Nov 122017
 

It was a temptation to push and pull the fragile silken threads from off of her shoulders and expose the breasts which distended the fabric with promise. Her yielding yet unhurriedly undressing made me want to hurt her so as to create some reaction towards me, as I was reacting to her. My gaze was ravenous, admiring, worshiping; she felt it try to penetrate past her reserve, felt how attentive I was to every gesture or movement. She met my gaze completely unashamedly and I did not back down from the intensity, did not pretend how lustful I desired her.

Still, she moved passively, and the more I wanted to behave violently towards her. She was removing clothing with confident deliberateness as if it was a ritual that could not be changed. She looked unapologetic at me and smiled, flashed small even teeth between full lips, and the glimpse of skin on bared shoulders when the silk parted caught the light and held it like the flesh was also made of satin. She held the parted pieces as if unintentionally at her waist, the folds teasingly caught on her stiffened nipples. She continued to look at me as her hand moved away to beckon me closer, the cascading silk revealing a soft satin skin and I needed no further encouragement now that she showed me the smallest interest.

She had lace bra and matching panties with garters, and I’m sure that the creation of lingerie was divine but I was beyond observing heaven; the waiting had been hell and I wanted the heated passion that refused to be tampered down. I rushed to hold my body against hers, my slanted mouth crashed down upon those soft inviting lips so hard I might have tasted blood, pressed her hard into the mattress, pinned her down with hips while my hands were everywhere at once and murmured a false apology as fingers grabbed her stockinged thigh and gripped the gossamer threads to render them apart. Fingertips pressed against warm skin, pushed the thigh to bend to my will and allow my further between her legs, and traveled down the length to the delicate arch of her foot, dragging the destroyed fabric with it.

It made an excellent gag to twist and shove between her tempting lips, tying it along the side of her head. I was unsure if those lips curved into a smile at the reactionary way I was handling her, imagined it if nothing else in my fervor to possess every inch of skin. A knife scratched up the length of leg to travel the cold steel along the side of her hip, the lace parted like soft butter and I gripped it to shove over, exposing the pink glistening of her sex. I quite liked the other half of her leg still the memento of damnable temptation that I was removing to suit my own desires.

More carefully, I slid the blade between the hollow valley of her breasts slowly and watched for her to dare deny this pleasure. Her eyes were half mast as if she too were mesmerized at being bared in such a way, so yanked upwards with such force that the fabric held for just the slightest to also arch her back up towards me before splitting with the force and yielding her softness back onto the mattress and the vision of breasts and pinpointed nipples to my gaze.

My hands would be everywhere at once, so would my mouth, until her cries and pleas beckoned towards heaven.

Apr 122017
 

“Play hard to get, remain silent, scared, and dramatically emotional,” Joy repeated to herself, closing the big red book of Fairy Tales upon her perch of the toadstool. She nodded to herself for extra measure, felt the breeze stir the fringes of her tutu skirt, rubbed her toes together for comfort, and laid the book beside her. She arched into the sunlight, welcomed the warming rays upon her bare arms and face, and closed her eyes, trying to remember the rest of what she’d learned about non humans trying to get humans to love them.

She’d like Beast’s methods best, but he was a male. She looked down at her breasts and giggled, nope…she just didn’t possess enough fur to carry it off and take the woman like he did. Besides, she had her sights set on a man. Of course, maybe men liked that sort, but her extensive research did not indicate that. She had read what men really liked.

He was long, but then again they all looked a bit long when one was tiny. He had the most beautiful garden, and seemed kind. She loved how what he was focused on reflected so beautifully on the lenses of his glasses. She hoped to be reflected there one day, with his luscious lips smiling at her in love.

She stood up, squared her shoulders, stretched her wings and let those embrace the breeze and sun before flitted to the nearby ground. She squinted her eyes and held her breath after casting, realized that wasn’t the most flattering, and forced herself to relax as all the fairies seemed to. Eloquence, grace, she repeated. A few seconds went by: a deep breath and her eyes opened to the grass so far below her she could barely distinguish the toadstool. She worried for the briefest of moments if she made herself too long, but worrying just wasn’t in her nature, so she shrugged and off she headed towards the man’s yard.

Not that Joy headed far, she simply stepped a few times, in awe of heavy she seemed against the earth, her feet slightly sinking in damp dirt, and reached for over the short gate to his gorgeous garden. A quick twist of the lock, a slight push of the creaky contraption, and she entered the path, immediately being surrounded by the lovely fragrance of roses and flowers. This was by far her favorite season, made her think of sex amid all the perfumed sweetness.

This year she was going to attempt a different type of sex, her family always did mention just how her curiosity got the better of her. It was such fun discovering new things. As she walked past the blooms, before she was already visible in the garden, she could already envision once he saw her he would stand up and gaze at her beauty. She would pretend to just notice him and turn back towards the bushes and climbing vines as if to seek shelter, but he would take her hand and guide into the sunshine in the center of his yard. She would smile coyly, a move she had been practicing, and would shyly kneel before him.

Men, she read, loved blow jobs, a sex called oral, and so he would be surprised when she kneeled in front of him but wouldn’t stop her. She would reach for his pants and pull out his penis. According to her reasearch, this was where individual preference mattered, so she would purse her lips and start blowing softly before she increased the intensity to hard blowing. She liked the breeze upon her wings, so she supposed a human male’s penis might appreciate the air she created across. Sucking she couldn’t imagine would create the same air stream, but supposedly that was important too, so she would suck in great lungful of air and would look up with him with eyes that looked like puppies and he would smile his appreciation at her gift, falling in love with her.

The tricky part was, according to the fairy tales, they would be married immediately but she didn’t want that part, only the falling in love and sex part; so she would have to run away once he proposed. But she would blow him a kiss behind her shoulder and wink to let him know there were no hard feelings, and try not to giggle (as was her nature) until she was once again in her natural form. (The tales also shared she would die a painful death if she didn’t succeed, but of course she would, she always did.)

Joy couldn’t wait to see the look on his face as she gave him what all men wanted so much they fell in love. She quickened her steps.
Wicked Wednesday

*Wicked Wednesday is on nature this week. Click to see what inspires others.

Jan 222017
 

I am like Pavlov’s dog with music selections.

Pavlov came across classical conditioning unintentionally…Whilst measuring the salivation rates of dogs, he found that they would produce saliva when they heard or smelt food in anticipation of feeding. This is a normal reflex response which we would expect to happen…

However, the dogs also began to salivate when events occurred which would otherwise be unrelated to feeding. By playing sounds to the dogs prior to feeding them, Pavlov showed that they could be conditioned to unconsciously associate neutral, unrelated events with being fed. – Psychologistworld.com

Certain songs will often remind people of a memory or a person. I find myself reacting to certain songs with physical reactions as well. It’s not that I’ve necessarily played with all these people often (though all but one I have), it’s just that music seemed to be prominent with us or in association with them.

Give me R&B or sexy pop beats, and I think of sex with my ex husbandOccasionally, my nipples will perk up or I will begin to tighten in anticipation. It’s strange to still have this reaction considering that it’s been so long, but it has been far longer still that this music trained me to respond with thoughts and aching for sex. With masturbation, I will still often play our radio station, so strong is my reaction that it helps my own self orgasm.

“I panted, by this time hours of pleasure not allowing me any sense of realism, and unable to help himself from toying with my quivering self, his fingers grazed my clit. I sucked in my breath, already feeling dizzy from the slight contact, my legs parting without thought. Suddenly two of his fingers danced upon my pearl, and I was so taken with pleasure I had no idea how I ended up laying with my back on his chest, one solid arm across my shoulder and neck so fingers could tugged at a nipple, the other hand quickly alternating between slipping into my sex and rubbing up into my clit.” – Incapable of Thinking

Always and Forever – Luther Vandross[jwplayer mediaid=”6952″]

Ride It – Jay Sean[jwplayer mediaid=”6954″]

Signs of Love Makin’ – Tyrese[jwplayer mediaid=”6955″]

Making Love (Into the Night) – Usher[jwplayer mediaid=”6956″]

Alternative music and I think of Mimir’s beautifully crafted scenes. Mimir had so much going on in his scenes that truly it’s a bit hard to pin down what specifically gets me physically reacting. It’s more like a whispered memory across my skin of sensations, an intake of breath of wondering what would have occurred, and a slight feeling of homesickness for rope and scenes crafted in a space that always felt safe and uniquely tailored to me. It’s an utter feeling of longing but incredibly sexy to me as well.

“He moved between my legs, and so softly – the merest gossamer of touches, slid a finger against the delicate lace of my underwear. If I had not been so fixated on his every move, if I had breathed too deeply, I might have missed the touch. It was a sharp contrast to the earlier dominance, this soft caress at my lips.

My body cried out for his touch. My mouth remained silent, not wanting to break the spell with demands that would go unheeded simply because they were uttered. He is not a man to be rushed.” – Take Down

Beautiful – 10 Years[jwplayer mediaid=”6957″]

Evil Angel – Breaking Benjamin[jwplayer mediaid=”6959″]

Bloody Creature Poster Girl – In This Moment[jwplayer mediaid=”6960″]

Industrial German and I think of painful rope with Master MondayRope with him was not unheard of, but we didn’t do it very often. Though I did see his look of planning often to this music, and occasionally was treated to some of his expertise. The music makes me me miss rope in general, but very specifically how badly it can cut into muscles, or the tension creating little doubt of being bound together, or the excitement of something new or creative. It’s a slight adrenaline rush.

“Did I mention the music was awesome? It’s amazing how music can create a scene, and in this case I feel it did. Next thing I knew I was being strung up and fully suspended with legs adjusted from time to time to a more painful position than the last. I was blindfolded and it was then used to pull my head back, in which he arched my back to tie the blindfold into an ankle. That was a tight tie, it didn’t allow any forgiveness or releasing of tension. It was very uncomfortable but sustainable, and I wished that I had been in it longer. He spun me around in that position, his hand brushing over my blindfold, my upturned chin, my tensely pulled back neck, my chest.” – Hurty Rope

Blutengel – Sing[jwplayer mediaid=”6961″]

Centhron – Lichtsucher[jwplayer mediaid=”6962″]

French pop songs and I think of being beat by Mr. Texas. – it’s a reaction I unconsciously created as country music just wasn’t doing it for me and he doesn’t care for most modern songs – so I picked Stromae and have tailored the songs specifically for our scenes. It is hearing these songs that inspired me to write some of my physical reactions to hearing certain music. Especially Love Story, and I think of having a cane taken to me, of the ebbs and flows to create a great scene where he is able to keep my pain threshold with a stinging strike just right and then use another song to build me up to perhaps punching on the back of my bottom or thighs, perhaps flogging (our newest exploration), or some other type of pain that while I handle it better, it certainly brings up the level of pain. Or he just may grip my hair and pull my head back forcefully as he slams his body deep inside of me, a hand around my throat and his deep throaty “mine” that imprints me as thoroughly as the marks. My body gets tense in anticipation of either an orgasm or bracing for impact when hearing this music now.

Love Story – Indila[jwplayer mediaid=”6963″]

Mes Aures – Frero Delavega[jwplayer mediaid=”6964″]

House’llelujah – Stromae[jwplayer mediaid=”6965″]

*I’m not including a post selection for Mr. Texas – for one I haven’t written much about our moments yet, for another, he is my future and we are beginning to strengthen my reactions to him and the music even further – I can’t wait!

**I had twelve songs picked out already as this sat in drafts, and when I saw the prompt for Wicked Wednesday, I thought it was perfect.

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Wicked Wednesday

Sep 082016
 

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

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

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

Not a thing I’m used to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t leave a mark,” he warned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Things after all have to be equal, I figured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aug 142016
 

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

He missed it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

Aug 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 242016
 

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photo credit: Whisper via photopin (license)

photo credit: Whisper via photopin (license)

*This is the fourth post in a series of seven that ties in with a co-topping scene. I have included all previous posts with links in italics where relevant in the story.

**I am trying to get more comfortable with at least hearing dirty talk, as most people truly have no idea how uncomfortable it makes me and it is my issue to work through. (I’ve included links to the past where applicable.) My ex husband would buffer and help me in this, but I’ve had to truly push further and faster now that I’ve been single – and it isn’t with loving patience that he showed me.

Earlier in the day, I had sex with Tech Talk, where I introduced some kink – and without asking how I felt about it – he talked dirty to me while fucking me. Maybe he thought I would enjoy it, but it definitely took me out of my orgasmic head space. He said things like: “You like my cock deep inside of you,” and, “God you have a tight pussy.” It wasn’t shocking, my ex husband used to whisper things to me, mostly to get me to blush or because it made me uncomfortable, but it was odd to me for our very first time. Perhaps I am old fashioned, after all, a lot of the random hookups talked dirty to me so maybe it’s just the thing to do nowadays (I was out of the dating scene for 16 years, after all).

It probably is the thing to do nowadays, as I was a bit taken aback later in the day: I had mentioned in a previous post that I was called slut during a scene in which I was co-topped, so for the second time that day that I heard words that normally makes me slightly uncomfortable or blushing. He spun me around and told me to spread my legs, gripped my hair tightly in his fingers, “good girl,” he whispered against my ear.

Normally, that would break my head space (not that I was in one yet) and/or I would say that I don’t like the “girl”, but I had just read a post titled: I’m a Good Girl and that echoed in my head instead. Being called that in the moment oddly didn’t change my head space – didn’t affect me positively or negatively, so I said nothing. I still don’t want to be called that upon later reflection, but with the post just read that day, it was okay.

“Look at how eager the little slut is,” from the female top as I jumped up on the table when ordered to. I blushed (which gratefully I don’t think they saw as I was faced away at the time) and felt the need to defend the jumping action as I had to because I was too short to just climb up on the table – I didn’t say anything however, as to be honest: I was eager playing with these two.

“What a good girl,” he praised me several times throughout the scene, as I orgasmed again and again, or after he forced me to, or when I took a particularly hard impact without fighting against it; again the post I read echoed in my head and made the words okay – I was a good girl deserving of praise in those moments (though again that was in the moment, even writing about it weeks afterwards I felt nauseous writing this sentence so I’m clearly over the moment).

“Such a slut to spread your legs,” he admonished when I did spread my legs to give him or her better access when they would slap between my thighs. It made me very aware that I was instinctively doing the action, made me want to slam my legs shut modestly; I fought to keep them open anyhow. I felt the same when he said: “look at how she raises her cunt so I can get the perfect angle,” when he was caning between and on the inside of my thighs.

Sometimes compliments can even make me blush. Afterwards, when we were sitting in the kitchen, talking to others, he casually tossed in: “I loved hearing you cum. You have amazing sounds.” I felt flushed from embarrassment that he said something so publicly, and yet happy that he complimented my sounds, as I truly don’t want to hear myself (I’m sure I sound awful).”Your orgasms really sound fantastic,” he assured me (perhaps after seeing me blush?) that I should be on their podcast with my orgasms. Then he mentioned being spanked by the female again on their podcast, as the noises I made with impact would work well in that format. “You’re very reactionary – that really works for me,” he again reassured me, when I mentioned how I felt I wasn’t up to the level of impact that I’ve observed him engage in.

After a short break, the man wanted to hear my sounds again. As we headed towards a different room (very dungeon themed), he joked that he was going to “do rape-y things,” followed with, “rape you in a very consensual manner.***” Mm, just those words made me anticipate so much. I was naked and on the table very quickly, as he commanded, and this scene was crafted so beautifully as I felt that he was penetrating me in such a variety of ways with just his words. He began by telling a story of what he was doing to me, “if only you would allow penetration…” he would say from time to time…

as the hitachi buzzed against me he fucked me to multiple orgasms

…”I would tease against your tight little asshole before I rammed into you,” as I was on hands and knees and his fingers swept between my cheeks before his fist made rhythmic contact between my holes. It felt like he was penetrating me without penetrating me.****

Dirty talk is sometimes a lot of fun, I’m learning.

***I have a whole other post on this coming up.

****To hear how he does this, he describes this here in their podcast (45:15 to 46 minutes).

 

 

 

Jul 112016
 

 

photo credit: Light trails via photopin (license)

photo credit: Light trails via photopin (license)

I love the reverberations of the rope fibers as they pull.

The Wanderer’s light eyes were equally compelling as they looked down at me while he pulled rope through a loop he created in the center of my chest. As he created rope tension, it vibrated and drew me towards him – not physically, but I exhaled out as the rope moved out and away, and I wanted to step closer to his warmth and eyes.

Occasionally, his arms reached around the back of me, and I stood on tiptoe to breathe in his scent, my hands lightly caressed his shoulders and arms as my mouth tentatively kissed the side of his neck. I am a bit cautious in making any moves towards The Wanderer. Perhaps it was because Mimir and I had the power play dynamic that I wouldn’t, or perhaps it’s because I’m unsure what this particular man wants me to do. I’m fairly certain he finds me attractive, but that doesn’t translate to he wants me to touch him or kiss him. Still, when he didn’t stop me, my kisses became more open mouth, my hands clenched against him at times.

By the time he moved around my back, his own mouth was on my neck, sent tiny shivers of pleasures to radiate down.

The rope still circled and bound, and my hands now caressed and explored the play of muscles in his arms through his shirt as they manipulated the rope. “May I?” he asked as he kneeled in front of me, the rope pulled through my legs.

“Oh yes,” I don’t know whether I said those words out loud or some other murmur of consent, but at that moment it seemed an amazing place for rope to be since he was not. His fingers lingered as he adjusted the tension, the knot he would carefully place at the most tempting place. I looked down at his hair swept onto his forehead, at his lips that looked so kissable even though he tightened them from time to time in concentration.

Once he strung rope between my legs and tied the tension into my chest, every wrap around of the rope, ever reverberation of the fibers, added to the further throbbing need between my legs.

He would smile a certain smile when he would subtly increase the tension between my legs, that smile grew even further as I gasped my understanding of what he was intentionally doing. Those gorgeous eyes would dance in merriment as he looked directly at me.

He adjusted the strands to pinch between each nipple, wrapped the rope around my wrists and told me to hold on and not let go with the loose ends in the fleshy part of the hand between where the thumb and forefinger connect. It didn’t seem like an easy task to me, for as soon as he touched me I wanted to clench my hands and I would let go of the rope if I did so. I also discovered that if I moved my hands up, the rope became tighter between my legs.

Unfortunately he discovered that too, as when he kissed and caressed me, he would raise my hands and give a little sound of satisfaction with my gasp of pleasure/pain. The rope bit on my nipples and he would run his hands over the rope and tighten the pressure from time to time or just create a rippling sensation to flow through the ropes.

He bent me over the bed to spank me, the angle creating a sharp pinch between my lips that still made me melt around it. When my cheeks were sufficiently pink and warm, he pulled me up by the back of the chest harness and while the rope lessened between my legs, it pinched all the more firmly around my nipples.

As lovely as the tying is with The Wanderer, I far prefer his untying. It’s less focused on the rope (though he does an amazing job tying me and not just paying attention to the rope), slower, more sensual. My body is more warmed up, both to his touch and the binding rope. I have anticipated so many of his caresses, kisses, and even the surprising bit of pain from a pinched nipple or slapped ass. I want more and as the rope cascades and glides to expose my skin for him to touch, I begin to take shallower breaths in anticipating of it. Eliciting little moans of welcome when he finally decides to touch me in his task of uncovering.Masturbation Monday badge - small

Jun 192016
 

Masturbation Monday badge - smallI had Mr. Texas lie down in the center of the bed in a dim light. I told him I would do unsexy things for a bit, as I requested first one limb and then another to stretch in a certain direction while I adjusted some velcro and nylon cuffs. Once I felt like there was a certain amount of tension, I tied his ankles and wrists stretched to the four separate corners of the bed.

I didn’t blindfold him right away. Being tied alone was a huge step for him and I kept the mantra of baby steps in my head the entire night. I straddled his body, allowed my lower lips to nestle around his already hard cock, felt his hips try and fail to rise up to push himself against my warmth. I smiled down at his face. I leaned forward and kissed his lips on his mouth, softly, then traced the tip of my tongue against the frame of his lips as his own tongue tried in vain to follow suit. I leaned up and his tongue still sought mine, but he couldn’t lean up any further. I winked at his sigh of frustration.

He was beginning to get the point, understanding the limits of his bondage. I crawled further up and raised my nipple to his mouth, allowing the pink bud to slip into his mouth and he softly suckled before I pulled up out of his reach. I swayed the hardened nipple just out of his reach, let him watch how close he was to having what he so desired.

He groaned in frustration. If there is one thing Mr. Texas loves and does not stop touching, it’s my breasts.

Beside his body, I had a long length of silk fabric and I glided it slowly across his body, starting at his knee, up the inside of his thigh, threading it under his hard shaft, up his chest and across his nipple, and across the front of his neck. It was the soft, colder sensation that I was starting with. Baby steps.  

I gripped the fabric on either side of his neck and just left a bit of tension against his throat. I leaned forward to kiss him but hovered my lips just above his mouth. He leaned forward and increased the pressure against his throat to get his kiss.

Good, he didn’t mind a bit more pressure on his throat. I noted about how much he seemed comfortable with- was willing to do to himself, before rewarding him with a passionate kiss. I slid the fabric across his eyes, such a gentle caress to shut them with the silk.

“I’m going to blindfold you now. I’ll start the knot and adjust it to the side of your head and then re position it once we decide when it’s good,” I whispered down to him.

“Oh gosh,” he murmured when the fabric tightened around his eyes. I tied a knot, asked about the pressure, and then adjusted the knot more out of the way.

I gifted him with a nipple for handling the blindfold so well, letting my hardened bud settle against his lips so he could feel it before allowing his own sucking mouth to envelop around it. I let out a little sigh so he could hear my pleasure since he could no longer see it.

Then I began to kiss sporadic areas of his body so that he was surprised from one moment to the next where my mouth would be. I began with soft kisses but after a long while the kisses turned more into sucking nibbles. He would gasp from one moment to the next, strained to raise his hips every time my mouth would crash upon his erection.

I grabbed an ice cube from beside the nightstand and surprised his hot skin with the cold wet sensation. The next while was awakening his skin to the coldness or the contrast of an ice cube and a hot mouth when the ice cube melted before I went for another. His groans expressed how much he liked the sensation.

Baby steps.

I began scratching my nails into this skin, softly but then raked trails as my mouth alternated between hot and cold. I would only dig in when I was in a zone that he found pleasurable. “This pleasure with pain is completely new to me,” he muttered at one point, and I acknowledged that it was my intent to only hurt him when it also felt good.

Once I felt that my nails sufficiently warmed him, I straddled his hips and lowered so that just the tip entered me. I positioned myself in a squat position so that my body wouldn’t give away my intent and pulsed up and down on his tip for a few minutes, listened to his begging body cry out to be fully inside of me. I softly rolled the Wartenberg Wheel across his chest. He knew what it was already – I had shown him what was in my rope bag before tonight. I slammed my body down around his hardness while at the same time taking the wheel and letting the tines sink into his skin the same way my hips sank onto his own.

He arched as much as he could, his groan one of both satisfaction and pain. I raised myself up again and softly bounced up and down upon him, only going halfway down his shaft as the wheel explored parts of his skin with half the intensity as the one painful roll. When he began to buckle as much as he could to seek out more, I rode him, grinding myself down and around as the wheel began to leave red streaks across his chest and thighs.

I stopped before he found his release and his noise of protest made me laugh out loud. I wrapped my mouth around his cock and sucked my own taste off of his skin while I explored his thighs with the wheel more thoroughly. Occasionally I would drop the sharp wheel and softly caress the trails I left with gossamer fingertips.

“Are you okay with a bit more intense sensations?” I asked him.

“Sure.” He did hesitate for a moment, as if mulling it over, but he was enjoying himself so far as I could tell.

I made sure he heard the lighter and I heard his groan, yet he didn’t protest. I kissed his thighs as I hovered the candle above him and waited for the wax to melt. He jerked with the first splatter and complained, but didn’t ask me to stop. I let one more drop cover the inside of his thigh and after listening and watching to his reaction, I decided to move to the front and outside of his thigh.  He didn’t like it, though he didn’t ask me to stop. I blew out the candle and praised him for trying it; I understand not everyone enjoys everything.

I straddled his body and softly lowered myself so he sunk into my depth, leaned up for a kiss as I removed the blindfold. Again I ran the silk fabric across his body as I gently gripped him inside my own body. I wanted to end with the softness and his moans showed his appreciation.

I lifted off of him and kissed my way up to his arms and wrists, sucking his fingers as I slowly peeled the velcro away from each wrist. I let him touch me, see me, hold me as I rode him towards his own release.

May 292016
 

“Come up with something that you want to do, that you haven’t heard me mention before,” I suggested to him one balmy night in the hot tub as I sipped my wine and his hand gently roamed alongside me. He couldn’t keep his hands off of me, and in the hot tub I was more often than not in his lap being fondled. I made the suggestion because he was inexperienced and I had no clue what turned him on or what he desired – I was the stronger and more experienced force, but I wanted an indication of where he was at and what he wanted.

“Hot tub sex,” he suggested. “Have you ever done that?”

“Yes, and I’m not that fond of it,” I shrugged and set down my wine glass.

“Why not?”

“Because the water dries me up a bit,” but I leaned over to kiss him amid the steam and heat. Though perhaps me being not as wet would be a benefit with him, I thought. The bubbles concealed our lower halves as in between kisses I peeled us out of our attire, his mouth sucking a bit too greedily at a breast and leaving a mark that would last for a week.

I straddled him and slid him into my body, the water working against me but for the friction that can be absent when I am soaked from my own desires. I angled myself and wrapped my hands around his neck for balance and leverage as I raised and lowered myself on him.

The jets swirled and pushed between our bodies every time I raised up on him, added to my own sensations and helped keep me turned on. This session was about him and his fantasy – I really didn’t appreciate hot tub sex though I did appreciate the water creating a pleasurable tension to my body. I tightened upon him and heard his groan, felt my own slight crest of a climax, and tightened even further, increasing the tempo.

Water lapped at the sides as we created waves. I cried out as he did, enjoying it much more than I thought I would.

He couldn’t keep a sweet, goofy grin off of his face. “Is it just me or is it really hot in here now?” he asked when I pushed myself off of him and towards the step.

I’m sure my face was red – it always is in a hot tub and I had just worked hard for our pleasure amidst the heat. “Yes,” I said, taking that as a cue that he was also ready to get out. My foot swiped my bikini bottoms and I pulled them on before stepping out of the water.

He managed to squeeze back into his wet shorts and soon we were padding back into the house and headed towards the shower.

“Want me to wash  your back?” he offered, and I handed him the loofah and he scrubbed slowly at my back.

There were far sexier ways to clean each other, and I figured I should show him, so I shoved him against the shower wall once I was handed back the loofah and slowly began to circle his back with one hand and scratch with the other. He made a surprised noise as his chest and face slapped against the wall, but made no resistance.

Slowly, sensually, I used both the loofah and my hand across his back, his shoulders, his arms, down his butt – intermittently pressed my own body and glided it down his soapy surface, before I told him to turn around. I slapped his legs apart a bit and just as slowly rubbed down his outside of his thigh, calf, foot, up both of the insides of his thighs, my mouth inches from his growing cock, my breath felt on the tip. I paid no heed to it, and stroked and caressed and scratched up his inner thighs before taking a handful of soapy bubbles from off the loofah and giving him a hand job, looking up at his face as I kneeled between his legs.

He thoroughly enjoyed the shower, so much that he showed his appreciation by scooping me up and carrying me a dripping mess to the bed after we rinsed off.
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 Posted by at 8:46 am