Apr 062017
 

*Taken from notes I wrote on a phone, I am leaving this unedited. I believe this was when my ex husband and I were practicing rope with some of our closest friends, and he wanted to see if he could rig a predicament bondage with a suspension and Doxy wand, where I could put down my foot to take away some pain of the suspension but it would cost me. 

**I wrote this August 2015, half a year before we divorced. 

You’re really sexy babe he said as he tied my legs to the pole, knees bent on the floor, thighs parted.

It was a reassurance in the midst of my shyness, of my uncertainly in a room full of people watching, spread in such a manner in just my underwear, a thin sliver of pretended modesty. He whispered it before he bent me over, exposing me more, so vulnerable feeling except his words of praise, of proudness, of appreciation of the trust I placed in him, bent me over until my face hovered inches above the ground, the chest harness of rope wrapped tightly around my beating heart stopping my face from hiding, showing my body bent, never a flattering angle for a stomach and mine especially felt awkward hanging curled in such an angle. Yet his eyes never left my mother’s hips, my muscular thighs, my rear end invitingly titling up with such ease of access, the small of my back.

He saw beautiful and I felt the warm glow of approval.

Nov 272016
 

Masturbation Monday badge - smallWhen David steered me into a room without a door, in a swinger’s club, with porn playing on a big screen, I was grateful that we were the only ones in the room.

I told him, as he pulled me onto his lap on a couch, that I didn’t have public sex, and he told me to tell him when to stop. We kissed, my shirt came off, then my bra. His shirt came off, exposing his muscular chest and arms. I kicked off my shoes.

Up until this point, this wasn’t new to me – being nearly naked in public. Heck, I’d been fully naked twice in public but they were with my ex husband and it was involving toys in rope.

David yanked on my hair and rotated us to lay me down on the seat, stripped me out of my pants and underwear. There are a few, rare times in my life when I no longer give a fuck about limits (that doesn’t mean I’m unsafe in pushing those limits). Those that care about me worry because they view it as vulnerable, and perhaps I am. Twice this year now I have pushed past my own comforts and limits – once when I did slutfest and a weekend with my husband after my husband left me, and that night in the swinger’s club (so far, but I’m still mourning, so we’ll see what else I get up to). It makes me feel alive when I am otherwise numb trying to cope. When he hesitated at my pants and looked down at me to see if I was okay, I knew we were going to have sex right there in the room. I was surprisingly okay with that.

He fingered me, and I briefly hoped that there was no one in the doorway. At least my head was more towards the doorway and my spread legs were facing a wall. He sat down and pulled me onto his lap where I was facing the doorway, I shut my eyes so I wouldn’t know if we had an audience and he continued to finger me, nibbling on my shoulders, neck, rotating me slightly to bite on my nipples. I arched into his teeth, I moaned and shuddered around his fingers. Now I fully exposed to the view of others, something he intentionally did, but I was focused on the pleasure he created rather than a potential audience.

He ordered me to lay down doggy style on the seat of the couch, and I bent my elbows to brace them on the seat which buried my head against the back bottom of the seat – so no one could see my face and I couldn’t see theirs. He put on a condom and began fucking me at a vigorous pace.

dsc_7442Have I mentioned that David is a military man at his prime and is in amazing shape? There is no part of him that is soft and the hardest part of him was rubbed and built up an orgasm; I welcomed the release of tension that seemed to be consuming me. Of course, once I orgasm once, the others just begin to flood my senses – and I am by no means quiet. He would smack my ass and thighs occasionally as he fucked me, and he yanked my head up by my hair, forced it to the other side. Briefly I peaked and saw the outlines of people in the room with us; I shut my eyes tightly, but orgasms are glorious things and before I could be mortified I was being carried on the wave of another one. He stuck a thumb in my back hole and used the pressure to increase the intensity of my orgasms. We switched positions quite a few more times.

I was sweaty and had no idea how he kept up an almost maddening tempo. When he finally found his own fulfillment and withdrew out of me to hold me tenderly, I was grateful he shielded my face away from the doorway and towards his chest.

And then I heard the men complimenting us. I’m sure I blushed as David thanked them politely. He sounded almost proud, and he should have been – he gave them one hell of a show.

 

*When I came in from cleaning myself up, some female friends of ours were sitting and chatting with David as he cleaned and sanitized the room. They mentioned how they had tried the sybian in the next room, expressed they were sad they missed the show we obviously gave, and inquired if I had tried it. I was already overcome with shyness and not talking much, so didn’t do much more than shake my head. When I expressed that I had not but I was curious, David took my hand and steered me towards that room. 

Guess the night still wasn’t done….

Nov 222016
 

1. How often do you sext?

I don’t think that I have since my ex husband and I separated again. So apparently it’s not something I do often, and a bit dependent on who I am texting.
2. How many dick pics have you sent in the last 3 months? 6 months? Year?

I have not sent any (considering I don’t have the equipment), I have taken a few, however. Okay, maybe more than a few. Okay, maybe a lot of photos. 
3. Do you prefer to send pics of your boobs or your vajayjay (aka pussy, in case you didn’t know)?

Unquestionably boobs
4. Do you prefer to receive pics of boobs or a woman’s genitals?

I haven’t really received either, but I think I would prefer boobs.
5. Dick pics, do you really think they are sexy?

Some can be, overwhelmingly though they are just the same standard bad photos in general. I especially dislike the ones in the bathroom.
6. Do you send unsolicited pics of your genitals?

Heck no I do not, I barely sent pics when they were ordered by my ex husband when we had that power dynamic.
7. Are you more impressed and willing to get to know, meet-up with, date, or have sex with someone who presents a “good dick pic” or “nice tits” pic?

No, I’m not. However, I will compliment a well done photo.
Bonus: Just how sexy are you?

Right now I don’t feel the slightest bit sexy. It’s something I have the power to change but for some reason I’m very unmotivated. I normally love to work out in the winter. Right now all I want is food and sleep. Even sex and beatings are beginning to lose their appeal (which is shocking).

How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblog from your website!

Nov 092016
 

picsart_1378804467020picsart_1395987291398It’s been two weeks since you died. I have flown across country to lend support to a man you chose to end your days with, the man that is devastated by your absence.

Two days later I viewed your body with him and our father, and I think that’s the most hysterical I’ve been, the closest I said goodbye so far.

It was real,  you were gone.

But you will always exist in our hearts, in our memories. I cling to the sounds of your laughter.

Your writings will continue to be permanently here, next to mine, this crazy idea that two sisters decided to endeavor upon and make it work together. And your pictures, a particular source of joy and pride for you, I will continue to discover and be in awe of.

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. 

 

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.

 

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 202016
 

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

1IMG_2273

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

May 242016
 

To read about being brand new to this place and knowing no one, and the negotiations, click here.

He directed me to clean the play space that we entered in. I rather liked his authoritive tone. After I was done, I asked if there was anything further I could do.

“No.”

So I started taking off my boots and thigh high stockings. I pulled off my dress and then stopped with it halfway up. We had negotiated to what level clothes were off, but not how they were coming off. “Is it okay if I strip or did you want to do that?”

He smiled. “You’re fine, go ahead and strip.” So I did, and then awkwardly stood where I was. Do I approach him? Do I go directly to the table? These little details of what I should do with a new play partner drive me crazy. He approached me and laid his hands on my shoulders, looking down into my eyes. He rubbed my upper arms a little and then told me to get on the table.

It looked a lot smaller from a distance, I had to hop and use my arms to pull first one leg and then another up to get on. He chuckled a bit at my effort and my grumbling.

I had requested a blindfold to help my head space, and to be less aware about a place full of new people looking at me, and he kindly took his time to be careful around my hair as he secured it. In sharp contrast, he then grabbed my hair, yanked my head back, and lowered me from sitting to lying on the table.

I heard the electricity buzzing from the wand and thought how the sound intimidates me more than anything. Then the currents kissed my shoulder, my arm, back around to the upper swell of my breasts, to the other shoulder and arm. He was respectful of my ribs and stomach and simply ran his hand across to keep the connection before rousing the skin on my thighs, down my calves, even across the tops of my feet.

He very quickly revealed a love for zapping around my breasts and nipples. Even being blindfolded, I could tell that my response to the nipples being stimulated excited him.

The scene very much became incredibly nipple centered. He would pinch, twist (which I don’t care for much but he never did it to the extent that I yellowed), electrify, and run the Wartenberg wheel across them constantly.

The few times his hands were not on my breasts or nipples were when he would need both hands. At one point, he gripped my hair, pulled my head into his chest as he stood beside me, rolled my body to the side, and took the wheel to behind and hips. Another time, he climbed on top of the table, gripped both my upper thighs and forcibly spread them, gripped them tighter. He leaned forward and yanked at my hair, forced me to arch my back into his chest, his breath heavy and dominated my hearing while his other hand scratched its way up the inside of my thigh.

He continued staying between my legs, sat up and pulled me up by my arms before keeping me up sitting in front of him with a fistful of hair. My legs wrapped alongside his body for balance. He took the wheel to one nipple, which was already so painfully sensitive by that point. My arms reached and grabbed, my nails dug into his back as I tried to push myself into his chest for protection by leaving him no space to touch them.

We hadn’t negotiated my touching him, but at the moment as caught up as I was, I didn’t think to ask first and he didn’t make a move to stop me. As a matter of fact, he whispered at my downturned head, “oh yeah?” as if curious and surprised by my nipple sensitivity.

He yanked my head back enough to clear the space to take the tines of the wheel and flick back and forth at the tip of a nipple. I cried out, arched, and raised my hips, my legs and arms tightened around him.

He pulled me down to again lie on my back, his body over mine – not touching other than his hands, the violet wand, or the wheel. He gripped under my bottom and squeezed hard at the cheeks, I tensed and raised my hips, and my body began to ask for things. He pinched along the creases where the cheek meets thigh, his breath washing against my neck – almost intimately…but not quite, almost menacingly…but not quite.

He rested his weight on an elbow and still managed to grip my hair, the other hand going to a nipple.

I was moaning, uttering words of please.

“Do you want to cum?” he asked, and I did. Though a bit foggy in the sensations, I debated whether I wanted this strange man to touch me so publicly.

To an extent, I decided, and said “yes.”

His fingers moved over my lacy fabric and didn’t make any move to push it to the side or pull down. I was grateful, as I about to tell him over clothing. As fingertips brushed against the lace, I felt my own dampness. It almost felt as though the underwear was not there. Up and down my wet fabric slit, hair still gripped firmly so I was aware of his power, and I begged please.

“You may cum,” he whispered against my neck, and my brain processed that he misunderstood my please – this please meant please continue so that I can get there, but the fact that he thought I was asking permission to come was hot, so I tried for his sake.

The second please I was more aware of and his guess as to what it meant, so when he granted permission I came. It was odd to orgasm without penetration first. It was odd to orgasm in full sight of people (which blessedly I couldn’t see). It was odd to orgasm when I had no intention of even playing this night, and then certainly didn’t expect orgasm control – a favorite of mine but with a lover, never with just a pick up play partner.

He rolled me over, spanked my ass and thighs, took the wheel to the reddened areas, yanked me up to hands and knees, and played with my nipples from behind for so long that the “please” was issued from my lips. His fingers moved between my thighs, “I can come from my nipples,” I gasped and his fingers immediately went back to them. I orgasmed twice, the tension and release so strong that I was sitting up kneeling, leaning heavily against him and gripping his forearm.

I don’t think he had ever seen orgasms from nipples before, and I was wiped out, sweaty, overwhelmed from the tension created to achieve those orgasms. I begged us to stop as I was overly sensitive and he immediately put his arms around me, cradled me against him, his heart thudded in his chest, his hands soothed my hair down after pulling off the blindfold.

I gasped, shocked at how spectacular though totally unplanned the night turned out to be, tried to grasp and analyze why my body would orgasm under such circumstances, why I would consent to so much, why I moaned and screamed and orgasmed in front of an audience, and decided I didn’t want to over analyze – I wanted to just enjoy this moment with this man in my wonderful body that appreciated every second of it, and my silent brain thanked me.

That is, ultimately, one of the goals of attending these things.

Though the thought of behaving as I do with an orgasm, and so publicly, makes me blush in remembrance.
Wicked WednesdayThe topic for #WickedWednesday is “Audience”
Sexy Searching

I’m using Rebel’s topic of Breast Orgasm for my #SexySearching