Dec 052016
 

Masturbation Monday badge - smallI used to do this from time to time with my ex husband. So many grand moments admist every day moments in which I am busy with just work and family that I don’t write about them. But Texas reads me now, and some are noteworthy despite not having the time to write about them.

Anal Sex

I don’t ever try something once, I’m not sure if I’ve shared that. So we had anal sex once, and it was meh. Yet, I know I enjoy fingers from time to time, so taking my own spirit of give something a second try Texas and I tried anal sex again. This time, we took a bit more time with entry and it didn’t hurt nearly as much. We went slow and steady. It started feeling good, and Texas even came. When we were done, there was no mess and I didn’t cry. Heck, sort of my like sister did after her first anal sex attempt, I wanted to give him a high five and tell him it was a job well done.

masturbation-monday-week-118Rubbing Myself

As ridiculous as it sounds, I have never continuously rubbed myself during sex. So when Texas ordered me to finger myself as he kissed my body, and then entered me around my own fingers, he insisted I keep my fingers on my clit. The other hand he wanted me to pinch my nipples. He was unhurried as he slowly withdrew and pushed inside of me, the ridges of his shaft and underside of his head so prominent against my folds and walls.

Mimicking his pace with my fingers, I circled my clit until it was a hard nub; my other hand slowly twisted and pinched a nipple. He kept his body close, his breath heavy in my ear and I turned my head and nibbled on the side of his neck, listening to how his breathing changed with the different sensations my teeth and tongue created.

In, a long slow stroke where the tip of his head rubbed against so many places. My core tensed and my muscles followed the thickest part of him and clenched along his shaft not wanting him to leave. I moaned and breathed in when he hit as far back as he was going to, smelling the clean scent of his body.

Out, he moved as unhurriedly, giving me the opportunity to feel every single contour of him and my body tensed even further as not wanting him to completely withdraw. Even my fingers tensed: the hardened nub seemed even more exposed from lips parted open for so long and I pressed harder, circled faster, my nipple creating a pain sensation that connected and seemed to add strength to my muscles trying to refuse his movement. I exhaled and bit down on his shoulder when his head poised at my entrance.

In.

Out.

Such a maddeningly slow pace. It created so much tension in my body that my shoulders lifted off the bed and I could smell the slight scent of our sweat and our sex. With my own fingers, I pressed harder.

“You’re so tense, so tight,” he groaned as my body shuddered into an orgasm before tensing again into an echo of another – a smaller, faster orgasm. A long breath and shaking body. More tension, my stomach hurt from the slight way I arched up and clenching down upon him inside of me. My breaths were even against me as when a slow tension-filled orgasm began building, I would alternate holding my breath and remembering I had to breathe, crying out in pleasure with every inhale and exhale.

His chest pressed into my breasts, crisp coarse hair against the sensitive nipple I was not currently pinching, and my shoulders felt the cool sheets again, though they did not relax into the mattress.

At such a slow pace, my body could only tense and orgasm.

By the time he found his own release, again commenting of how I gripped him the entire time, we were both sweaty and catching our breath.

When he withdrew and moved to the side of me to hold me, he whispered that we would have to do that a bit more.

I sleepily replied that tensioned orgasms exhaust me, and drifted off to his fingertips grazing my back as my front was kept warm along the side of his body.

 

Dec 042016
 

I saw one of my friends when I went to the swingers club. He was performing with rope and whips. Once his performance was done, he hugged me and it was a long and comforting hug that let me know he heard about my sister.

We talked about how we were going to see each other at a party the next day. “Will you tie me? I need the release.”

He looked down at me still within his arms, his understanding eyes apparent even through all his makeup. “I know you do. Perhaps. You aren’t allowed to drink tomorrow then,” nodding towards the wine I had been drinking.

“I know, I won’t.” Tomorrow’s event was a dry party, had always been at the venue we were going to. Almost all the events don’t allow alcohol around these parts, as people feel strongly that alcohol and many play styles shouldn’t mix. I had no plans to drink alcohol even before the event as I was driving.

So after one night with so many wonderful friends, the following night (after dealing with family things, then sorting and cleaning my sister’s things) I went to another group of wonderful friends. Have I mentioned that I am so grateful for such an amazing group of people? I needed this support system that I am not getting in my new town. I know so many people that there is never a lack of company do I decide to reach out and ask.

This venue is far more family feeling. They’re very close knit, and the Thanksgiving dinner that they do every year is so large, with so much food carefully coordinated by the dungeon mom – yes even holidays are celebrated family style (minus kids, so a weekend before the actual holiday followed by adults playing). After announcements and a costume judging (they allowed me to come out of costume), my friend asked if I was ready to do rope.

So we went to the suspension structure and I stripped down to my underwear as he prepared the music. “What kind of a thing do you want?”

“Hurty rope,” I told him. He doesn’t scene with me for some reason, and he rarely even ties me, but he’s skilled and a sadist and I was hoping to escape in pain so much that I would cry, that I would release the overwhelming tension and surrender it all from my body.

He is skilled, and the rope did hurt, but after transitions and truly painful suspension ties, I was out of the rope before I felt the pain enough to embrace it.

I was still grateful for his time.

Down, we mingled amongst others and I watched a few scenes. A rope person and I were discussing how rope never lasts long enough and my friend said, “oh really?” with that devilish gleam that he gets and soon he offered to tie again.

I just took off my jeans this time and it appeared that we were going to do floor work. The music was excellent and he was bobbing in time. I had a chest harness with wrists tied behind my back. He put a knee behind my knee and force-lowered me to the floor. He strung up an ankle to the hard point above me and pressed the sole of his shoe on my thigh still laying on the floor. I liked the pressure, I liked the exposed-vulnerable feeling of having one leg up useless for protection. He then picked me up from the chest harness and my breath strained with the sudden pressure, immediately I adjusted and it hurt but felt wonderful. He set me down and picked me up a few more times.

Did I mention the music was awesome? It’s amazing how music can create a scene, and in this case I feel it did. Next thing I knew I was being strung up and fully suspended with legs adjusted from time to time to a more painful position than the last. I was blindfolded and it was then used to pull my head back, in which he arched my back to tie the blindfold into an ankle. That was a tight tie, it didn’t allow any forgiveness or releasing of tension. It was very uncomfortable but sustainable, and I wished that I had been in it longer. He spun me around in that position, his hand brushing over my blindfold, my upturned chin, my tensely pulled back neck, my chest. He checked on me and I expressed I was okay.

And then I came out. The whole experience had amazing energy and I felt a connection to him whereas he normally won’t tie to where I can feel a connection. But it was too short, or perhaps I needed too much, to find the space in which I released my emotions and surrendered them up.

Still, he managed a huge feat as I left that night incredibly happy. I am so very grateful to have such supportive, gracious, and even skilled friends. I will miss them when I return back to my town, and since my sister is no longer around, I don’t know if I will return to see them.

That in itself is a different kind of goodbye that I just can’t contemplate right now.

Dec 012016
 

I wasn’t even going to write this post, but after:

  • I viewed my sister’s body and can no longer deny that she is dead;
  • I cried hysterically as I laid my head next to hers;
  • I stroked her glorious hair (she had amazing hair);
  • I say a tentative goodbye (I know there’s many more);
  • I comforted my father – a man that rarely even expresses emotions;
  • I bemoaned why there would even be a viewing – how morbid!
  • I get drunk at lunch as my father keeps ordering more and more drinks.
  • I go back to the bed that she used to sleep in and take a long nap.
  • My friends hear about my day and graciously kidnapped me,
  • We head towards a kink event which was at a swinger’s club,
  • I am distracted by the wonderful performances of my skilled friends,
  • I am kissed and cuddled by David,
  • I have incredibly public sex with David,
  • I ride the sybian,
  • He rides the sybian.
  • And then I said goodbye to friends and he took me back to my sister’s house,
  • where during the ride home I tell him for the first time I just lost my sister and he reacted very compassionately:

At first it seemed we just intended to cuddle once we stripped naked. It was the early morning and we were both exhausted. Plus, we had had multiple orgasms already at the club. His hand grazed my nipple and that was all it took for me to request sex. I was tired, he was tired, so I told him to grab a condom before he thought I was asking for foreplay. He fucked at a fast pace, one that I couldn’t believe he could keep up as long as he went. We moved positions quite a bit, but a favorite of his was me on my side with one leg split up between our bodies. The position allowed him to bottom out and I welcomed the pain.

He yanked back on my head a lot, my scalp complaining at the pain, my body thrumming at the pain and pleasure contrast. He also wrapped his hand around my throat and gently squeezed every so often. David is excellent at creating a helpless feeling and letting me know that he is in control. I surrendered that control to him, my mind more fully escaped into the sensations he was creating.

He also talked dirty to me, something that is always slightly shocking (though why, considering how many men recently have done that?) and takes me away from my orgasms a bit. He called me a “fucking whore” quite a bit, verbalized how he was going to fuck me next, how good I felt, how good he felt – all using crude language that I’m sure would have me blushing, except the shock factor of the words was just enough to penetrate through my orgasms AND also the emotional numbness that was beginning to creep in from the past several days.

Would I like the talk otherwise? Probably not. It’s just not my thing, at least how he was doing it. But in that moment it was appropriate because I needed something to take me out of my comfort zone to help me escape the numbing despair, even if just for moments.

I was being fucked into existence with his hammering inside of me; and I was alive. 

He pulled out of me after far too long, my body sore, and tore off the condom, straddling my chest and stroking himself. “I’m going to feed you,” he stated, and then guided my mouth to wrap around his cock, impaling my head on his shaft until his hot cum spilled down my throat. He roughly fucked my throat through his climax and then we cleaned up.

When I came back to bed, he pulled me into his arms and held me tightly, smoothing down my hair. Soon he was asleep, but he woke up every time I stirred and pulled me in close.

It was nice to doze in and out always surrounded by the arms of a friend. It was comforting to not be alone, to be cared for.

It was the only night I allowed myself the luxury of seeking comfort with sex and a man, and it was with a friend.dsc_7466

Nov 292016
 

After I had sex in front of strange men and then left to clean up, I came back to the porn room in the swinger’s club and talked with some female friends sitting and chatting with David as he cleaned and sanitized the room. They expressed they were sad they missed the show we obviously gave, then mentioned how they had tried the sybian in the next room, inquired if I had tried the machine. I was already overcome with shyness and not talking much by this point, not to mention that was I was very tired from the day’s events, so didn’t do much more than shake my head. When I expressed that I had not but I was curious to try, David took my hand and steered me towards that room.

Yes, I was tired, and incredibly shy, but I was so very curious, and really my curiosity almost always wins.

He went to the front desk and got the “box of cocks” for the machine, and the front lady sat in the room and explained things about the machine before leaving the room. I picked what she said was a favorite dildo for many, and then David took the control. I asked him to shut the door, as I had a feeling he would have preferred it open to give an audience a show again.

He shut the door and told me to get fully naked. As I was undressing, he played with the controls and figured out how the machine worked. I slipped a condom over the dildo and straddled the machine, leaning forward the way the lady advised.

David started very slowly and I didn’t really get a lot out of it. At about fifty percent power, it felt good, but I had just had multiple orgasms, so a lot felt good. On stronger, it did give me an orgasm, but again – that was only because I had just multipled. The machine on its own would not give me my first orgasm, as it vibrates more than penetrates, and I prefer thrusting.

Once I stated I was done, David announced he was going to try a smaller attachment. I was super excited that he was going to try it too. While I removed my attachment and cleaned it, David undressed and then used a lot of lube and a condom. It took him a minute to get comfortable with it being inserted anally. I sat in a chair with the controls, watching his magnificent bottom and thighs tense and move as he adjusted himself. Once he was ready, I started slow, the same way he did. I noticed he liked the insertable moving more than the vibrations so focused on that power for a bit, paying close attention to his magnificent body language and his noises.

He told me to come around towards the front of him when the power was about at fifty percent. I took his erect cock in my mouth and used suction until he was at the back of my throat, stroking what was left of his shaft with my hand. He moaned, and I turned up the power and then set the control down next to me, using my other hand to caress his testicles as my tongue, lips, and hand stroked the rest of him. Every so often I would turn up the power until he was eventually at full power. His hand went to the back of my head and he grunted for me to keep it up and drain him dry. My fingertips felt the tension in his balls, the throbbing in my hand, his powerful release hitting the back of my throat so hard my tongue didn’t even have a chance to taste it. He held me there as long as his orgasm lasted, making the hottest sounds of satisfaction above my head.

I made sure I did truly suck him dry and then slowly dialed back all the power. I expressed how hot I found that.

I love when a man orgasms, when he finds his release with me in some regard, when he verbalizes and his body shows just how good it feels. It’s been my limited experience that men tend to orgasm so much harder with anal stimulation as well. And while anally stimulating men is not a fetish of mine, I absolutely adore being witness to a hard orgasm.

Nov 272016
 

Masturbation Monday badge - smallWhen David steered me into a room without a door, in a swinger’s club, with porn playing on a big screen, I was grateful that we were the only ones in the room.

I told him, as he pulled me onto his lap on a couch, that I didn’t have public sex, and he told me to tell him when to stop. We kissed, my shirt came off, then my bra. His shirt came off, exposing his muscular chest and arms. I kicked off my shoes.

Up until this point, this wasn’t new to me – being nearly naked in public. Heck, I’d been fully naked twice in public but they were with my ex husband and it was involving toys in rope.

David yanked on my hair and rotated us to lay me down on the seat, stripped me out of my pants and underwear. There are a few, rare times in my life when I no longer give a fuck about limits (that doesn’t mean I’m unsafe in pushing those limits). Those that care about me worry because they view it as vulnerable, and perhaps I am. Twice this year now I have pushed past my own comforts and limits – once when I did slutfest and a weekend with my husband after my husband left me, and that night in the swinger’s club (so far, but I’m still mourning, so we’ll see what else I get up to). It makes me feel alive when I am otherwise numb trying to cope. When he hesitated at my pants and looked down at me to see if I was okay, I knew we were going to have sex right there in the room. I was surprisingly okay with that.

He fingered me, and I briefly hoped that there was no one in the doorway. At least my head was more towards the doorway and my spread legs were facing a wall. He sat down and pulled me onto his lap where I was facing the doorway, I shut my eyes so I wouldn’t know if we had an audience and he continued to finger me, nibbling on my shoulders, neck, rotating me slightly to bite on my nipples. I arched into his teeth, I moaned and shuddered around his fingers. Now I fully exposed to the view of others, something he intentionally did, but I was focused on the pleasure he created rather than a potential audience.

He ordered me to lay down doggy style on the seat of the couch, and I bent my elbows to brace them on the seat which buried my head against the back bottom of the seat – so no one could see my face and I couldn’t see theirs. He put on a condom and began fucking me at a vigorous pace.

dsc_7442Have I mentioned that David is a military man at his prime and is in amazing shape? There is no part of him that is soft and the hardest part of him was rubbed and built up an orgasm; I welcomed the release of tension that seemed to be consuming me. Of course, once I orgasm once, the others just begin to flood my senses – and I am by no means quiet. He would smack my ass and thighs occasionally as he fucked me, and he yanked my head up by my hair, forced it to the other side. Briefly I peaked and saw the outlines of people in the room with us; I shut my eyes tightly, but orgasms are glorious things and before I could be mortified I was being carried on the wave of another one. He stuck a thumb in my back hole and used the pressure to increase the intensity of my orgasms. We switched positions quite a few more times.

I was sweaty and had no idea how he kept up an almost maddening tempo. When he finally found his own fulfillment and withdrew out of me to hold me tenderly, I was grateful he shielded my face away from the doorway and towards his chest.

And then I heard the men complimenting us. I’m sure I blushed as David thanked them politely. He sounded almost proud, and he should have been – he gave them one hell of a show.

 

*When I came in from cleaning myself up, some female friends of ours were sitting and chatting with David as he cleaned and sanitized the room. They mentioned how they had tried the sybian in the next room, expressed they were sad they missed the show we obviously gave, and inquired if I had tried it. I was already overcome with shyness and not talking much, so didn’t do much more than shake my head. When I expressed that I had not but I was curious, David took my hand and steered me towards that room. 

Guess the night still wasn’t done….

Nov 262016
 
Sinful Sunday

It’s been one month since my baby sister, A, died. She had always joked that she wanted to be buried in a glorious mausoleum but she knew that she would end up in a shanty shack. Taking her joke, her husband and I painted a birdhouse her favorite colors of hot pink and black, pinstriped it, decorated it with butterflies and pink flowers (her favorite things), and spread her ashes on a mountain side in the dawn’s pink tones. I grieve so terribly and hold onto the sound of her laughter so tightly. Thank you, dear readers, for sticking with me during this time.img_3238

Nov 252016
 

miss-scarlett-header
Photo courtesy of Miss Scarlet Writes

Welcome to Elust 88

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

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Heart stabbing

Redemption: The Sex Goddess Project

Exhibitionish

 

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

An Open Letter To That Cunnilingus Post

I Found Myself Over His Knee

 

 

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Writing Sex Scenes With Less Cissexism, Pt 1

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

Overlook
The Haunting of Iris Day
MERMAID??? Wicked Wednesday #229
Fear, Scents and Sounds
Lady Amore
love is love
Spray
Her Struggle
The New Principal

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Evolving Landscapes
Trust in Me
15 BEST Things About Giving Blowjobs!
With a rebel yell
What lie do you need to hear so we can Fuck?

Erotic Non-Fiction

The Brush
Tasked with asking for what I need
How Old Is Too Old For Wild Lovemaking?
Brass In Pocket
An Unstated Predicament
California Cuisine
Krystal’s First Pegging
Struggling

 

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

That Adult Bookstore Just Outside Town
Creature of the night
MISTRESS IN A DRESS – or out of it
Come Here. I want to Taste You
Terror of the cane! How to make caning sexy

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

11 Signs You Might Be a Side Guy

 

Writing About Writing

Writing Sex Scenes With Less Cissexism, Pt 1

 

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Nov 222016
 

Wicked Wednesday*So the transitions, divorce, dating, moving, new job finally took me down for the first time ever in my life. My lines reveal will be completely different from the past, and what I’ve tried to accomplish this year. And even my accomplishments may be incomplete (though I didn’t get many bragging rights these months either).

IMG_1646July 

Most revealing Post: A summary of my summer: purple hair, skinny dipping, pool sex, Mr. Texas, The Wanderer, new friends, reconciling with my husband (and failing). – This Summer

:Favorite Photo 

August

Favorite Post: 

“So with my husband and I reconciling, one of the first things on his list was anal play for him. He hadn’t experienced it in months and I think that he was even made to feel that it was viewed negatively in some regard.

He missed it… we were going to try pegging again.

Actually, it was a scene that I was giving him with pegging so he laid down tied in the center of the bed” – Pegging Again 

No one can accuse me of quitting easily. This was a beautiful scene is which finally, after so many years of trying, my husband and I were successful at pegging. I loved this moment.

1IMG_2251Favorite Photo: Every single time I look at this photo, or any of the photos from the suite that The Wanderer and I turned into a playroom for three glorious days, I smile. We truly used almost every space of every room, with the exception of the bar, I believe. There were a lot of firsts, and it was one of the most concentrated times I had had with him up to this point.
Accomplishments: Sinful Sunday’s weekly roundup featuring Rope Social

September

Most Revealing Post: 

“It was a weak moment, just that: a moment, and one that I am healing from – both physically and emotionally.

I hope these marks do eventually fade; after all, my thighs have been scarred before with sharpened steel when I used to sword fight and after time they faded into nothingness.

But if they stay, they will not remind me of loss, nor sadness, nor a pathetic action. They will remind me that I have loved, that I can heal, and that I am strong. They will remind me that I can move forward. They will serve as evidence that my perspective can change, and that hope is a powerful emotion – and frankly there’s nothing wrong with that.” – Bloody Review 

This was the month of truly letting go of my marriage: our many attempts at reconciling failed, he never truly wanted to be with me again though he did love me and I was finally tired of the back and forth of his decisions, our divorce legally was completed, and I made him a character page because the story of him ended here on this space (though for April’s A-Z Challenge I may write of our reconciliation since I have not). I also began the sometimes painful process of letting go of the resentment, bitterness, anger, towards more of a neutral ground to learn and move away from. In this post, I let go of how I viewed my scars, and in another in October, I shifted through the terrible emotions related to anal sex.

img_2927Favorite Photo: Mr. Texas: by this point I had been dating him off and on for six months. And the majority of the days I was his house. His backyard is absolutely gorgeous (these pictures don’t do it justice). Our thing is to go into the hot tub in the evenings, and when kids aren’t around, I’ve been bent over those stairs quite a bit, not to mention that I was at low part of his fence very visible to anyone walking by on a hiking trail having sex with him.
Accomplishments: Learning from Men, Wicked Wednesday

October

Most Revealing Post: 

“And I can get incredibly wet.

While this may be viewed as a good thing, the truth of the matter is that it’s simply not. Slippery when wet means that we both lose traction.” – Slippery When Wet

Why I’m a size queen, and why sex with me isn’t wonderful for many (not that anyone has ever said anything but positive – but why would they be mean?). Yep, I’m just going to be honest, at least in my opinion.

iphone 244Most Revealing Photo: This was a Tribute to my sister, and on how I missed her and couldn’t visit her, but that her health was in poor condition. She died the month of October. We began this blog together and she was far more than a sister – she was a great friend of mine. I am still reeling from losing her in my life.
Accomplishments: Congratulations to my friend Atargatis, for Riding the Wave, on Wicked Wednesday!