Nov 292013
 

I’ve been obsessed with oral sex recently, and Cara Sutra’s post was an amazing read on it. It made me want it that much more.

 

Okay, this one is purely because I’ve met this gorgeous woman and had a blast with her at Eroticon (and even had the honor of taking a few photos of her in a hotel room for a Scavenger Hunt)! Penny’s recount of Eroticon brought me back to the amazing experience.

 

Malflic writes a male perspective for the Pussy Project, and it is quite endearingly positive and sweet. He discusses what makes a perfect pussy.

 

Always Each Other wrote something that got me quite excited.

 

Prowling with Kat ‘s explanation of why she couldn’t write to the FFF prompt had me chuckling and grimacing of a shared problem of a bad location and not speaking up – the youth’s mistake we painfully made.

 

Easily Aroused wrote something that made me sad with the loss and betrayal, and yet so turned on, and loving the twist at the end.

 

 Posted by at 8:21 pm
Nov 282013
 

FFF Prompt – I’m very Thankful…..

 Rules:
Key Words:  Family, gravy boat, butter knife
Word Limit:  1621 seems like too many, so 261.1
Forbidden words:  cock, caught, eat, feast, satiated
Extra Credit:  Let’s keep it within the (extended) family
Bonus Words: Donate 5 cans of food to your local food bank.
This week, I decided to do both. It’s been awhile since I’ve even participated, and I was uninspired by the cartoon, so of course, I just had to tackle that one too. 
My family had no clue, I realized. None. Hanging out around the dinner table,  sitting next to my brother-in-law, Ryan, I realized no one could detect the lust I felt for Ryan.
I passed the gravy boat to my sister, reaching across Ryan, and looked at my sister’s face. She wasn’t giving anything away to the family. Of course, she wasn’t giving anything away to Ryan anymore, either, hence her suggestion he go to me.
After she took the gravy boat, I tuned out the conversations around, and let my hand drop as I moved it towards my own lap. It grazed the inside of his thigh, and I felt his hardened cock. I curled my fingers around it gently, felt it twitch inside the fabric. I smiled, not looking towards him, and removed my hand.
So Ryan was turned on, was he?
He dropped his knife, and leaned down towards me to retrieve it. Suddenly, I felt cold sliding up my calf, and then he moved back up, the chilled flat of the butter knife gliding up to the inside of my thigh.
I couldn’t help it; I glanced over and saw him wink. I kicked him under the table, trying hard not to laugh, or to groan and give way my excitement. Dessert needed to hurry up.

******************************************************************************************************************************************

“I’m only wearing four layers of undergarments,” she whispered at the table.

He was mid bite and almost snorted the food out, looking around to see if the gathering of people had heard. It was already a strange gathering, and he felt hot under his collar, and more nervous. No one was even looking in their direction at the end of the table.
He felt himself grow and stiffen, remembering the previous night when Sarah was wearing no garments, and her hair was even undone.
She was laying on her stomach, her legs pressed tightly together, and he was behind her, sweating, feeling her clench with an orgasm, release, clench again, and he pushed against her spot, keeping her at the top, attempting to reach his own, almost there, almost there, holding his breath and tensing against her pale thighs and ass, pushing deeper, leaning further into her, almost there, almost there, and then….breathing in her hair, gasping, sputtering it out, the sensation of of his own orgasm fading, and he slowed his movements. It was a brief interlude, and it wasn’t long before the soaked walls of her body clinged and gripped tightly around him again, and he found his own. Still…he found it humorous, her hair.
He was getting softer with the funny reminder, but the next time she whispered something shocking, he had to go to a different memory….like when his horse died.
 Posted by at 8:08 pm
Nov 272013
 

It began with a request for the misery stick and wax, after a long and trying period of not seeing each other. I had fantasized about him all day, touching myself periodically throughout the day in anticipation.

Even tired, he granted my request. Though not before tying my wrists to my chest, a harness going around both chest and waist, a new experience of rope binding my mouth. He teased and taunted, brought me to orgasm and denied other desires of mine.

I would have been well satisfied with the experience at that point, but he still fulfilled my original request. Grabbing the rope between my chest, he pulled me out of the center of the bed, rolled me to the side effortlessly. He placed a large towel down in the middle of the bed, then grabbed the rope around my back and rolled me onto the towel.

“Where do you want the wax?” he asked, already dripping a few spot onto my stomach where the rope was not.

Did he forget I couldn’t speak? I tried to reply to his question, but my frustration of the muffled sounds my mouth could produce only elicited a chuckle from him.

Splat, the wax dripped onto my hips, where the heat seemed more intense. He grabbed a thigh and moved it apart, exposing the sensitive inner side. Drip, drip, drip, it seemed hotter than normal, and my leg tensed under his hold and the wax, bracing for the next unexpectant onslaught. Confused, I wanted to move into the heat, it dripped, I wanted to move away. No matter my wants, his hand firmly held my thigh. And then some wax poured down and splattered where thigh meets lips of sex, and my lip burned with such intensity that I shook my head no, tried to buck against his touch, yelped against the rope.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he cooed, put down the candle, rubbed between both my lips, my wetness parted and allowed his finger greater access. “I didn’t mean for it to hit you there, no wonder you went a little wild.” His calm voice and teasing finger soothed me, and I felt myself relaxing into the bed again. I shut my eyes, and then felt the scorching wax on the other thigh, making its way up towards my sex, his finger abandoning my sex to hold the thigh in place.

I asked for this? I thought briefly. And the sensation of my passion and pain melded, and I remembered why. I moaned, and then screamed as yet another drop went astray and burned its way down the side of lip and thigh.

“Babe, I’m so sorry. No more wax,” he apologized, and I opened my eyes to see him put the candle on the nightstand. Again, his finger traced the crevice of my entrance, explored up to my clit, gently stroking up and down. Once I relaxed, he got up and went into our chest. I saw the knife, and closed my eyes, anticipating the cool steel. The tip traced along my rib cage, the blade gliding along my stomach, wax a slowly barrier as the steel gently separated the wax from skin. It was such a unique sensation, where the stiff cold replaced the fluid hot-turned-cooled-wax marks. The knife moved to my thighs, and beginning at knee, moved up with the slow intent of peeling the wax off. I groaned, it felt so amazing; I felt like the focus on his attention with the deliberation he was giving to the task.

The flat of the blade skimmed so softly across my lips, the chill soothing the parts that still seared.

He put down the knife, and apologized, then used his fingers to gently pull the wax out of my trimmed-but-still-there pubic hair. It tugged, it didn’t feel good, but was over quick enough to keep me in my sensitive fuzzy mind.

He laid his body over mine, breathed against my mouth that ached to kiss him, smiled at the taunt barrier preventing me from doing so, and entered me swiftly. I lifted my legs up to give him greater access, held the rope against my chest and bit down what was between my teeth at the pleasurable intrusion. He brought me to orgasm before pulling abruptly out, and grabbed the rope to manipulate me head down on the bed. “Are you okay?” he asked, and I tried to nod. I positioned my ass up and knees together, and he situated himself at my entrance, sliding in only about halfway before almost completely withdrawing, a few times taunted, before thrusting into me as hard as he could. I moaned: some from pain, most from pleasure.

He again played the just-the-tip game at my entrance, and leaned over to grab something. The tiny rod of the misery stick rubbed against my butt, and came down softly a few times. He increased the impact of the stick slowly, sliding himself in and out of me, my entrance so incredibly sensitive, my cheek beginning to sting and distract.

The biting of the rod became more of the focus eventually, and I tried to rotate away, tried to push back on his sex to distract him or me. I shook my head no as much as I could between pillows and mattress. “Fuck it,” he said, and I heard something fall to the ground, before he grabbed the rope around my waist and pulled me back, impaling me hard onto his shaft.

He hit a wall, and I tried to push myself away. He pulled back again, allowed distance, pulled. Oh my, I was orgasming so hard. Pain and pleasure again melded into one sensation, and it made me mindless, only aware of my body tensing and releasing and feeling.

My toes curled so much they hurt, and still he pounded into me. Orgasm crashed upon another, swept me far away, until he finally groaned against me.

When we stilled, he expressed his like for the harness around my waist, untying me, kissing me softly. As the rope left parts of it, it trailed against my responsive skin. When finally the rope was gone, he whispered, “come here,” and pulled me into his arms, kissed my forehead. He stroked my skin, occasionally skimming over the raised lines on my cheeks from the stick, making me gasp. He kissed me and made me feel loved and cherished. His hand moved to my throat and without controlling my breathing, he moved me away to kiss the side of my mouth and manipulated me again to his lips. It took my thoughts away again from the present, and I slept.

To see the picture of this: His Rope

Wicked Wednesday... be inspired & share...

Something for the weekend

Nov 232013
 


“Sinful Sunday’s “Quote Me A Valentine” competition drew loads of quality entries, but our favourite was “Lucky” by Cammies on the Floor. SilverHubby is a retired veteran, and his service ended before we met. I don’t know how well I would have handled the separation. This picture is poignant and beautiful.”
SilverDrop
From Rebel’sNotes, who likes our writing styles.
Cammies on the floor on Sinful Sunday

“I spent ages looking at this picture trying to decide if I liked it or not. It evokes a odd response in me in that I can’t seem to stop looking at it and yet it also makes me cringe with the thought of it. I find myself addicted. It is a beautiful shot, the symmetry and contrast of the white rope against her blush pink skin all works to well. Then there is the centre piece which I find myself staring at over and over again in some kinky obsessive manner. I want to know what this feels like and yet I don’t think I want to find out for myself.” – Molly’s Sinful Sunday Weekly Roundup Top Five

Elust #43, #44, #45, #46*, #47, #48, #49, #50, #52  – 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 e[lust].
Elust #46 *Top 3 Posts! Originally submitted for the Kink of the Week’s, it was a challenge to write because recalling such an amazing session took days to express: Tied and Blindfolded

This post Welcome Home wins March’s “Must Read” prize because “it caught me off guard and made me smile… a lot. Make sure you read it and, while you’re there, browse through the rest of the great posts there and subscribe.”  – Prowling With Kat

-Guest Post Jemima From Sinful Sunday
Cammies on the floor on Sinful Sunday“This picture makes me think of Marilyn Monroe’s early pictures, the curves and lighting of the 1950’s. What I like about it the most though is the turn of the head, as if cammies is almost asleep, relaxed despite the pose, totally in her element.”

We both joined “The race of 100 Orgasms” with some fellow bloggers in the middle of April. Neither of us won. However, it was great fun (c’mon, we’re talking orgasms here), and A made it more challenging by ensuring M couldn’t count her multiple orgasms. Orgasm Count

Cammies on the floor on sinful sundayMolly from Sinful Sunday commented: “A different perspective on the traditional lipstick on your collar idea. I have a seen a few versions of this over the years but I think this is definitely one of the best ones. The focus is perfectly done with the cock being the centre of attention but beneath there is a delicious hint of what might just have been, the snippet of chin in the top right hand corner, the hand and… well is that a pair of panties and could they be nearer to her knees than her bottom?”

Cammies On the floor on Sinful SundayAlso, Molly picked this picture for the top five, responding: “This is beautiful, it literally made me gasp and I felt my pussy twitch in response as I could image exactly what it feel like to have the wax wrap it’s heat around you. I love how the nipple seems to suggest anticipation. The depth, the lighting, the colours, the subject matter all combine to make an image that make me WANT to reach for the candles and ask to be decorated.” It was a picture M immediately declared her favorite as well!

The Describe your Orgasm contest was put on by the lovely Girl on the Net, and won! A lovely trophy was the prize with a thoughtful handwritten note. So here is mine.

Cammies On the Floor on Sinful Sunday“When I clicked on this link I think I gave an audible WOW! The combination of the two sets of hands, the red nails that contrast with the soft flesh tones all combined with a slight soft focus that seems to hint at movement have created a stunning portrait one that I would quite happily hang on a wall in my home.”Sinful Sunday

Nov 222013
 

I love language. I also love sex. The two are intrinsically linked together as well. Words have power. Much better to use them as a beautiful scalpel: clean lines, deep bright meaning- than as a sledge hammer, blunt and clumsily wielded. I look at what a person says. I savor it. Communications are so convoluted today with the majority being done via text; it is because of this shift that the precise use of language should be even more important to us. Why then has the meaning of one of the most simple words in the world become so distorted?

 

No. I mean it. No. I’m not one to play games so therefore yes is yes and no is no, and a coy smile is my maybe. Never no.

 

You see, I keep this so there is no confusion. No one can come back later and say I meant something else. I am into BDSM. I’ve never had a safe word and I never will. If I tell you no during play I mean it, irrevocably. I don’t mean no after you’ve gotten one more lash in. I mean NOW. Because “no” is one of the most powerful words to me, I don’t use it lightly. I have a hard time saying no. I have always been a pleaser and will frequently get into impossible situations due to this annoying penchant of mine.

 

Our kinky bedroom culture is shifting. The word NO suddenly can mean any number of things, and hey, we’re cool with that. Changing the meaning of the word “no” leads to danger, for all parties involved. It can lead to violations that can change a person forever, ruin a relationship, ruin a life. Why then, would you flirt with that? No means no, yes means yes, and a squeak means you hit the spot, and please sir, do it again.

 

While I make this argument for maintaining the sanctity of NO, I also recognize a time when those rules don’t apply. Consensual non-consensual is exciting play that partners can engage in. I know of many people who have these fantasies. The word NO is part of the play, part of the excitement, and therefore, a safe word is required. This though is something that partners who engage in this type of play (should) talk through in depth. Carefully choosing a word or phrase that indicates true duress. This is being responsible, and it is still acknowledging the real importance of NO.

We as a community have moved away from this school of thought and I hear more and more stories of “she didn’t MEAN no. She meant yes.” People are being put at risk and we need to bring it back before things get made into a bigger mess. I get it, some people like saying “Oh yeah, we have a safe word” and it is said in a 50 shades hipster way with pride; showing off that “yeah, I’m kinky baby, you should see my fuzzy handcuffs”.  Are you kidding me? 

I don’t think you’re cool if you have a safe word. Half the time I think you’re an idiot. I hate to be so scathing, but do you even know the steps to kink? Negotiations? Hard limits? Safety concern for something that has real life consequences if done wrong? Hate to be a BDSM hipster, but “get on my level bro”. You are creating a culture that is ripe for accidents, ignorance, and legal repercussions. Explore, be sexy, serve up your sex and your play however you like, but please, for the love of all that is kinky, KEEP NO, NO.

 Posted by at 4:27 pm
Nov 202013
 

John D Stories  and Stranded in Toronto

nominated us for a blog hop. Sadly, John got us during a busy time (but I’m only 10 days late as I write this, 12 days to publish), but we couldn’t forget about him, especially with the talented Stranded also tagging us.

1. What are you working on right now?
I am working on getting settled into a new house and a new viewpoint on life. As far as writing goes: you’re looking at it. No further aspirations than blogging for now.

2. How does it differ from other work in it’s genre?
Erotica is pornography I am willing to publicly admit I like.” – Spider Robinson

I don’t believe that I am different in anyway besides the fact that as far as I know my (yes, real family) sister and I blog together, and we both have a ton of sex with military men, and sometimes write from that perspective.

3. Why do you write what you do?
I write for a number of reasons. The first is an escapism. Then a creative outlet. A sense of community – I find the sex blogging community wonderfully welcoming, supportive, and tight-knit, not to mention travel and moving friendly. And my husband likes how I am writing about our adventures together.

And of course, I’m an attention-whore.

4. How does your writing process work?
Most of the time I am inspired by what really happened or something that I’ve read. Pictures will occasionally spark my interest to write a story about what I imagine. And then I just recall or create, with editing sometimes happening. The recalled moments are edited far more.

 

This whole thing makes me sound like I’m an actual writer, which I certainly feel far from. But thank you for tagging us and giving the credit to be able to answer.

Nov 182013
 

I turn suddenly shy when asking for a fantasy, but when I confess what it is I desire, he never disappoints. The last time, I just blurted that I wanted to be tied and blindfolded, and practically jumped and down in my request.

This time, I was exhausted from moving by myself. I was sad, I was lonely, I was horny.

He came home hours later than expected. At seeing each other, we both perked up from our day, and cuddled and kissed.

“I want wax and the misery stick,” simply I told him of what I had been fantasizing about for the better of the day. “If you aren’t too tired,” I amended, not wanting to overburden him on a day that was challenging for him as well.

“Okay,” he said with a smile, and went into our chest. He pulled out the rope. Gently he cuffed my wrists, and then moved the rope around the back of my head. His sex was so close to my face, I could smell it, and my mouth watered. And then my mouth was crossed over with some of the rope. He had never done this before, and I looked up at surprised. “Okay?” he asked, still smiling. I tentatively nodded, the rope a strange invader against my tongue. He continued with the rope, criss crossing it around my breasts and waist, eventually looping my wrists together at mid chest. When done, he grabbed a globe and began sucking on my nipple. My nipples had been hard all day, partially from playing with them from time when I began to fantasize; and the reality of his hot mouth on them was amazingly sensitive. His hand held firmly, his mouth roughly claimed.

He moved up and breathed against my lips. My nails reached against his skin and tried to claw him closer. My tongue instinctively went to kiss him, but the rope barrier prevented me from my desire. He chuckled, then positioned himself between my legs.

I moaned, muffled, against the rope as his mouth skillfully ravaged my sex. My legs were still free, and my hips arched, pressing myself against his face. He began lapping from clit to cunt, my hips rocking intuitively in rhythm to his tongue.

Grabbing the opposite breast this time, he sucked hard as his fingers delved into the wet aching place his mouth had just been. He bent his fingers and pressed, rubbed against my gspot, and I screamed against the rope, bucking my hips, orgasming so hard my juices flowed down his hand. It happened so quickly, I was surprised.

He kneeled over my chest and positioned his sex to rub against my lips, the soft, smooth texture teasing my watering mouth. I looked up at him and tried to beg, but only muffled misery was heard.

“Do you want me?” he taunted, and then pulled down the rope.

“Yes, please,” I sighed as my mouth wrapped around his shaft.

His hand grabbed my hair. “Come and get it,” he said, as he pulled my head back, the head so close that the tip of my tongue could flick it. I whined, trying to pull against his hand, feeling the tug of hair, not caring. Abruptly,  he changed directions and my mouth was filled with him, his hand guiding me back and forth along his ridges, my mouth welcoming. I tried to be conscious of accommodating his movements, focusing on my breathing to not gag at points.

And felt his fingers searching for my swollen sex, leaning back slightly. He began fingering me in tune to guiding my head, and breathing suddenly became contested with screaming and moaning. He stopped unexpectedly, withdrawing his fingers at the same time as pulling my greedy mouth away. “No,” I protested.

“No?” he questioned, softly. “Did you just tell me no?” he moved the rope around my mouth again, twisted a part of it so it tightened and became even more obtrusive than before, and stayed that way. “Since when do you tell me no?” he breathed against my lips, laying his body on top of mine, licking so soft and slow around my lips, his sex arranging itself against mine.

I wanted him so badly. He drew my bottom lip into his mouth as much as the rope would allow, his shaft sliding and pressing and teasing around my entrance. I had no idea what I wanted more: him inside of me or the ability to passionately kiss him.

Before he granted me the pleasure of himself inside of me, the candle and the misery stick did make an appearance, and forced me even more mindless of everything but my body’s reaction to him.

To see the picture of this: His Rope

Wicked Wednesday... be inspired & share...

Nov 172013
 

20131026-185141.jpg

He tied my wrists and held them up for some fierce kisses, fingering me to orgasm with the other hand.
“I know what we can do with the extra rope,” he whispered as I still lay gasping.
He pulled the extra rope through a bedpost and tied my ankles, forcing my knees to bend and expose myself.
He entered me when he was finished, and my legs went to move down and around his waist, but a tugging on my wrists indicated that wasn’t a good idea.The rope connected my wrists and legs, and if I pulled one way, it pulled another.
“How does it feel, to know that you decide what part of your body to touch me with?”
Sinful Sunday

Nov 162013
 

Secretlysensous Photo courtesy of Secretly Sensuous

Welcome to e[lust] – 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 e[lust]. Want to be included in e[lust] #53? Start with the newly updated rules, come back December 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

He came in my shoes
Secret Pleasures and a Lifeline
Vulnerability as courage

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Golden Showers
If.

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*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 Non-Fiction

Adressing my Master T
Afterglow, Wounded
Fantasy is Reality, or is it the other way…
Pig Tails? Really?
The Kilt and a Prom Dress
what i want
Whipped & Fucked
Because When You Look at Me, You See Me.

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

SexyLittleIdeas – My Sex Rules
New Rule
Collar Envy (Warning this post is Mushy)
the flood.
Today I cried
Why I love NRE even when it scares me
Love, or Lack Thereof, for an Abuser
a) monogamy b) polyamory c) neither

Sex News,Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

More Than Just Orgasms
A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Bed
Sex By Numbers = Bad Sex

Erotic Fiction

Such a Good Girl
Spontaneous Combustion
Seasonal Changes
Wet…bound and gagged
Larry’s Prom Date
Property’s Prospective
Inspiration
SATURDAY NIGHT SPRINKLE [WW W74]
Evie and the Trainspotter
Don’t Miss A Drop
Marked

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Sub Silent
7(Random)Suggestions for Submissives & Slaves
Communication in D/s Relationships

Writing About Writing

Seven Sex Books I Read, Plus One I Didn’t
Thoughts on: The Blood Mage’s Sacrifice
Desiring Faggotry

Events

EroticonUSA- Penny’s Perspective

Blogging

From Prude to Proud Sex Blogger


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