Drop

He always asked so much of me, demanding, pushing, making me work and hang on the precipice. Today was no different.

I could tell it was going to be intense. The gleam in his eyes and the almost patient anticipation of a spider were warning enough... I didn't require the verbal as well to know that I'd be in for some new experiences.

While I was excited I was also a little apprehensive. My skin flushing and my nerves jumping in anticipation. Hands smoothing down bare skin, making my blood warm, that connection of our eyes making my heart pound, all the opening notes of a symphony of pleasure we were about to create.

I'm flipped over on my stomach and I hear him rummage in my toy drawer. It seems we'll be working on the pleasure and less on the pain today. I soon feel my favorite Lelo teasing at my entrance and quickly change my mind about it being about pleasure today.... He always finds  a way to torture me. It feels like he's down there for ever, playing, teasing me into a mass of nerves. Suddenly, my toy is full inserted and  feel him move away.... With my toy still buzzing away inside of me.

Um, yeah. I'm suddenly distracted from the sexual frustration he's brought me to. Red flag arning signs are going off in my head and I KNOW something is coming. I got comfortable, wasn't looking ahead, and got caught. He's so good at this. Cool, smooth, I feel the hair brush sliding against the skin of my ass and I am apprehensive. The hair brush hurts, but I can take it. Then comes the twist.

"Don't drop your toy... I'll be very disappointed if you let go of that toy so you need to hold onto it like a good slut"

I'm fucked. Absolutely fucked. My pc muscles are incredibly strong and I push men out when orgasming. The slightest tensing of my body and that toy is coming out. Suddenly the first sharp whack of the hair brush lands on my posterior and I clench. The toy comes almost completely out.

"Tsk tsk. You don't want your toy? You don't want the pleasure I am trying to give you? If you drop it one more time we'll just carry on with the spanking them and skip the orgasm"

Sigh, this is going to take concentration. And that is his goal. When we play, I find zen. I focus and am able to block out a deal of the pain. This only works however, if I can focus on that. I can't focus on zen if I'm focusing every fiber of my being on not dropping my toy. I feel every inch of that brush. My ass blooming in glorious color and I can feel the heat coming up. A particularly enthusiast swing lands in a sensitively overused area and I tense again. The toy doesn't come out completely, but enough to draw his attention. He sighs and I know I'm in trouble, just unsure of the amount.

"it looks like it's going to take a bit more training to ensure you always obey."

The toy is removed and a series of blows fall on my already abused flesh until I'm squirming and tears are leaking from my eyes. Just as quickly I'm flipped over and entered swiftly. Filled to the hilt and I orgasm almost instantly, squeezing my lover much harder than that toy. The tightening of my body increases his tempo and he fills with his orgasm. Such a whirlwind of sensations and emotions, the mental play as exquisite as the physical play. I'm sated and wilted and in that place where the world is calm and quiet and I am perfectly at ease; the world does not exist outside of us. 

He went on to teach me to heed his warning and I'm pleased to say I've enjoyed every lessons...

check out other wicked entries at

TMI: Proposal

1. Do you believe in marriage?

I hope so, considering that I am. If he weren't in the military, however, I'd feel no urge to marry him. But moving, and being allowed base access, requires a piece of paper. 

2. Have you ever proposed marriage or been proposed to marry? What happened?

My husband took me out to cliffs overlooking the ocean. It was perfect place to either kill someone easily by pushing them off, or proposing. He chose the right option. 

3. What would be your dream way of proposing marriage?

Disneyworld. With some sort of show, with elaborate dancing and singing, including the characters, on Main Street. And of course, a list of reasons why marriage would kick ass with each other. 

4. What would be your nightmarish way of proposing marriage?

Throwing a ring box at someone and saying, "I already know your answer," while not even looking up from a video game or TV screen would suck. 

Also, a parent with a shotgun proposing marriage between two people wouldn't be my cup of tea.

5. Mainstream society has engagement rings; in your opinion, what token should be given to signify engagement?

I didn't really receive an engagement ring, more like my wedding ring when he proposed. So I don't have two rings. This worked for me. 

A contract promising sex at minimum twice a day would be a fantastic token of undying devotion and love. Also, alleviate any concerns that the intimate relationship would end when the marriage begins.

6. What do you think would have happened to cause someone to have “Will you marry me?” on the back of their caravan?

A pregnancy and parental shotgun promise occurred, so they're proposing and showing the promise of where they'll raise their family. 

Bonus: Tell us about someone you would have proposed to but never had the chance/opportunity.

There hasn't been anyone that I've missed an opportunity to propose to. I've proposed to "my wife", but considering that we're both married, I didn't do it with a symbolic token like a ring. Also, we're not allowed to marry. Additionally, we both have husbands. But still, I proposed. 

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

Happy TMI Tuesday!

Being on the ropes

Awhile ago, for Sinful Sunday I posted this picture of my clit. It garnered a lot of curiosity about the experience. So, without further ado: Once upon a time...

God I'm wet. He walks in the door, gives me his intense stare, and I can't help but run into his arms. I truly think that for the first time in my life someone owns me. I would never think to hesitate with him. The desire between us burns brighter than a forest fire. The things this man does to my mind are just as wickedly delightful as the things he does to my body.

I'm naked while he is still in his riding gear, the leather of his jacket rubbing against my nipples as I rub myself against him like a cat, leaving my scent, gaining his. He pushes me to my room and opens the drawer that contains one of my favorite things... The rope.

"You need this don't you?"

He knows I do, I've been climbing the walls lately. I need more than just release. I need intensity, I need to find that space in my head where quiet and calm and serenity are found. I hope he leaves bruises.

It's almost a surreal process, getting tied up. I stand next to the bed, proud in my nudity as he wraps yard after yard around my body. The intricate design that he weaves starts at the top. He completely wraps my hair in rope. As he is done he lets the rope fall straight down and it nestles in the center of my ass. This is pure sensuality. As he starts blinding the rest of my body he makes sure to caress a sensitive area, pause for a moment and look into my eyes, his so full of promise. Suddenly he quickly pulls the length of rope through a loop. The rope running, pressed against my skin is painful and startling. He pauses to lick the rosy area created and my nerves go haywire. As the full bindings are coming together on my body diamond patterns begin to emerge. Every part is connected. He spreads my thighs and runs the rope from my torso up through my lovely center back through to my ass. The two ends of the rope that he works with part my labia. He pauses in his kneeling position and I feel the flick of his tongue against clit and my knees are no longer steady. 

The rope firmly bound, he helps me onto the bed as my upper body is immobilized now. I cannot even bend at the waist, it chokes me. My head is held back on my neck as the rope that he bound my hair with is weaved right through the center of the design. My body is held taunt as my hair is then tied to my ankles with my legs bent. To relax a muscle is to pull my own hair.

All I can see is the ceiling from my twisted position, the slow fan blades making lazy shadows that cross the room. I'm already finding it, the center, the place of being. My mind is slowly focusing. I can't see what is going on, I'm effectively blinded by the blank white view above me. I feel his fingers skim my inner thigh. I know that he is doing something with the rope between my thighs but I've no idea what.

A soft whisper against my very inner thigh "You're such a good girl" he practically breaths. Shivers run down my spin and my body's natural reaction suddenly provokes a startling effect. The minute movement of my body caused the rope to tighten. I instantly discover through feeling what he has done. My clit is squeezed between the ropes.

The rope is arranged in such a position that it pulls back my hood, and my exposed clit is rubbed by its twisted texture. The effects of my response cause me to move more and the sensations escalates so quickly it steals my breath. My mind has literally stopped in its processing. I've never felt anything even remotely similar to this. I never knew skin, nerves, my sex, could become so sensitive. 

I can feel his gaze, his fascination. "Would you like to see it?"

I can talk... I have a voice. Words... I know words, I need one. Oh, God I just took a deep breath, the ropes are taunt again. Oh God. What? Oh, yes, yes.

"Yes"

He grabs my camera and takes a picture. He comes around to my head and I see him for the first time in what feels like ages but feels like nothing. Time has no meaning. All I can do is stare at the picture in front of my eyes. I can't, I don't, I just, I don't know what I'm seeing. The world is a haze and all I can feel is my muscles, slightly uncomfortable, the pull of the rope against my skin everywhere... My clit.

There is no way I am going to be able to comprehend the picture in front of me, but something else has caught my eye. My lover is naked, his throbbing excitement at seeing me at his mercy and his pleasure is deliciously evident right in front of my face. He knows me, knows what I will do. I try to shift to get him in my mouth and my hair is yanked firmly by my ankles and the strongest sensations yet are jolted through my trapped and swollen clit.

Mercy granted, he moves to my head which is slightly off the bed so I can have him. I'm lying on my back and he admires the way he can see the shape of him in my throat as he pushes farther in my mouth. The thrust of his hips is driving me crazy and I don't want to be teased, I want all of him, I want to swallow him, consume him. He runs his hands over my body. He can always tell when I'm finding zen, when I start to no longer notice the pain, the ache. He always distracts me from that, so suddenly those sensations come back, more intense now. 

It is this process that allows him to get me so deep into subspace. I didn't give him ownership of me, he took it through his mastery. I have to be the luckiest girl in the world. Not that I can think of that at this point, my attention is captured by my neck is a mild, annoying cramp. I move.

Oh yes, that's right, there's rope currently caging the most sensitive part of my body in a strong grip. He notices my attention being sharply focused suddenly. He moves away from my view and I strain to hear him moving around the bed. He comes to my parted thighs and the desire is so very very strong to have him inside me. Finally, filled.

"Oh, I'm not going to fuck you. Did you think I would?"

...wh-? There's a flick, a gentle thud against my bound clit then a soft rub up and down. I can feel his precum. He's rubbing that most desired part of him against me. Teasing, tantalizing. I've never felt anything like this. This is not the same body I have been in whenever we have sex. I have NEVER had this body, this can't be real. I haven't taken drugs to invoke these feelings but yet I am intoxicated. He is my drug.

He continues to tap on my oversensitive clit and I come quickly. Oh God. Intense. Every nerve in my body is taunt and singing hosanna to his name. The tensing of my muscles in orgasm causes that lovely magical rope to tighten and continue my pleasure. I don't think I can take this much longer, I am going to die of the intensity of release and sensitivity.

A final spasm of my body and the rope is ripped away from my sensitive bud in a final crescendo of feeling from the force of my movement.

Wilted. I lay in a heap. He helps me from the bed and I am unsteady on my feet. Hours, minutes, days, eternity? I've no idea of the passage of time. He begins to undo my bindings, starting from the bottom. I mechanically lift a leg here, move a foot there to ease the removal of my bindings. Once the lengths of rope are mostly on the ground the only thing left is my hair.

He lays me down as a tired kitten, sated, beyond this world and in my own. He takes the end of my hair binding and winds its from my headboard to tie to my footboard so my hair is pulled with firm tension. I dose off in this position. I can't imagine anything feeling this languid, this comfortable this safe and protected. He leaves me there as he organizes and stores my loving binds. He brushes a stray tendril from my brow and kisses me . He undoes my hair at last and tucks me in. My last sight before the oblivion of the deepest sleep is of him blowing out the candle, leaving the room in quiet darkness.

The Darkness

She touched the little box in her pocket and smiled, feeling a contrasting shudder and affection for her lover.  Her mind briefly went to a moment where she found herself panicked, standing alone momentarily in a dark room, but she shook the memory away, the only remnants the faint scent of sweat and cologne from that night.

She never thought that she would be obliging this resolution. It didn’t feel like an option, but the choice was this or to leave. That was it then: she could forsake her lover or give up all her free will. Today, at last, she decided upon her lover, content to give up her independence and never felt so free until this pivotal moment.

She walked into her lover’s home. The front door was unlocked, as it was the majority of the time. Silence greeted her, and for a moment she felt herself losing her nerves, the joy in the feeling of being free slipping tenaciously. She gulped for air, determined, and searched the rooms, coming into his bedroom.

The sound of a bathroom door opened, and there was her lover, steam rising in the background, skin glistening, covered in only a towel, and for a moment she thought he was a god come to deliver her. His cold grey eyes widened slightly, the only indication he was surprised by her unexpected visit, before narrowing. But no god, this man coming out of a shower. This was the man who knew every dark secret in her heart, who made fantasies come true without her ever realizing that she had them. I love this man, she thought, and smiled.

Remembering her place, she kneeled down on the floor. Fumbling, her trembling hand reached in her pocket and pulled out the small box – her gift of freedom in slavery. Lifting her head up and looking up at him, she extended her hand, palm up, with the box in it. He smiled, briefly, at her, and it was as if the sun beamed down upon her, so radiant and warm did she feel.

He gazed intently at her eyes, not moving, as if judging if she were even worthy, and she felt nervous. He always seemed to have an air of aloofness, distance. A woman used to making men crazy to be with her, she was incredibly turned on by his detachment.

He loved her; she knew that, but she had denied him sharing her in that black room, changing her agreement of acceptance. And then instantly regretted it, especially when she enviously watched another woman being shared with the men, the screams of orgasms making a hot pool between her own legs. And then he penetrated the woman, and she was equally turned on and insanely jealous that it was not she that was being used so.

He circled around her leisurely, and she moved her eyes to the floor, too nervous to follow his movements. She wished he wasn’t always so self-possessed, and craved to touch her as frequently as she desired his touch. Suddenly he grasped her throat, his other hand tilting her chin up, as he bent down to kiss her from behind. Tongue met tongue and she melted, clinged to him like life, gasping for breath by the end of the kiss.

She realized he hadn’t said a word yet. She also realized that he accepted her gift, though he hadn’t even touched it yet.

He moved to the front of her and removed his towel, already so hard. Grabbing the back of her head, he dove into her mouth and she frantically tried to open wide for him, to make her mouth as inviting as possible for his possession. He didn’t seek the softness of her lips or tongue, he delved to the back of her throat, and she tried to focus on breathing, knowing that this was part of her penance. She dropped the box from his movement, and let her hands drop to her sides. Her eyes watered and she felt the urge to gag with his inflexible sex touching the back of her throat.

She felt herself become wet, and hoped, so badly, that he would also thrust himself between different lips. He understood that about her, whereas no one had. She became free of burdens with him, and wondered why it had taken her this long to finally, fully submit to her own desires in him.

He pulled out of her mouth in the same manner that he had moved in, and either she lost sense of balance or his hand on the back of her neck guided to her fall forward so she was now hands and knees.

“As tempting a sight as that is, get naked and lay on the bed,” he commanded, and she felt herself tightening in anticipation. She scurried to get up, in such a rush to discard her clothing that she cast them upon the little box.

The box that would be opened hours later, when they had spent their passion out on each other, bound more firmly in love and trust and understanding. 

Want to discover what other people uncovered in that box? Click on this wicked one...

TMI: You

1. Tell us about you in 10 words or less.
Impulsive, playful, over-analytical, loving, reader, supportive, impatient, high sex drive

2. What radio stations do you have programmed and regularly listen to (format, genre)?
Rock, Alternative, Hit List, Country

3. What color are your eyes today?
Brown and bored

4. Did you shave today?
Yes, even my legs!

5. What’s your personality?
I am rarely content to be still, whether it's planned or unplanned, I am happiest doing something and exploring. I can be argumentative, but I am still a good listener and communicator. I very frequently get my own way

6. Tell us two things that most people mention they like about you.
Open minded and friendly

7. Name one thing that you really like about yourself.
My reading ability

Bonus: How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you are?
Physically 30; Mentally either 24 or 70 - rarely anything in between 

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

Drip

e[lust] 48

  Photo courtesy of  It Girl Rag Doll
Welcome to e[lust] - The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you're looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it'll be here at e[lust].  Want to be included in e[lust] #49? Start with the newly updated rules, come back August 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!


~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~
A Submissive's Day
An Open Letter to Modern Female Feminists
Rape Porn: Rapists by Proxy?


~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~
Innocent Dark and the Sweet Talk of the Storm

~ Readers Choice from  Sexbytes ~
Sex Toy Stories: Fifty Shades of Pink
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Erotic Non-Fiction
I'm fucking you, whether you're wet or not.
 Positions Filled
 Second Wind
 Snippets of bambi
 Sir Knows Best
 A Taste of Rub & Tug
 Feels Like the 6th Time
 Call of the Wild
 Falling Violently in Lust with Suzanne
 Submitting to His Will
Venus' Orgasm
 You don't hit me hard enough spanking
 Mirror, Mirror on the Wall
 Swingers club, group sex & a queue of men

Poetry
Jitterbug
 XYZ Me

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships
Description of my orgasm(s)
 Casual Dating
Mormon Sex Symbols

Blogging
The Big Ugly Self Portrait Challenge
 Blogger is dumping adult bloggers; what now?

Erotic Fiction
Perfect Spring Day
 Damp
 Lolita Twenty-Thirteen, Part Six
 Hook-Up
 Lights Out
 I Am Watching
 Wicked Wednesday: Karma

Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor
There is No Smiling in S&M - Usually
 Break the boxes
 Your Guide To The Perfect Sex Toy!
 Age Inappropriate

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish
Ass Worship: Errant Oral & a Brave Submissive
 Tell Me You Want Me.
 Embracing My Strap-On
 Talking About Kinks & Fetishes With Vanillas
 Thoughts: Age and BDSM

Writing about Writing
Flat-chested Heroines

The Unexpected

There was a moment, when he walked in that I paused to appreciate the body of this handsome new man who going to be working with us. Long muscular legs leading up a a frankly fantastic ass; I could already picture my nails sinking into it as I asked for more...

In fact, the image was too vivid, almost deja vu. It was then that I glanced up into familiar, amused eyes and realized my nails had already marked that skin, my hands had explored every inch of that remarkable body and my mouth had tasted his core. Shit.

The memories came crashing back of a conference in another state. A hotel bar and later room. A week spent avoiding the conference meetings as much as possible to steal moments alone. I had worshiped him on my knees and served his will as though it were my own. I never thought to see him again, let alone be working with him. My cheeks bloomed with color as I thought of how uncomfortable this had the potential to be.

The hits kept coming as I found out that not only was he in my company now, he was in my group... The group that I led. From submissive lover to boss- that was the leap I was supposed to make. Luckily, one of the things I had previously found attractive in him still held true, he was charming, smart, and above all professional. He deferred as a subordinate should, asked my opinion when unsure, and treated me with courtesy and respect. The potential complications I worried over never came to be. It was as though it had never happened.

Dammit. Why couldn't I then stop thinking about it? The hours spent in bliss, writhing in his arm, played like a song over and over again in my head. I dreamed of him. I tossed and turned aching with the need of him covering my body. I never let on through word or deed that I even remembered our time together, but my body betrayed me. My pulse would quicken and my eyes dilate when he was near. The scent of him drove me crazy and made me damp.

The rest of the office had gone and I was left behind to see to the final details on a project that had caused us all a few late nights lately. I was tired, irritable, and immeasurably thankful to be alone finally after the noise and hectic frenzy of the day. I was immersed in the papers in front of me when I heard the whisper of fabric and the scent that announced who my visitor was before I even saw him. An arm reached past my shoulder to deposit a chai ice tea in front of me. This was the first thing he had done to indicate that he knew me from another life, another place. Those ice teas being a favorite of mine. I held it and turned as I took a sip to look up into his heartbreakingly handsome face.

"I figured you could use this, you've certainly earned it."

His hand reached out to brush an errant hair back in place. It had certainly been a long day and I was not proof against those strong fingers stroking my face. I nuzzled into his hand slightly like a kitten looking for affection. The look in his eyes changed and suddenly I was back at that conference, suddenly I was with the man I had know so well before.

He gently took the cup from my hands and set it aside. I was trapped and incapable of movements. This was insanity but I couldn't move if the building had been set afire, because it was my blood that was burning through my veins in withdraw from his touch. The conference room which had doubled as our war room during these last minute preparations was anything but private. The hallways were dark and deserted on the other side of the glass from us and I honestly couldn't dredge up more than the smallest concern for the risks. He was mine here and now and there was no walking away for either of us.

His hand suddenly shifted into my hair and pins went flying as he gripped me firmly and tilted my head to best receive his searching mouth. He tasted like mint and smelled like water. Strong arms held me in security as madness overtook us. I pressed my body ever closer to his and was more than ready to receive all that he was willing to give. His hands slide down the curves of my body and he lifted my leg to his hips. Frustrated at the hampering tightness of my skirt, it was quickly lifted to my waist.

Papers rained to the floor from the hasty sweeps of our arms across the big smooth surface of the conference table. The wood was cool against my fevered skin as I was laid across the table. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once when suddenly I felt his mouth at the very center of me, his tongue flicked across my clit sending waves of pleasure playing across my every nerve. I was ready to explode. I needed him like air. My hands gripped his hair to drag him up so that my trembling fingers could fumble to undo his belt.

I felt like a teenager. The intense desire coupled with the thrill of the forbidden, the fact that at any time someone could come back for a forgotten object and happen upon us; all of this combined totaled up to almost more than I could handle. I finally wrapped my fingers around his hardened shaft and my name escaped his lips in a breathless moan as he gripped my shoulders and nipped at my neck.

Neither of us could stand to be separate a moment longer, so when he grasped my hips and slid me to meet his waiting cock at the edge of the table I almost wept in relief. My body gripped him as he slid inside of me and welcomed him home. We both rocked into each other in a rhythm as old as days. The crescendo was higher than a mountain when we reached it. The throbbing of his orgasm inside of me pushed me over the edge of mine and I squeezed every last drop from him.

Sated, panting, and covered in a fine sheen of sweat we looked at the chaos around us. He tenderly cupped my cheeks and nibbled at my lips while promising to help clean up. My irritability and fatigue suddenly forgotten I couldn't help but to chuckle and the improbability of it all. I didn't know what I expected to feel like after this, but I certainly wasn't expecting to be this at ease. We were both adults, and both dedicated professionals. I knew our working relationship would remain the same, but I knew with just as much certainty that I wouldn't have to suffer through withdraw from him again.

Read other wicked entries here.

Summer Motivation

M here.

Sorry postings have been slimmer, though I'll explain an amazing time to be had. A, being the playful, little single she is, isn't the most consistent at blogging, though brilliant about articulating her adventures.

As for me, summer is a time of travel, as the kids have off. It is also a time where my husband and I are most assuredly separated, whether by moving, deployments, or I leave him to visit family, etc..It just seems to work that way.

So I don't have a lot of sexy inspiration during the summer, being busy and focused on the kids and their agendas more. Doesn't leave a lot of time for sex (but my masturbation time increases). Kids just have a way of sucking all the sexiness out of life.

On the bright side of all this, while playing a game together with a group of friends, my husband and I bet that I couldn't hold out 11 minutes and 18 seconds until I orgasmed (it would have been the third time). I really didn't think I would win it, but I did! Our friends were kind enough to listen to me orgasm on Skype, and helped keep track of time. My prize: an hour of being tied up.

The next day over the phone he went into delicious detail about painting a picture of what to expect: wrists tied with an immediate orgasm by fingers to keep me extra sensitive, then by oral sex, and again possibly by vibrator. Then ankles tied with knife, wax, cold glass, ice cubes, vibrator...um, I may be forgetting a few other implements. Edging, he promised/threatened five times, before allowing me to be pleased by the sixth. I believe my ankles would also be tied by my wrists by this point. Next tied position, laying on my stomach. Gosh, I believe a spreader and a plug and paddle by this point...anyhow, I have to patiently wait at least another month to have this become a reality, and I am not a patient person.

And while I was listening to the deep, sensual pitch of his voice, almost hypnotic, I couldn't help brushing my fingertips over my puckered nipples, around the soft globe of my breasts, down the curves of my waist and hips, and up my inner thighs. His words went into such great detail on where he would move, what he would do, how he would smile even (though I wouldn't be able to see through the blindfold), that I tightened with expectation. My fingertips grazed my clit, and stayed there for a few minutes, teasing my body in tone with his words, before sliding into my slick folds. I was slowly rubbing, tingling pleasantly with the soft strokes in and out, but when he began talking about edging and finally allowing me to cum, my fingers tensed up and curled and I came.

Hmm, this may be why the details of being flipped over are hazier than the rest. I heard every word, extended my pleasure to the rhythm of his story, but yet...memory with pleasure just isn't strong.

Anyhow, inspiration promises to come in spades. We are going to experiment and play to a teasing level that we haven't yet, and I'm curious how my sensitive body will handle it all.

And while I have to patiently wait for this, hopefully smaller inspirations will be granted. Until then, apologies for the sparse posts. A and I will continue on in the tempo we are motivated to.

-M

FFF: A dream shattered

FFF Prompt - July 12 - Phone Lines

Required Phrase =
"Answer it"

Forbidden Words = Orgasm

Word Length = 661

Extra Credit = Tell us who's calling

Bonus Words = 50 if you tell us a phone sex confession

“Are you going to answer it?” The voice sounded wrong, really wrong. She felt drawn out of passion’s dream-like quality more from his voice than the phone ringing beside her head.

She didn’t open her eyes, just groped around for the phone. He stopped moving in and out of her, withdrawing, rolling onto the side of her. She could feel his weight beside her, and missed that feeling so much.

Her voice cracked with unexpected emotion. “Hello?”

“That guy you brought home isn’t Matt, honey. I saw you walking out of the bar with him. You can’t bring Matt back.”

“Fuck off,” she muttered, frustrated at her best friend. She went to hang up, hit the phone receiver, but if fell down. Refusing to her open her eyes, she grabbed at the cord and swung it up above her head. “Where were we?” she asked.

“Who was that?" A brief chuckle at her ridiculousness, "Why are your eyes shut? What’s wrong?” God, why did his voice grate on her nerves so badly?

“My eyes get very sensitive after I’ve been pleased.” She lied, rubbing his muscular thigh, feeling her way up to his balls, massaging them, feeling him shift and smiling a little.

His body covered hers again. He went to kiss her but she turned her head to the side, and instead his warm mouth molded itself against her neck, sucking and nibbling in the most delicious ways. He moved inside of her, parting her lips, and she relished the feeling of fullness. He began the rhythmical movements in and out of her again, and the ridge of his head felt so amazing when it slid in just the right spot. She moaned, moving one hand around him to stroke up and down, encouraging him to continue. He continued to feast upon the susceptible side of her neck, such an inviting mouth and tongue, and yet she shivered. His hand reached to capture her other hand, and he began increasing the movement.

For the briefest of moments, she believed that he was Matt. It was the right build, the pace was now similar to his favorite. A warm male body covering her own, filling her, loving her. He was here, now. She hadn’t answered the door to the men in stiff, formal uniforms, offering their immediate condolences about her husband. It didn’t happen…that was a dream.

A dream, she thought desperately, as the pleasure began building, and she felt herself drifting off with the indulgence, losing coherent thoughts for the briefest, most needed, escape.   

**Phone sex confession:
I suck at phone sex. I am okay in the beginning, though it feels awkward to me. But then I start touching myself, and listening to the voice on the other side, and lose myself to the pleasure. Eventually I abandon speaking to my lover, instead moaning or gasping at my own pleasurable sensations. Fortunately, they don't seem to mind this verbal communication on my end.  
Sadly, right now I am having far more phone sex than actual sex. 

Summer Frolick

We had met

in the middle of summer

amid a heat that had nothing

to do with the weather

and everything to do with

attraction.

As the summer stretched out

the rain dried out

and the sun shed light.

Everything was so bright,

so vivid, the joy of freedom

momentous.

Circling each other like

nectar draws hummingbirds,

the path almost undetectable,

frolicking carelessly;

We were iridescent*,

absorbing our color from each other.

*Hummingbirds are iridescent, reflecting colors around them like a bubble floating in air.

Let's watch a movie

That's right. We've all heard it, in fact, we have all probably said it at some point. Online dating has taught me a thing or two about the classic lines people passively use for "Let's have sex".

The most prolific of our offenders:

1) "Let's watch a movie"

Let's watch a movie is such a commonly used statement that even the most novice person on the dating scene knows it's merely code for "let's have a movie playing in the background while we have awkward, groping couch sex".

2) "Why don't I cook you dinner at my place, maybe have a bottle of wine..."

This is the classy way of saying "I want to lure your to my house with promises of a meal, then get you pleasantly buzzed before I cajole you into my lair, where we have sex."

Moscato is a gateway drug to bad food and sex!

3) "We can just hang out at my place, get to know each other..."

This one isn't even just blatantly obvious, it's cheap too! Dude, if you want me to come knock boots after hardly knowing you, at least fork over the couple bucks for Red Box!

There are a lot more examples of these euphemisms for let's have hot steamy casual sex, but it seems like, with the false courage people are getting from the variety provided by the internet, even a simple dinner out leads to expectations.

I'm sorry, simply because you paid for my meal doesn't mean I OWE you, and even if I like you, if you assume we're hooking up I am then forced to disappoint my inner slut and shut you down.

It's become such a common trend on my dating sites that I even posted a joke about people's unrealistic dating expectations on the internet:

"Sorry boys, I don't believe in anal on the first date"

Because truly, the assumption of sex on a first date is as unrealistic as the assumption that I'm going to believe you when you say you're packing 9 inches...

Come see who else is being wicked...

After party

The sea of rumpled sheets and discarded undergarments are the only testament to the wild night...

See who else is being sinful...

Unknown Leads to Desire: Mating in Captivity

Esther Perel's book Mating in Captivity: Unlocking Erotic Intelligence was suggested by My Dissolute Life.

I cannot read a book without writing in it (I never borrow books for this reason). I had an English Professor tell me that "books talk to us, talk back", and that seemed like as good as motivation to explain to people as ever. And yes, because most of my reading is done in the bath, I still read actual paperbound books (shocking, I know, but imagine how expensive an electronic book would suddenly become if I dropped it).

As I've been reading this book, I've been reflecting. This seems like a good place to share. I'm strictly going to speak from a military spouse, and generalize that most spouses are females to a military man.

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)

She suggests looking at your partner with a new perspective (ever seen someone appreciate something about your partner, and realize that you've been taking that very thing for granted in them?). For example, I go to the same local family business to buy my ball gowns. The seamstress met my husband, and commented on his slow mannerisms, his thoughtful consideration, his absolute respect, and his gorgeous body. By that point, I had taken some of these things for granted, and no longer saw them until she pointed them out. He does have a slower mannerism than say a person from California (who always seems rushed); I’d forgotten how I used to think that too.

Gorgeous, well I can’t forget that. For some reason, even after years, he still takes my breath away. When I told her one year that we were done having babies, she declared, “no baby, no. He is gorgeous and he needs to make gorgeous babies.” She’s right: he is gorgeous, but that doesn’t change the fact that he was not having any more babies. Now, we were all for practicing.

Now in the military, the odds for taking someone for granted aren’t as high as perhaps some other couples. For one: there’s deployments. Depending on what branch depends on how long they are gone. The fear of them being in harm’s way makes them that much more precious. And you are away from them – aware of the emptiness of the bed beside you, the lack of tripping over their boots, their interactions with the children. Communication is often short and random, words become that more important, preciseness to convey a message is hard but so importantly necessary. Their voice inflections travel from the ear and burrow deeply into the heart, to nourish until the next time. And when you finally see each other again, it is falling in love all over again. Often spouses have lost weight, change a hairstyle, become more independent, developed a new routine; kids have grown. Military personnel are often more muscular and defined, tired, perhaps have even changed emotionally and mentally from what they’ve experienced.

Trainings/schooling tend not to be as long, but it is still a breaking apart and coming together again. Also, spouses will often travel and visit family if they’ve moved far away for extended periods of time. There always seems to be a reason for parting and coming back together in the military lifestyle.

It is getting to know each other again; they are unknown to each other again depending on the length of time; and their unique and completely individual experiences. The fact that they are married changes nothing of the newness of each other, that is more based on the love and commitment to each other, not in the actual wanting of each other. "Love is about having; desire is about wanting. An expression of longing, desire requires ongoing elusiveness." (Perel, 37) These couples are often elusive, and want to recommit to each other, to discover and delve into each other again, and desire tends to be very high at homecomings. A new lover delivered safely, an "oh yeah, I forgot how that feels" touch or caress, a new trick heard and now tried. Even old tried and try methods are made new and appreciated.

The up and down rollercoaster of the relationship in a military lifestyle isn’t all grand; it is downright challenging. At a recent marriage retreat that my husband and I went to, we heard from the chaplain that the divorce rate was currently 75%. There have a lot of studies debating if it is higher than the average national norm or not, I’ve read a lot of it and it seems pretty undecided as a whole. But it is challenging. Some couples become addicted to the partings and homecomings, and cannot handle their spouses for long periods of time - they've become stagnant and lose that desire. Some have lived apart for so long that when they finally come together, they discovered they didn’t want to be married anymore, the desire simply wasn't there at all and was perhaps more of an illusion sustained by distance.

I am going to suggest her book to many of my friends, especially if they are ready to transition to civilian life where separateness may be more challenging. Perel in no way suggests living separately to gain individuality, those are my own thoughts based on a military lifestyle. She discusses reawakening the newness when there has been no new element in a long time (which the military provides); of desiring each other again. When not forced apart, I can only hope that my spouse and I retain our individual selves and continue to view each other with desire from different perspectives.

*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.

With bringing in new ideas, or often being reminded of old favorites, I believe that we will keep our sex life and desire fresh just because we are so fluid with it.   

Independent Princess

FFF Prompt - July 5 - Independence Day

Key Word - Independence or Independence Day
Word Limit - 237
Forbidden Word - Fireworks
Extra Credit - Put the action on July 5th

It is hard being a famous princess. The woodland creatures and children look up me.

Worse, I had to plan a wedding once a year, because everyone knows that weddings are the “happily ever after”.

My handsome prince, was impatient during the umpteenth wedding, as he muttered: “every stupid July 5th.”

I kept my smile, and nodded slightly. We knew the routine, kissed when expected with large smiles on our faces, and rushed towards the carriage with rice being thrown, amidst trumpets, people cheering, the creatures waving goodbyes, even the doves calling down a congratulations as they flew over.

The white carriage, with its perfect-heart-shaped-carved-out-backing, so people can observe our happiness. I leaned my head on his shoulder, conscious of the numerous eyes watching our departure. He also knew the eyes were directed to the back of us. He kicked the basket at our feet, the clink of glass apparent; I gave a sigh of relief at seeing the alcohol bottle with glasses. He reached over, seemingly to embrace me closer, reached in and pinched my nipple, hard. He began twisting it viciously as he whispered his commands, the eyes peering at our backs us becoming farther away. Those wicked words wound me up. He ordered me to lift my dress, slipped his hand up my thigh, then grasped and ripped my panties off. A little bit of lace is hardly a barrier.

His fingers sought my already dripping sex, and he roughly pushed three inside me, his other fingers still created a wave of pain to my nipple. As his fingers fucked me, he told me how I was to strip naked once we got to the secret glade and serve him, the tortured foreplay that was going to occur as I was tied to a tree, how he was going to fuck me raw against a rock till my back bled. “Cum,” he commanded as he felt the tightening around his fingers. “Cum,” and I convulsed around his fingers, the pain and pleasure so exquisite.

As with the first honeymoon, I gave up complete independence, and loved every minute of submissiveness. 

Fulfilling Bruises

When I first got together with my husband, I had bruises on my knees. We both had no idea why, but it had been a very long night of all foreplay, and no sex. Literally, all night long. So I shrugged my shoulders at the unknown source of the bruises, but he worried that I bruised easily.

A year later…As a professional, he marked me on the neck: a small hickey, but one that I had to cover in makeup and hair, and I was extremely upset over it. I cannot have a visible mark on me for my career, especially a teenage-ridden one. He remembered to be more careful from then on.

And later…With our more passionate lovemaking, I would often have finger bruises on my thighs. I loved these marks, small little marks that often I was only aware of, a secret reminder of our time together. The marks became more numerous if we saw each other for any length of time, and I marveled how dark they could get, how lovely they looked against my milky thighs.

When we would wrestle, I would sometimes bruise, mostly it was me bruising myself trying to get the upper advantage, occasionally on my wrist from him managing to pin me down. I loved these playful moments; he always worried about me getting hurt.

I am so much shorter than him (over a foot), and he outweighs me almost double. I am grateful for his concern, but….

I wanted him to spank me. We had already learned I liked my nipples played with rough, orgasm harder from rougher sex, and my hair tugged. But when I asked him to spank me, it was lightly. It didn’t do the job that I wanted, that I was curious about. He was scared to mark me, to hurt me, to bruise.

Just like the finger bruising, or the sore nipples, I wanted to both see and feel our time together, even after the fact. I wanted to be reminded of it. I wanted to savor it.

It took a lot of talking, reassuring, instructing, demanding to get where he finally smacked my ass to sting. We both marveled over how red, how we could see his hand and finger imprints. It felt so deliciously warm to the touch; I smiled and even giggled when I kept looking back to see it. Sadly, it didn’t last throughout the night, but he was so worried about spanking me that hard, I worried not only what it would take to get it to bruise (and if I would even like it), but more how I was going to convince him to go even harder. I was working against his own preconceived notions, and society's, of never to intentionally hurt a woman. But it was kink/pleasure, and at my consent; he needed to see it differently.

My loving husband, who protected me and sheltered me, who thought I bruised so easily, so was cautious about marks (my point was visible marks, but he was still cautious), was now being asked to bruise me – someone much smaller than him.

It went against his protective nature, but fortunately for me, his nature is ultimately to please me. He is truly a lover that is flexible, adaptable, and open-minded. And we did finally accomplish a bruised and marked ass (which I was thrilled about, but that experience also taught us limits and timing on spanking). Since then, I’ve asked for much more from him.

I am such a lucky wife, that I married a man who is changing and evolving with me to keep our sex life interesting and new. That if I become curious, I feel comfortable enough to discuss it with him; or vice versa. And if we are ever uncomfortable with a suggestion, we simply don’t do it or discuss our way to comfortable at a much later date.  

Many married couples do not share their fantasies with each other; we not only share ours, but do our best to fulfill them. Even if that means bruising.

Not all marks are visible; he has left so many invisible, deeply imbedded traces throughout the years, and those are certainly savored, cherished, felt, and loved.

Jolly June

M's picks:

Category: Strong Personal Response. From the very first day of June, I'd already found a favorite. A Firmer Hand: Play Time: “On all fours little one,” what about that first line had me going? I'm little and that's a title I'm familiar with, and the immediately being thrusted into a command in the story had me immediately responding to it.

Category: Poetry with a new kink of mine. FridayErotica: When the Hand Talks Back. The colored beginning from the "dark eyes hidden in dark hair" to the pinpointed body parts' tension and position, kink was the last thing I expected.

Category: Slow sensual seduction. Secrets of a Blue-Eyed Vixen speaks of anticipation that made me shiver and need. Bound is accompanied by pictures and small details like fingertips following along the collarbone.

How you know I'm ready

The buildup, it takes me higher and higher until I can't think. Tied up, immobile. Unable to move and at his mercy.  He knows my limits and he pushes them always.

I haven't seen him in so long and he is determined to make up for lost time. New pleasures, new tortures, all await me. I brought toys of the delightful kind, he brought toys of the torturous.

I'm bound from head to foot in a delightful design with the ropes that were cut just for me. He fits a ball gag in my mouth, a new toy for us. He'd had me wear my plug out all afternoon while we running errands and now, he was making me enjoy its presence.

My heart rate spikes as he tells me it's best not to have the plug in for what comes next, it might be too intense. That's when I hear something click, and a whoosh; just before something small has a sharp impact on the tender flesh of my inner thigh...

Gloves have spanked and smoothed skin, a leather belt has lashed welts into tender flesh, and now this new tantalizing curiosity. I've no idea what it is. Another click, another sharp sting of impact. A few more and he asks if I know what it is.

I'm forced to answer in the negative. I've no clue as to what the object is, and frankly, it's hard to think clearly with the exquisite torture I'm being put through as is. That's when he raises my blindfold and it takes me a moment to identify the bright orange and blue object in my lovers sadistically clever hands...

It's a nerf gun. I'm currently being shot in the pussy with a nerf gun. He switches now to the gloves again, my tender flesh brightly red from its abuse. Suddenly my lover uses yet another new implement he's bought: an industrial abrasive scrub brush. It's rubbed on my raw skin and my eyes begin to water... I moan into my gag and stretch against my binds...

The exquisite torture he is putting me through has come to a crescendo and I'm crying. The gag is new to me and the saliva pooling from my mouth, coupled with the ache in my jaw from the size of it, are adding to the intense sensations I'm experiencing throughout the rest of my body. Mascara is running down my face and I'm moaning for all that I'm worth when my lover stops and comes to my head to remove my gag. He's petting my tear stained cheeks and kissing my forehead and asking if I'm ok.

I'm confused and befuddled. I don't know why he stopped. He suddenly wipes a tear from my cheek and examines it shining on his finger. He looks past to me to say something I was definitely not expecting.

"I hate to see you cry, I can't stand it."

My heart melts just a little bit more as I point out I almost always cry when we play rough, it's honestly just one of the steps to subspace. He assures me he knows, but that this time of play was particularly intense and he never wants to hurt me beyond that which I enjoy.

I love this man and his care of me. We are far from perfect, but we are perfect for each other. As he soothes me and I sooth him of his worries, the heat of desire returns to our eyes. We use the smaller ball for the gag to ease my aching jaw and he kisses me and returns the blindfold to my eyes.

I know he has gotten over the heartbreak of my tears as he makes me pick a number between 1-40... I low ball it, instinctively knowing I won't like it and less is better. 4 is the number of thumb tacks I chose to sit on with my abused posterior. I've no idea of this prior to him assisting me down (of course, I am still tied and blindfolded) onto the sharp needle points. Those hateful tears sporting back up instantly and I'm furiously shaking my head no. No no no! I can't, I won't, it's too much.

He instantly picks me back up and soothes me again. I'm in for more intense treatment throughout the night, more tears, deep subspace, then finally that heightened crescendo of being filled with him, the thing I've been longing for all day.

Although my tears had moved him that night, despite being tears from the incredibly sweet pain I craved and which he gave me to heighten my pleasure, it is the true tears I must hide. For come morning we must part and my love will no longer be mine again for quite some time to come.

The tears from pain are how you know my body is ready, the tears from parting are how you know my heart is ready.