he grazed my g-spot, brought me to another orgasm and I was again mindless.

Breathless by the time he moved away from me, I rolled over my back, the one side of my ass so aware of all the fibers of the sheet. I panted, by this time hours of pleasure not allowing me any sense of realism, and unable to help himself from toying with my quivering self, his fingers grazed my clit. I sucked in my breath, already felt dizzy from the slight contact, my legs parted without thought. Suddenly two of his fingers danced upon my pearl, and I was so taken with pleasure I had no idea how I ended up laying with my back on his chest, one solid arm across my shoulder and neck so finger could tugged at a nipple, the other hand quickly alternated between slipping into my sex and rubbing up into my clit.

I screamed, arched against him, arched into his tormenting and pleasure inducing fingers, both on my breast and between my legs. I felt his breath against my ear, harsh and ragged as if he matched my own breathing; his body seemed to be an unforgiving hard mass against my back and my throbbing swollen ass. It seemed as if my scream last for days, and I don’t remember quite coming back to the present, just his sexy voice quietly promised to leave me alone now. I think I drifted; I think I got up shortly afterwards to clean myself up, my legs a wobbly mess and he playfully slapped my ass lightly, but it was still so sensitive, and it felt so good that my legs almost collapsed underneath me. I think he said something to the effect that I came every way imaginable tonight, and I mumbled what other ways he could surprise me about myself.

I don’t remember if I ever really opened my eyes, it seemed as if the world shut itself out and the after moments were but a dream. I slept soundly.

*Held in drafts since May 2013.

 Posted by at 8:07 am
Jul 272015
 

 

*…He smacked me, repeatedly, on the ass. He knew I was keeping track, knew the moment I lost count (because he told me so),  continued until my ass was a throbbing hot red, and then proceeded to edge and fuck me with pinned wrists so that I couldn’t take out my revenge.

He also choked me to the point where I felt like losing consciousness a few times during the peaks of my orgasms, knew when my fear became too great or the pressure too much.

I was an exhausted, sweaty, sensitive, sleepy, loved person.

And then he taunted me that I never got my revenge as I was drifting off to sleep, I’m pretty certain he did it intentionally, knowing I would take the bait. So in a pretense to get up to clean myself up a little, I crawled over his body and smacked him hard in the chest. He jerked in surprise and then gripped my body and held me on top him. I should have waited to smack him when I was fully over him and almost off the bed.

I wasn’t getting away and one arm went over my shoulders and held me firm across his lap while one leg went over my own and held those down. With his free hand he spanked my ass repeatedly until it was once again red, gripped my thigh and pulled it into a position where he could slap my labia, our mixed pleasure dripped down and added volume every time his hand made contact. I stopped fighting and began to feel the pleasurable sensations, but I was still so tense that I couldn’t relax fully into the pain.

Somehow he knew that I wasn’t going to orgasm from the sensations. “You need a release, don’t you?” That was a generous offer considering I just smacked him as hard as I could.

“Yes.” And his fingers were inside of me, fucking me roughly. After I climaxed, he strummed his fingers across my clit and brought me to another orgasm. I thanked him and felt so grateful for the release that I wanted to worship his body. He was so gracious, so kind.

We had just had sex – I wasn’t expecting more. He’s normally not up for another round if he’s found his own release.

I kissed the closest part of his body to me, his hip, and moved my mouth down to his outer thigh, then left a trail of wet firm kisses across his thigh and delved into his sensitive inner thigh. He moaned and his hand gently caressed my sore ass, the sting welcoming the soft touch.

Anywhere my mouth could reach him I tasted and worshipped him. His hand began to stroke himself and I felt myself tighten at the appreciative sight.

Suddenly I was thrown off his lap and onto my back as he entered me. My still stinging lips felt the parting and his groin pressed into me, pleasure washed over me so swiftly. He let me orgasm and then moved me onto my side, positioned himself to go at a deeper angle. His hand clenched at my red ass cheek as he pounded into me until he found his own release again.

 

*I love when he gets my mind to shut off, to quiet the world around me and just allow me to feel what is happening in the moment. I am not submissive most of the times, I am more often rebellious (which he loves) until he plays my body to follow his tune; I am whatever he wants me to be once I am made aware that I have no say. I trust him completely, even knowing that there are just some risks that we take upon ourselves when we decide to play roughly. But we have a great foundation to venture wherever we want – years of knowing each other’s bodies, of testing boundaries and communicating throughout.

Still, there are moments where I marvel at how well he can read me; I don’t believe I am as efficient as he is. The moments leading up to our after-play are such perfect examples of this. (This was a continuation story from here )

 Posted by at 3:00 pm
Jul 242015
 

20130402_130221Kink of the Week is on Asses/Bottoms/Bums. Since blogging, I have experienced spanking for the first time, truly creating a better appreciation for my backside. The first photo with the green lace is the first time he had marked me. I have never liked my ass and only saw it as being good for sitting on until the past couple of years.

My husband, while thinking it’s my worst quality, still caresses, pats, fondles it every chance he gets. He always has. There’s nothing quite as lovely as being pulled in for a kiss, a hand snaking around and grabbing a cheek and pulling me up and against him. iphone 202It’s possessive, intimate, and makes me feel as though he can’t get enough of me.

When he began spanking it, it was soft pats more than spanks. He was afraid of hurting me, and I always whimper at stinging pain. He moved onto smacking my ass hard in throes of my orgasm to temper the pain and pleasure aspect. He didn’t do warm ups well, and still doesn’t often – but now that’s evolved to the power dynamics that we engage in – it’s more of a punishment that my body isn’t ready for impact. He certainly doesn’t mind just smacking me hard on the ass.

 

20140402_115048I also had a lover who would do a wonderful warm up, who created a rhythm of taps on my skin that lulled my mind elsewhere to help me find subspace; I love rhythmic impact play for this reason. He would work me up to such points that I could take quite a bit of force on my bottom. I used to joke that he should whore himself out to others for spanking services. Oddly enough, it was the sound of his hand connecting to my ass that bothered my husband the most – and eventually began the downturn of trying polyamory.

assEverything seems to be a graduation of sorts, because impact play has moved on from spanking to paddling. My husband and I have a few paddles, our favorite being an incredibly light-weight wood one. It’s a soft wood so doesn’t travel with us much, but occasionally he’s brought it out when we do suspension scenes. While I always wear yoga shorts in a suspension (it helps the pinching of the ropes against the inside of my thighs during transitions), I am tied up, vulnerable, and my butt is rarely protected in rope. I can’t move to protect myself, to move into the sensation if I like it – it’s a strange feeling to so completely at the mercy of another on such a binding physical sense.

Halloween 177 compressThis past weekend while I was upside down in a suspension, he spun me around and began punching my ass as I moved round that direction. He’s punched my ass a few times now, for a quick reminder that he can do what he wants and something to remember him by. It’s never at his full-force, just what I can tolerate and that will leave a longer impression.

He made two impact sticks with baseballs at the ends to drum on my cheeks, sending a muscle deep pain (think charley horse cramp). I feel that impact for days afterwards; fortunately we don’t bring them out often. What’s a shame is that it leaves no marks, but an undeniable feeling of a deep bruise.

M

A few years ago, at Eroticon, when we learned about the misery stick, that’s also marked my bottom in stripey marks (pictured) and also “M” for a blog picture (pictured on the St Andrews Cross). I may hate that stick, but it certainly does mark immediately.

He’s also been the first to bend me over and thoroughly kiss my backside. There’s something so sensual and intimate about lips and tongue exploring places that are rarely touched. One of his favorite views is when I am chest down, ass up, in a modified yoga’s child’s pose. When I shared a photo in which he tied a wand in this position, I also received a lot of positive feedback on how sexy that was.

child's pose 003So even though I dislike my bum, even though my husband thinks it’s my worst physical attribute, his reaffirmation that he still views it as sexy anyhow and can’t keep his hands off it, and the positive feedback through this blog, I have learned to accept and work through my dislike for this body part.

A new photo to share, however, would have be one of him; he participates in the hunts (as both hunter and prey) and when he is tied to a post, many of the lovely spectators can’t resist beating his ass. While we may agree that my bottom needs work, his is pretty spectacular – even in the rare state of bruised (the only time he allows impact on him is at this event). fet 020

 

 

 

 Posted by at 6:30 am
Jul 232015
 

Sexy Searching is a monthly meme that concentrates on the searches that, sometimes understandably, sometimes bizarrely, lead visitors to your site. Over the last month, a very specific form of bondage has brought people to us. I’ve posted a few photos of gravity boot suspensions, so it’s not too bizarre people end up here.

gravity boot bondage tumblr 5
make her famous military exes 4
cammies on the floor 2
maturbation over the phone 2
face sitting through floor 2
mutual wanking stories

blog3Gravity boot bondage looks similar to this. I’ve been in the gravity boot quite a bit, it makes my back and hips feel pretty good all stretched out. It’s a bit intensive on the feet and ankles at times, but not as much as I initially feared it would be (or what it looks like).

I was at a rope practice just a few days ago (rope practices aren’t scenes, they are learning opportunities and a lot of conversations)  and someone asked how to do a gravity boot.  The woman in charge asked to demonstrate on my foot; one thing led to another, and she asked if I could do a single suspension from a foot.

As my husband helped with the tie, she suddenly had an evil misery stick in her hand and was stinging the bottom of my foot and thighs with it until I was pulled up by just this tie on one ankle and suspended (picture a person hanging upside down by one ankle).

Initially, the rope pulls the center and inside of the foot, and the top of the foot really feels the weight of the body; then my ankle, leg, hip felt the pull of my body weight. They checked in with me. With my loose leg, ankle was tied back to my thigh, then leftover rope was used at my crotch (I had been making jokes that day about “happy knots” between the legs.

My arms were tied behind my back and my torso was wrapped a few times with the arms. In this position, my husband was tempted to grab a small vibrator we keep in the rope bag, so he did and placed it in with the crotch rope. I arched at the sensation and the vibrator moved off the sensitive placement, so he moved it back.

I groaned and was gagged with the fabric we use for a blindfold. I arched but couldn’t move the vibrator away. I shut my eyes and focused on breathing, on the vibration, on the pull of my leg, on the pressure of my foot. There were others in the room but my body needed my attention.

And then I was spun around from the suspension point (on a spinner). My face apparently turned red and she lifted my torso up so I wasn’t upside down anymore. My husband untied my foot and brought me down.

It may not have been a scene but it sure got my adrenaline going; sometimes practice turns into play, and I was thankful for the experience.

Not to mention, I felt like a bad-ass for being able to be in that suspension. A single gravity boot is pretty strenuous.

I just wish we would have taken a picture. I do, however, have a photo from my foot after the experience.

I have a lot of rope marks after a rope practice, the ones on my legs were from earlier

#SexySearching

 Posted by at 7:41 am
Jul 212015
 

Slow Motion

Knot on Make A Gif

Slow Motion – make animated gifs like this at MakeAGif

 

He pulled out rope from our chest. The red knots rose slowly, knots that he insists on doing because when he pulls a single strand they unfold easily, one by one, lengthening to what he requires, no kinks. The unraveling is ridiculously simple. It is also hypnotic, my eyes watch the evidence of his organization unwind and transform into something that will slither and bind me – for my darker desires.

On the bed, relaxed for the time being, I watched him decide how much rope he would need. I saw a long thin rod crossed through a knot. Innocent looking devil, my eyes widened and panicked at the sight of the Misery Stick.

I love the marks it leaves, perfect little slashes that tend to always bruise on my pale skin. I hate getting the marks, however. I will never tell him not to use it – in truth, I want it used from time to time. But then when I am faced with it – I loathe the thing. It is a pain that I cannot space out on, that I cannot get used to. Within minutes after the whip of it, the pains subsides, but until then it is line of fire. And the anticipation of it coming down…I don’t like that.

“It’s not a sign that you need to use it,” I hoped to keep the distress out of my voice.20140622-111002-40202711.jpg

He stopped, smiled at me, and replied: “oh, it’s meant to be.” He carelessly threw the length of rope right beside where I was, a few pieces touched my side, close by – the tiny stick still stuck. I stared.

He turned his back as if he did nothing to my mental state and decided more toys were needed. In a mad moment, I pulled the Misery Stick out of the rope and stretched my hands under my pillow, tucked into the center, hidden, hoped he would forget about it, hoped he wouldn’t find it.

He reminded me of two things later that night:

One: he will always find things

Two: we had two Misery Sticks

*originally written in June 2014

**While this post includes rope, I did not follow the prompt this week.  Life is a bit chaotic right now with some major transitions going on. Hoping for the dust to settle, as it were, so life can resume with lovely things like peace and sleep.

Come see far cooler writers who have followed the promptWicked Wednesday

 Posted by at 6:10 am