Dec 302015
festive bondage 1
sex in cammies 1
www cock piercing 1
fullstripshow 1

Sexy Searching Story made possible thanks to the inspiration of the search terms, click on the badge to see what else search terms inspire.

Once upon a time, males were evolving from having a third leg to having a penis. This third leg was useless by this point, only hung down to the knees. There were no more bones in this penis-leg, the end became a spongy rounded tip that had a hole designed for emptying fluids at will, though with the massive hose it was often messy and uncontrolled to the youth.

It was soft the majority of the time and swung to and fro, causing males to have a gait or swagger to their walk. Many started wearing loincloths to contain the massive appendage.

Occasionally it would grow hard, especially in moments of passion. At first the males believed that these penis-legs were meant for battle, as often they would stiffen in these times. They would proudly bare all and scream charging into battle with these heavy cumbersome weapons at the ready. It was a bold move and also a painful one, as stiffened rod hit stiffened rod as the men pummeled each other with hands or sticks or rocks. Sometimes their penis-leg became broke or bent in these epic battles, would cease to grow hard or twist at an angle, become painful when erect.

The males discovered that it also felt pleasurable when it was touched, when they gripped their hands around it as much as possible while wielding it in battle; when their hands slid up and down it not only would it grow harder and give them a further advantage but it felt amazing and if done repeatedly would release the pressure in their sacs nestling the penis-leg and emit a white milky fluid. Not to mention grappling with an opponent, their penis-leg rubbing against another’s sweaty skin and marveling at the oddity of another’s touch against their hardness.

Males began experimenting with touch outside of battle, finding the touch of another person especially pleasant.

Women had already discovered the secret places between their legs and knew how to consciously create orgasms. They began seeing the hardness of males as a softer but firm surface to rub themselves upon, and most males were not opposed to this type of stimulation, finding pleasure themselves. The biggest problem with this was it had to be outside rubbing with how large the penis-legs were, and many females also loved the feel of penetration, so many females did not seek out males for this and continued seeking out other females to rub or finger.

The males needed to learn to adapt to continue this stimulation to their penis-legs. They slowly became less of a cock piercing army to that of a lover, practicing on each other on how to rub gently, how to finger and stimulate their senses in their own bodies and each other’s. Their penis-legs eventually evolved to more of just a penis, no longer needed or used in battle as other weapons began to develop.

Over time, many females and males found themselves drawn to each other, though the majority of the females found themselves dissatisfied when the males tried to pierce them even with time and patience.

During this time, the females with largest vaginas and the males with the smallest penises were the most sought out and desirable.

Nowadays, it is less about size and more about compatibility and other physical factors.

now Wicked WednesdaySexy Searching was posted a bit earlier due to working so well with Wicked Wednesday, another of Rebel’s Notes’ memes. Follow the rainbow button to see what else delights.

 Posted by at 10:04 am
Dec 282015

Masturbation Monday Week 69

The picture for this week’s Masturbation Monday, with her arching back, reminded me of a moment that I focused in on and wrote up awhile ago.

It was a hot moment for me, and definitely masturbation worthy…




It began as it usually does…me trying to woo my husband into having sex. He requires cuddles and a conversation. He almost never just has sex with me, permits me to touch him, nor does he just throw me on the bed very often. Not until after he feels like he’s been listened to about his day, and that I am with him for more than just sex. We always lay on our sides, facing each other – he probably prefers this to feel connected, I probably prefer this to attack him at the right time.

So following what I considered a proper conversation, I was attempting to kiss his neck. He gripped my hair at the base of my skull, pulled my head away from his body.

“What do you think that you are doing? Did you think it was time?” he asked. He continued to slowly yank back, the pressure on my hair forcing me to arch further away from him. I murmured a yes, a sigh escaping with the single word. “I didn’t say we were ready,” he told me. Still tugging, I was now at an uncomfortable angle. I couldn’t see him in this arched of a position, the pain of his fist in my hair prominent, the back straining at the position to arch just a little further to relieve some of the tugging. “This is nice,” I heard him whisper before I felt his mouth on my nipple. In this position, my breasts were thrust towards his body, a nipple offering as a sacrifice.

I am flexible backwards, but he was even pushing those limits. It was the discomfort, the occasional pain, the suffering in one form or another dilemma (back or hair)…the powerlessness that immediately, unquestionably made my mind quiet and willing to do anything he asked of me, awaited his next move with bated breath, knew that everything was out of my control and I just needed to enjoy what was next.

It was a beautiful place to be in so quickly.

 Posted by at 11:51 am
Dec 262015
Sinful Sunday

Photo taken of one of my friends by another friend, Atargatis.





With Christmas lights coming down and the New Year’s sparkles going up, it’s fun to just enjoy playing in the moment.

A very sexy cat I happen to know reminds me of this.

Dec 242015

A recent scene from Mimir inspired this post on senses. Add to the song prompt of Silent Night from Christmas Erotica Prompts, and here it is:

After hours of a scene, my mind was floating and my body humming.With all my senses so overwhelmed, some became more prominent at times…

…He had texted me to bring some music since I had joked about the silence last time, but with getting off of work and immediately heading to his place, I just didn’t have the time. We put on the radio, a rock station that had music that reminded me of my parents, an inconsistent tone for the scene, and commercial breaks. It was distracting at first, and then I began to not hear it as I escaped more into what he was doing to me.

…(My eyes have always been sensitive towards light. I don’t go out in the sun without sun glasses. I have a dimmed light on my nightstand and even the bathroom has a dim light for after sex. since afterwards I certainly am sensitive to light. So too am I when having an intense scene it seems.)  Above the tripod there was a ceiling light. It was bright. I kept my eyes shut. Sometimes I wondered if he thought it weird that I didn’t open them, even if he was close to my face or choking me. I didn’t watch him to see what he was doing. One or two peeks was enough to convince me that the light hurt my eyes. Even once I was untied, I rolled over onto my side and cuddled into him, burying my head in his shirt and hiding from the light for a bit longer. I really hope it was not off-putting for him.

…He straddled my body and leaned forward to untie my wrists. His shirt covered my face, his chest so warm even through the fabric, and I breathed in his scent. His unique clean smell. It enveloped and overwhelmed me, it was the only thing I could focus on – how good he smelled.

…Fight or flight instinct. After the scene, he commented how apparent my excitement is when anything is a “take down” move. Always prominent in my fantasies, amazing in real life, the minute the control is forcibly taken from me I enjoy myself so much more knowing that I can do nothing. This type of touch has always appealed to me.


*Merry Christmas Eve, lovelies!

 Posted by at 10:51 am
Dec 232015

Written by M’s husband:

Right now I am at a state in my life where everything is up for question. My life was what most people would call normal: I was married, I had a kid, and yes we fought every once in a while over stupid things. Our sex life was okay for the average married couple, then I got divorced.

Some time later I met my current wife, this “little” ball of fire, but on fire none the less. From the first time I met her I was just drawn in for some reason, that is saying something if you know me. I actually pursued her, and even made the first move. I am a very shy, reserved type of person, and to be making moves and pursuing this woman, there had to be something special about her. While it could have been seen as rebound lust or my urge to not be alone, I would soon find out it was none of those: this woman was special.

We started dating, and let’s just say the first day was insane, the second date she pulled a knife on me, in a sexy and not psycho way. It was from that moment she knew I would be okay with kink, or at least open to it.

Let’s skip a few years up to now, I wouldn’t want to bore you with all that. I am at a point in my life I never thought I would be at. I am currently in an open marriage with my soulmate, best friend, and lover all wrapped up in one person. She has opened up not only my eyes, but my heart and mind as well.

My eyes: I no longer see the world with blinders, or judging every thing I see going on around me.

My heart: being married to some one is not the end of my relationships as love is endless, whether I am doing a simple rope scene with someone or a full on relationship, my love for my wife will never fade, no matter what.

My mind: over the years my wife and I have been married we have tried many things. The trust we have in each other far surpasses anything I have ever experienced before. Being allowed to be myself and not shoved in this box of what society deems normal and okay has opened up my mind to many questions; I feel this has to be one of the biggest changes thus far. I can not stop questioning things and I am not talking about what type of underwear to put on or the color of my shirt – I question my very being.

Questions about my kinks: what gets me going, my sexuality, woman, men, and trans, hell for me it all seems to be up in the air.

It was just the other day I told my wife I was curious about bringing a transgender person into the bedroom. I never even knew what a trans person truly was less than five years ago.

Awhile back, I had a man tie me up, roughly handle me, and even whip me; in my brain it was not a male it was just a person tying me up and I was having a wonderful time. Before I would not even let them get close to me.

Pleasure is pleasure, if some one is better equipped to to give you that experience you are looking for why should it matter what they are? I could sit here and go for days on the ways my mind is being blown right now, and all the things I question and explore. I love who I have become and not only do I have my wife to thank for that but all the people that have guided me along as well.

*He wrote this reflection to me a couple of months ago, and I kept it (as I do all his rare writings). When I saw the Christmas Erotic Prompt song of All I Want for Christmas is You, this is what I thought and how that has evolved and changed in my own marriage.

 Posted by at 10:52 am
Dec 222015

A post showcasing the past three months of July-September, choosing my favorite or most revealing photos and posts and giving some background information. Also listing our accomplishments, which goes quite well with Christmas Erotica Prompts‘ song of Ding! Dong! Merrily on High.



“She had been hunted in the woods, discovered hiding, and captured. Once the hunter recorded his prize, she began to strip out of her clothes. She took her time and saw around the corner of the recording tent some of the prey already tied to the posts. There weren’t many posts left and that gave a brief moment of satisfaction that she was one of the more challenging prey to find.” – The Hunt’s Spectators

I liked this writing best for the month of July for two reasons: first being that this hunt is based on a real event that I love attending, and the second reason is that the first part of this story was featured on Girl on the Net‘s blog. It was our first time actively seeking out to be on another’s blog, and the fact that the story was something that she hadn’t heard of seems like an awesome feat.

Favorite Photo: It would be the head-in-crotch suspension that my husband and I were in. Our height differences make it a challenge for a dual suspension, but an amazing rigger managed the feat. This was a very painful suspension for me and my arms changed colors immediately (part of why this photo is in black and white). Not to mention that my husband was disgustingly sweaty  (and naked) after participating in the hunting game mentioned this month, just before this photo was taken.

Accomplishments: A kinky hunting story published on Girl on the Net‘s site.

Moving Truck in the  Sinful Sunday’s weekly roundup

First Exposure in Wicked Wednesday’s weekly roundup.

Carried in Wicked Wednesday’s weekly roundup

In the Doorway in Sinful Sunday’s weekly roundup



“I’ve written two posts recently that I feel need a reflection…Both are incredibly personal in my marriage…Lesson Learned: I can’t reread this yet, it still hurts, it’s too raw still. Heck, I cried in public…Monogamy Issues: I do struggle with monogamy.” –Update on Rope and Opening Up

Talk about some personally revealing posts this month. Relationships aren’t perfect, even when two people are madly in love and happy being with each other. I wrote about some conflicts in my marriage, but needed to clarify that my husband is aware of what I write at all times and that we are happy despite some hurdles. I find that a lot of people don’t like to write about the realistic aspects in relationships, and yet problems do occur – I’m always interested in those stories, so shared some moments.

Favorite Photo: Sinful Sunday offered a challenge of a vintage feel photo, and this one that A delivered was brilliant. It’s probably my favorite of hers yet. Of course, she’s the perfect candidate to create an older feel to photos – she’s always looking like a pinup girl anyhow.

Vintage modesty

Vintage modesty

Accomplishments: Sex Blogger Spotlight with Cara Sutra

Our first time participating in Masturbation Monday.

My Fair Lady in Sinful Sunday’s weekly roundup

Red in Beck and her Kink’s May and June’s Favorite Images.

Sitting in Sinful Sunday’s weekly roundup.

Lesson Learned in Wicked Wednesday’s weekly roundup



“She seems to do everything, including growing in her kink, her career, family, transitions, our blog, with the ease of gliding through water. I tell her all the time she deserves a medal for adulting, a thing I still don’t do well. She’s a normal person, with stress, the horrific allergies our genetics dumped on us, physical ailments. None of these seem to slow her down though. She always makes time for things. She’s always there with help or sage advice, wisdom and guidance.

If you asked me today, to write about one of my heroes, I could surely dust off that old paper from my school girl days, and gladly hand it over, although I might add that the hero I had then is even more so one today.” – Sisterly Specifics, about M

OMG, the feelz. Seriously, I just cried and cried every time I read this post. This month, I hadn’t been sleeping, I was so tired, felt sick for weeks, a new job and a new place (again), so overwhelmed with life…and then this. The timing could not have been more perfect.

I am forever grateful that my sister and I are as close as we are. It’s nice being family and friends.

And she can write so beautifully, so eloquently, and to be gracious enough to take the time and write about her pain-in-the-ass older sister is so touching.

Favorite Photo: poolThis bondage in water photo was just placed in a post and didn’t have a chance to shine on its own. But I love it, love how it looks, and most especially experiencing it.

Accomplishments: A photo used as a prompt for Wicked Wednesday.

Hilariously influencing Malflic to do that counting thing, from The Count.

Known Blogger in Wicked Wednesday’s weekly roundup

Maria Opens Up not only gave twitter love, but blogging love on a new rope scene (thank you, those aren’t easy to write up for me, so appreciative).

Wax Field in Sinful Sunday’s weekly roundup.

Molly’s Daily Kiss referenced a post of ours on anonymity for the first time ever in her Trolling the Net.

Kayla Lords referenced a post  on a scene that was both tender and rough in her newsletter. 


*Wicked Wednesday is all about summarizing this week. Check out some other people. Wicked Wednesday

 Posted by at 12:30 pm
Dec 212015

In the first moment of seeing my husband, he told me he was confiscating me and held me tight, not allowing us to part and allow space between us. He wrapped his arms around me and nuzzled against my neck when the kids weren’t looking

In the second moment of seeing my husband, he slipped us into a corner and gripped my hair, yanking my head back and mouth up to greet this. My mouth willingly opened and tongues explored and expressed a need for far more than kisses.

In the third moment of seeing my husband, he kept whispering of all the things he craved to do to me once we were alone, his hand occasionally slipping in between my thighs nonchalantly and gripping hard to a thigh or slowly sliding at the juncture of my sex which responded as if there were no clothes there.

In the fourth moment of seeing my husband, he informed me we were making love. Instead of feeling bored, I relished the slower pace of discovering how each other tastes, the slowly easing in and adjusting to his large size, the way I welcomed and tightened around his desire for me.

In the fifth moment of seeing my husband, he wrapped around his fingers around my neck and told me that I was his, that I was always his despite time or distance.

In the sixth moment of seeing my husband, he dressed me up in stockings and garter he purchased for just this moment, kissed his way through the patterns and gripped tightly to designed thighs that parted for him to enter.

In the seventh moment of seeing my husband, his hands grasped wrists and held them away from his body, fingers wrapped and gripped wrists as tightly as my body around his cock.

In the eighth moment of seeing my husband, he told me to: “not tighten and force my orgasm,” and I relaxed around his length, though my own orgasms made my muscles clench and throb around him anyhow from time to time. I had to become aware of how my muscles played about him in my pleasure to not force his own.

In the ninth moment of seeing my husband, he said: “we’re going to be here awhile,” and my body was already exhausted in sensations and my mind so focused on how he felt inside of me, yet it had been so long and we were starving for each other, could not get enough.

In the tenth moment of seeing my husband, when he paused for a moment and I was sure that he had found his own release, he told me: “I am not done with you,” and after allowing me some breaths and being down from orgasms, changed positions and slid his hardness deep into me again, every inch rubbed and possessed me.

In the eleventh moment of seeing my husband, he finally groaned his own release, held himself so rigid and deeply inside of me, as I gripped him even tighter at a peak of pleasure that I was also feeling.

In the twelfth moment of seeing my husband, his arms held me, our breaths deep but calming side by side, our bodies entwined.

I felt whole again.

*Written to the Christmas Erotica Prompts song of Twelve Days of Christmas.

Also, for Masturbation Monday.

 Posted by at 12:14 pm
Dec 192015

Kink of the Week and Exhibit Unadorned’s Christmas Erotica Prompt of the song White Christmas both mention semen. So without further ado:

First off, I feel that I need to state that I can no longer get pregnant, so semen does not bring the unwanted worry of a pregnancy. When I was capable of getting pregnant, semen almost seemed the enemy if birth control wasn’t locked down (it always was), and when I did plan to get pregnant, semen seemed like the holy grail of the whole point of the activity (although I still immensely enjoyed myself too). Semen was capable of granting life within me, of mixing and melding to create something beautiful – when it was planned pregnancies. I am grateful that becoming pregnant is no longer a concern, I can embrace semen wholeheartedly with my tested partners.

On a far sexier note: with my husband and I separated, when he shares videos of him masturbating, he always gives me a close up when he cums. I love to see the thick white fluid coating his skin; it always makes my mouth water as well. I keep telling him that just once I want to see it coat the wires of his headphones when we phone/video sex, because the wires are white and they would be mixed with white, and because it would annoy the hell of him but it would happen anyhow because he’d be so lost in the sensations that it would spurt out uncontrolled, and I fucking love the lack of control in that aspect.

I do not like it when a man cums on my skin – it just seems like a large waste to me. I’m not opposed to it as long as it’s not the face, but it’s not something I’m fond of. Watching him masturbate over my body is hot, but I want him inside me when he finds his release.

My mouth is always a welcomed receptacle. I love giving blow jobs, love to wrap lips around his hardness, my mouth creating a sucking sensation and my tongue pressed against and feeling the ridges and texture of his penis. I love when he holds still at the point of climax, his shaft unbelievably hard as it swells, a pulsing inside my mouth, and the salty taste pouring against my tongue or in the back of my throat. I will almost always swallow – if for no other reason than the mess factor, but I do not mind the taste. I know that I have pleased him in a skilled manner – blow jobs are not easy, though they are fantastically fun.

I love when a man cums from sex best of all. I love to feel him rigid and throbbing, push deep and held tight within my body, for him to vocalize in some way that his fluid is gushing and mixing with mine. There is something so deeply intimate about that. I love how his white drops take their time to depart my body, sometimes slowly and unhurriedly – bit by bit, other times a thick puddle, a wet reminder of what transpired; how he marked me.

I don’t necessarily have a semen fetish but I do love when a man finds his pleasure, and the white evidence of that pleasure is a turn on to me.

 Posted by at 10:39 am
Dec 182015

He teased and prolonged foreplay, so that I was begging to be able to touch him, to kiss him. His price was something he had already done that night, but I was fearful of it: breath play or a blood choke- my choice. He had already done both.

Eventually I caved and decided before he did: blood choke. Breath play scares me because I’m so aware of the suffering and panic I go through. Blood choke is amazingly quick.

I’m not going to lie, both get me excited in the fear as well. Likewise, his next question of, “are you wet?” turned me on when questing fingers discovered that I was.

When I came to, I had the bargained price of full access to his body, and I promptly took advantage of it, climbed on top, began to suck and bite his neck. My hand reached between our bodies and I caressed him- cursing barely being able to reach him down his large body with my little arms, but my mouth wanted his neck. I gave up for the moment with my hands, instead delighted at his noises as I became rougher with my mouth against his pulse.

His hand reached down and stroked himself, his hips arched. He moaned. He reached over to the nightstand, managed to grasp the lube, applied it to his cock, and continued stroking.

Eventually more lube found his way on to a finger and he inserted it into my ass, became rougher and rougher as my teeth bit down amid his groans of pleasure. My mouth left wet marks all over his neck, created large sucking noises as it traversed between kisses and bites.

His other hand poured lube onto my ass cheek, lower back, messy in his distraction of what I was doing on top of him, before victoriously dripping down my between my cheeks where his thumb slipped in.

I moaned, I shifted on the other side of his neck, I begged him to fuck me. He told me not yet even as my thighs positioned to take him into me. I felt a finger in my vagina.

Did he not use that finger in my ass?

But it felt like a thumb, and that thumb was no longer in my ass.

I jumped off of him like lightning, trying to process raging needs of hormones with foggy, passionate desire clouding my thoughts.

He immediately knew something was wrong, asked as much.

I thought about it, the circumstances, pretty sure of the conclusion. I thought about how to phrase it, gulped away my shyness, and blurted out as quickly as I could before I lost the nerve: “did you just go ass to vagina?”

His eyes widened. “I knew that felt different,” his hand pushed my shoulder further away from him, urged while ordered, “go clean yourself. God, babe, I’m so sorry.” I rolled away towards the bathroom, tried to reassure him it was fine while attempting not to panic.

Did the five second rule apply to ass to vagina contact? I hoped so. It may not have even been five seconds, but it was a new experience for me, and one I didn’t wish to duplicate in the future. And how did I go about cleaning myself, exactly? I tensed and tried to push out.  I didn’t have outside parts. I took a wet cloth and washed the entrance and thoroughly along the outside.

I wasn’t sure what further to do, other than leave the bathroom and continue on. So we had sex.

And then I worried some more.

*Unlike many other new experiences, this one was not a lovely surprise. Nothing happened, but it still doesn’t bear repeating. Dredged up from embarrassing drafts where it’s been sitting for months, just for the Christmas Erotica Prompt, to the song of Back Door Santa.

 Posted by at 9:20 am