May 272017
 
Sinful Sunday

It’s been months since I’ve really felt the pain and pleasure of rope, perhaps longer. Mr. Texas is frustrated, to say the least. He’s clever, capable, a quick learner. He’s done some amazing bedroom bondage and predicaments – and he’s only really learned the basics. But rope to me is strange…it’s a shadow of a memory that I love but that triggers me towards others. (Plus I’m not finding a rope community here still for Mr. Texas and I to be comfortable in.)

Apr 022017
 
Sinful Sunday

[jwplayer mediaid=”7163″] When my friend Yuè Lǎo took this photo, I thought of Type O Negative’s song, Christian Woman.

A cross upon her bedroom wall – from grace she will fall
an image burning in her mind – and between her thighs

A dying god-man full of pain – when will you cum again?
before him beg to serve or please – on your back or knees

No forgiveness for her sins – prefers punishment
would you suffer eternally – or internally – ah

 

Feb 032017
 

Mr. Texas tied my wrists – taking a few times as it had been a month since he even touched rope and the rope kept tightening. He strung the rope up to the sides of the head board, stretched one side too far where the shoulder wasn’t down. Experience taught me my shoulders would fatigue if they weren’t down, so I requested he loosen the rope a bit so my shoulders rested comfortably down, adding that my wrists up were fine.

Futomomo ties for the legs, where the ankles and calves were bound to the thighs – he remembered this surprisingly well and didn’t struggle in the slightest. He used the small loose ends to extra rope  to tie into the extra rope on bed posts that restrained my wrists. I thought that was very clever, as it spread my thighs as much as possible and moved them slightly up as well.

I was now spread open naked, a position that makes me feel vulnerable in an appreciated way as it assists the mind set that I want to achieve.

Ugh, I had actually suggested this was hot to me. Yet, in the moment, orgasm denial is such a tensioned tease that is hard for me to deal with. I whined my disappointment. Fingers again became aggressive inside of me, this time he allowed a full orgasm to slam into my body, quickly slapped at my inner thighs with his other hand, waited for me to come down from my orgasm and gripped and spanked at the lower part of my bottom that he could reach.

He slid his hips between my thighs, my tied heels nestling him behind his hips and keeping him pressed against me. I felt his erection at my entrance, the head slipped past my entrance and slid deep into my body. He felt so amazing inside of me and I tightened instinctively. He moved slightly, rubbed up and down a few times, just enough to get me worked up, and then stopped before I could find pleasure.

Withdrawing, he reached up and released my wrists. I think he moved towards the end of the bed, it felt that way. “Play with yourself,” he ordered. I hesitated, I know I did. I don’t do this often, and even though Mr. Texas and I had been together for months, it was at the edge of uncomfortable for me. Yet, if I denied him, would he think that his attempt to take control failed?

Did he he even want to see me masturbate? Just a few days prior I expressed how I found it hot when a lover would masturbate for me, and he replied that he thought that it was odd.

I didn’t want to discourage him – that alone made me tentatively slip a finger between my lips and rub. Was he watching? Did he sit there and get turned on by the sight in front of him? I hoped so, as that would encourage me to listen to this command in the future.

“Harder,” he told me, and I plunged two fingers in, though I couldn’t use my still tied legs to thrust my hips up to get a good angle.  “Make yourself cum really hard.” And I moved faster, but the angle was wrong and my mindset was wrong.

Fortunately or unfortunately, he must have believed that I had an orgasm from my fingers, as he moved my hand aside and entered me again.

We had sex until we both found our own release in each other.

Febraury Photofest
Aug 142016
 

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

He missed it.

He had thrown out all the toys that he was in possession of that we had split, so we no longer had the very cool dildo that went beautifully with our harness (and also fit inside of me with vibrations); I was still in possession of the harness. So, off we went to a sex store where we found just a standard dildo that the harness would hold in. It was more malleable than the other dildo, which actually helped cut down on me accidentally hurting him; the downside is when I really got going it would slip out a little easier. It was also lighter, so while nothing was inserted into me, at least it stayed put in the harness a bit better.

Armed and ready, we were going to try pegging again.

Actually, it was a scene that I was giving him with pegging so he laid down tied in the center of the bed with a pillow under his bottom. I started with softer sensations (he dislikes pain of any kind). My hands would roam and my mouth was active the whole time:

tongues danced together with gentle caresses reaquainting fingertips with his body, soft sighs and a building of passion and love and trust;

blindfolding him with a soft leather strip so he could focus more on the physical sensations and less visually, my mouth hovering above his own as my tongue darting out to trace his lips as he tried to catch a kiss;

brushing his skin with feathers as my mouth would roam and suck at delectable areas that incited moans;

using stinging flicks of a toy as my teeth would nibble and occasionally bite, causing goosebumps and pinkened marks to appear across his body;

taking the tines of the wheel and traversing across his body as teeth would sink into muscles, causing him to jump or take sharp intakes of breath as he worked through the brief flashes of pain;
an ice cube melted in my mouth as my tongue swept across his reddened areas, cooling down the heated flesh right before I would drip hot wax from a candle, reheating the area and giving a contrast.

When I increased the sensations in roughness, I also took less care of tenderness – kissing him less, manhandling him more. When he would try to move away from a sensation, my hand was around his neck or my elbows were digging into a pressure point to keep him still, with a warning that he soon heeded to stay still and work through accepting the sensations. A black hood (a new toy of mine) with just an opening for the mouth was pulled over his face, effectively turning him more of an object that I was toying with and a mouth to fuck, as I immediately told him to stick out his tongue so I could straddle and fuck his face. I made sure to press my hips down every so often to make his breathing a little more labored as he brought me pleasure.
It wasn’t long before I placed on a glove, a lot of lube on one finger, positioned myself between his legs, and then my mouth teased the tip of his erection as I slowly circled his anus before inserting the finger. As my finger moved deeper into his body, my mouth moved lower down his shaft. Two fingers increased my sucking, which moved at the same time of my fingers – down and in, up and out. Three fingers – a bit trickier as my pinky always seems to be in the way, my tongue swirled around the ridges of his head as I inserted before attempting to deep throat him as my fingers tried to fill his body.

He sighed and moaned and groaned, his hips occasionally tried to thrust up and welcome the sensations even further. He was so hard in my mouth, occasionally pulsing at a delicious part, hitting the back of my throat at times, his muscle clenching around my fingers as they curled slightly, explored, slid in and out.
I decreased the sensations before stopping, taking off my glove and moving up his body, briefing sliding my own body to where he was inside of me and grinding on top of him while I took off his hood and kissed back his humanness. I kissed the sides of his neck as I took off his blindfold, slowing rotating my hips rather than fucking him roughly, leaned down to passionately kiss him before I slowly unraveled him to freedom, wanting him to have full use of his hands and legs. His hands immediately went to my hips to fuck us to pleasure, but I removed myself off him and told him to put me in the harness.
Less than a minute later I was again between his legs, liberally applying lubrication on my dildo, positioning it at his entrance. He seemed surprised that rather than enter him, I leaned forward and kissed him, pressing my body down on his own and telling him how much I loved him. Then I leaned up and carefully entered him, watching his face closely in between the toy disappearing into his depths. He gave me verbal feedback the whole way in, positive that it felt good, that it wasn’t hurting, that he could take more. When I was all the way in, I praised him as I leaned forward for a kiss again before straightening up and slowly easing out and then in. One hand stroked his cock and the other caressed his balls. Masturbation Monday Week 102

Soon I was fucking him, both hands gripping his hips like he so often did to me to have more leverage and go as deep as I could, and his own hand was stroking himself. I slipped out a couple of times, but eventually his body tensed and his hips lifted as his hand slowed while white spurts shot across his chest with his orgasm. It was a magnificent sight; it was verbally decadent to hear his sounds; it was incredible to create and be a part of.

I finished the scene for him with a warm wash cloth, cleaned the beautiful white streaks and hardened candle wax off his skin, had him sit up for a drink of water before rolling over so I could wipe off the excess of lube between his cheeks. I had a candle going of massage wax the whole time and poured enough over his broad expanse of back, rubbing his muscles and feeling any residue tension leave his body, before using another warm wash cloth to remove any oil that didn’t soak into his skin. I covered him with a blanket as he laid so peacefully and heard him snore before I even left the room to clean up our toys. Masturbation Monday badge - small

 

 

Jul 292016
 

Masturbation Monday badge - smallGarrett tied Tanya’s wrists to the sides of the head board, stretched one side too far where the shoulder wasn’t down. This would be his second time trying to tie her for sex, their first couple of months exploring kink. Experience from last time taught her that shoulders would fatigue if they weren’t down, so she requested he loosen the rope a bit so her shoulders rested comfortably down, adding that her wrists up were fine. Feedback, people kept telling them, was important.

He used the same type of tie around her ankles, stringing it down to the opposite sides of the footboard to spread her legs, using the extra rope to retie into the extra rope on bed posts that restrained her wrists. She thought that was very clever, how he was already modifying from last time and now if she attempted to move either the lower limbs or upper limbs they would pull. Tanya recalled people called this predicament.

She was now spread open naked, a position that made her shiver in anticipation and felt vulnerable in an appreciated way as it assisted the mind set Garrett wanted to achieve.

Before they played with rope, they already learned that a blindfold always helped that mindset as well, so Garrett slipped one on. Then he saw the bits of the rope along the bed and had an idea to alternate whipping her thighs with them. He smiled at her surprised jerk and yelp, finding so much entertainment in the action that he did both thighs a few more times. He caressed her thighs where he had just marked her, tracing the slightly pink imprints and thinking that they should work up to red welts to one day mark her gorgeous skin. Of course, his hands couldn’t resist her magnificent breasts, his hands fully cupping her soft, small globes. He liked her sounds of impact, he decided, and whipped where his hands just left, cautiously at first. She sighed into the sensations of softness and gasped at the sting of the tips.

He teased with kisses and caresses, fingertips trailing paths across her skin, occasionally pinching a nipple or slapping at the inside of a tied thigh.

Then, he gently slapped her vulva. She took a quick intake of breath. “Oh, you like that,” he sounded delighted. He gently slapped a few more times and she jerked in response.

“Who said you can move?” For someone that was new to this, he wanted to make damn sure she knew who was in control. He gripped the outsides of the leg rope and pulled taut to spread her further, the strands of rope dug into her skin in a painful way that for some reason she really liked. He adjusted the rope slightly so that she was stuck in that position; making a mental note for next time they did this.

She felt something like a cold water bottle press against her wet lips that were still stinging, at least that’s what she guessed based on seeing him carry one into the bedroom prior to playing. She wanted to escape the cold sensation and yet it felt so good against how hot he made her there.

Masturbation Monday Week 100 Garrett’s fingers warmed up where the bottle was, his thumb circling her clit to madness before fingertips traced ever so slightly, barely felt but for the brushing of Tanya’s short pubic hair. Suddenly he thrusted two fingers in and quickly created so much pleasure, but withdrew them right before an orgasm.

Ugh, had she actually suggested this idea was hot? In the moment, orgasm denial was hard for her to deal with, though afterwards she would smile in remembrance. She whined her disappointment.

Fingers again became aggressive inside, this time he allowed a full orgasm to slam into her body, watched her body tense, listened to her breathing and moans in satisfaction, felt her clench upon his fingers and fluid coat them. She was so beautiful in this moment it almost took his own breath away.

But he had a job to do, so quickly slapped at her inner thighs with his other hand when he believed that she was at the crest, hard. He had never heard that noise come from her before, would have to ask afterwards how she felt.

He slid his hips between her thighs and slowly entered her. She wanted to wrap her legs around him to increase his pace but couldn’t – an odd feeling. He leaned down and close to her face, rained down soft kisses and loving praises against her lips as he slowly increased the tempo of moving in and out of her.

Within minutes, to the surprise of them both, they found their pleasure together.

Jul 192016
 

I had my first orgasm at noon; I had my last orgasm at midnight. There was only perhaps a couple of hours broken up in between all of that. For those that know how easily and how hard I orgasm, that’s quite a day of a lot of orgasms.

Far, far too many orgasms. It was ridiculously easy to get me to orgasm as the night went on.

In the day, I met a man (Tech Talk) that I went out on a few dates with. It was our first time kissing, so why not move it to our first time fucking as well? He is a very sweet man who is interested and incredibly open minded about kink. We had discussed boundaries and limits dates prior to this and the path was laid out on which directions I could go.

So, I gave him some small tastes of kink. I began by giving him different sensations. My fingers swept softly, my nails raked angry red trails down his body. My mouth kissed gently, sucked, nibbled a lot, and then once I realized he had a high pain threshold – bit roughly everywhere; he had already shared that he liked to be bit. Silk fabric caressed up and down parts of his body before blindfolding him. I took a Wartenberg Wheel to him, tiny little pinpricks of marks across his skin which he handled so well that I pressed deeply into his skin and blazed intermittent dotted pieces like those in the center of a road showing the trail I traveled for days across his skin.

He kept complimenting me, saying how rare and unusual I was, how exciting, how he scored himself a hot woman, how lucky he was. He complimented my body, my touch, my mouth. He claimed that I was absolutely amazing at giving head.

And then it was his turn to do things to me. He went down on me for so long that I orgasmed, then he fingered me to a few more orgasms. He stretched on a condom and entered me, missionary for just a moment and then around to hands and knees behind me, then laying down completely on my back. He complimented how I felt while pushing for orgasm after orgasm (which was ridiculously easy after going down on me for so long).

We became a sweaty mess  who both claimed that we needed a nap after we were finally done. But I had places to go, so I cleaned up and left him…

…Onto the dungeon.

Where after a negotiation, I had two people co top me, with no genital touching (breasts were fine), no penetration, no marks, no blood or needle play, but name calling and lighter impact were fine…unless I orgasm. That last part was from an off hand comment that I can take more from an orgasm. (Honestly, I didn’t think I would orgasm while there because of the no penetration rule – I didn’t take into account how my body was already sensitive from the orgasms before I arrived at the dungeon.)

As the man came in with his toy bag, she threw in that piece of information, and he asked if I wanted a hitachi. I said maybe, and that I would think on it. So when the man slapped at my vulva and got the rhythm that I could orgasm even without penetration, it was because I was already primed for pleasure from earlier in the day. He was downright gleeful when he denied me an orgasm that way and I so badly wanted it that I was ready to cry for one. The day had made my body so ridiculously ready to climax.

I ended up agreeing to a hitachi. He placed the wand against my wet fabric and the loud buzzing was no match for my moans as the toy so quickly overwhelmed my body and granted me the orgasm that I wanted. He discovered that I could multiple, with one orgasm crashing in on another. The vibrations of a wand are the closest I ever get to coloring, and yet I either arch to press myself further against or squirm to get away from it – he was having none of shifting away and the toy throbbed all the more harder against my lips. I became very loud in volume when orgasm after orgasm was forced on me, with some impact occasionally thrown in, which provided a short but painful break to breathe but not lessening my volume as I groaned when contact was made. There could have been a room full of people, and so caught up in receiving either pleasure or pain, I could’ve cared less.

It was during this point that he ordered me to look at her and thank her for my next orgasm, and even she offered a protest that she didn’t think I could do it. I did try but ended up looking at her right when it finished, thanking her at the same time.

Afterwards, we all stayed where we were for a bit while I drifted back to reality and got dressed. Then we went into the kitchen area and visited with other people. He looked across the table from me after some time passed and said that he wanted to play again.

So off we went, with the Hitachi and his hands and his words, where I orgasmed until the dungeon closed. Fortunately, he is the one who closes up so I didn’t feel pressured to run out the door – he even walked me to my vehicle.

Twelve hours of orgasms, where one moment set the pace and the path for so many more to be enjoyed over and over again in different ways. I never would have believed my body was so capable of sustaining that many in one day.

*This is the third of seven posts from this one day:Wicked Wednesday

To read the negotiation and beginning play, click here.

To read about more details during orgasming with these awesome two, click here.

Jul 122016
 

Wicked WednesdayShe was tied up by her lover to one of the posts on the narrow sidewalk, her wrists bound crisscrossed reaching for the bushy foliage above her head hanging from the pole. A blindfold was placed against her eyelids, which was actually a stolen towel used to clean tables from the fancy restaurant whose back door led to this alleyway; she felt as if she wasn’t even deserving of a proper blindfold suddenly and it stirred in her a feeling of anxiousness. Faintly the smell of cleaner wafted in her nostrils and she felt the dampness in places against her skin as he tied it tightly around her head. On top of the blindfolded fabric, bands of rope went over and then were tied behind the pole, her skull pressed into the metal and held firmly in place. She would not be able to turn her head or lean away; she would also not be able to talk apparently as he gripped the front of her throat and briefly caressed her pulse on either side with a thumb and fingers before creating another band of rope between her teeth, sharply it bit the sides of her lips as he tied it without mercy.

Rope cemented her spine to the cold and unforgiving pole, circled the curve in her waistline, being tied tightly that the reverberations added the sensations of butterflies panicking in her stomach and trying to escape; there would be no escape – that’s what the rope digging into her soft flesh utterly announced so concisely.

A spreader bar was attached to her ankles, the cuffs a soft leather that was tightened still to somehow a menacing feeling, with ropes being heard strung through the hooks of the cuffs and tied around her to the pole, anchoring her further. He took some loose ends then whipped her thighs and hips as he tied, the sting making her skin ring out in awakening sensations.

For the moment had just begun. She waited like that for what seemed a long time, becoming fidgety as she shifted her already aching feet inside of her incredibly uncomfortable high heels that he picked out for her to wear. She felt the cool air on her exposed cleavage that the tight dress, that he also chose, barely concealed. She strained to hear something, some clue of someone there, but only silence greeted her.

Where was her lover now?

And then a door somewhere, and another door somewhere else, as if on cue or some timer, creaked open. Shuffling of feet, high heels, the low hum of voices inside of rooms of distant places clamored at her brain, and she felt again a moment of panic.

Perhaps she imagined that she could feel heat of bodies as they moved towards her, but she undeniably felt the hands as they caressed her arms beside her bound head, or over her barely protected nipples, or as they brushed over the thin fabric hiding her thighs. She felt the steel of a knife slide under the straps of the dress at the collarbone and heard the rendering before feeling the fabric fall from her shoulders. She whimpered behind the rough fibers at her helpless mouth. As so many hands continued to caress her throughout her whole tense body, she felt the knife slide at the top of her cleavage and heard just as much felt the fabric part between her rounded breasts. Hands slid where the fabric gave way, pinched nipples painfully and she whined a little, before they released to grip the tops of the fabric. Again, her body felt while her ears heard the tearing of the flimsy dress down her body, her breasts completely bared, she sucked in her stomach as it was exposed – the waist rope little deterrent but only offering a brief pause as hands repositioned from over to under the binding, her hips felt the release of the tension of fabric that clenched there in protest since spreading her legs for the spreader bar, and then finally her tensed thighs. Despite the ragged bits of fabric clinging to the back of her body from the waist rope, she felt, and truly was, utterly naked and vulnerable now.

The hands about her became more aggressive, with slaps, spanks, pinches, gripped at her breasts, felt her excited wetness despite her anxiousness…and she was so excited, had asked for this from her lover, who had been carefully planning this moment just for her fantasy to come to life as her body now came to life amidst the strangers and friends’ bodies.

A dark alley, photographed by Molly Moore.And she would look back on the pictures of the seemingly exposed alleyway and the one he swiftly snapped of her tied in it as he walked away to give the sign for the people to enter, and feel a shiver of the pleasurable memory come back.

For even the narrow alleyway wasn’t as exposed as the pictures showed – it was blocked off by walls around the curve, being part of the outside area to a club, in historic Wilmington, where people could smoke – or elaborately play as it happened in this case.

But the appearance and how she felt, despite knowing all these things, didn’t change how exposed/vulnerable, how fearful/anxious/nervous/excited she was in the moment that she was tied.

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.