Mar 172017
 

Trapped like a once beautiful bird in a cage that since wilted. Once I viewed you so shiny, like a toy or jewel worthy of my attention, but your glittery gold has rusted and stained. In a full forest, you’re obscured. Quietude instead demanding for my fingertips to stroke and thrum the golden streaked body.

You were once Spring with sweet blossoms perfumed, once exposed naked in the heat, Fall with the vibrancy of a last desperate attempt at life, and now are barren of gifted illusions and fool’s paradise; fruitless. You leave me cold. Indifferent.

What happened to you?

Passionless.

Surely it wasn’t I, an exception of enchantment passing seasons of beauty? Soft sustenance and opalescence that we procreated?

You don’t thirst for permanence that is almost forgotten, buried deeply, by me, do you?

How sad, tragic, pathetic, worthless is that? How could you hang just to drop from the weight?

You should not be depleted as such. Empty. You seem to have gone down in flames whereas the heat and ashes have absolved me like a phoenix flying the coop. You were a torch, a spark, glowing vibrant with life now ebbed, dull, chilled, monotonous.

Where are you now?

I care not to search; I lost you and there is nothing to lead me back.

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

Aug 292016
 

Masturbation Monday Week 104I was going to say something about this picture.

I was going to put myself in the story; as the author and with my active and vivid imagination, use the first person I can experience this, grow excited, tighten clench. I want to be this female tied, in this scene, exposed, vulnerable waiting. Wet, wanton, wanting him to come closer. To cum.

I love when a man finds his release. Not on a face, and I don’t even like the visual on someone else. Not even on her body, which is straining, which mine would be as well, impatient. I would want him in my mouth – that gorgeous cock – the only  thing that he is willing to share of himself – and even then he’s not sharing. He’s too far away from me, from her, stroking it, enjoying his hardness sliding against his palm, his fingers able to feel that ridges that both of us are denied in this scenario. But we are both staring at his action, at his blatant desire at the scenario that he has created, even if we wanted to – we can’t tear our eyes away from the sight of his cock contrasted in the black around him – a spotlight for our focus, for our show, for the preview.

Oh yes, I want to be in this scene. My legs test the boundaries on the rope, fucking amazing rope – I mean this scene was designed for me. It digs into my wrists and ankles, my ankles sore because I see her move and I would as well, to try to relieve some of the tension between my legs, to see if I can escape, to open myself wider in an unspoken invitation.

Yes, I would want to taste him, but ultimately I would want him to take advantage of the predicament of the bondage, my legs are spread for him, for him to push the head past my drenched entrance and slide the hardened length until he hit the wall at the back, fully claiming and filling every part of me. I would clench down upon him as he pulled out a bit, protesting the action, moaning as he sunk back in.

I even like that he is faceless. He could be anyone – a dream or reality. In some ways, I’m objectifying him, it matters not who he is. It matters what he does to me, to her, to us. The stage matters. His cock matters: it is the instrument of teasing foreplay, it is the promise, the temptation, the fulfillment, the reason legs are spread and eyes are riveted.

So yes, when I first clicked on Masturbation Monday, and my body immediately reacted like I was punched in the gut and my fingers wanted to drift towards pleasure, I was going to tell a whole story. Instead I ran out of time and decided to just get to the main idea behind the reaction.Masturbation Monday badge - small

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.

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 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.

Mar 232016
 

A search term the past month:

Search Views
i want throat fucked tied

Sexy Searching

 

 

Writing fiction ideas of what would be hot, and since I kept all drafts, I thought I would share it here:

My notes:

He lowered me to my knees and wrists kept together, pulled me down hands and knees, only hands gripped his erection.
Pulled up and my fingers missed the texture of his skin and my mouth watered to taste it.
Down with touch, Up
Down further, a hand guidance to mouth, head and a pulling up and laying on back.

First person denial:

 He pulled me down to hands and knees, wrists still tied together now touched the floor. I felt the edge of his pant alongside my pinky. Was I in between his legs, was he sitting so close to my face, was he hard? I was so depraved, craved so desperately to know. My hands wanted to feel the texture of his skin, my mouth watered from a tongue that wanted to taste and lips that wanted to wrap around a desire I hoped that he shared.

His hand gripped the back of my head and he guided me down. Yes, I thought far too joyously, perhaps he was granting me permission to have him inside my mouth, to finally feel him. Far too quickly, I was brought up again, away from the focus of my fixation and pulled even further back, being rotated onto my back. I almost whined from the frustration, my mouth empty and just as wanton as my cunt.

 

Because I hate denial…to an extent, and needed to change it from first person point of view – third person limited (and something I fell in love with):

He untied the ropes above her, slowly rotated her still tied wrists down, her shoulders feeling the ache from being up for so long. His foot gently nudged the back of her knee, and she kneeled down on the floor. He pulled the rope down, guided her wrists also to the floor. Would he go behind of her in this position of hands and knees and finally have sex with her? He was obviously in front of her by the way the rope pulled, probably on the ground in front of her. Was she in between his legs, was he sitting close to her face, was he hard? She felt so depraved, craved so desperately to know firsthand. Her hands wanted to feel the unknown texture of his erection, her mouth watered from a tongue that wanted to taste and lips that wanted to wrap around a desire she hoped that he shared.

He either knew her really well or he wanted the same thing. He pulled the rope and guided her hands to the fabric of his pants, slowly slid them lightly over a hard bulge and moved them as unhurriedly away and back onto the floor. She groaned in frustration. He waited a moment, and then again pulled the rope towards his lap. Her fingers stretched out to welcome touch, and this time she felt the smooth skin of the head, the rope slackened a bit and her hands slid along his stiff shaft, relishing the feel of him in her hands.

He pulled at the rope and she cried out in frustration. She had no idea why he would deny himself the touch…she so badly wanted to touch him! He roughly pulled her hands to the floor, almost as punishment for her verbal outcry, and his hand forcefully gripped the back of her hair. He pulled her head up and she wished she could see his face, see what he was thinking or feeling.

But once again, the unknown was so deliciously hot.

After a moment, he guided her head towards him and down, her arms rotating to accommodate the movement, her ass raised up in the air a bit with the position and the cool air brushed on her sensitive exposed bits. Yes, she thought joyously, perhaps he was granting permission to have him inside her greedy mouth, to finally taste him. She had dreamed of this for years, never knew why they hadn’t yet. She opened her mouth in anticipation, her lips felt the velvet texture of his tip, her tongue lapped the small amount it could, further exploring the rounded top, the center that just a teasing taste of his desire. It was intoxicating to her. Unhurriedly, he pushed her farther down and her mouth welcomed the slow invasion of his arousal, the tongue laid flat against the hardened shaft and felt the ridges as it slowly pushed further inside. Her lips wrapped around him tightly when he stopped moving her down, he was gently at the back of her throat but not uncomfortably so. He held her there for a moment and her tongue delighted in dancing up and down, she sucked softly and he pulsed a bit against her tongue. Just as slowly, he pulled her up, her lips and suction rebelling at letting go completely but the tension of his fingers wrapped around her hair was a more dominating sensation.

Far too quickly, she was brought up again, away from the focus of her fixation and pulled even further back, being rotated onto her back. She almost whined from the frustration, her mouth empty and just as wanton as her cunt.

Wicked Wednesday

 Posted by at 8:57 am
Dec 302015
 
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Sexy Searching Story made possible thanks to the inspiration of the search terms, click on the badge to see what else search terms inspire.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Posted by at 10:04 am
Dec 142015
 

Masturbation Monday Week 67

 

I stroke myself, slowly, feeling my shaft extend, harden, grow. I imagine how last Christmas your mouth enveloped my cock, lips parting and tongue exposed as you kneeled there. I fed you my excitement, inch by slow inch, into your hungry mouth. I thought it was a present at the time, this activity that you didn’t do very frequently, offering it so willingly on Christmas night.

Later, I would know how wet you were, how you were dripping in that moment. I grip my cock harder, almost too tightly, my hand going from base to head in a rhythm that makes me feel my balls tighten. My other hand slips down to caress them, to feel the change in sensation. I imagine how your greedy mouth closed down upon me, your tongue caressing the tip, delving and exploring the underside of my head, applying pressure as your lips slide down my shaft where my hand is now fully engaged. As my hand comes back up, I imagine it’s the back of your throat and I become almost painfully hard in my excitement.

I couldn’t believe you had let me go that far back at the time, now I realize the desperation that created that gift. You wanted me to give my pleasure in your mouth, to grow soft and grateful. I fell in love with you in that moment.

My hands become more aggressive on myself, I feel the buildup. Is it terrible that there are moments where I still crave that moment with you? Such a fool, that’s why I keep my distance.

As I feel myself pulsing and the peak of release, I see your face, feel you gag at the tip of my head. As my white cum shoots out and away from my body, I think of how you were oozing some other man’s cum from between your legs, how that is why you needed me to find my release in your mouth, because you were worried about what I would discover in your body.

*Written for Masturbation Monday and Christmas Erotica Prompt to the song, Last Christmas (Wham), a song of overcoming betrayal.

 Posted by at 6:24 am
Dec 132015
 

The song that inspired this writing, from Exhibit Unadorned’s Christmas Erotica Prompt, song In the Bleak Midwinter. (I listened to it the entire time I wrote this piece.) [jwplayer mediaid=”4872″]

She traversed a bleak landscape of white and frost towards a bleak broken down church. Still, huddled though she was, she paused for a moment and looked, through the white flakes coming from the heaven towards earth, at the grandeur of a part of the side that still stood, the arched though vacant concrete window frames that still stood proudly. She tried to imagine it full of people and hope, color and life.

http://sometimes-interesting.com/2013/06/16/city-united-methodist-church-of-gary-indiana/

She sought solace in its walls, comfort in its will to stand tall still.

And then she saw his figure in the frame of a window, gripped her clothing tighter about her, and proceeded to cautiously make her way amid the now frail blocks of concrete that had fallen in years past.

Before she could utter a word, he had gripped her shoulder, spun her around, and moved his arm around her neck, whispering in her ear how not even the walls of so sacred a place would hear her scream. Though the snow drifted in less places where they stood, it still fluttered like her heart and clung to her cheeks like tears.

She nodded her assent and he released her, circled around and she felt herself not worthy of this place where angels gathered and people were blessed, could not look upon the gray walls covered with bits of moss, vines, and earth that reached up still so high. She flung her view downcast. He stripped her, slowly, first shifting her hood away and taking hold of her chin with a soft order to look at him. When she met his steady gaze, she felt reassured and comforted. He commanded she look around and take a deep breath of what would become his reign over her in this most holy of places. He leaned forward and kissed both of her cold cheeks softly with his warm lips while slower still unraveling the scarf from her neck.

When he moved away to unhurriedly slip her jacket and the rest of her clothing from her body, the very air thronged with tension and passion; and compelled her exposed skin to be even more aware of his warmth in the midst of this once full concrete marvel. The frost bit into her skin and awakened it and she counted the grooves in those arched windows, starting at the top of the pointed frame and every time her eyes drifted down to another groove she felt her body calming, felt her forehead relaxing and her jaw unclenching, felt her shoulders sliding down and her back to straighten proudly, felt her chest rise and fall with each inhalation and exhalation, her stomach a slight wave from welcoming the breaths, her hips and bottom capable of supporting her with legs and feet on a solid foundation.

For though the walls crumbled throughout the years, the foundation at this very core was solid and secure.

His legs connected with the back of her knees and she knelt as if in prayer, worshiped the cold floor beneath with a beloved kiss, connected with the cold hardness like iron and pure white flakes that melted beneath her loving lips. He gripped her hair and pulled her head up, and she felt suddenly that she was worthy, that she had every right to be right here in this moment, that she could fill this sacred space with love and sustain this man at its center.

*Also with a focus on Brutalism/Concrete for Kink of the Week.

 Posted by at 8:16 am