Nov 252014
 

He shoved me up against the wall, hand to my throat. I could barely make out his features in the night. The dark street was devoid of people. Faint music from businesses further on drifted on the night air, but I doubted any sound I made would carry so far.

I slapped his face with all of the strength I could muster. His hand tightened around my neck and he kissed me with almost as much violence as was delivered in my slap. I melted into his grasp and kissed him back with just as much fury. His free hand slid up my skirt and I heard the delicate fabric of my panties rip. I felt them begin to slide down in tatters just as I felt his strong fingers probe for my clit. I knew he could feel my arousal. My eyes rolled back then quickly snapped to focus, glancing around to make sure we were still alone in the dark.

His mouth drifted to the exposed cleavage of my dress, and the bite he delivered caused me to whimper. His fingers were causing my muscles to spasm and grow weak. Another rip sounded in my ear as he decided the part of my breasts exposed was not enough. His tongue flicked against my nipple as he seized his prize. His mouth was hot and wet as he used his teeth to illicit more moans. His hand moved from my neck to my hair as he yanked my head back.

His gaze was intense as he took in the pleasure written all over my face. “Be a good girl, and get on your knees”. The pressure of his grasp in my hair started pulling downwards and I was not proof against the insistence of his hands and the look in his eyes. I dropped to my knees and eagerly began undoing his pants. The tug at my hair increased my arousal and my lips watered in anticipation.

His arousal was just as evident as mine as it throbbed before my eyes. I wrapped my lips around him and heard his breath drawn in. I greedily took in every inch of him, always wanting more. Both hands in my hair now, he started thrusting his hips and I encouraged him in my thoughts. More. I barely felt the hard ground beneath my knees, my every thought focused on him.

He suddenly yanked my hair upwards, his other hand going back to my throat. Again I was thrown against the building, but this time he followed me with his body. My leg wrapped around his hip and my hair was released as he lifted my other. I was now supported between him and the wall as he plunged into me. His mouth came to mine and absorbed my cry. His hips thrust into me with voracious desire, and I squeezed him with my arms and my legs, wanting more. My body was at a fevered pitch as I grew closer to climax. The exposure and risk of our very public coupling only intensifying the pleasure.

I cried out, and dug into his back with my nails, as the release rushed through my body. My muscles relaxed automatically but it didn’t hamper his motions. His breath became ragged in my ear. He dropped my legs forcefully, his hand pressing me down again, and I knew what he wanted. I dropped quickly to my knees again and took him in my mouth. The taste of me mingled with the taste of him as he came in my mouth. He thrust deep to ensure I got every drop of his orgasm.

His hand smoothed down my hair and he whispered “That’s my good girl”. He gently helped me from my knees, kissed my forehead, and tucked me under his arm as we started down the street. Just a couple of young lovers, out for a stroll, because no one saw what happened down that dark street.

Wicked Wednesday

 Posted by at 12:59 pm
Nov 232014
 

A long long time ago… well actually 2 years exactly, I was visiting M for Thanksgiving. She pulled me over to the computer and showed me a bunch of sex blogs she had been reading.

 

My family has always been open about sex. It’s one thing that makes us unique to a lot of people we know. Our mother raised us to not be ashamed of sex, and always be safe and enjoy ourselves. So M and I knew everything about each other’s sex lives, and we had both shared things about sex we’d written before.

 

After showing several fabulous, tantalizing blogs, she turned to me and said “I think we could do this, ourselves”. She was very excited about the idea. Being a military spouse, she had been made to move to an area where she didn’t know anyone, and was isolated from other spouses. She needed an outlet, and this was perfect. She wanted to do it, and she specifically wanted to blog with me. She plied me with flattery about my writing skills, and also talked about how much easier it would be with two of us. This was something we could do together and bond with, because we didn’t get to see each other as often as we should. I asked a few more questions, and realized that yes, this was something we could totally do.

 

Now came the hard part.

 

We had to figure out what to call our blog. We went through a million names, most of them horrible. Uniforms and lingerie? Two sisters, one blog? It got quite silly. Finally,  in a burst of genius I said “Cammies on the Floor”. It worked. It felt like it belonged. The perspective we were writing from was that of sex and military life. The extra interesting fact about it is, we’re sisters. It was unique, and it was us.

From there we started figuring out how to even create a blog, what kind of content we wanted, and a vague direction we wanted to go in. Thanks to M’s voracious reading of other blogs she knew quite a lot to start. The rest, as they say, is history. We have grown so much and spread out, and it is amazing the community we have been able to be a part of.

It’s you, reading this, that has gotten through two years, inspired us to grow, challenged us to write different things, think outside the box, and has inspired us. In celebration, I thought I’d share the story of us, and M has made a special montage of pictures throughout the years.

Lots of love, and dirty thoughts,

A

Nov 232014
 

We’ve been blogging for two years now! A thought a photo montage of the past two years we’ve been blogging would be a fitting tribute.

For our first year, we went through what we participated in, with a quick review on highlights that others recognized. Unfortunately, we aren’t toy reviewers, so no cool give-away. But still, thank you for supporting us on our journey!

scrapbookthing

 Posted by at 12:27 pm
Nov 212014
 

So many small thoughts and moments I want to mention, no real moment has jumped and claimed me, more like moments keep going past:

Pajama Pants I was kissing the side of his neck. We were still dressed, laying in bed. He had his phone in his hands and wasn’t taking my subtle hint that I wanted sex, or he was just pretending to ignore my desire. My hands roamed, and I unbuttoned his shirt, slowly, enjoying the revealing of the broad expanse of chest. My tongue would trail and explore the newly exposed skin. He questioned if I wanted anything. He began talking of daily, casual things. I ignored him, loved and savored the unique taste of him. I reached his pants and went for the button, and he talked louder. I stopped and looked up at him. His smile was mischievious.

Two could play. I sat up and took off my pants. Then I twisted the legs on them, reached for his head, and shoved the pants in, tying it around. My makeshift gag worked pretty good, if his muffled confusion was any indication. And his eyes widened at surprise. “You should be felt and not heard,” I stated, before going back to unbuttoning.

I think I heard a “fuck you” behind the gag. He put his phone down. Before I even fully took off his pants, I licked up his shaft and wrapped my mouth around his penis; his hand went to my head and pushed, trying to make me gag on it. I pulled up forcefully, something I don’t do, and went to his nipple and bit it. He yelped. He hated that. And of course, he had to test that if he tried to force my mouth deeper if I would do it again.

Of course I did. But he wouldn’t let me bite his nipple again. As I tried, he yanked my hair and pulled me off of him. He rolled us where he was now covering my body, one hand in my hair, the other taking off the gag.

The gag went around me, my clothes were quickly discarded, and my nipples treated to a bit of abuse. And then my body alternated between pleasure and pain as he started that rhythm that brought me calm in his control.

Arts and Crafts Part of our new impact play has been the creation of new toys by my husband. My house is now littered with projects, the garage has piles of sawdust. It reminds me of a lego minefield that the kids create whenever my husband is home all day on a weekend. I am excited he’s found such an intricate and time consuming hobby that he can be passionate about, and I am the recipient of the creations. But his more sadist side – one I wasn’t even sure existed, is coming to the fore and now I am testing my own threshold for daily pain. We don’t play hard every day, but the new impact toys are certainly making me remember the play sessions, especially every time I sit down.

Part of his experimenting has also been trying to find a chest harness for suspension that works well with me. I’m sure we’ll get this figured out, and we’ll talk to experienced riggers, but the two times he has suspended me I’ve now had bruises wrapped around my chest. It is getting better, and it’s a work in progress. I am vocal, but my biggest issue is I don’t feel any discomfort right away.

His bedroom bondage in general is getting more intricate, and yet at times more simplistic. Some lazy nights, he goes for simpler, and faster ties. I love the impatience to have sex and the lack of waiting. Other nights, he takes his time and creates beautiful ties. I also want a camera on those nights, and relax with the knowledge that it’s going to be a long, lovely scene.

Wee Bit of Drama  After sex and cleaning up, I informed him that I was bleeding. This is not uncommon, so neither of us care much, he’s a bit too big for me. Still, it’s not a daily occurence. He muttered a sleepy apology, already falling asleep. I rolled up against his back, pressed my chest into his warm body, threw one arm over as much as I could, played with his ring on his finger. I didn’t want  him to sleep yet. “It’s probably because it’s been awhile since we had sex,” I clarified, waited. He didn’t stir. I poked a bit more, “after all, it’s been ages.”

If a smile can be heard, I believe I did. “Yep, ages. Years, even.”

“I know!” I wailed.

He chuckled, “I love you.”

Okay, so I was being a wee bit dramatic, but two days felt like forever for me, and I needed to remind him that I feel that way so hopefully it doesn’t happen again.

 Posted by at 7:37 am
Nov 192014
 

I’m a flirt. It kinda seems to run in my family. I think I learned from the best because I know of no better flirt than M. Although she seems tiny and quiet, you get her going and she could charm the pants off anyone.

We’re both equal opportunity flirts. Meaning girl parts or boy parts, you’re going to get flirted with. I’m straight, or as it says on my fet page: heteroflexible. I’d include a girl at the behest of my partner, but they don’t do anything for me sexually. I love the strip club and can appreciate a beautiful woman, but again, I don’t get sexual gratification from them. As far as I know, M pretty much follows the same lines.

Yet, to watch both of us, we flirt way harder with women. Perhaps because it is safe. Most of the time our flirting is harmless banter, and maybe we feel more free with that because other women (who know we’re straight) don’t take that as anything BUT harmless banter. I must say, I’ve appreciated the blurred lines with men sometimes. Opportunities have arisen where I had no idea they would, simply because the man took the banter and used it as initiative.

There’s a seedy underworld to being a natural flirt however. Jealousy being the biggest. I’ve seen it directed at both M and I from women whose partners, or even just interests, we’ve inadvertently flirted with. I’ve noticed it far more with M than I. I’ve a few theories about this: M flirts with the ease and frequency as one does breathing, and she doesn’t realize it. If M doesn’t realize she’s flirting, she definitely doesn’t pick up on 3rd party social cues about jealousy. It’s an emotion she doesn’t really experience herself. People naturally gravitate towards M and her bubbly, easy to like personality. I’ve really yet to meet anyone who doesn’t like her, except those who get jealous over her.

Then there’s the other side. I’ve had an especially hard time dealing with some of my partners who have felt threatened, especially because I enjoy open relationships, so this flirting isn’t seen as harmless. It’s viewed as pursuit. I’m very envious of M and the relationship she has with her spouse. He knew he was getting a flirt when he married her, and not only is tolerant, he encourages her to be her flirty, bubbly self. I’ve yet to be so fortunate. At best I’ve had a don’t ask, don’t tell policy. They know I do it, it’s just better that it not be anywhere near them.

It’s natural for people to flirt. Especially in the kink community. Most of my socializing is in the fet community, and there’s no WAY you could get a group of kinky people together without that kink coming up. That’s also where I’ve experienced the most virulent hatred from jealousy. The strange double standards that exist among some people in the community really boggles my mind.

So although we do it, it’s naturally. It’s harmless, and M and I are both blunt enough that if we’re inviting you to bed, you’ll know it.

Nov 182014
 

night_tmi
Fill in the blank

1. When I can’t sleep I often wake my husband for sex . (Of course, he doesn’t always wake up.)

2. My dream bedroom would be full of sex toys, rope, and tie off points .

3. If I could wake up anywhere tomorrow it would be someplace with warmth and people I love .

4. I need to have warm toes in order to sleep  at night.

5. Not having things to be grateful for would truly be a nightmare.

6. Night time is the right time to sleep, the day is for everything else .

Bonus:  Briefly tell us about your last dream–erotic or not.

I had a nightmare that I was being hit by balls flying at me, and with no depth perception, I couldn’t tell how close they were until they hit me.

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 3:54 pm
Nov 172014
 

There are a few things that shaped my concept of sexuality, that allowed me to embrace it or be ashamed of it. The first two really don’t need much reflection (to me anyhow).

First and foremost was Catholic School.

Secondly, was being sexually abused as a child.

Thirdly, was being my mother’s daughter. She was open about sex, told us girls that boys are like shoes: you need to try on a lot of pairs until you find the perfect fit. Giving us an hilarious tale of her first blow job story, where she really blew on the man’s penis. Not judging us for our sexual explorations, and allowing us to be open and honest with her. I told her the first time I had sex, and she dutifully took me to the doctor and made sure that everything was fine (it wasn’t, I had torn horribly and needed to be cut in places to take away the jagged edges). She didn’t lecture me, she cared for me, and taught me to be safe.

Later, society and the trickle down effect in high school impacted. Talk of how much of a slut I was, the mean gossip, the truths and the exaggerations of my exploits. It was the boys feeling a sense of entitlement, because they viewed me as easy, and therefore I must say yes to them. It was the bad girls who embraced me and the good girls who rejected me. The slut shaming during these developing years lasted until my thirties.

It was my in-laws; how their view that sex was only to get pregnant, that if I wanted it more that I was a slut, unfaithful, unworthy. These people that became my family, that I loved, shaped me just as much as high school peers ever could. That I should have no friends of the opposite gender, that it was not proper. On the rare occasions where my drive was brought into conversations, mostly from conversations overheard at family get-togethers with my sisters, it was frowned upon. I was a deviant, and always viewed suspicious. How could I be a good wife and mother if I was so obviously a slut?!

A beautiful moment was my daughter feeling safe enough to confide in me when she first became sexually active, the strength to decide when she was ready, and the respect she had for herself in making that decision. I wish I had been half as courageous and confident in myself, in my youth.

It was my husband, who accepted my flirtatious manner, my curiosity, who taught me that while his drive is nowhere near my own, my drive is valid, authentic. He respects me as an individual, accepts and delves into the darker sides with me, makes me feel free to pursue and explore. He unweaves what school and in-laws have done. He lets me sort out of the pieces safely.

It is the blogging community; it is feeling that I am not alone, that I am not the only one who likes, does, feels, what I do. It is becoming educated on kinks, desires,  and positive sexuality. It is unraveling what society has taught us, and reconditioning to a more broader perspective.

The biggest influence to accepting who I am is me. I have finally come to a place where I can sort the pieces of me without judgment or conformity, where I can (painfully at times) honestly look at me and love me for who I am. Where I can accept the bumps in the journey, the criticism from others and myself, and embrace me anyhow. I am not defined by my sexuality, but I do accept how it has shaped other pieces of my identity.

Wicked Wednesday

 Posted by at 9:53 am
Nov 162014
 

Cheeky minx
Photo courtesy of Cheeky Minx

Welcome to Elust #64 -

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 #65? Start with the rules, come back December1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

On a special note I want to mention that the judges voting on Elust is often very close, this month more than most. You all do such fine work that it is very hard for us to come up with the final results.

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Ownership: On Sexuality & Feminine Relations

Tool Time

Seven – A Fairytale of Sorts

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

The Love Letter of O
To My Single Submissive Friends – Be Brave

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
What S/He Said: Pressing Stop

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

 

Writing about Writing

How We Talk About Play

Erotic Fiction

The Warehouse
Taking Chance
The Little Mermaid
Trick or Treat
Bad Sex Turns Good
Shall We Dance?
Let’s Play a Game (Spuffy Erotica)
Firemen

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

A MakeLoveNotPorn Reality Check
Pondering Dildos as Art
Where does bdsm come from? Other species/
A Females Perspective on Extreme Feminists

Erotic Non-Fiction

Fucking on Facebook
A lot of Patience
Hands Away
Tall Dark and Handsome Pleasant Surprise
Torture His Balls. Tease His Cock.
Caning Sometime?
I Took my Pony Slave Shopping
Private Dancer
Earning Pleasure The Hard Way
At the Movies

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Finding Shelter in the Shadows.
My First Scarification
Q: “What’s stopping me from reporting owner?”
Squirting…Fact Not Fiction-Part 3

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Shiny Lesbian Syndrome
Communicate!
Losing it, asking for it
Celebration
How I Handle Being A Parent & Sex Positive
Sex as the most intimate performance
The crowded mirror
Sex Hangover

Poetry

Penisaurus – a Lusty Limerick

Blogging

Sex toys are NOT required for fantastic sex
My paint brush is empty.

 

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