May 242016
 

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was moaning, uttering words of please.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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
 
festive bondage 1
sex in cammies 1
www cock piercing army.com 1
fullstripshow 1

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 062015
 
belly button full of cum 2
sexting masterbation 2
cammies view from the floor 2

Sexy Searching
I’ll tackle the topic of sexting masturbation for this month’s #SexySearching, and of course it works quite well for #MasturbationMonday.

I can sext because I can write erotica (at least I certainly hope I can write erotica with this blog by now). What I cannot do is phone sex. I get shy verbalizing things, and when things begin to feel good to me (like masturbating while having phone sex), then I simply forget to talk and I start moaning with my pleasure instead.

With my husband and I frequently pulled apart over long distances and lengthy separations, this is one way that there is no pressure to communicate (we see the messages when we see them, so sleep and work schedules are not as big of a concern). I have a fantasy – I share it. He has an urge, he does the same. This actually began our courtship – we sexted all the time (of course, I was sexting a great deal with a lot of people, some of which were his friends as well).

I will masturbate to something particularly sexy, or to a video, that he’s sent but it’s rare. I don’t masturbate that frequently. He claims he masturbates to my pictures and videos all the time – I now wonder if he does the same to my sexy messages. Phone sex I will masturbate to because he’s telling me to, and he’s specific on what he wants me to do. I feel bad for him because it’s somewhat one-sided since I don’t talk much, but he apparently doesn’t mind at all, he still wants to hear me orgasm.

I’ll share some sexy texts from him, since this is a side I do not share often (I keep some of my favorites):

How I wish we could be laying together in bed, cuddling. Having me inside of you, the feel of closeness, the peak. [2011]

Wish we were together so we could have birthday sex tomorrow at least a few times. [2012]

(After a video) OMG! First words out of my mouth. You have to be the most beautiful woman ever. [2013]

We have done a lot and I intend to keep pushing your boundaries. I want to grab you by the neck, throw you on the bed, and have my way with you. I want to fuck you so hard. No ropes will be needed, I will tie you up with my words. I am intrigued by this whole deep throat thing right now, I am to the point I have thought about asking to push harder. [2014]

Thinking of you as I go to bed (posted a photo). I am thinking that when I first see you again of doing something simple like the fuck me rope. It is quick and easy and very effective. You will be bound and fucked in just a blink of an eye. Tied and slammed down on the bed, wrapped up, and fucked hard. [2015]

The majority of his texts are more of longing and love, however.

I have just seen the most gorgeous woman ever. She has it all: the smile, the curves, and the hour glass shape. She’s a cute little size and from the looks of it she has the personality to go with it, like someone you could sit and talk and laugh for hours together. She’s awesome in bed too. Hope there is a mirror around somewhere, just in case you aren’t near one I sent a picture. Love you lots, babe. Wish you were here. [2010]

If I had a wish like when you blow out candles for your birthday, my wish would be to be home with you, because it would solve so many other wishes I have. [2011]

I am sure you are already in bed. I am sorry I can’t be there for your time in need, and I am thankful that you do have good friends that can be. As nice as that may seem, it hurts me to knowing that it is not me there comforting you and holding you in your time of need. I fail in that part right now and with time and your blessing, I hope that we can be together always and finally have a relationship worthy of our love for one another. I love you so much. I hope tomorrow is a better day, sweet dreams and good night. [2012]

I go to bed alone, longing for the one that fills the hole in my heart, the one that is close but oh so far away. To say you mean a lot to me would be understatement. I love you and I cannot wait to be by your side. Sweet dreams, my love,  and may mine be grand and filled with the love we share and glimpse of what is to come. [2013]

I love you too babe. The time we spent together brought us closer and I loved having you so close. The time we spend apart strengthens our love that we have, but it also makes me miss you so much and all that you do for me. I am glad I have you, any lesser of a woman could not handle this. You are here for me through thick and thin, me being a pain. I love you, and can’t wait for all of us to be together again. [2014]

I love you because: your motivation, your wonderful outlook on life and the influence you have on others, and you making our life one big adventure. Loving you is like breathing – even though it is easy it is sometimes forgotten about, the moment you don’t have it, you start to wither away and life seems to fade. It’s easy to love such an awesome person; I never forget our love. Without you, my life is nothing. I can’t wait till you are by me again. [2015]

Anyhow, I’m missing him something fierce and there are days that I’m not coping well with it. I used to be better at this, now I just feel tired. I’m seeing him soon, and counting down the days. Meanwhile, these texts, the pictures and videos, the sound of his voice making my heart leap and trip along the telephone wires, these are still things to cherish and hold on to. And we’re expanding on how to stay close with the tasks that he gives me.

*How sad, I just realized that I can trace every single year that I started saving our communications (though some separations are only a few weeks versus the months that can occur).

 Posted by at 6:34 am
Nov 132015
 

On my back…isn’t that a great start to any story?…sorry, I digress already but I fell in love with the start…

Mimir’s flat hand laid prominently in the dip created by hip bone, slid across my bare skin as he sat alongside of me, traversed the stomach, slowly, as he does, with purpose and intention, and ended with fingers nestled between my breasts – palm center of chest, as if the pause was to synchronize my breath with his. I heard his deep inhalation and exhalation as my own chest rose and fell under his hand.

Sitting, he nestled between my thighs, one of my legs stretched and warmed by his hip, the other knee he forcibly bent to place ankle to thigh with rope then wrapped and bound tightly. The room was silent which made the rustle of the rope’s fibers pulling against each other emphatic; and my notable intake of breath each and every time the entire length of rope was pulled slowly across the juncture of inner thigh – every journey around – so unhurriedly, such a pinpoint of my focus on sensitive flesh, the ridges bobbing at the juncture at a maddeningly slow pace each time a wrap of rope was being placed.

With both legs tied in such manner, the whole routine was again repeated with coconut rope, the scratchy abrasive fibers created even more havoc at the receptive juncture…and even more pain against the exposed parts of thighs and shins. He would pinch, tighten, press down, and pull at the spiky strands, created a strange song of various cries to spring from my lips, my dance of back slightly arched or tensed thighs to lessen the onslaught of cacophonous sensations.

By this point, I was already fully absorbed in the present moment, in a quiet space that consisted of only him and me.

He shifted and a ringing sound was heard before the knife grazed my throat. I stopped breathing, surprised, the only movement my pulse rapid under the fragile skin that the blade traveled. From my throat, the tip scratched across from shoulder to shoulder, down and across again just under soft breasts, the descent crisscrossed waist before the knife focused and pressed harder into the bits of susceptible bare skin intertwined between the ropes.

With ankles tied to thighs still, he pressed down on the thighs and parted the knees until they almost touched the floor, my hips spread to accommodate. Shifted, the ropes tightened in some areas; the knife tip skillfully traversed the inner thighs. Softly, he caressed with fingertips up the side of my body, started at the hip, then the curve of my waist, up ribs to just under my breast.

Then, he laid on top of me, kept my legs spread, pulled wrists in each of his hands up as far as they would go on the floor above me and pinned them in one hand, the other hand went around my neck and gently controlled my breath – allowed or stopped it in a rhythm unknown to me, his own jagged breath almost growled against my face.

In that brief moment of his body pressing mine into the floor…

…my legs bound and spread,

….his hands pining my wrists and throat,

….in shallow inhalations tasting and swallowing his breath as it washed against my face,

…he became more lover than play partner – he felt as if he was a part of me, inside of me, not only quieting my mind but deeply penetrating inside.

He moved off of me and my body missed his heat immediately, felt bereft. Rope wound around my wrists and pulled until the shoulders protested, my ears detected a far away table was being used as a post to hold them above in such a manner.

He again positioned himself sitting between my legs, strung more rope between the wraps on inner thighs and pulled until my legs closed together, knees up and tiptoes grazed the floor. As he pulled on this inner rope my body stretched between the table and his hands, the unforgiving fibers dug into wrists and thighs, and he continued to pull and lengthen the space until my body screamed though only a groan escaped from my lips.

More sounds issued from me when he began unraveling roughened skin, took his time to pull the rope tight before he released it, gripped aching muscle and reddened flesh at each turn of the discharged wrap with his commanding hand. As each leg was unbound, his palms firmly touched the uppermost back of a thigh, the whole hand stroked the backside of the leg, gradually uncurled it. My thoughts fleetingly noticed the unusualness of areas not often touched. Fingertips soothed down the upper part of thigh and leg once straightened, fingers kneaded into the foot and gently massaged.

He traveled along my body, briefly cuddled against my side, his fingertips caressed the side of my face and stroked into my hair, the merest of touches so soothing, before he continued up to my wrists and released the bindings. My small hands disappeared into larger ones as he held them for a moment, rested one on each of his thighs, palms to the sky, as his fingertips caressed from fingertips to palm, gently grazed the rope imprinted wrists, brushed against the length of my arm and back up again to tenderly rub the palms and fingers.

*We ended as we always do: cuddled together, silent and close before quiet reflections.

****************************************************************************

cammies on the fllor 1
mutual phone mastibation 1
don wand reviewa 1
tied lover 1

I went further down the list for Sexy Searching this time, as I have already written about the top search terms.

Tied lover seemed appropriate as being tied enough times by this man, with this type of scene, switched something in my brain for a moment.Sexy Searching 

 Posted by at 5:30 am
Oct 022015
 
unknown erotica cammies on the floor 6
skype mutual masterbation 2
army, make her famous 2
responses to yummy 1
prince albert penis pics 1

Sexy Searching reveals one of my biggest fantasies: the unknown. It’s going to take readers to this fantasy, and also a book review that explores why this fantasy may be so desirable.

I have a fantasy where I am shared by my partner (has to be shared so I know that they at least know and trust and person). But I have no clue who this person is because I am bound and blindfolded. I also am thinking I would like to be gagged, so that I cannot be my curious self and try to reach out to the person for a confession of who they are, nor can my words  of “no” or “stop” halt them (though some safe word/action would be in place, as well as my husband who knows when I’ve hit my limit).

Absolved on the ability to do anything creates a feeling of blamelessness of fulfilling this dark fantasy of mine. There’s the true reason I want to be bound – I cannot escape my own desires, and in doing so I am free to accept what is being done to me. I don’t have to behave, control myself, perform in any way, I can simply be a vessel of pleasure and pain. I am passive, a complete opposite to who I normally am.

I am also blindfolded so I don’t know who this person is, adding an unknown variable and tiny bit of fear and uncertainty to keep this a bit hotter for me.

Perel states that unknown factors increase excitement and desire, hence the giddy love-rush feelings at first. But unknown isn’t synonymous with security, so we seek to make each other more known in a commitment: “to control the risks of passion, you have tamed it out of existence.” (Perel, 10)

As a side note: even reading other bloggers really helps my own sex life. It has made me curious to try new things, to get out of my comfort zones, to point towards someone else’s words who have more effectively communicated wants that I’ve been trying to tell my husband. There are even some great videos that bloggers provide to offer how-to for so many numerous kinks. – Unknown Leads to Desire

Perhaps this compares to New Relationship Energy, where two partners are excited at the prospect, the adventure, the not knowing each other and discovering. I can explore this type of energy with my own husband, in exploring BDSM, my kinky self, and even enacting (or even just confessing to) my fantasies. I have experienced this unknown variable without having additional partners, though of course I long to push the limits even further in this fantasy of being shared – but my husband is still present in this dream, to add that security, to make it feel safe and acceptable, to “control the risks of passion”.

Though in a way, it feels like he would be protecting the risks from myself.

#SexySearching

 Posted by at 8:55 am
Aug 212015
 
sinful friday bondage pics 3
mutual masturbation skype shows 2
masturbation material 2
cammiesonthefloor 2
cammmies on the floor

Sexy Searching is a meme that that looks to the most searched for terms to lead people to the blog. Time to give credit to our longest search term, and one that pops up every month: Masturbation. I’m going to attempt to examine why, when this is our longest and most consistent search term, I haven’t written about it until now.

Sis A first wrote about this topic, including a picture, in regards to mutual masturbation.

“Sexting, Skype, and phone calls are becoming more and more a part of everyday masturbation tools, much like porn. With high quality and ease of photo taking available on your phone, naughty antics is mobile and convenient.” – Mutual Masturbation

For some reason, I’ve been a bit more hesitant to discuss it. Shy? Ashamed? I’m not really sure on the emotion, but for some reason I hesitated to masturbate even in my youth, not doing it until I was in my twenties, and had been sexually active with others for awhile already; so perhaps it’s just a delayed thing to write about as well. Sex bombards our society; whereas masturbation is a closely guarded secret. It seemed okay for me to share my body with others, for our mutual pleasure, but to just please myself – that seemed wrong, selfish, self-centered. I don’t believe that my family influenced this in any way – after all, Sis A had no problems sharing about it very early on with writing on the topic.

I am also quite shy in this regard, and almost never please myself if my partner can please me. Apparently my husband became used to this behavior and took it as almost an insult when I did masturbate (without him):

“I don’t do this activity often. And never if he’s home…I don’t even masturbate much when he isn’t home, perhaps once a month or every other month, (people view this as odd as I will gladly have sex all day long) and didn’t see anything wrong with taking care of myself while I waited for him.” –Sexual Hangups (*Nov 2014)

We (sort of) worked through the issue of masturbation without him if he’s home, but it’s not something that I’ve really done since (again, it’s mostly because I don’t feel the urge to when he’s available). And while I know it turns him on to watch me pleasure myself (something I really only do when he asks it of me, and then only if we’re separated/long distance), I struggle to do this in the presence of another. For one, I feel like I have to perform. For another, it still seems so secretive to me, so private, so vulnerable somehow.

Just recently (and I’ll include the *actual date of writing rather than publishing) have I felt comfortable writing about masturbation – either in my habits, what I fantasize about, or what I read to turn me on. Here are a few examples that I wrote about (and to be perfectly honest, cringed when I hit “publish”):

Reading:

“I give a lot of credit to the people that I follow and read online, and when I find something that turns me on or intrigues me, I add it to my monthly roundup of great reads. And I also will occasionally add in a book I’m reading” – Mental Masturbation Material (July 2014)

Fantasies:

“But even with myself, I wasn’t in the mood for soft.  I tugged and pinched my nipples, felt the ripple of pleasure go through my core and connect with my cunt” – Rough Fantasy (Feb 2015)

“Orgasm denial… something that seriously turns me all the while frustrating me at the same time.**I haven’t had any of these experiences, these are four separate dreams or fantasies that I’ve had this last week.” – Rope and Denial Fantasy (March 2015)

 

Habits (though to be fair, I would orgasm all day from a partner, not myself as the first sentence may imply):

“When I ovulate, I masturbate. If given the opportunity, I would orgasm all day. All day – that’s not a dramatized statement, it’s a want and need that some rare days I am fortunate enough to experience” – All Day Need (July 2015)

 

Fiction (thank you Masturbation Monday for pushing me further out of my comfort zone):

“she dreamed of the room pitched in midnight. Her hands lazily wandered to the juncture between her thighs as she explored the darker places” – Unresponsive Satisfaction (Aug 2015)

So that’s where masturbation as a search term may take a reader. Upon writing this, I’ve actually discovered that my own masturbation thoughts tend to veer towards kinky elements, and not soft and slow moments. I also will write about masturbation more when I’m ovulating. Perhaps this is the benefit of writing in this way – it’s revealing.

*And I actually wrote this today. So know that I’m terribly shy and withdrawn right now, as I hit send. One day I hope to break this annoying habit.

However, consider this: many of us masturbate, but few rarely discuss, and rarer still is those who write about it and then publish it so publicly.#SexySearching

 Posted by at 5:19 pm
Jul 232015
 

Sexy Searching is a monthly meme that concentrates on the searches that, sometimes understandably, sometimes bizarrely, lead visitors to your site. Over the last month, a very specific form of bondage has brought people to us. I’ve posted a few photos of gravity boot suspensions, so it’s not too bizarre people end up here.

gravity boot bondage tumblr 5
make her famous military exes 4
cammies on the floor 2
maturbation over the phone 2
face sitting through floor 2
mutual wanking stories

blog3Gravity boot bondage looks similar to this. I’ve been in the gravity boot quite a bit, it makes my back and hips feel pretty good all stretched out. It’s a bit intensive on the feet and ankles at times, but not as much as I initially feared it would be (or what it looks like).

I was at a rope practice just a few days ago (rope practices aren’t scenes, they are learning opportunities and a lot of conversations)  and someone asked how to do a gravity boot.  The woman in charge asked to demonstrate on my foot; one thing led to another, and she asked if I could do a single suspension from a foot.

As my husband helped with the tie, she suddenly had an evil misery stick in her hand and was stinging the bottom of my foot and thighs with it until I was pulled up by just this tie on one ankle and suspended (picture a person hanging upside down by one ankle).

Initially, the rope pulls the center and inside of the foot, and the top of the foot really feels the weight of the body; then my ankle, leg, hip felt the pull of my body weight. They checked in with me. With my loose leg, ankle was tied back to my thigh, then leftover rope was used at my crotch (I had been making jokes that day about “happy knots” between the legs.

My arms were tied behind my back and my torso was wrapped a few times with the arms. In this position, my husband was tempted to grab a small vibrator we keep in the rope bag, so he did and placed it in with the crotch rope. I arched at the sensation and the vibrator moved off the sensitive placement, so he moved it back.

I groaned and was gagged with the fabric we use for a blindfold. I arched but couldn’t move the vibrator away. I shut my eyes and focused on breathing, on the vibration, on the pull of my leg, on the pressure of my foot. There were others in the room but my body needed my attention.

And then I was spun around from the suspension point (on a spinner). My face apparently turned red and she lifted my torso up so I wasn’t upside down anymore. My husband untied my foot and brought me down.

It may not have been a scene but it sure got my adrenaline going; sometimes practice turns into play, and I was thankful for the experience.

Not to mention, I felt like a bad-ass for being able to be in that suspension. A single gravity boot is pretty strenuous.

I just wish we would have taken a picture. I do, however, have a photo from my foot after the experience.

I have a lot of rope marks after a rope practice, the ones on my legs were from earlier

#SexySearching

 Posted by at 7:41 am
Jul 072015
 

Top Searches

face sitting through floor,  short story with onomatopoeia,  doxy torture,  belly button violation

Having limited computer time means I’m not taking a picture but I did copy the terms that are popular right now for our Sexy Searching.#SexySearching

I have no idea how face sitting through the floor would work, look like, or even why this term led them to us. I frequently write of the times with the Doxy Wand and my love/hate with pushing past my comfort level of orgasms and sensitivity. I have the title Belly Button Violation for that search, and I use that term whenever someone touches my belly button (I dislike it).

I also have the title Very Short Stories: Onomatopoeia so finding us this way makes quite a bit of sense as well. I’ll focus in on this search term, it’ll lead you to the post in which I asked a friend to give me one word (he gave me onomatopoeia on this day) and I wrote a short story about that word on a post-it note and then took a picture and also typed it for those who cannot read my writing. I wrote about noises cluing in a lover. Sounds are such a turn on during sex: the grunts, groans, moans, whispers, words, screaming, intake of breath, sighs, slaps, even squishes. My ears love to be an active participant during sex with the rest of my body.

I am traveling right now, have been for the past three weeks, and my husband and I are never alone. FOR THREE WEEKS. I am very verbal during sex and have a lot of difficulty keeping quiet, so much so that we rent or buy houses where the master bedroom is away from the other bedrooms whenever we move. We do not have sex (husband’s choice) when we travel normally, especially when we travel with others.

We stayed in a house with an old wooden sleigh bed, in which he couldn’t even fit his tall frame completely straight so proceeded to crowd me out, and it creaked every time he rolled over. Not the friendliest bed to find space to have sex in, and the bed was so loud that sex wasn’t possible without every member in the house hearing that bed.

Next place we stayed had a large and quiet bed, thank goodness, so sex was a bit more possible. However, we still had to be quiet and my husband can be incredibly so (his verbalizing his own pleasure has only occured in the past few years) and I missed his grunts, groans, whispers or statements that I felt good, that he was close, that he was coming. His noises clue me in to continue, to clench tighter to bring him further, that spur my own orgasm even further because it is so hot to hear him being pleasured. I hated the silence that he was, and our positioning didn’t face him so I couldn’t see his body language – I had to rely on feeling, and it wasn’t nearly as cool as when I also get to hear him.

He sounds amazing.

The following place was a couch, and no real privacy. I was ovulating, which means that sex is really all I want to be doing and my husband was good enough to me to at least finger me to an orgasm to help me sleep, and with one orgasm I was able to keep my own cries of pleasure to nothing more than breathing hard and a whispered “don’t stop” (which I don’t need to tell him yet do every time because I feel it’s important to share anyhow). Being aware that I need to be quiet diminishes my pleasure because I can’t get lost in it – to get lost in pleasure means that I am louder, more vocal. It still feels amazing – just less so with the mindfulness that I need to keep.

I can’t wait until we are home and I get lost in us and our noises. It’s amazing how taking away that sense makes me crave it so much. I miss his words next to my ear, I miss the ability to cry out in pleasure.

Noises are sexy.

 Posted by at 11:32 am
Jun 052015
 

Top Searches this month:

cammies on the floor

i am an exhibitionist photos

roughly ropes sex pics

ripped nylons

graph

recent things people are reading from us

For our Sexy Searching contribution, I’ll address our top search term trend in recent months: our name!

At least once a week, someone specifically searches for “cammies on the floor“. Whether this is to find us (I’d like to think so) or because this is not an unusual term to hear from military significant others, the search engine leads them here.

Have I mentioned that I am a stats whore? It’s true. So what do people do when they find us? Over half hang out on our home page and click a few more things – the most being memes and about us tabs at the top. A is the most popular to check out, with 2,706 views. M (me) follows pretty consistently behind (2,357 views).

People primarily read my writing with 339 posts written. A has written 97 posts, and if you were to ask people some of their favorite parts of the blog overall, the majority will pick out one of hers (with her humor being the most appreciated). Pictures tend to be the most anonymous as far as neither of us claiming the post (more of my insistence), with Cammies listed as the author 233 times.

Speaking of pictures, what people find here is a lot of pictures. Prompts have really helped this along, as we participate in many things that require pictures or that are image inspired, (Sinful Sunday being our number one). This was never our intention – to be so photo heavy, yet it has just happened. Perhaps that’s why photos, exhibitionism, and pictures lead many to us as well in search terms.

Bondage is pretty big search engine term for us as well, and second highest category in what people find here. It was also my first Sexy Searching reflection. Many of our recent Sinful Sunday photos have been suspensions or bondage photos, and I have a pull down tab under my name for this category.

graph (1)

Recent trending views by country

What really makes up a lot of our writing comes from memes, and so it makes sense that writing prompts and the memes themselves are the bulk (because, yes even the pictures and bondage stories are normally attached to a meme) of what people are really looking at. Some people will find us as well through these memes search terms.

The United States is the largest country searching, and perhaps it’s because it is a large country to begin with. But it’s still awesome considering we live here. Oddly, I probably read more UK bloggers, and following their blogs have led to some lovely new words in my vocabulary, like wank.

#SexySearching