Dec 152016
 

This actually does include a cowbell, but I’ll get to that part later…

We met at a Starbucks down the road from a dungeon that I had never been to. He had been contacting me to play with him for a couple of of months but with life being so busy and then my sister dying, I just stopped going. This was to be my first solo kink event after she died, and I almost canceled.

It didn’t help any that it was a stormy night and many parts of the roads were closed or traffic was horrendous through all the car accidents.

He walked in the door and immediately stated: “you look so vanilla.”

I was wearing a sweater that is appropriate for work, and jeans. I had asked previously if there was a dress code and he stated there wasn’t. “Well yes,” I was a bit taken about and briefly worried if I appeared too vanilla, “but I do vanilla well and we are meeting at a Starbucks.”

He agreed, ordered a drink, then we sat down and began negotiations. He had watched me play with others and also read my fetishes and notes on Fetlife, so I was already impressed with his coming to the negotiations informed. I had asked around about him, read his fetishes as well, but had never seen him play (hence why I asked around about him). I was told he was creative by others.

The scene last four hours…

He warned me that he brought a lot of things, and I parked behind him at the dungeon to help him carry in his bags. Once we entered, I saw some friends and we visited for a bit, then staked out a room.

By the time we finished the scene, it looked like a cross between a toy store and a torture chamber. Seriously, there are so many titles I could have picked…

“Violet Wands and toy swords”

“Floggers and paddles and toys, oh my!”

“Race tracks and nerf bats”

“Cruising a dungeon tied to a moving cart”

I undressed down to panties. He started with a posture collar that barely fit my small neck, and then with rope. Starting anything with rope is always a good move, as that’s my primary love. “I’ll give you a tour of the dungeon,” he told me as he tied me to a moving cart that he had modified by placing soft cushiony foam on and attaching tie off rings around all the sides. He tied my legs and hands to the cart, and then off we went where he dragged the rope attached to the cart all around the place, introducing me to people I had never met and showing me the different rooms. He would spin me around from time to time, and when we were in the entrance to the place talking to people the door opened to the outside and he shouted out, “good lord, woman, cover yourself,” and wrapped an arm around my breasts amid my laughter.

He was a very playful man, even more obvious once we went back to the room and I was bent over a bench while he opened up his play bag. My behind and backs of the legs were treated to what I consider standard sadistic implements like:

Paddles (okay if they thud), rods (nope, somewhat wimpy – “remember I hate sting,” I would remind him), a toy sword (“I dub thee…” he went on a serious voice at one point and gently touched both sides of my shoulders as he spoke).

Wooden spoons, spatulas, but then also a strange and large frosting knife (so cold when it wasn’t smacking me).

I was tied to a St Andrews cross, after he claimed I was far too short for it and he dragged steps against it so that I could stand up higher. A flogger rhythmically swiped at my back, thighs, and bottom, a relaxing moment that I appreciated. Hot wheels race tracks swung into those areas, and the plastic tracks stung and hurt so badly that I asked him to switch out somewhat quickly.

I was tied laying to a high platform and the violet wand came out, the noise always far more frightening than the actual feeling, and he began with larger implements that lit up beautifully but were hardly felt, down to the unseen pinpoints of pain from a pencil lead.

I wasn’t paying much attention to the doorway or what others were doing, being so involved experiencing different sensations, but I would still occasionally become aware of my surroundings a bit more, mostly because of noise. Often, we would have an audience in the doorway, but what really drew a crowd was the cowbell. I could tell because of the laughter.

Yep, this man had a cowbell.

When a good song came on, and I was bent over a bench, he handed me a hefty cowbell and told me to hold it at a certain angle. Then he sat himself down, took out drumsticks. and beat down upon my body in time to the music, every so often hitting that cowbell. The noise was…well, a cowbell. It rang alongside my ear and after awhile I began to like the sound as it signaled a hit reprieve from the drumsticks. The noise also drew the crowd, as earlier in the evening he was discussing how he had brought a cowbell, and people remarked they were curious how it would play out (see the pun?) in a scene. Once they heard the cowbell, their merriment in their laughter was apparent even over the sound of the cowbell.

I am glad I met up with him, as laughter is a bit fleeting for me right now.

*Last year, for the Christmas prompt set to the song, “Little Drummer Boy”, I shared a time my husband slapped my labia for the first time. This year, Exhibit Unadorned, is opening up the old prompts and I thought how much had changed in a year (a divorce, a new relationship, etc.). So I thought I had far more of an appropriate scene in playing with new partner for the first time that went with the prompt of drummer boy.

Sep 222016
 

Questions found from Insatiable Desire:

Day 12: Tell us about a humorous BDSM/kink experience you’ve had.  If you haven’t had one, talk about aspects of kink/BDSM you find funny.

The one that immediately came to mind is the one that I’ve already written about:

“And then the music in the room played Taylor Swift’s song, “Shake it off”. My eyes opened and I looked at the scene before me, the people around me. No one seemed to be smiling or concerned that such an upbeat song was playing in the background. So I tried to ignore it.

As my lover kneeled in front of me, I found myself bobbing my head to the refrain. I couldn’t help myself, it’s so catchy.”Shake It Off

Dancing, being a brat, and having my ex husband fight to remain serious (he couldn’t do it) was so much fun. Others laughed about it as well. And then the wrestling while tied up in rope and hanging upside down was also pretty humorous to me:

“Are you choking me?” he asked incredulous.

“No, it’s just a hug…around your neck,” I corrected him, and felt the last of my energy waning. He laughed.”

Sis A always has some fail sex stories that I chuckle at, for instance when she role played (something she doesn’t do) a school girl:

“He came over to take me in his arms and I made some coy remark about “Oh Mr. So-and-So! What are you doing!?” because it was his fantasy and he was breaking the rules.

It was bad… The only thing missing was the dramatic hand placed against my forehead and the fluttering of my lashes. He laughed. A lot. I laughed. Role playing just wasn’t something I was ever going to be good at, but laughter during sex I can handle.”A’s Acting

My favorite of A’s is the time her puppy decided to be playful right in the middle of sex (perhaps more so because I know her puppy):

“Suddenly I felt something grab my foot. I thought it was weird the blankets had gotten tangled up like that, shook it off, and didn’t think twice about it. A second or so and suddenly my foot was grabbed again, this time accompanied by the shortest of sounds I instantly recognize…

“Grr”. I shook my foot again. This time I didn’t dislodge the trouble making, furry leach. In fact, I seemed to only encourage it. ” Grrrrrrrrr”

Shake shake.

“GRRRRRRRRRR, ANGANGGAGANG”

“GRRRRR” (insert puppy death shake)

My dog had decided that we were playing monster under the blankets, and this was the best play session she’d had in ages. There was no hope he wouldn’t notice. She was loud, and vicious. I had made the absolute worst decision in trying to shake her off, it only encouraged her.

I’m famous for keeping my head cool in the face of mortification. Especially during sex. That entire last statement is a bald faced lie.

I started laughing nervously, he started laughing, my puppy got into attacking my foot more… “GRRRRRRRRRR!”

I couldn’t take it, with no other recourse available, I took my only option. “GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR, THUMP!”

I took my foot and nudged my dog right off the bed. The sudden cessation of growling followed by the loud thump, was too much. It was just too much. We laughed until tears came to our eyes.”Interrupted

Jul 152016
 

I had two people co-top me last night (*not actually last night). At first it began with a negotiation with a male, but after learning that I’m a wimp (by my own confession) and that I like sensations more than impact, he asked if I played with females. I don’t normally, but I have, so he asked another female if she wanted to join in since she was more sensation play. She agreed. I was nervous when I got the offer, but after the stressful morning, I thought why not and agreed.

She and I discussed some negotiation things – no genital touching (breasts were fine), no penetration, no marks other than what a bathing suit would cover, no blood or needle play; she asked about name calling (I admitted I had not experienced this and would let her know if I had an issue in the moment), and I warned that I can only handle lighter impact…unless I orgasm. That last part came into play because she asked when the last time I played was, and I was bemoaning the fact that I lost my crop.

“A crop? And you do light impact?”

“Well, I can take more from an orgasm.”

As the man came into the room with his toy bag, she threw in that piece of information, and he asked if I wanted a Hitachi. I said maybe and that I would think on it.

I got undressed down to underwear.

She sat on a piece of furniture near me and watched as he pushed my back against a leather padded structure and asked about face slapping and hair pulling. “No to face, yes to hair,” I stated. He announced he would start out touching me, so he did, lightly and unhurriedly tracing his way up and down my body, looking for reactions. He commented to the female that my breasts felt amazing and that she needed to feel them. She stated she would in a minute, that she was watching.

He spun me around and told me to spread my legs, gripped my hair tightly in his fingers. He began to talk dirty to me, his mouth close to my ear, his words touched me before his hands.

He started with fingertips washing against my back side, and then light slapping of my ass. “She has a beautiful ass, you should smack it,” he suggested to the female and she did. I felt her nails softly scratch my skin across the skin she smacked.

It was a long scene, so I’ll skip around a bit…

A female’s soft mouth on my nipple, her tongue teasing the hardened tip, and seeing the way her hair swayed to the side, was unusual to me but it was nice. Her gracious lips would occasionally graze at my sensitive breasts throughout the scene, but that first time I viewed her bending over while I stood against the furniture stands out so vividly.

His vicious hands in my hair on either side were meant to hurt, and they did, keeping me centered and aware that he was in charge.  The Wartenberg Wheel’s tines kept my brain focused on my skin by offering the prickly sensations along it, even across my nipples.

She held my arms back and I melted against her softness in such a sharp contrast to the stinging impact of him slapping my inner thighs in front of me. I thought it was incredibly hot to be in between the two of them, thought of how lucky to experience such.

She would check in on me every so often – a calm reassurance.

I was ordered up on a table and blushed as it was discussed how eager I appeared. Fortunately for me, while I could feel the color in my cheeks, I don’t believe that they could see it.

His electrical wand came out and a large light bulb caressed and zapped its way down my body. The woman stepped away for a few moments – disliking electrical play.

Next my body was slapped, more lightly towards the breasts and rougher on the thighs. I am such a wimp at stinging impact but I hoped that I wasn’t disappointing them – I didn’t color or try to stop it, my body was sufficiently warmed up and I became conscious of just breathing and moaned through the hands reddening my skin.

And then my vulva was slapped – tentatively at first, a test of impact, and I groaned in a way that must’ve been encouraging. He began a rhythm and my noises clued in my obvious enjoyment…and perhaps just as obvious building of an orgasm as he stopped right before I could. I whined and he seemed very pleased with the denial, laughed and made a comment that wasn’t at all sympathetic.

He grabbed a flexible bamboo rod and told her of his plan to hit my thighs to a rhythm and that in between each hit, she would slap at my lips.

After he discussed the plan for all of a few seconds, he asked: “are you ready?”

“I’m ready,” she said after a moment, but I know the words were meant for me, to see if I would protest, if I was okay. I didn’t respond during that pause nor did I protest. I was anxious but far more curious.

“Good, I don’t care if she’s ready, I only care if you are. Little sluts are always ready.” For some reason we all laughed and continued laughing at the beat they played upon my body; the humor in the scene was refreshing. It wasn’t the first time I was called a slut in this scene, but it was the first scene that I had ever had name calling done and I still felt a bit odd about it – neither positive nor negative, rather indifferent.

*This scene has six more installments, as there’s a lot of firsts to discuss and dissect. The next one is here. And then to discover why I could achieve an orgasm without penetration, click here to read about earlier in the day.

**To hear the two people who co topped discuss (briefly) the negotiation (where I heard it was also their first time co-topping), click here and go from 37:20-38 minutes, and 40:20-40:30 (the whole part of safe words is a great thing to just listen to).

***To hear a later discussion of how the female views me as hetero-flexible (I would say she’s fairly accurate), click here and to go 34 minutes.

Jun 092016
 

Let me introduce a new character in my life: The Wanderer.

*And yes, I realize I overthink things far too much, as you’ll read before I met him. That’s why I seek BDSM – for the silent mind.

So I approached someone that I had only met briefly years ago at a conference, to ask if he wanted to meet up and if he wanted to do some rope. We had struck up a friendship of sorts, knew each other liked kink, so I wasn’t taking a risk. I knew he was a bit rusty with rope – he lamented that fact, and I wanted a rope partner.

I missed rope after my husband.

We had kept in contact through various online means, but still nothing of a personal nor intimate nature to warrant a bold request for a scene. I can be a bit forward at times, and I respected this man a great deal.

So I was surprisingly delighted when he said yes. He traveled quite a bit and was in town for a few days, so we scheduled to meet. “I didn’t bring anything with me,” he told me, “I didn’t want to make any assumptions.”

“Want stuff? I’m game.”

“I’ll leave it to you to pack stuff. We’ll start vanilla and see where it goes. Fair?”

I didn’t think so at all. “You’re a terrible negotiator.” Is is smart to poke the sadist before even meeting him? Although I always speak my mind. “I’ll pull out things like Mary Poppins pulls out of her magical bag, and you’ll look at me like I’m crazy.” Talk about assuming – I’d pack a bag full of things on assumptions, and he wanted me to assume without him doing so?!

“Okay, Mary Poppins, pack some rope and toys. Better?”

“Yes,” I agreed gratefully, but the toys seemed a bit vague. What kind of toys…sex or implements? But he didn’t say implements, he said toys and when I think of toys I think of sex toys.

A friend suggested, when I lamented on my big, HUGE decision, that: “bring two of each kind.” Two implements, two sex toys. I couldn’t lose that way, could I?

That was great advice: I could easily bring two of each – I already had nipple clamps and a wartenburg wheel in my rope bag – that counted as implements, right? Or did the nipple clamps count as a sex toy? Did nipple play count as sexual? We hadn’t even really negotiated what kind of touching – and nipples were pretty personal – was I being too presumptuous with the clamps? If that was the case, then hiding the other sex toys until given the go-ahead like a wand or a vibrator was way over the top!

I froze. I would just bring rope, I couldn’t handle the vagueness of the toys order. But I already didn’t want to disappoint this man for some reason.

I kept the items in my rope bag – there was also a blindfold in there. My little wand that was always kept in the bag had dead batteries – which was fine – because… presumptuous.

When we met, I was half afraid I wouldn’t recognize him from years ago. Luckily, we both seemed to recognize each other  and hugged. I went up to his hotel room just to drop off my bag and then we went out to eat dinner…like two vanilla adults.

I do the vanilla adult act well to the casual observer.

The conversation was comfortable and typical in the getting to know you fashion. The food was excellent.

When we went back to the hotel room, he sat in a chair and I laid on the bed. We just talked, he seemed in no hurry, and it’s bad manner to show how impatient I am to someone I don’t know well. Time was getting shorter until I had to leave, however, so I bounced on the bed and asked if he wanted to do rope.

It took us a bit to warm to each other – having not even come close to touching except for the hello hug – and there I was in nothing but panties (knickers for you UK people, I know how you feel about panties), but we connected amazingly well and my body began to feel that pull to have his hands further on me.

Sometimes I feel like my body is the stronger force than my brain…

…and I think my body told his body what I wanted.

Apr 022016
 

For my A-Z Challenge, I’m going to get into the break up over my husband and myself. This one definitely represents the B for “b-b-but

*Written over two months ago, allowed to be posted unedited

My husband tied someone at an event that he found attractive. This attraction is mutual (and why wouldn’t it be, he’s hot as hell). He has seen/met her at this one event, so our conversation the next morning began as it always does – just our recounting our night spent apart – for me, it was going to a club set up as a fetish event for vanillas to meet kinky people, see some cool stuff, or just go to a club and have a drink and dance. It was uneventful as far as my participation or storytelling purposes – I sat and visited with friends.

His night was filled with rope and women – one woman in particular he described with excitement and more detail (it’s his second time this week, at another rope thing he met another woman who caught his interest). The way he began the story, I knew that there was more than just his recounting the events and conversations of the night. I listened respectfully, and offered the minimum amount of commentary to encourage him to continue.

He kept going on about how she confessed to being attracted to him, found him desirable, asked about his wedding ring. And here we go:

“So what are my boundaries?”

“Why did you go on this entire conversation and take the long about way of what you wanted to discuss?” He tried to talk. “Why didn’t you just say what you wanted?” He tried to talk. “You know your boundaries, why are we going through this conversation?” He tried to talk.

I continued about ten minutes with rapid firing questioning in this manner, expressing my annoyance of how he approached the conversation with me.

“I just wanted to tell you about my night,” he explained quickly when I paused long enough for him to do so.

“No you didn’t, you want to be with someone else, that’s what you wanted to say. I don’t know why you couldn’t just come right out and say it.”

“Why are you like this? This isn’t like you. It’s like…” long pause “…me.”

I laughed. “Yep. Sucks doesn’t it?”

He chuckled over the distance. “Is that why you are you like this? Are you truly annoyed at me?”

“I’m not annoyed at all. I’m quite happy for you, for how your night turned out. She sounds cool. I one-hundred percent was like that so you knew my end of trying to tell a story and finishing it with exciting possibilities.” I was beaming into the phone, not that he could see, but I was pleased as punch with myself – I think I carried off his tone of years’ past beautifully.

Despite my telling him since I met him that it wasn’t a term of endearment, his voice softened as he said, “you little shit.”

“So, tell me what you want to pursue with her? Have you had any sort of talk with her to see if it’s mutual?”

Apparently, he had. They were attracted to each other, wanted to do rope things together on a consistent basis, and see where the attraction takes them.

I knew he was looking for full permission to pursue whatever he wanted; I knew he was anticipating my being a pain in the ass to give him more of the same treatment he’s given me – because I warned him I would. Why would I do this, when I don’t have the insecurity issues that he does? When I have explored new potentials, I am often frustrated by the constant boundaries that are placed on me, the slow paces, the back and forth on compromises – I have lost opportunities or had to walk away after they started because of the newness of him dealing with his emotions (the potential people were aware of this complication beforehand). I was still, just this same week, dealing with that from him.

But now there’s this new shiny potential in a woman that he feels a connection to, so his memory of the boundaries he gave me earlier in the week were forgotten.

I told him I wanted him to get to know this person a bit more before he seriously pursued more relationship aspects. Rope and rope events were fine: public places, dinner or drinks around rope events only – no dating quite yet.

“You’re a mouth whore, so I’ll take that into consideration and let you kiss. But making out only – and not my making out.” He knew that meant strictly kissing, I knew he would find that a flexible boundary despite his knowledge. “So what does that include to you?”

“Kissing, wandering hands – ”

I laughed as I interrupted him. “No wandering hands. No second base.”

He complained. “I touch her breasts to tie her,” he reasoned with me.

“In a totally different manner,” I countered. He couldn’t argue that, though he complained a bit more.

“Why are you doing this? Are you serious about these boundaries, these concerns, or are you doing this because I do this?”

I was honest. “Both. You don’t know her, you don’t know if she’ll respect our relationship or push for exclusivity. You don’t know if she’s crazy, or has issues. You met her one night and just want to jump right in. I get it, but pursue this as if you were single and dating – you would go slower then. All my potential partners I’ve known for awhile, hell you’ve even met them. Patience.” He grumbled a bit more. “And then once you know her, we talk a bit more (now that was his words I’ve heard) and see from there.”

He was frustrated, he didn’t like those perimeters and felt like he should be at the same point I was at – a lover as long as they were tested. I pointed out the circumstances that led to me having a lover – a long time of knowing, a lot of communication, slow steps and compromises, open communication between everyone involved. He didn’t know her beyond a few hours and I didn’t feel that I was being unfair.

He felt like I was doing it to spite him because of how challenging he’s made it for me to pursue partners. I told him a relationship that was spiteful was doomed to fail, and that while I wanted him to know the frustrations he made me feel so that we could both learn from it and he could truly understand where I was coming from, I wasn’t holding him back – simply asking him to know his potential partner a bit more.

He ended with saying that he understood his boundaries and respected them, that while he wanted more, they wouldn’t be a problem with upholding.

But now there’s this new shiny potential in a woman, so he called me several hours later to renegotiate.

 Posted by at 6:28 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 182015
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did he not use that finger in my ass?

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

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

He immediately knew something was wrong, asked as much.

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

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

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

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

And then I worried some more.

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

 Posted by at 9:20 am
Dec 122015
 

Santa Baby,

I’ve been a perfect angel this year. I think it’s time to start checking on the naughty list and give me a lover, extra goodies for you if he’s wrapped tightly and helpless on my floor when I see him, and he has a look to him that indicates the minute I unwrap him, he will bind me next. Based on my previous lovers, here’s a list of things you need find in him:

I like words most of all.

I like hints of what’s to come: how excited a partner is beforehand, how he is preparing, a suggestion of how I will be uncomfortable or enjoy it or both.

I like reassurance I am desired, that he finds pleasure in me, that I taste delicious, that I feel good, that he likes the way I smell, subtly sniffs his own fingers in remembrance of my passion…that I did good, that I am skilled.

I like being told what to do and how to do it, that I am helpless, powerless, that I have no control.

I like to know what he found pleasant about me or the scene, what was/is hot. I want to know what he felt or was thinking. I write about scenes or sex after the fact, having any sort of specific feedback is not only rare, it’s cherished by me because I will get to see his perspective.

I like to be pushed out of comfort zones but trusting that hard limits are respected.

I like when a partner can understand me, know when a groan is frustration or pain or pleasure, know that no doesn’t mean no – stop, know that I blush easily at certain things and what I will tolerate.

I like pleasure; I like orgasm control whether it’s a push for multiples beyond my pleas to stop or a teasing denial or a command to not climax despite wanting to.

I like pain, but only as an assistant to pleasure – a build up of mind games, a sensitive body, a sharpness at the height of orgasm.

Santa, you know who’s being naughty and nice; I’m trusting you to stuff my stocking just the way I like it.

Based on the song Santa Baby for Exhibit Unadorned’s Christmas Erotica Prompts.

 Posted by at 10:12 am
Sep 102015
 

For some reason, I really do escape a lot of the messages that other people receive on social sites. I am not often approached with anything inappropriate.

So unexpectedly, I received a very long story of what someone wants to do to me, with no introductions other than a physical description of how he (a random man/stranger) looks, his cock size and its ability. While I also like to write erotica, his need to write erotica as a means of introduction was not appropriate nor appreciated. And it was probably cut and pasted to a number of females, as I doubt I inspired so much inspiration of an entire story. Because I’m a bit OCD about reading things, I read the entirety, but will spare any other reader to get to the part that I just couldn’t help but chuckle over:

After the foreplay session, I would like to enter you in your favorite position. Then I move very slowly and enjoy the feeling of entry. Next, I pull back and give you nine short strokes than one slow, long stroke. Then eight short strokes, followed by two slow long strokes. Then seven short strokes and three slow, long strokes, followed by six short strokes and four slow, long strokes. I repeat this pattern all the way to one short stroke to nine slow long strokes. Then I reverse the pattern working backwards up the pattern of nine short to nine long to nine long then nine short.

I am a male so I will loose some drive after climax, but I would like to keep you reaching your climax, I will lightly (or your desired pressure) stroke your clitoris with my fingers; knead your buttocks like bread dough until reenergized. Then I will start all over again

[jwplayer mediaid=”4194″]

Really, this video cracked me up. Some of the lyrics are too perfect!

Let’s explore; he is going to give me (in strokes):

9 short, 1 long = 10

8 short, 2 long = 10

7 short, 3 long = 10

6 short, 4 long = 10

….and so on, and then reverse the pattern.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the number 10, from The Count, who apparently is so excited to count to ten that he can easily keep track while having sex – back and forth with these exciting numbers that add to ten, until he climaxes from the pure joy of counting. When reading the paragraph, all I could hear is The Count’s voice with his laugh after each number.

Now, he’s considerate – he’ll apparently please me until he’s ready to start counting all over again (as a side note he’s wrong: stroking my clitoris with fingers wouldn’t please me at this point in the game).

Honestly, I’m a bit in awe of him, because I’m too busy enjoying sex most of the time to be able to do even the simplest of addition problems; so he’s clearly a better lover than I am.

I understand that sometimes we don’t know how to approach people, sometimes we lack common sense and manners, but a simple “hello, I’m ______, I think we may have some common interests such as _________ and would be interested in meeting up/chatting/writing back and forth to explore them further” would be a tad more successful as a means of introduction.

*Also, I believe that any mathematical problems of this nature become redundant and take away the sexy factor from the erotica – just a piece of advice for any writers out there who like math problems (but counting as a punishment or anticipation is hot, so go that route); but that’s just my opinion.

 Posted by at 5:33 am
Jun 302015
 

The kink of the week this time is chains. With M going on vacation, she asked if I wanted it. Well I’ve never used chains. The first thing to pop into my head was Fleetwood Mac. I grew up with my parents listening to them. I quickly pondered if I could argue a case for the band being a fetish, but figured I should give a more serious effort to staying true to the prompt.

Clearly the easiest way for me to handle the topic would be a photo. Luckily for me, I have plenty of kinky friends I could call on to borrow some chains from for the photo.

The problem came from, being the queen of fail, I got sick. With the hip flaring up, and the cornucopia of meds I was on for being sick, a sexy photo shoot was a bit out of my reach.

Luckily, my chemical cocktail lead to some creativity. I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned this, but I happen to have some AMAZING artistic skills. *giggle*. If I couldn’t TAKE the picture, then maybe I could MAKE the picture. The fruits of my painstaking labor are featured below.

Bust size may be a slight exaggeration...

Bust size may be a slight exaggeration…

All jokes aside, chains is something I’ve been curious about for awhile. To me, the binds seem more intense. The weight of the chain playing a factor in the mindset during the scene has intrigued me. I’m also fascinated by the fact that I see many people use chains for temperature play, but curiously, always for COLD. I’m interested to see how they would be for hot temperature play simply because I’ve really never seen it.

There aren’t many big ticket items left on my sex bucket list. Now there’s small peripheral things, like chains, left. This prompt has brought that subject back into the forefront of my curiosity, and I will certainly keep you posted on what shenanigans I get into with some lovely chains.

While this wasn’t the most informative post on the wonders of chains in kink, (although I hope the drawing made it worth the read), click below to find some bloggers who definitely have a better grasp on them.
Kink of the Week