Feb 272017
 

Half laying on my side and stomach, I woke up when fingers roughly pushed their way into my body, pounded in and out to where the hand and remaining fingers felt like a fist against my lips.

I was already wet, as it seems I always am. I clenched around the fingers and dream and reality splintered with the rough and quick orgasm.

I was pushed fully on my stomach, my legs spread by Mr. Texas’ knees as he popped the head of his cock between my lips and past the initial resistance of my entrance. My wet body allowed the rest of him to slide effortlessly to my wall, which he hit surprisingly fast and painfully. A few more thrusts that hit and hurt, and my body stretched more fully to accommodate him, adjusting to where it was less pain and more pleasure.

Even in the pain, I tightened in the pleasure and raised my hips to welcome him hitting the depths that caused the discomfort. I love the uncaring taking, the forcing in. It turns me on far more than words can express. Even now, as I type this, I grow wet with the memory.

I groaned a bit too loudly. He yanked back my head with a fist in my hair; I moaned even more, arched back and took him deeper, and he pushed my face into the bed.

Perhaps he did so because of the sleeping kids in the house, he is after all quite considerate.

I struggled to breathe for a minute, my nose squished uncomfortably. I came; I screamed. The uncaring nature of such an act, the pounding of him inside of me, the slight objectification of being used in such a manner, all of it so unbelievably hot to me that orgasms simply didn’t cease, pleasure after pleasure crashed and didn’t ebb. It allowed me to not think, to go from dream to orgasm after orgasm, to not even have to be conscious of my own noises or own reactions, just to be repeatedly rammed by his cock. I felt every ridge, every throb, especially the tip of his head and the curve underneath – felt like a hook scratching an incessant itch against my walls.

The fist demanded my head up so quickly I had to use elbows to brace myself, a hand went around my throat and his fingers felt and dug where I showed him I liked on either side. Normally, he allows my own weight to dig into his fingers, this time they squeezed as he lowered my head upon the fingertips, my elbows no longer needed to brace myself up. His cock continued it’s relentless pleasure thrumming in my body. His fingers around my throat competed with attention. Dizzying, I felt my legs lower and my body become heavy. My eyes were already shut or otherwise I would have noticed the world go dark; I only noticed the gasping of breath as he rolled me over, the heaviness of my body, the haziness of my brain.

“I think you passed out for a moment, your whole body went limp,” he thrusted himself between my thighs as he stated that, and though it didn’t sound like it – I still sensed the concern even as he fucked me senseless.

I knew amid foggy brain and orgasms he still needed reassurance. I also knew that if I passed out, it was done correctly, safely, and was far shorter than my ex husband and I would do.

“Probably, and that’s hot. I’m fine,” I managed to breathe out in between cries of pleasure. I bit down on his shoulder as my arms wrapped around him, my heels digging in to his hips to pull him in even deeper.

He leaned back, grabbed my wrists, forced them over my head, pressed upon them with his body weight as just that action alone caused another orgasm. I was so tense under him and in that tension tightened even more as his own grunts and groans signaled his release.

I fucking love rough sex, feeling forced, being taken, pinned.

And I fucking love the softness of being held, of reassuring that what occurred was amazing, of praising each other and communicating how deeply we care for each other.

Wicked Wednesday*Wicked Wednesday is about one man, and in these moments no one and nothing exists except this one man.

**February Photo Fest photo continues the story of David, unrelated to the above story but this picture is so beautiful at visually being taken. Febraury Photofest
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Dec 052016
 

Masturbation Monday badge - smallI used to do this from time to time with my ex husband. So many grand moments admist every day moments in which I am busy with just work and family that I don’t write about them. But Texas reads me now, and some are noteworthy despite not having the time to write about them.

Anal Sex

I don’t ever try something once, I’m not sure if I’ve shared that. So we had anal sex once, and it was meh. Yet, I know I enjoy fingers from time to time, so taking my own spirit of give something a second try Texas and I tried anal sex again. This time, we took a bit more time with entry and it didn’t hurt nearly as much. We went slow and steady. It started feeling good, and Texas even came. When we were done, there was no mess and I didn’t cry. Heck, sort of my like sister did after her first anal sex attempt, I wanted to give him a high five and tell him it was a job well done.

masturbation-monday-week-118Rubbing Myself

As ridiculous as it sounds, I have never continuously rubbed myself during sex. So when Texas ordered me to finger myself as he kissed my body, and then entered me around my own fingers, he insisted I keep my fingers on my clit. The other hand he wanted me to pinch my nipples. He was unhurried as he slowly withdrew and pushed inside of me, the ridges of his shaft and underside of his head so prominent against my folds and walls.

Mimicking his pace with my fingers, I circled my clit until it was a hard nub; my other hand slowly twisted and pinched a nipple. He kept his body close, his breath heavy in my ear and I turned my head and nibbled on the side of his neck, listening to how his breathing changed with the different sensations my teeth and tongue created.

In, a long slow stroke where the tip of his head rubbed against so many places. My core tensed and my muscles followed the thickest part of him and clenched along his shaft not wanting him to leave. I moaned and breathed in when he hit as far back as he was going to, smelling the clean scent of his body.

Out, he moved as unhurriedly, giving me the opportunity to feel every single contour of him and my body tensed even further as not wanting him to completely withdraw. Even my fingers tensed: the hardened nub seemed even more exposed from lips parted open for so long and I pressed harder, circled faster, my nipple creating a pain sensation that connected and seemed to add strength to my muscles trying to refuse his movement. I exhaled and bit down on his shoulder when his head poised at my entrance.

In.

Out.

Such a maddeningly slow pace. It created so much tension in my body that my shoulders lifted off the bed and I could smell the slight scent of our sweat and our sex. With my own fingers, I pressed harder.

“You’re so tense, so tight,” he groaned as my body shuddered into an orgasm before tensing again into an echo of another – a smaller, faster orgasm. A long breath and shaking body. More tension, my stomach hurt from the slight way I arched up and clenching down upon him inside of me. My breaths were even against me as when a slow tension-filled orgasm began building, I would alternate holding my breath and remembering I had to breathe, crying out in pleasure with every inhale and exhale.

His chest pressed into my breasts, crisp coarse hair against the sensitive nipple I was not currently pinching, and my shoulders felt the cool sheets again, though they did not relax into the mattress.

At such a slow pace, my body could only tense and orgasm.

By the time he found his own release, again commenting of how I gripped him the entire time, we were both sweaty and catching our breath.

When he withdrew and moved to the side of me to hold me, he whispered that we would have to do that a bit more.

I sleepily replied that tensioned orgasms exhaust me, and drifted off to his fingertips grazing my back as my front was kept warm along the side of his body.

 

Oct 182016
 

*This was written by Atargatis. When I saw the mermaid prompt, I realized I had a gifted mermaid friend who was also an amazing writer, and asked if she was interested. I think this is an amazing story.

By 19, I’d had no serious suitors, had never even kissed a boy. My only experiences were “practicing” with girl friends in the dead of the night. I’d given up hope of finding a woman willing to be different in our small town, willing to run away with me. So I found solace in wandering the cliffs by the sea. It was one overcast day that I heard singing from the rocky shore below. I carefully lowered myself down to the rocks.

Her long, pale green hair hung in gentle waves upon her breasts. Her skin was pale and seemed to glow with light reflected off the water. Her lips were plump and the pale pink of the inside of a shell, and they matched perfectly the soft nipple peeking through her hair. Her breasts were larger than my own, and round and perfect. Her slim waist flowed into the swell of her hips, and it was there the scales began. They were darker than her hair, and gleamed like fish scales. They ended in a paddle like tail that trailed in the water.

She was the source of the music. Her voice was high and light, and she idly combed her hair.

I climbed over the rocks to get closer, trying to keep quiet so I didn’t startle her. My heart was thumping in my chest and my stomach swirled with nerves and arousal at the sight of her. I was about five feet away when a stone turned under my foot and she turned to face me.

Her eyes were large and black in her delicate face. Her perfect mouth formed an ‘O’ of surprise.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She lowered the comb and smiled at me. “Usually men are drawn to my song. You must be a special woman.” I blushed and her smile widened, revealing pearl-white teeth. “Would you like a kiss?”

I nodded and beckoned me toward her with one long-fingered hair. Her lips met mine and they were warm and smooth and tasted like saltwater taffy. Her hand rose to my cheek, slid back to cradle my neck and deepen the kiss, her tongue stroking skillfully against mine. When we parted, her cheeks were flushed as pink as her lips. “Let’s go somewhere.”

She took my palm in hers and rose to feet that had replaced the tail. She guided me behind her as she easily strode over the rocks, leading me up the cliff once more and to a ruin. I followed her in a dreamlike state, taking in her long, bare legs and firm, round ass. As we crossed the threshold into the crumbling building, she turned toward me once again and let go of my hand. Our lips met and I wound my hands in her soft hair, traipsed them down over her delicate shoulders, running down her ribs and settling just under her full breasts. The heat of them beat down on the back of my hands.

We lowered to our knees and she gently pushed me down onto my back, pulling out of the kiss to lift my shirt as we readjusted. “You’re beautiful,” she murmured before taking one of my nipples into her mouth.

Her body was now flush against mine, a leg sliding between mine and working my skirt up. I cried out and held onto her shoulders as she nibbled, kissed, sucked, licked my breasts, my eyes shut tight. It took a moment for me to register that she’d stopped. She was holding herself over me and staring down with those large back eyes.

“I have never lain with a woman,” she admit. “I am not certain how it works.”

So I guided her down to her back to replace me, and laid my palms against her perfect breasts, returning the kisses she’d laid on mine. And my kisses continued down to her navel, where I gently licked, and down to her rounded hips, which I nibbled. The sounds each of my attentions evoked was more erotic than all my fantasies. Her moans were soft and breathy, and her scent when I reached the cleft between her legs smelled musky and feminine.

The curls were darker than her hair above, almost a murky green, strange. I laid a hesitant kiss atop them. She was on her elbows now, gazing down at me, her dark eyes hooded. I slid my hands between her thighs and parted them, groaning at the wetness between them. Her head tipped back as I brought my fingers to tease her entrance. Finally, I lowered my mouth to the nub right between her lower lips, and sucked.

As my fingers entered her and began gently pumping her core in time with the licking and sucking of my time, her moans grew into frantic cries. One hand caught tendrils of my hair while her other twisted a pink nipple. Her hips ground against my face and I felt as though I was riding a wave as she came, more juice flooding between her thighs.

As she caught her heaving breath, she laughed, palmed my cheeks to guide me to her mouth, and kissed me again. And then she rolled me over with a mischievous grin, easing down my body.

The rest of the night was a sticky, sweaty, beautiful mess of breasts and fingers and tongues. I fell asleep on her soft chest while she stroked my hair.

And I woke at first light, cold and alone.
Wicked Wednesday

Oct 132016
 

The rope was tightly bound, cut into muscles and fat and skin that bulged around in protest. So long since I had been in painful rope, and the legs were spread and tied to the sides – again a long time since rope had been used so intimately.

I loved the feel of the painful rope, zero control over how exposed I was – though my hands were free and a memory of the last time I was this spread evaded for just a brief moment.

Then it past as he turned on the vibrator and placed it against my lips, slowly worked between them. He fucked me gently, he fucked me quickly, screams tore from my body as pleasure assaulted it, multiple orgasms, a breath, again. I shuddered and arched and begged for him to continue, for him to stop.

I became overwhelmed and he stopped, slowly removed the ties, complimented the gorgeous marks that I couldn’t help but run my fingertips over.

He wasn’t done yet. He had me stand in front of him on the bed and pinched my nipples into clamps, painful even with a pull – which of course the first thing he did was pull. He slid his other hand between my drenched thighs and rested his fingertips at my entrance. In my hazy brain I didn’t see it as a predicament – I was instinctive by that point from the multiples. I only felt his fingers enter me and bring me to another orgasm at the same time as the clamps were pulled painfully and my nipples felt on fire.

That was his predicament – he told me later- that his fingertips would just tease at my entrance and hold the clamps in place. My own body created the pain from my lowering and fucking his fingers and therefore pulling at the clamps. As always, I will put myself through some pain to achieve an orgasm – or in this case several, the pain adding a heightened sensation to the pleasure.

Sep 202016
 

How visible were we to the darkness? We were under a spotlight but was there an audience?

This was not how I had envisioned the outdoor backyard sex that he suggested; I thought of us fucking against the fence in the early morning hours, when few people are out and were less likely to see us. In the current blackness of the night, there probably weren’t any people out walking the trail, but I wouldn’t know – and with the backyard lit up so well, and that portion of the fence at a higher platform, we would be a huge beacon on a stage that people would be able to see.

And then he stopped me on the first stair, bent me over, slowly exposed my pinkened wet need. My hands reached for a higher step for balance, especially inebriated. With my feet spread on the first step, I was tall enough for him to enter comfortably and he did…right under a light.

The light not only spotlighted our naked bodies, it further projected our shadowy forms across the ground as a strange kaleidoscope collection of evidence to our public indecency. Even the water droplets looked like sparkling sequins to me that further highlighted my naked, trembling form exhibited and laid bare.

And yet as his head split my lips and stretched inside of me, my brain switched the focus to how he felt inside of me, his hands keeping us balanced and connected at the hips, the wind whipping around my wet skin and causing goosebumps to rise in sharp contrast to how hot the moment felt.

I closed my eyes and no longer saw the shadows or the light, no longer cared what visual we offered to the darkened world, only what pleasure he offered to me.

Again, a frustrated echo of the hot tub moments before, right before I found my pleasure he withdrew and denied me a finish – this was just a brief interlude.  My bent over bottom was slapped to propel me up towards that low fence that was our end goal. His body pressed against mine, propelling us towards the edge of his property that a hiking trail led people alongside so close, a trail further shrouded in darkness and shadows from our lighted perch.

The wind blew even harder by the fence with less protection to block it, and he pushed my legs against it – the only part shielded from view as the barrier came waist high. He entered me from behind, his warm body pressed against my back, my breasts froze in the night temperature and wind, my face exposed to the darkness for anyone who wished to view it.

It was a face that was awash in orgasm after orgasm, barely aware that the darkness and the light exposed every expression and moan of pleasure. I heard only the wind howling, the crickets chirping, and his groan as he came deep inside of my body amid my own tightening of a climax.

Wicked Wednesday

Sep 182016
 

img_2927Mr Texas didn’t want me going out to another event. It would have been the third day in a row, and he didn’t have his kids for the week, so he wanted time with me. I suggested we go to a kink event together, he asked that we come up with a list non kink related.

“Fine, I come up with one, you come up with one, and we make a list that we try to accomplish the remainder of the days until the kids come home.” He suggested a movie, which I immediately shot down. “Watching a movie isn’t really spending time together, I would rather go off and do something else. Think of spending time together since that what you said you wanted.”

I suggested a board game that I introduced him to, that we’re pretty even on winning. He was good with that.

He suggested cooking something together in the kitchen. I envisioned dancing to music and kisses in between. I agreed to that.

I needed pictures taken for Sinful Sunday, that required his help. He agreed to it.

He suggested hot tub sex again, then sex against a low part of his fence where there’s a trail that people walk, so a chance someone might see us. That was one I had to mull over, but decided there might be a time or a situation that I might agree to. I don’t ever wish to be seen, and public sex is unappealing to me.

…Board game in with laughter and teasing, far too many drinks and not a real dinner since we opted for chips while inebriated. We played until the board became a bit too confusing to our soggy brains, opted for the hot tub. The hot tub and a drink had always been our fall back – since date two, and it was something we both thoroughly enjoyed.

As I walked down the steps into the steamy water, his hands gripped my shoulders and pulled my body against his body immediately, his chest hairs tickling my cleavage as the water slid between our skin. He pushed my back and shoulders against the side wall, the step to sit on buckling my knees, parted my legs with his hips where they naturally wanted to wrap around anyhow, and slid right in. My body was ready for him, the warm water no deterrent as wet as I was, and the heels of my feet hooked around his waist to keep the contact as he thrusted up. My shoulders hit the side of the wall and prevented that aggressive action from launching me out in the cold night air. I gripped his shoulders and impaled myself further down his hardened length, he hit the back of my wall and I welcomed the pain as the water swirled around our bodies. The head of his cock rubbed at a delicious place at the unusual angle the water afforded us, but after some minutes, he pulled out.

I couldn’t contain a sound of complaint and my surprise at the unexpected action, my body so tense from anticipating an orgasm.

“Let’s go,” he said, pointed towards the fence very visible with the outdoor lights that he has on in his backyard.

I gulped, hesitated. I had envisioned us fucking against the fence in the early morning hours, when few people are out and were less likely to see us. In the blackness of the night, there probably weren’t any people out walking the trail, but I wouldn’t know – and with the backyard lit up so well, and that portion of the fence at a higher platform, we would be a huge beacon on a stage that people would be able to see.

I didn’t move so with a hand on my ass he boosted me up a step out of the protection of the water, and my feet shuffled towards the stairs to reach the entertainment area of his gorgeous back yard…and that low fence. He stopped me on the first stair, a hand on my shoulder and another on my hip, and bent me slowly over so my hands reached a higher step. With my feet on the first step, I was tall enough for him to enter bent over and he did…right under a light.

Masturbation Monday badge - smallHow visible were we to the darkness? We were under a spotlight but was there an audience?

To continue this story, click here. 

 

Sep 082016
 

*Time to return back to Mr. Texas…after all, I never did finish telling this chapter of my life, the drafts waiting because my ex husband didn’t wish to see the story.  

Mr. Texas is extremely ticklish. Everywhere, all the time.

I can’t handle not having my way with his body, how even giving him head is a challenge because while it feels good, it also tickles him – so he says, and he stops me quite a bit.

Not a thing I’m used to.

He made the mistake of telling me: “you just can’t go soft,” referring to the kisses I was trying to trail around his chest.

“Oh I can go hard,” I smiled down at him and then bit him right above the nipple where his chest muscle gave me plenty to sink my teeth into.

“That’s not what I meant,” he protested, so I clenched down tighter.

“Nope,” I released him, looked at my imprints in his flesh, and embraced it fully. “Too late, I’m playing and you’re my chew toy.” I leaned down and licked softly over the divots, my tongue washing against the redness, listening to his moan and smiling into his skin with satisfaction. I bit down next to the mark, staking new territory, and alternated nibbling and sucking in an arc across his chest muscle.

I could tell he didn’t know if he liked it or not; pain of any sort in the bedroom was a slow process, but towards the center of his chest he gave every indication of liking it a bit more, so I bit down harder in those focused places.

My hand gripped the front of his throat softly, a presence felt and not threatening, my forefinger and thumb moved to the jaw line and pushed his head to the side. I laid half my body on top of him and bit down where neck and shoulder met towards the back. His shoulders came up in defense but I bit down harder and made a noise that argued, my hand a bit tighter to his throat.

He relaxed under me. “My chew toy,” I whispered as I nibbled and sucked along the dip of his neck from shoulder to ear.

“Don’t leave a mark,” he warned.

“I won’t, I’m pretty good at going hard and not,” I assured him in between nips and bites. I alternated the sensations, making his neck a temporary and thoroughly loved red before switching sides.

I loved listening to his sounds, his sharp intake of breath, the way his shoulders and neck rolled and stretched under my mouth, the way his hands fought the urge to push against my body to remove me and ended up gripping me and pulling me closer intermittently.

I moved lower. “Time to see if you like this bit,” I breathed on the head of his cock and he sat up. I laughed and gripped his thigh, my nails digging in. “Relax. I’m teasing, I wouldn’t,” I reassured as one hand pushed on his marked chest to have him lay back, the other hand menacingly pressing nails into his flesh and muscle on the inside of his thigh if he didn’t obey.

He laid down and my tongue swept across the fleshy top, tasted his precum, before swirling haphazardly around the head and under the ridge. My mouth didn’t even come close to closing in on him – I wouldn’t bite but I wouldn’t please either.

I moved to the inside of his thigh, my tongue replacing my nails and tasting the slightly metallic taste of where nails truly imprinted. I was gentle and caressed a wet trail, leaned back a bit and blew some cold air on the reddened divots, so small they were barely discernible. My hot mouth crashed over the cold area and I sucked and nibbled, and when he moved too much, bit along the inside of his thighs.

Gently, I moved to his balls and took one in my mouth, rolling the thicker part with my tongue. He arched and gasped and I increased the pressure just slightly before moving to the other.

Things after all have to be equal, I figured.

So his other thigh also got treated to my rough administrations.

I straddled him and slowly positioned the tip at my entrance as I nibbled at his neck again. “Just the tip, that’s a fun game, right?”

He groaned and tried to slam his hips up and force the issue, but under my body I felt the tension and moved with him, keeping contact but adjusting so he slid along my wet slit in case I miscalculated how far he would rise.

I bit down hard on his neck. “Stay down. This is my game, chew toy.”

Again, I positioned him rolled my hips so that the thickness of his head rotated around my entrance, barely sliding in. I watched his face as I felt my own sensitivity and the torment that I viewed encouraged me to delay my own sensations towards pleasure when his frustration was far more intriguing.

My darling Mr. Texas has been learning a thing or two, however, and after a few minutes, when he had obviously had enough, he gripped my hair and arched me painfully back, slamming up into me to the hilt.

He kept his painful pressure in my hair as I wildly rode him, my body clenched and drenched around his own orgasm.

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

 

 

Aug 042016
 

Masturbation Monday badge - smallMy husband and I are still separated by distance as we attempt to repair our relationship, but we see each other on weekends, with phone and video calls getting us through the rest of the week. I requested he make me a video of himself masturbating so I could watch it during horny or missing moments.

He gave me a live show from the shower, his body soapy and slick as he ran his hands up and down over his skin, and stroked himself. My fingers drifted to the passion his vision created; I made sure he could see exactly what he inspired. We masturbated together.

When we were done, I again reminded about wanting the video. He told me he would (and did later that night), but that I needed to also make him a video by the next day.

We are already getting right back into the power dynamics, apparently, as he knew that making a video would be a challenge for me, so warned that there was a consequence if I didn’t. Unfortunately, not because I hesitated but just because I was busy that following day – I forgot.

I thought it was just a live show I put on for him as punishment, I was wrong…

He told me to lay a few out of my sexier (what he considered sexy, not me, learning from last time) clothes, take a picture, and he would decide what I was wearing. This was my first clue that he would be completely in charge and I was to have no say. Next, I did the same of my lingerie including stockings, then of the Doxy wand’s attachments. When he received all the pictures, he gave me a detailed list of items to have readily available and what to wear: lingerie under clothes, stockings, vibrator, wand with attachment.

I already strongly disliked this punishment, already it was more effort than just sending a video would have been.

When he called me that night, he told me to pick out music and strip dance, but to keep on the lingerie. Ugh, I didn’t want to move to music while he watched live, I couldn’t hit delete if I looked like an idiot. I’m sure I looked like a deer in the headlights as I slowly peeled out of the outer clothes.

He wasn’t messing around with the whole punishment concept either, as the next order was to play with myself – already not an easy task with an audience. He was specific with giving him a teasing view of my breasts as I caressed them still wearing the silky lingerie, of lifting the bottom of the fabric with one hand as my other hand’s fingers teased and felt my wetness despite my embarrassment. “Insert one finger,” he would occasionally stroke himself so I was aware of his reaction to his show, “add another one.” I was a puppet, his to command. “Go deeper.” “Watch my fingers,” and he would curl and stroke the air the way he wanted my fingers to move deep in my own body. The man sure did know how I liked to be fingered, and I begged to cum, though he stopped me before I reached climax.

“Edge yourself with the wand,” I hesitated and he gave me a look that brook no argument. He wanted me to lay it on the bed and straddle it, in essence riding it. The attachment was already on and I slid my body on top of it. He wanted me to start on low and the vibrations felt so amazing to my already worked body. He told me to pinch at my nipples as I felt the pleasure between my thighs, and slowly he added another speed, eventually bringing the wand to high, commanding me to with hold from an orgasm – I pleaded with him to change his mind and give me some release. When I became far too overwhelmed and couldn’t resist, I jumped off of it, my chest heaving from the effort, beginning to sweat from the tension. He praised me, had me slowly and gently caress my body through the silky lingerie, and then edge myself again with the wand. I must’ve given him a look, because he followed through with a threat, and I begrudgingly straddled the toy again, immediately asking for an orgasm. Much quicker this time, I jumped off it, an orgasm threatening my overworked body.

My fingers would eventually be called on to bring me to an orgasm, again he set the tempo and the motion of how I was finger myself, promising that I would finally find my pleasure. I was to lay on the bed, my stocking legs spread to give him the best view, leaning up on one elbow so he could view my face. “Harder,” he would urge, “really fuck yourself,” and, “you can go deeper… you won’t be allowed to cum unless you really give it your best effort,” finally followed by the order, “cum”. Oh how my body and mind remember that word uttered from his mouth. The sound traveled across miles, from one receiver to another, and hit my body like thunder. I squirted, my fingers and wrist coated from the force, the bottom of my lingerie and the bed catching the drops of the tensioned storm.

Masturbation Monday Week 101I was gasping for breaths, great heaving intakes as if I had run the vast distance to him.

But this wasn’t the finale I thought it was, oh no! He had already pushed so many comfort zones in this punishment, already assured us both that I wouldn’t forget so easily next time, but he wasn’t done yet with me.

 

Aug 022016
 

Wicked WednesdayShe knew he was working, but they still wanted to be near each other. So when she entered his office, she wasn’t surprised that he was on the phone behind his desk. He smiled and gestured her over, standing up and coming around the desk. He put an arm around her and positioned her facing the desk, taking one wrist and placing it palm down on the edge of the desk. She put the other one there herself, trying to be accommodating while he worked. He lifted her skirt and caressed her bottom through the lacy underwear she wore.

She looked over her shoulder at him and he winked at her. Somehow all the more naughty of a gesture because he was on an important business call.

He finished the call after a few minutes, caressing her the rest of the call. When he put down the phone, he told her to go to the conference table on the other side of the room. He moved the chair on the end and she perched up against the edge, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him deeply. When he broke off the kiss after some moments, he undressed her slowly, taking advantage of the time he had in between phone calls. His mouth followed the paths of fabric falling down or rising above her luscious body. She felt shy to be naked in an office, but she had locked the door behind her and did as he asked.

He kissed and tweaked her nipples as she gasped at the pleasure/pain that sent currents deep within her. He leaned her back slowly, her bare skin pressed back onto the cold glass table. His fingers wasted no time in plunging into her wet body, curling upwards and moving at a tempo that he knew all too well would bring her to orgasm. Her moans and body arching told him he was close, and when he felt her body tighten around his fingers, he withdrew.

She sat up whining her displeasure. He tried to look wide eyed and innocent. “What? I need to get on another call.” He smiled and winked at her, grabbed a small chocolate from the candy dish in the center of the table, unwrapped the foil and popped the sweet morsel in her mouth; “no noise from you,” he teased, then turned and went back to the desk, throwing the order, “stay there,” behind his shoulder where she laid so temptingly close. He initiated the call, and walked back to her, loving the view of her legs spread, her ankles resting on the edge of the surface and her knees bent. He walked alongside her body, his fingertips beginning at her foot and tracing the path up to the side of her face. His thumb brushed against her plump bottom lip and she smiled before sucking it into her mouth.

She could be the tease as well and her eyes seemed to threaten that as much as her mouth promised.

He pushed a button to mute the call and pinched a nipple in response. Just as he guessed, she yelped in protest. He again placed another chocolate on her tongue to replace his thumb, his finger pressed against both of her lips in a quiet signal before hitting sound, made a comment towards the call, halfheartedly listening, then hit mute at a time where he felt the people on the other line were going to be continue without him, stepping up to her body and rolling a nipple between his thumb and forefinger before rolling her clit with the same thumb. He watched her eyes go to half mast and her breathing become more shallow at the pleasurable sensation.

Unfortunately, the call seemed to require him again as he spun around and again engaged in conversation. He stayed on until it ended, checked the time, and decided he had enough time to bring her to orgasm for waiting so patiently…for a price. He noticed that there were a few more colorful candy wrappers littering the table. She always did have a sweet tooth and felt that he was just as guilty in craving her body – he just couldn’t resist.

He pulled out some binder clips used to hold stacks of paper from his desk drawer and then rolled the chair to face between her legs. Such a great leveled view. In anticipation of him there, she spread her legs slightly wider, not seeing the clips in his hand. He placed one on the outside edge of her lip, and the pinch caused her to cry out in surprise. A finger dipped in and soothed her with pleasure before he grasped the other lips and carefully pinched more of the lip lining right at her entrance. Even slick, it held and from her noises he knew that it pinched painfully. Even more carefully, he placed a smaller clip on the hood and her noises told him that he was pushed the limit with the location. His thumb again thrummed against her button, the small clip  bobbing with the motion.

She whined as both pleasure and pain rolled through her body. His fingers slowly eased into her, his hand brushing against the clips on either side of her entrance and added contrasting sensations. It hurt and continued to become more painful as he moved more assertively, and yet the pleasure built and she felt her body become more tense to welcome the gathering orgasm.

She tightened around his fingers and he made sure that his hand spread to push the clips more fully, adding more pinch during the height of her orgasm. She cried out as her pleasure coated his fingers, and with his other hand, he removed the small clip on her hood. She whimpered and he curled his fingers. She moaned. He removed the clip on her inner lip, hoped that the haze coming down from her orgasm was still present to make the pain a bit more tolerable, and smiled at her reaction.

He loved how reactionary she was.

The last clip came off before he withdrew his fingers. He leaned forward and praised her as he kissed her lips, the smell of chocolate from her breath mingling with her wet scent an aphrodisiac to him, then regretfully turned towards his computer and phone to take another conference call. She sure did make conference calls a lot more interesting.