Jul 012016
 

I need translations for some of my reading, but Eros writes about expelling the romantic notions of love and coming to a place of acceptance. My favorite line (translated):

If they like us once we taste them forever?

Kendra Holliday writes about how her body has changed and evolved, and the different thoughts that she’s had towards it. I was mesmerized reading it.

Girly Juice writes I’m a Good Girl, and it’s been a statement that immediately is a turn off/shut off for me during sex or a scene. Yet, she writes it so cleverly – on why it works, and when it doesn’t. It actually helped to read it because a few nights later I heard that statement towards me in a dungeon and it didn’t faze me the same.

Jun 292016
 

“I don’t think I’ll like this,” Mr. Texas started before he even began. I kept the cuffs on the front of the bed from the previous night when I tied him and he was fiddling with them and adjusting them to my height. “I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t have a bag of tricks like you do.”

“You can use everything I used,” I pointed out where I kept the things. He went through and also found the vibrator.

“No,” he said immediately placing it back in my belongings.

The absolute denial of a vibrator still astounded me but it’s his comfort level.

Once my wrists were tied, he asked if I wanted a blindfold. “Sure,” I replied. The expression I was seeing before the blindfold went on was one of a lost person. I understood – I remembered occasionally taking control and thinking what I should do in the moment. It’s something I rarely do in the moment – I normally have a plan. I reminded him of his comment the night prior, that if he remembers what I did to him and how I made him feel, he already had a foundation to build from.

His fingertips and mouth caressed me, not for long and certainly hesitantly. The Wartenberg Wheel grazed my skin, lightly so it didn’t hurt and so quickly across the skin that the moment wasn’t drawn out or extended with anticipation.

I didn’t care – I appreciated all his efforts in something that was so foreign.

However, my mind couldn’t help but drift to someone else and all the times I was blindfolded with him. How he played my body so expertly, how he would dance that delicate balance of pleasure and pain that kept my mind silent and focused on the absolute present moments. I had moments where I rejoiced in the memory and the experiences that we had, and hated that they crashed in on the moment that I was having – that my heart was still breaking.

Water was splashed on my shoulder. I jerked in the bindings, at the coolness of the water, the sudden shock of the sensation.

“What? It’s just room temperature, I don’t have ice,” he was already defensive of his decision to pour water on me. He poured a bit more down the hollow where my hip bone was, and some trickled between my thighs. I gasped. He poured some more between my lips and I jerked up with the cool water trickling in between my needy and hot recesses.

Perhaps water wasn’t so bad after all, though the bed would be soaking with his decision. I disliked it on my body, but between my legs wasn’t so bad. Still, I wasn’t going to tell him what I disliked, I wanted to encourage him – he who was so tentative.

Jun 272016
 

I wrote about a guy that I have only a few sentences worth of material, the memory of answering the door, going down on him and nothing else. He was sweet in his communication afterwards, kept it up even though I moved across the country. When I was coming back out to the area for a visit, we decided to meet each other again – my motives were one he was unaware of – I was in an Ambien blackout when I was with him and didn’t remember him; I wanted to meet the man I had sex with.

So I knew he had the red hair, we had been exchanging photos and from the original dating site I found him on it had a picture of his face. He wasn’t abnormally tall when I greeted him at the door and I took his hand and pulled him into the bedroom. No point in trying to stumble over awkward conversations with a one night stand that I hadn’t seen in over a month. I stripped out of the baggy sweats I greeted him at the door with, to reveal the lingerie he requested I wear underneath. I even managed to wear fishnet stockings last minute thanks to my sister loaning me a pair.

He muttered how he missed my body as he drank me in his vision, his hands roaming almost reverently. I stood up on tiptoe and kissed the side of his neck, and he turned to capture my kisses into his mouth. His hands began to roam in earnest and our bodies pressed together. Our sex was mostly foreplay by me, sex with him on top. “Do you want me to cum?” he asked, and I replied that I did as he thrusted inside my body.

“One down,” I joked, as he paused on top of me before withdrawing.  He laughed.

He had mentioned wanting to come four times that night, he had also mentioned rubbing himself against me while I slept and waking me up for morning. He bought a large box of condoms in expectation of all the fun we would have while I was visiting – he didn’t want a one night stand, he wanted to stay over every night that I was in town.

After his first orgasm, we laid in bed and talked a bit. No awkwardness. I told him that I didn’t remember a lot from that night, that I was very sleepy. He didn’t fill in many details for me like I was hoping – just that he stayed for about four hours, that I was amazing, that he struggled to stay hard a second time, that I told him that I write about sex and what name I went by….ugh, did I really? I questioned that one with what I hoped was nonchalantly, and he said he couldn’t remember exactly the name.

I wish I could remember that night. It does bother me that I confessed to things that I am clueless about, that I had sex completely unaware, that I blacked out, that there was this sweet guy that I simply didn’t remember. While our conversation flowed easily, with him doing a lot of the talking, I began kissing him again, starting at his fingertips which rested peacefully beside me. It was getting late, I was tired, and if he had a goal of four rounds then I wanted to get them going.

“Will you ride me?” he asked in a voice that always struck me soft gentleman tones.

“Yes,” as I reached for a condom to hand to him, licking and sucking on his thighs and balls while he unrolled it over his shaft. I straddled him and just sunk myself down to his hilt. He was long and he hit a wall, but I kept him there anyhow, missing the feel for some reason of that type of pain. His hands gripped and caressed up and down my body, especially my breasts and hips, while I rotated my hips slowly to find the right angle, then with more urgency when it began to feel good. After a bit, I went to raise up off of him so he could be on top. “No, wait, I’m cumming,” he pleaded quickly and my body clenched down on the tip since he was almost out of me at that time and I slid down again, taking him all the way down again.

“Tell me next time,” I breathed out as I slid down and then up again in measured strokes.

“Okay,” a groan, “sorry,” a grunt, and I ground down on him until his noises became softer and his body melted more into the mattress instead of tensing up into me.

“Did I ruin it?” I asked, concerned, looking down at him.

“No.”

I raised myself up and slowly moved up, smiling at his noises of sensitivity. “Two.”

He laughed. “That might be it for tonight. I’m not the young buck I used to be.”

I smiled, rolled over, and thought of him being thirteen years my junior. If he wasn’t for my slutfest, I wouldn’t have even considered having sex with him. If I remembered him, I probably wouldn’t have invited him for round two. Yet, as he told me how he appreciated my forthright and direct manner that first time in approaching him for sex and my skill in it, as my body lay beside his and felt his heat wash over my skin, I was glad I was in bed with him. I wasn’t going to do another slutfest, but it sure was nice having one dedicated partner help me chase away the loneliness in a town that had everything to do with my husband and our future dreams.

My ambien guy was helping me sleep in a much healthier fashion than the disjointed, disillusioned dreams that would have haunted me otherwise.
Wicked Wednesday

Jun 212016
 

Fill-in-blank or answer accordingly.

1. You are looking at your lover. You say, “I’d love to do some rope.”
2. In a chat with your best female friend you say, “You look really sexy when you wear your hair down .” (She always hears this from me, it’s sexy as hell.)
3. Name the one piece of lingerie you would love to see a man wear.

My ex husband wore a see through thong that I (and every one else at a kinky camp out) thought was sexy. He also had some silky boxers that looked fantastic on him. I don’t know that I overall view lingerie on men as sexy, other than appreciating the effort and for pictures. 
4. I wish I did more orgasms while on top in bed.
5. I absolutely LOVE when you kiss my oh gosh, so many things! Of course, all the obvious places first.

Bonus: Tell us your favorite sexual memory of you and your current or most recent lover.

What immediately came to mind may not be my favorite sexual memory, but it certainly is a recent memory that makes me smile.

He had me tied naked to a chair and was alternating impact pain to fingering me to pleasurable orgasms. He created such an excellent balance of the two that they began to blur together. I was sweaty, exhausted, incapable of thought outside of what he was doing to me.

And then I opened my eyes and saw his pink shirt. When I saw him wearing it earlier in the day, I really liked it on him. I still really liked it on him, but I suddenly chuckled. Here was the man who had me at his complete mercy, who had me stripped naked and spread vulnerable, who took me on a fantastic journey that included pain, who intimidated me a little (which was a good thing in moments like this) and he was still fully dressed and wearing such a happy and innocent-seeming color of pink.

I love contrasts.

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!

Jun 202016
 

Wicked Wednesday **This post is out of order for The Wanderer, but the prompt for Wicked Wednesday is “View” and I had written this post with the title as it is now, which fit the prompt far too perfectly for me to worry about chronological order. These are actual pictures from the room, and the first one during the moment. 

1IMG_2273

The Wanderer and I met in a hotel room, which ended up being a suite to my surprise, which ended up being a gigantic playground.

Oh yeah, it also had a view. A whole wall was just a window that looked out to the luxurious gardens and pools…and people.

So when he began the scene with turning me around, holding me tight to him while he moved the sheer curtain out of the way, and placed my palms on the glass at waist level before bending me over, I was a bit unnerved.

I could see the people…could they see me? I was floors above them, and I couldn’t see anyone’s expressions (which I checked to see if I could), but I could see their bodies. He lifted my skirt, smoothly running his hands over my backside, down my thighs, before lightly slapping at both of my cheeks. And then the slapping turned into earnest spanking.

Not sensitive to light yet, I kept my eyes open…and saw people.

Have I mentioned that I love mind games in retrospect, though at the time it’s unnerving?

All those people. I get a bit flustered just thinking about it, and at the time I was truly embarrassed.

And then his fingers pushed aside my panties and his fingers entered me, slowly, building to orgasm. My eyelids fluttered: people/ no people. Shut: only he and I. Only sensations and fingers.

1IMG_2275He sensually stripped me of all my clothes, offering kisses and caresses, before laying me down in the middle of a round coffee table, cold hardness against my sweaty skin. This table he offered me pleasure only; with his fingers on nipples and inside of me, eventually even the table felt engulfed in flames – especially pressing against my reddened cheeks.

I gripped the sides of the glass to feel grounded despite the highs of my orgasms, his fingers working faster and harder. Moaning, I arched against his hand, toes curling and clinging to the edges as if they aided fingertips.

He let me drift softly for a few minutes before moving me.

1IMG_2266Into another room where he positioned me standing in front of a round mirror, his fingers circled my entrance, slowly eased in, curled. “Look at yourself,” he told me, to which I had to have him repeat, lost already in his touch. I opened my eyes, my hair a mess around my face, but not as bad as I thought it would be, and smiled in my awkwardness at my own image. I looked at his reflection, his mesmerizing smile, his fingers still toyed slowly but not even enough to distract my bashfulness, tried to look at myself, gosh I have some plump cheeks – no wonder I have dimples, looked up, closed my eyes, tried to look at myself again.

I wanted to listen to him, I tried to will myself to do so.

He was being too kind, his words were softly uttered.

“Do you not want to?” he inquired quietly.

“No.” And I didn’t. And I did. Even the room was dim enough where I could sustain eyes open for a period of time – a rarity. I wanted to because he wanted me to, I wanted to because it made me squirm and squirming was hot when he promised an orgasm, I wanted to because it was something to overcome.

But I needed more authority, and we had not been play partners long enough for that type of power play perhaps. If given an easy route – I will choose it. Though truly, that was uncomfortable for me, and perhaps even my ex husband would not be able to command me to do something that was so foreign to my nature.

I barely look at my reflection when doing my hair or makeup, it’s just not something that I do much of.

I may never be able to view my reflected self in pleasure, regardless of the tone in the command, who is telling me, how badly I wish to obey.

He didn’t push the issue, for which I was grateful even while feeling that I let him down, moved me to another location and worked me over until I was blissed out.

**After our many moments in the day, we went swimming together. I looked up from the pool area to check if I could see in any hotel rooms and was relieved I couldn’t. I shared how I felt about the window, but how it was a good uncomfortable – how it set the stage the rest of the time by setting me on edge a bit. He stated that he didn’t realize it was pushing a limit for me to the extent that it did.

We truly communicate very well, and for that I am grateful.

 

Jun 192016
 

Masturbation Monday badge - smallI had Mr. Texas lie down in the center of the bed in a dim light. I told him I would do unsexy things for a bit, as I requested first one limb and then another to stretch in a certain direction while I adjusted some velcro and nylon cuffs. Once I felt like there was a certain amount of tension, I tied his ankles and wrists stretched to the four separate corners of the bed.

I didn’t blindfold him right away. Being tied alone was a huge step for him and I kept the mantra of baby steps in my head the entire night. I straddled his body, allowed my lower lips to nestle around his already hard cock, felt his hips try and fail to rise up to push himself against my warmth. I smiled down at his face. I leaned forward and kissed his lips on his mouth, softly, then traced the tip of my tongue against the frame of his lips as his own tongue tried in vain to follow suit. I leaned up and his tongue still sought mine, but he couldn’t lean up any further. I winked at his sigh of frustration.

He was beginning to get the point, understanding the limits of his bondage. I crawled further up and raised my nipple to his mouth, allowing the pink bud to slip into his mouth and he softly suckled before I pulled up out of his reach. I swayed the hardened nipple just out of his reach, let him watch how close he was to having what he so desired.

He groaned in frustration. If there is one thing Mr. Texas loves and does not stop touching, it’s my breasts.

Beside his body, I had a long length of silk fabric and I glided it slowly across his body, starting at his knee, up the inside of his thigh, threading it under his hard shaft, up his chest and across his nipple, and across the front of his neck. It was the soft, colder sensation that I was starting with. Baby steps.  

I gripped the fabric on either side of his neck and just left a bit of tension against his throat. I leaned forward to kiss him but hovered my lips just above his mouth. He leaned forward and increased the pressure against his throat to get his kiss.

Good, he didn’t mind a bit more pressure on his throat. I noted about how much he seemed comfortable with- was willing to do to himself, before rewarding him with a passionate kiss. I slid the fabric across his eyes, such a gentle caress to shut them with the silk.

“I’m going to blindfold you now. I’ll start the knot and adjust it to the side of your head and then re position it once we decide when it’s good,” I whispered down to him.

“Oh gosh,” he murmured when the fabric tightened around his eyes. I tied a knot, asked about the pressure, and then adjusted the knot more out of the way.

I gifted him with a nipple for handling the blindfold so well, letting my hardened bud settle against his lips so he could feel it before allowing his own sucking mouth to envelop around it. I let out a little sigh so he could hear my pleasure since he could no longer see it.

Then I began to kiss sporadic areas of his body so that he was surprised from one moment to the next where my mouth would be. I began with soft kisses but after a long while the kisses turned more into sucking nibbles. He would gasp from one moment to the next, strained to raise his hips every time my mouth would crash upon his erection.

I grabbed an ice cube from beside the nightstand and surprised his hot skin with the cold wet sensation. The next while was awakening his skin to the coldness or the contrast of an ice cube and a hot mouth when the ice cube melted before I went for another. His groans expressed how much he liked the sensation.

Baby steps.

I began scratching my nails into this skin, softly but then raked trails as my mouth alternated between hot and cold. I would only dig in when I was in a zone that he found pleasurable. “This pleasure with pain is completely new to me,” he muttered at one point, and I acknowledged that it was my intent to only hurt him when it also felt good.

Once I felt that my nails sufficiently warmed him, I straddled his hips and lowered so that just the tip entered me. I positioned myself in a squat position so that my body wouldn’t give away my intent and pulsed up and down on his tip for a few minutes, listened to his begging body cry out to be fully inside of me. I softly rolled the Wartenberg Wheel across his chest. He knew what it was already – I had shown him what was in my rope bag before tonight. I slammed my body down around his hardness while at the same time taking the wheel and letting the tines sink into his skin the same way my hips sank onto his own.

He arched as much as he could, his groan one of both satisfaction and pain. I raised myself up again and softly bounced up and down upon him, only going halfway down his shaft as the wheel explored parts of his skin with half the intensity as the one painful roll. When he began to buckle as much as he could to seek out more, I rode him, grinding myself down and around as the wheel began to leave red streaks across his chest and thighs.

I stopped before he found his release and his noise of protest made me laugh out loud. I wrapped my mouth around his cock and sucked my own taste off of his skin while I explored his thighs with the wheel more thoroughly. Occasionally I would drop the sharp wheel and softly caress the trails I left with gossamer fingertips.

“Are you okay with a bit more intense sensations?” I asked him.

“Sure.” He did hesitate for a moment, as if mulling it over, but he was enjoying himself so far as I could tell.

I made sure he heard the lighter and I heard his groan, yet he didn’t protest. I kissed his thighs as I hovered the candle above him and waited for the wax to melt. He jerked with the first splatter and complained, but didn’t ask me to stop. I let one more drop cover the inside of his thigh and after listening and watching to his reaction, I decided to move to the front and outside of his thigh.  He didn’t like it, though he didn’t ask me to stop. I blew out the candle and praised him for trying it; I understand not everyone enjoys everything.

I straddled his body and softly lowered myself so he sunk into my depth, leaned up for a kiss as I removed the blindfold. Again I ran the silk fabric across his body as I gently gripped him inside my own body. I wanted to end with the softness and his moans showed his appreciation.

I lifted off of him and kissed my way up to his arms and wrists, sucking his fingers as I slowly peeled the velcro away from each wrist. I let him touch me, see me, hold me as I rode him towards his own release.

Jun 172016
 

Elust 82 Header Holden and Camille
Photo courtesy of Holden and Camille

Welcome to Elust #83

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

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

London Crows and London Kisses

I am Her. She is Me.

You Say You Want to Cook for Me

 

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Unusual Liaison

Community. Respect. Friendship. Fucking.

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Dirty Little Secrets

*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!

 

Poetry

You Know
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Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

My Bed
Secular Submission
My therapy
from “hard limit” to “want”
We Measure the Nostalgia
The Cure and The Cause

Events

Smut in the 6ix – Porn Conference & Gala

Erotic Fiction

Typing Errors
La Belle Dame
Sex and chocolate
The Imprisoned of HIM-HER-THEM
The Gift
audience
Becca’s Story
Rope and Fixtures
As salty as his cum…
Dominating the Doctor

Erotic Non-Fiction

Teen Sex in Woolly Tights with 60s Beat Music
Dear Sadist: Your Cruelty Is Your Love
A male dom, the straight girl and the bi girl
Owned, Leashed, & Beaten
Jan 2015 Owned & Collared by Mistress Claire
Rinse The Days Filth Away
Power On
Keeping tally

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Formative Kink Epic Fail: “Buck Rogers”

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

If it was easy anyone could do it
What’s a service submissive?
Prescient Words

Writing About Writing

What if aspirational meant something else?

 

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Jun 162016
 

The rope studio was filled with carpets and ambiant lighting. It had gauzy fabric over the ceilings. Soft lilting music flowed around, creating a further relaxing mood.

I could tell Mr. Texas wasn’t expecting anything so posh. He told me on the drive up there that he expected dark spaces, people in black latex or leather.

Nope, most of the people wore jeans or summer attire. I was in a flowery dress myself. I told Mr. Texas to wear comfortable clothing to move around in, he dressed up a bit; said if I was in a dress he wanted to be appropriately dressed.

I told him I wore a dress because it was easy to take off.

I saw a few people that I recognized from the first rope event I attended in my new state. I struck up a conversation with a pretty female who had been tied for two years, and was learning to tie herself.

“Do you know how to do…?” and I named several ties.

“I do.”

“Would you be willing to teach him how to tie them?” I asked her, gesturing to the silently shy Mr. Texas.

“Absolutely. Let’s tie.” We were one of the first to begin tying, but others quickly joined in. She stripped down to a bra and underwear, I put on yoga shorts and just pulled up my dress while she taught him some leg ties. Eventually I was just in the yoga shorts, when we moved to tie a few chest harnesses.

She was very gracious and patient with her time and her beautiful purple rope – she said we were rope soulmates in my own taste of rope and how I liked to be tied.

Mr. Texas was a quick learner; I also discovered he liked the rope to look a certain way and I tried not to discourage the aesthetic nature he appreciated – though I myself know that tends to mean that I am forgotten about as a rope bottom to how the rope looks.

“And you can have fun with it, and be more sensual with it,” she was explaining at one point while doing a chest harness, slowly gliding the rope across my chest, up between my neck and shoulders. I shut my eyes – in part because I don’t look at the rope when it’s that close to my face so I don’t get hit, and also because it felt good.

I felt the rope slide across my skin, always welcoming that sensation. When he tied the chest harness, he also took his time and let it drift and glide across my skin. For someone who hadn’t done rope on another body before (though he said he had tied plenty of things and that’s why he believed he would pick up rope quickly) he had amazing connection with rope in his hands.

After we practiced those two ties a few times until it felt more natural to him, we watched a few rope scenes. He wasn’t sure of either of them, just as he wasn’t sure if he felt comfortable with the nudity that was prevalent in the room, but as we drove back he expressed that he did enjoy himself, that he found himself very tuned into me while he was tying and the rest of the room disappeared, and he was looking forward to going to another event.

Right before we got back to his place, I asked him about spanking. “Why? Is that something you like?”

“Maybe. In the right mood, perhaps at the height of an orgasm,” I suggested. That night, after many orgasms, he patted, then swatted at my cheeks, landing a hard smack that showed the imprint of every finger at the crest of an orgasm with his fingers. I moaned into it rather than away from him, even as he apologized for how hard he got me. “Don’t,” I reassured, “I really liked it.”

With his mouth nuzzled against my neck and his cock entering my body, he murmured, “I could tell.”

Not only was I impressed with the rope he tied immediately and the ease with which he learned, I was impressed with how he spanked my backside. (To see the picture I posted on Twitter, click here.)

He might be the sweetest vanilla, but he’s beginning to take to some flavoring beautifully.