Driving to work


Driving to work this morning I could almost feel L’s arms around my neck as my hardness slipped into her wetness. I remembered her head ducking under the sheet to suck me like a hungry schoolgirl. I thought about her taste and the next time she’ll wait quietly, poised to let me enter her from behind, guiding me inside with soft fingers. I felt an erection growing through the stoplights and lane changes, and I had to tuck it away as I got out of the car and shouldered my laptop bag to go upstairs and try not to think about her sweet flesh against me while I worked on my spreadsheets and macros and conducted a joint application design session with a roomful of people who were not attractive in the least.

I keep reminding myself that this is all good; I might never have started up with her; I could be having mornings like this, without the expectation.

Two or three weeks to go now.

Posted in Erotica, Memoir | 15 Comments

eLusting again


e[lust] #56



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Photo courtesy of Understanding Flutterby

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] #57? Start with the rules, come back April 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Trick of the Light

What Does Porn Lead To

The Posh Life of a Sex Toy Reviewer?

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Eleven Quarters

Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Sadists

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*

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 Fiction

The Watchman Short Story: Tucked Away Property’s Progress Glass Houses Proud and Prejudged You’ll Do…. Now Step Closer. Pet Ballerina Superotica Valentine – Day 7 Get In Me, Daddy White Gloves

Blogging

Posting a photo a day! How to Handle Your Junk in Public My first trick on a corner Mid Morning Musings ~ The Catharsis of Pain Francesca Woodman Inspired Self Portraits Eve’s Quandary – Blogging Between Fig Leaves What I Be

Sex News,Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Why 3 out of 4 young women don’t masturbate An Open Letter To Sex Toy Manufacturers Daily Photo – Day 1: Full Disclosure

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Fantasies, deep and dark Fun with ropes Where we started from Kink from a humbler perspective To Err Is Human, To Punish May be Advisable Reader Q&A: How does a sub say ‘no’? Finding Balance

Erotic Non-Fiction

Suspended Sister, Oh Sister My First Trick This one’s for you Angela’s orgasm His Rope Show Finger Banging With Daddy Feeding Submission Valentine’s Day Diary Balance at the Boat Launch Rope, Rhino Cock, and a Balancing Act Exquisite

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Monogamous, Kinky Couple-Friends As Lust Fades A discussion with Mom When Did You Realize You Were Dominant? How to Fake an Orgasm How To Increase Your Libido Without Cialis

Writing About Writing

Talking Dirty Fiction! Thank You!

Poetry

I’m Willing To Earn The Right Bad habits

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  2 Responses to “e[lust] #56”

    1. Hi, I’m having trouble clicking in Sex News section. All of the links go to the last of the three posts; did something go wrong with the code?

      Sex News,Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor Why 3 out of 4 young women don’t masturbate An Open Letter To Sex Toy Manufacturers Daily Photo – Day 1: Full Disclosure

      P.S. I’m so honoured to be a featured post my very first time – thank you Molly! I just published two posts yesterday so I will reblog e[lust] later this week, but rest assured that the deadline has been on my calendar for a month.

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Read Theo and L’s entire story, Age of Discovery, in paperback and Kindle versions, and epub format for Nook and other readers.
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This one’s for you


L had pillows strewn all over her bed, and as she lay down I picked one up and commented on the pattern: “Pretty flowers.”

“They’re magnolias,” she told me, and pulled one beneath her to cradle her head as I worked the oil into my hands and started kneading her shoulders and worked my way slowly down her back and eventually to let my fingers enjoy the sweet muscle and fat at her waist.

The massage went on for a long time before I pulled her panties down in back and let them sling snugly along the clefts at the bottom of her ass. Beautiful, round pink mounds of flesh held in a leopard-print sling. I kissed each cheek, then the small of her back and kissed up her spine until I was kissing the side of her neck and nestling my cock between the cheeks of her ass. The pre-come lubricated the valley there as I stroked slowly, lightly in the sweet crack. Enjoying the soft curve of her waist and hip under my fingers, licking her neck and ear, rubbing my dick gently against her, starting to go a little crazy with lust, my fingers found their way to her ass and played gently there, rolling the slickness I’d deposited softly against her anus under one finger, then beginning to probe, violating her lovingly as the finger went inside and she drew in her breath audibly.

“I’m getting some lube,” I said.

Along with the lube, I brought a new glass dildo I’d just ordered. Not terribly thick, and maybe five or six inches long.

I took my time oiling her up, sliding a finger into her and out, then an oiled thumb easing inside her ass and back, in and back, in and back. I explored her like that for a long time listening to her breath slow and relax; her rhythmic inhalations and exhalations slowly became tuned to match the alternating distention and relaxation of her asshole under my languid probing.

Without breaking the rhythm, I withdrew my thumb and slid the glass dildo in its place, working her ass slowly until it was entering her to the hilt each time it went in.

“Lift up,” I said, and slid one of the flowered pillows underneath, raising her up for me. One hand held the glass cock in her ass, the other twined fingers into her hair and pulled her head back as I slid into her pussy. She moved her hands to the headboard and gripped as if she were tied there while I pierced her simultaneously with a glass cock and one of flesh.

The sounds she made as she came were sweet, almost desperate.
When I pulled the dildo from the sweet pink mouth of her ass, she turned to look and her eyes went wide. “How much of that went in?”

“All of it.” I told her.

“No wonder,” she said without explaining.

I went through one of the Publix bags we keep the toys in, and came back with the other butt-toy that had come in the mail, a grey rubbery thing with a flared base and a button on the end to control the vibration. I held it in front of L, and she smiled. I knew her butt was still lubed and slick from before but when I moved the thing down to her she stopped me with her hand.

She kissed my shoulder. “No,” she said. “This one’s for you.”

whitespace* * *

She pushed on me to signal I should lie down with my ass up. I was happy to do it.

“Up,” she said, and as she had done before, I raised my hips; she slid the pillow under me and I settled back down, my dick resting easily in the soft feathery folds as I waited.

She spent some time exploring me with her hands, feeling the bones of my shaved head, poking in the hollows of my cheeks, squeezing the meat of my shoulders before moving down to take my ass cheek in one soft hand. Her fingers glided around my ass for a few moments before her palm lifted and came down sharply on one cheek. The sharp sting and the sound of the slap filled me with dirty joy.

But that was just the start. She spanked me until she got bored and then she hit me with a bamboo rod. “Oh, that left a welt,” she said. I answered, “Please yes,” and she went on with the rod for a while and the sharp pain turned into sweet pleasure. When she was satisfied with the sound of my exclamations, exhalations, she stopped whipping me and passed her hand softly over the tender welts she’d made, bringing me more pleasure than I knew what to do with. The she climbed up and propped herself over me to grind her pussy against the small of my back, to push her mound into the crack, teasing and rolling against my ass, humping against me for the pleasure of both of us.

“I love this,” I said, and I felt the oil in the crack of my ass, and then her fingers.

“Do you love this?” she said, teasing my ass.

“Yes, baby I do love that.”

She gave my ass more lubrication and more attention, and I felt the plug slide inside, and she switched on the vibration, and I said, “Fuck you’re good to me.”

“Just wait,” she said. Her hand moved under me and her fingers circled my cock and she began to jack me off slowly while she rolled the plug inside me, pulled it out, pushed it in again, tickling the tender flesh just inside my ass.

I felt her kiss my shoulder and I said, “I’m about to come.”

“You go ahead, baby,” she said, stroking my cock and sliding the humming plug in and out of me. I shot all over the flowery pillow and continued fucking her hand. She was sweet to me; she made her hand as welcoming as a cunt, keeping her fingers curled snugly around my slippery cock, milking me until I slowed finally and stopped.

I rolled onto my back; she was smiling down at me as I breathed surprisingly hard. I pulled at her neck, brought her face closer so I could kiss her lips, her cheek, her neck. “Oh fuck honey,” I breathed into her ear. “Oh fuck.”

whitespace* * *

Later, to cleanse the palate I guess, we fucked in the most conservative way possible; she lay on her back and I perched between her knees like a missionary between his housemaid’s, before we went out to meet friends for dinner.

whitespace* * *

All this happened the last time I saw her, five weeks ago I think. She’s coming to visit again today; she should be here within thirty minutes.

Read Theo and L’s entire story, Age of Discovery, in paperback and Kindle versions, and epub format for Nook and other readers.
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Posted in Anal, Erotica, Masturbation, Sex, Sex toys | 65 Comments

Gabrielle


I’m trying to branch off into fiction. This is a later chapter in the same story I called Elevator Fiction last year.

whitespace*

Karen stopped in the teacher’s lounge to freshen her make-up before meeting the others for happy hour. This was going to be an adventure, showing up at Shogun’s, the favorite bar of Marty and the other young-ish teachers who seemed to be the ones at school that Karen could still identify with after Daniel left her and she received her promotion to assistant principal.

She took a moment to examine herself from head to toe, even peering over her shoulder to glimpse her ass in the mirror — still good and round, she thought; the linen slacks rested lightly on her ass, accenting the curve where she imagined somebody’s hand resting lightly, appreciatively. She turned back around and watched her own eyes as she playfully cupped her breasts and put on a smile; she couldn’t help laughing at herself. Yeah, she thought; it’s Friday night, I’m going to be surrounded by young guys like Marty and Steve, and maybe even D’Shawn — he’s single, right? Maybe I’ll just take one of those baby boys home with me.

She was feeling cocky. Somewhere between Ralph and Jimmy, Karen had started to feel she deserved to think of herself as sexy for the first time since before she was married.
She held her hands at her sides and appraised herself in the mirror, then pulled her sweater over her head and took off her shirt before pulling the sweater back on, leaving nothing under it except the soft bra; she checked in the mirror before she headed out, confirming that the nipples could be made out under the baby-blue cashmere. But just barely; she was a lady after all.

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She felt brazen and sexy as she walked into Shogun’s, smiling, greeting the others with light hugs, brushing the cheeks of the men with her lips, chattering for a moment with everyone. But within 20 minutes, she felt lost, and was starting to feel like she’d made a mistake. Marty had given her a hug and said, “Hey sexy lady” to her, but after a few passes at conversation, he and the others seemed to have abandoned her for people their own ages, and Karen had to order her second round alone, trying to look like she wasn’t lonesome. Maybe she’d misread the signals; maybe she wasn’t so tight with her new friends after all.

She looked around at the others, plugged into animated discussions with each other; Marty was talking to two girls, one blonde, one black, and Karen thought he’d gestured at her. She waved weakly and turned back to the bar. This was mortifying. She wondered if he was saying something like, “She’s the cool older lady who came out to the bar with us….” Like somebody’s aunt.

And then Karen saw in the mirror that the trio broke up; Marty and the blonde found a table and the young black girl walked in Karen’s direction and she saw that the girl was coming straight toward her. Oh my god, Karen thought, what did he say about me?
The girl sat in the stool next to Karen and put her drink on the bar and held out her hand. “I’m Gabrielle,” she said. Karen took her hand lightly, and Gabrielle said. “Marty told me you’re looking for a tenant.”

“Well, I am,” Karen said, realizing with relief that Marty had only been discussing the possible living arrangement. With Jimmy gone, she did need help with the mortgage. Karen looked the girl over. She looked maybe 25, with long silky black braids woven into her hair and pulled back and tied behind her neck. She wore jeans with a bright striped top, and pearl posts in her ears– two pearls in one ear, and a line of three in the other. She looked prosperous enough to afford to cover the rent.

Karen asked a few questions to get an idea of her financial situation, and she learned a lot. She was working at the school as an admin while she studied art at the University, and needed a place because she’d just broken up with her live-in boyfriend and was staying with friends until she found a place.

“I’d better find one soon,” she said. “I think they want their privacy back.”

“Privacy,” Karen said.

“I think Rick and Abby are used to a lot of shouting and screaming. Without company,” she said, and her eyes looked Asian as she laughed. Karen liked her.

They ordered refills and Karen retold the saga of the way Jimmy had walked out; Gabrielle filled in details of how she’d split with her boyfriend, Jordan. Karen felt the first flush of intoxication as they laughed, and then at one point, she couldn’t tell if it was her imagination that Gabrielle’s eyes rested for a moment on the points of her breasts that she’d so purposefully left visible with a fantasy of drawing the attention of Marty or Steve or D’Shawn.

Involuntarily, her arms crossed in front of her chest as they talked. They ordered drinks again and swapped stories of old roommates, their likes and dislikes, the living arrangements they were happy with, and that led back to the house Karen was looking to share, and she said, “Let’s talk tomorrow. You should come by and look at the place.”

Gabrielle nodded and smiled. “But you’re not here to find a tenant, are you?” she said, casting her eyes around the bar. “It’s Friday night, you’re looking for some…”

Karen protested. “I just wanted to see my friends.”

“You’ve been separated how long?” Gabrielle squinted slyly at her. “Don’t tell me you’d turn down a massage and some love.”

“Not looking for love honestly,” Karen said. “But if we’re talking massage…” She laughed. “But seriously, I don’t think I’m in the right place for meeting someone.”

“Why not, you’re a pretty girl,” Gabrielle said with a tease in her voice, and Karen was surprised to realize she appreciated the compliment.

Gabrielle motioned to the bartender for a refill and said cheerfully, “Let’s find you a dude.” She looked around the room and nodded toward a tall, skinny blond boy in a Bull Dogs sweat shirt. “Feel like having some spring chicken?”

“A little young,” Karen said, laughing.

“Okay, how about that?” She said quietly as the bartender, having refreshed their drinks, walked away. Karen had already noticed his short hair and goatee and tattooed sleeves up both arms.

“No,” Karen said firmly, and looked pointedly at a guy in his late twenties in a tweed jacket; he might have been the only man in the place wearing a tie. “Now that one…” she said.

“Oh, you’re looking for a professor.”

“I’m not sure I’m looking for anything tonight. If so, I’m not seeing it yet.”

“Nothing on the menu for you baby?” Gabrielle said with that same teasing tone. “Or are you just cold-hearted?” They were on their third drink since Gabrielle had sat beside her, and Karen was almost embarrassed to find herself captivated by the girl’s dark skin, full lips, large dark curious eyes complemented by the lower lip that pushed out slightly to suggest petulance, or maybe determination.

Karen looked at Gabrielle’s face in the mirror behind the bar. She knew she was drunk, and she felt her breath changing; she said, “These guys…” back-sweeping her hand toward the room behind her. “Meh.”

The girl’s eyes went wickedly Asian again when she laughed and said, “Okay, to heck with it.” She looked seriously at Karen in the mirror. “How about a drink at my place? You like tequila?”

Karen hadn’t had tequila in years. “Sure, who doesn’t?” she said.

“I’ll make you a Margarita and see if we can forget about Jimmy and Jordan and the rest of these losers. Who needs them?”

Karen knew what they were doing now and she felt like bravely taking a dive off the deep end, and admitted, “I’d have a drink,” and then felt suddenly afraid. She tried to reverse herself. “Just a drink, you know. I don’t mean…”

She trailed off and Gabrielle raised an eyebrow as she watched Karen’s face, considering.
“Don’t mean what, sugar?”

“I don’t want…” Karen couldn’t complete the sentence.

“All right,” Gabrielle said, taking Karen’s hand and squeezing lightly before releasing it and stepping back. “If you don’t want, then don’t,” she said and stood up. “I see how pretty white girls are,” she said. “It’s all right.” Her expression was open as she turned and stepped toward the door. “Coming along?” she asked over her shoulder, just barely loud enough for Karen to hear.

Karen came along.

whitespace*

Gabrielle’s apartment was dark, and she lit a single lamp in the corner of the living room. It smelled lightly of patchouli, and Gabrielle left Karen to shuffle through the CD collection while she mixed drinks. She came up behind Karen and put a glass in her hand. Karen could almost feel the girl’s warmth next to her as she tasted the tequila, lime, and salt. “Yes,” she said. “You can make a Margarita all right.

She tried to stay calm as she shuffled through the CD collection without paying much attention to the names that she didn’t recognize. She felt Gabrielle’s presence close like a shadow behind her, seconds before Gabrielle leaned into her and put one hand lightly on Karen’s hip.

Karen jumped. “What are you doing?” she said in a voice that came out higher-pitched than she planned.

“Touching you,” Gabrielle said. “I want to see if you feel as cold as you try to look.”
“Cold?” Karen knew she was holding back because her head was spinning and she was confused, but she didn’t like coming off as “cold.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” she said, flustered.

“That’s okay, pretty girl,” Gabrielle said quietly behind her. “I can take care of you.”

Karen turned to face Gabrielle, who took her time moving closer, resting her softly-rounded belly against Karen’s, and waiting a few seconds before she reached to push the hair away from Karen’s face, and kiss her with soft, wide lips. She tasted lightly of tequila, and her tongue came inside, and Karen was surprised that her own tongue reciprocated, exploring Gabrielle’s lips, playing with her tongue. When Gabrielle took her hand, Karen twined her pale fingers with Gabrielle’s dark fingers, and the sight made her suddenly hungry, and she almost dove at Gabrielle; their teeth touched and wet tongues slid against each other, and she felt Gabrielle’s breasts touching hers through their blouses and bras.
This is happening, Karen thought, and she didn’t resist when Gabrielle led her to the couch and pushed her down. Gabrielle kissed her again, barely brushing Karen’s breast before she dropped to her knees in front of the couch. “I know what you want,” the black girl said.

How could she, Karen wondered, shaking her head. “How can you know,” she said. “When I don’t know what I want, myself?”

“I’ll show you,” Gabrielle said. She rested her hands on Karen’s knees to lean forward and kiss her cheek, her neck, her collarbone, before dropping back on her haunches.
“Don’t be afraid, pretty lady,” Gabrielle said. “Let me show you.” Her dark fingers rested lightly on the waistband of Karen’s slacks for a moment, and Karen wanted to object, but couldn’t make words come out of her mouth. She watched, almost paralyzed, as the strong fingers pried the button free and slid the zipper down, parting the fly so that Karen felt suddenly naked and exposed in a way she’d never felt. Gabrielle’s eyes took in the beige flesh and looked up smiling into Karen’s eyes before she bent to press a light kiss on the fabric of Karen’s blue panties. The sudden desire Karen felt was like nothing she could have imagined–the beauty of the girl presenting herself to serve her pleasure.

Gabrielle kissed again, touching her lips repeatedly along the waistband of the panties before kissing and lightly tasting the flesh of Karen’s belly. It felt like Gabrielle had found sweet nerves in her skin that Karen didn’t even know were there.

As Gabrielle peeled back the linen slacks and tugged them gently down her thighs, Karen felt another layer of skin, another layer of her soul, peeling back at the same time. When Gabrielle had freed her from the slacks, pulling them free of the feet, dropping them in a heap next to the couch, she rested her hands lightly on the insides of Karen’s thighs, pressing them gently apart. Karen felt the self she knew dissolving into mindless pleasure and desire.

Gabrielle’s lips felt like sparks on Karen’s skin, and then the fingers moved to pull the waistband of Karen’s panties down her hips, thighs, ankles, and away, before Gabrielle kissed Karen full on the fur of her mound. Karen heard her draw a deep breath through her nose before she sighed, “You’re sweet, pretty girl. Your sweet, pretty pussy…,” and touched Karen’s cunt-lips with her tongue. “I’m going to feast on you, pretty girl,” she said. “I’m going to eat you like a cake, baby.” She crooked her neck so her tongue could reach the folds around Karen’s pussy.

So soft, was all Karen could think. Like silk. The tingle started slowly as she felt Gabrielle’s tongue on the lips down there, sliding up, teasing almost up to her clit, then beginning again at the bottom, loving her, enjoying her like a curious, hungry kitten. Karen touched Gabrielle’s hair, surprised by the texture, and her fingers twined into the coarse kinks and unthinkingly took a grip as the head moved up and down, pleasuring her so softly she wanted to stop breathing.

Gabrielle’s hand s rested lightly on Karen’s thighs, stroking the skin softly as she continued eating her, and her expert tongue brought Karen to a climax, bucking up against Gabrielle’s face, lifting her legs to cross her ankles behind Gabrielle’s head, panting and huffing until she was exhausted and her clit was swollen and tender.

whitespace*

After her breath had returned and Gabrielle was next to her on the couch, Karen let herself go the rest of the way. A tentative touch to the girl’s clothed breast, then the slow undressing, kissing the creases between the pushed up mounds of her breasts, sucking the pointed nipples, the surprising joy when she sensed she was giving Gabrielle pleasure – there was something different, deeper, calmer than the satisfaction of pleasuring a man.
Her hand went lower and her finger found wetness, and she hurriedly tugged Gabrielle’s jeans off of her and pulled the panties off and flung them aside as quickly as possible to feed her desire to taste, to suck, to give the girl pleasure as fine as that she’d received.
Oh, she never thought she’d taste this. She found Gabrielle’s hand and held it tenderly as she dove in again, dragging her tongue deeply between the pink lips, the brown flesh, accepting the surprising scratch against her lips and cheek, the hard black hairs that crinkling across Gabrielle’s mound. She accepted the wet, slippery taste and fragrance that was like something she couldn’t name, like salted animal flesh, dark cellars, and shame and joy.

The thought occurred to her: What if Daniel could see her? Would he still say she was an ice-queen?

She bent close again, pushed her tongue deep into the black girl’s cunt, wrapped her lips around the clit and sucked, playing at the pink pearl with her tongue. “Oh my god, girl,” Gabrielle almost shrieked. “You’re learning fast, baby,” and Karen took pleasure in Gabrielle’s praise.

She did everything she could imagine; she tickled tickling Gabrielle’s clit with her tongue while a finger, then two fingers, slid in and out of the wet hole. The aroma of Gabrielle’s pussy became stronger as she approached her orgasm. Karen turned the two fingers to curl up and pump Gabrielle’s g-spot while she sucked on the clit, and Gabrielle’s hard breath turned high-pitched whine. “You, you, you,” she uttered, touching Karen’s cheek and pumping her mound up to Karen’s face. “Ohhhhh,” turned into a long groan, and Karen let her rub her wet pussy against her face roughly as she held Karen’s head against her and slid the wet cunt juice across her mouth and chin. Gabrielle came hard, and Karen was proud. She did her best to work her lips and tongue on Gabrielle’s clit until she finally slowed, spent and ready for a break.

Gabrielle tugged Karen’s face up to hers and wiped with the sheet before she kissed Karen softly on the lips. “Oh baby,” she purred. “Oh sweet honey girl, you’re just honey, to make mama feel like this.”

Karen was proud.

They didn’t say much more that night; they showered and went to bed together to watch an online movie about two Australian women until they dropped to sleep, and when Karen woke up, she was surprised to see her fingers resting on Gabrielle’s soft breast. It was sweet sight to her for some reason, and she had a vague memory of peaceful childhood moments, and she floated in that the quiet space, taking in the smell of Gabrielle’s skin, the smell of Gabrielle’s cunt on her fingertips. It was strange and unfamiliar, but she lay contentedly for a while, feeling Gabrielle’s breath rise and fall softly, before she rose and dressed quietly so as not to wake Gabrielle.

She was almost singing to herself as she got into her car. She thought she’d be back, but right then she didn’t feel up to talking to Gabrielle or anyone else. She wanted to drive by herself, listen to CDs, revel in the sense that she’d left the world she knew, and was exploring unknown places, exciting places. Places where anything could happen.

Read Theo and L’s entire story, Age of Discovery, in paperback and Kindle versions, and epub format for Nook and other readers.
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Posted in Erotica, Fiction, Lesbian, Oral, Sex | 12 Comments

An Honor and a Privilege — “Golden Girl” is a Featured Post on e[lust]!!


potter Photo courtesy of Property of Potter

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] #52? Start with the newly updated rules, come back November 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

 

7 (Random!) Suggestions for Dominant Types!

Pain Positive

i know what you are.

 

 

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Golden Girl

Have You Met Larry

 

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*

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!

Poetry

Shown
To Punt or Not To Punt, That is the Question

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

SexyLittleIdeas – Why PUA Is Like Feminism
Understanding When His Glass is Full
To Minxy Malone, Thanks For Everything
Biting the Bun
The List (is a waste of time)
Confronting Your Sense of Entitlement
What Do You Prefer: Cut or Uncut?
My Secret Relationship with Max
Quaint Little Categories
Erectile dysfunction isn’t a big deal

Erotic Fiction

Property Procured
The Delight of Leather
Christmas Eve Surprise
Granny’s Door
Lolita Twenty-Thirteen, Part Nine
Jessica
The Edge of the Park
Trust
The Blood Mage’s Sacrifice
The Spanking Paddle-Off
Used, Using, Endless

Erotic Non-Fiction

I Want You To
Love like a lotus
Bend to my will
Spanked
How you helped me to stray
Little Lightening Bolts v. Rayne’s Clit
Master’s Fuck Toy
Conflict
Tease For Two
Memories of Spunk
“It’s total perfection.”
Fucking a Girl with a Double Dildo

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Insatiable Whore
Thoughts: Submissive Journals
Bondage vs. restraint
Dominant and Submissive “Fix”
Baring It All
Blow Job Submission – A spicy twist
Quickstart Guide
Struggling with sub drop

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

American Tantra is Full of Shit
Really, Riddick? Really?

Blogging

My nudity

Events

CatalystCon Part 1: Dildos, dildos, dildos

 


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Posted in Awards, Erotica, golden, Memoir, Sex | 3 Comments

Appetizer


L had barely given me a peck when she got to the hotel room.  She was all jazzed up from the long drive and she kept moving around the room nervously, unpacking a little, then going into the bathroom, then standing on the balcony to look out at the Gulf of Mexico before sitting on the edge of the bed to read the HBO schedule.  Then she got up and stuffed the hotel card-key into her pocket.  “Let’s get something to eat,” she said.  “I want some gulfcoast fried shrimp.”

We hadn’t seen each other in a month, and she had food on the brain.  But this was not unusual; after a longish separation, L often turns reserved at first, and requires some attention to break through the reserve.

I stopped her at the door and cupped one hand over her shorts where the creases disappeared between her thighs.  I could just feel the indentation of her cunt under the cloth. “I’ll buy you dinner,” I said, “If you let me have an appetizer first.”

She kept one hand on the doorknob but stood silently as my fingers rubbed her mound gently while the other hand moved up to touch the soft glory of her breast, massaging until I could feel the nipple through her bra.  Her breath became deep, and she turned her face up, those beautiful lips parted, to kiss me deeply while her fingers rested on my waist and my hands traced the familiar contours and started the waters flowing down there.

“You know your pussy is what I want,” I said, kissing and nipping at her neck. “Your pussy tastes so good.” I let my fingers trace the gentle line of her lips through the shorts, circling over the spot where her clit was.

She disappeared into the bathroom and came out in a bra, with a towel wrapped around her lower half.  She kissed me on the cheek and pulled the bed covers back and slid in under the sheet. The towel came off and went to the floor. I stripped and pulled the sheet back and took the vision of her in.

Dinner was served.

I went to work on her, kissing her waist, hip, thigh, caressing the soft skin, turning her so I could kiss and lick my way from the strap of her bra, which we left on, to the base of her spine and then further.

I actually had been thinking kind of obsessively about the taste of L’s pussy on my drive to meet her.  I wanted to fuck her too, but for some reason eating her was at the top of my list.

I kissed the top of her ass and let my tongue explore the valley between the cheeks of her ass, massaging with my tongue until it reached the pucker of her asshole.  I tasted; there was no taste; I probed her ass with my tongue, pushing inside while my fingers touched the wet lips of her pussy and she pressed back against my tongue and made a quiet, whining sound. The way L responds to careful attention is really hot, for me.  I’d rim her all day for the pleasure of hearing her enjoyment, watching her lose herself as I let my lewd imagination run free all over her.

But this wasn’t the feast I’d come for. “Turn over baby,” I said, and she rolled, spreading her thighs and resting her fingers on my freshly-shaved head as I kissed the inside of her thighs and ran my tongue in the valley between her mound and the top of her leg. The sharp aroma of her excitement hit me and just because you’re not supposed to talk about such things, I wanted to make sure she knew her cunt-smell released something in me.

“You smell good,” I murmured as I ran my tongue slowly up the line of her lips from just over her asshole to the hood shrouding her clit.  “And you taste good, too,” I continued, and ran my tongue up the same line again, and then a third time before I took her clit in my lips and sucked it out of hiding. “Oh my god,” she said and I sucked gently, massaging the nub with my tongue, and she came, breathing hard, pressing up against my lips, making quiet, happy noises and petting the side of my head lightly, involuntarily.

This isn’t the only thing that takes me to heaven, but it is definitely one thing.

I released her love button and went back to feasting on her wet, salty vulva.  “God you’re wet,” I said, sliding one finger inside her, listening to her joy as I slid the finger in and out, then joined it with a second finger, then turned my hand and curled the fingers upward to palpate her g-spot while I nibbled at the soft flesh on her mound where the hairs she’d left tickled my face.

I know she liked it because her cunt had oiled itself up something fierce, but she stopped me. “You’re going to make me pee,” she said.

I stopped, even though I’m pretty sure that what was trying to get out wasn’t pee. One of these times I want to make L squirt; it’s supposed to be fantastic for a woman. But we’d need to talk first.

I withdrew the two fingers and replaced them with my thumb, slipping it inside her and easing it in and out gently as she squirmed and cooed.

I pulled the glistening thumb from her and put it against the blossom of her ass and moved it in slow, wet circles until it slipped inside, just an inch at first, then all the way.

When my thumb was deep in her ass and two fingers had slipped back inside her, the fingers and thumb pinched over the thin membrane, almost touching.  She made a joyful sound and I slid the fingers and thumb in and out slowly as I sucked on her clit again, and she came again, humping my face and making sounds like she was dreaming.

When she’d had enough she pushed my face away and propped up on her elbows. You’d better go wash your face and hands,” she said. “And come fuck me.”

I did exactly that, and her cunt became another heaven for me when I was snugly inside her wet sleeve, feeling the shots of pleasure caress my cock, watching her lips turn up into a smile as I pulled her knee up for leverage and fucked, fucked, fucked her, taking her to another orgasm, which she deserved just for being so fucking hot, and taking me to the one which is all I need.

And then it was time to rinse off and find the fried shrimp.

Read Theo and L’s entire story, Age of Discovery, in paperback and Kindle versions, and epub format for Nook and other readers.
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Posted in Erotica, Memoir, Oral, Sex | 16 Comments

Golden Girl


It was the last night of L’s visit, and she said that she wanted to pee on me. I had imagined it before, and I was more than willing.

“But not now,” she said. “Maybe in the morning.”

This was one of the seedier things we’d never done to each other, although we’d talked about it when plotting out possible explorations, mentally parading fantasies we’d had, things we’d read about.

I think she was the first to bring up a golden shower. She broached the idea softly, lightly, so it could be turned into a joke if necessary. It was a delicate subject, obviously, yet the implied humiliation, the shameless nakedness, had an appealing tang to it. We neither agreed to do it, nor disagreed.

“Where do you imagine it?” I asked her the second time it came up. “In the bathtub?”

“Sure,” she said, and we put the idea away for a later time.

To even talk about it was to open a door to a secret place. It was that thing that we love, the intimacy, the exposure of the hidden, the embrace of the forbidden, the childlike astonishment. If we were four or five and we could go behind the house while our parents are having tea, and silently drop our pants behind the azaleas, for the very first awestruck glimpse of what the other has there, my awe at her smooth mound in the place where my penis is, her curiosity at my wrinkled fleshy parts. If we could look in wonder, not daring to touch, for only a second before hurriedly pulling up our jeans and returning to the innocent circle of our families, not looking at each other again that day, but remembering.

Sometimes L can make me feel like that.

* * *

In the sixth grade, the girls I’d been in school with for five years returned from summer break with soft mounds that would become breasts within a year. For me and my friends, the girls we knew so well had become different creatures, over the summer. Objects of impossible, barely-understood, near-incestuous desire that I’d experienced already that summer with my cousin at my uncle’s lake house. We were both 11, and had hardly seen each other since we were babies. I borrowed my uncle’s oversized swim trunks that stayed up all right with the drawstring pulled tight, and she was wearing a fairly modest two-piece, appropriate to her age. She was not much developed, but her skin already seemed smoother than a little girl’s, and I couldn’t take my eyes off the line of her exposed back and side where it curved in for the waist, and then curved out ever so slightly to disappear in the waistband of her swimsuit bottom. I know she saw my eyes roaming across her as we walked down to the lake, and again later as we lay in shallow water in the shade of the boathouse. She had a teasing expression when she said, “It’s too far to the house.” She walked out to waist-deep water and turned to face me as she lowered herself, squatting for at least a full minute before she flipped back into the water and swam out from the boathouse into the open water of the lake.

My mouth did not close for a long time.

* * *

We talked, and L purred as I touched her breasts, softly tracing the curves, appreciating her flesh as the nipples grew hard. I love the feel of L’s tits, the knowledge that I could bring her pleasure there, but sometimes pleasure is not enough for me. Without planning to, I let my gentle caresses become firmer on the soft fullness of her breasts, more insistent, and I took one erect nipple between my fingers and squeezed softly at first, and then harder, then pinched and stretched the dark flesh up and out from her until a small squeal escaped from her lips.

We kissed softly, taking the other’s lips to suck, running tongues over the other’s teeth, tasting the growing passion. I pinched her nipple again, pretty hard, and her fingers came to rest along the back of my hand, cupping me for a second before I released her pointed nipple, drew back and slapped her breast. On the side first, then directly over the areola and nipple, three or four times across each breast.

We kissed again, sucking hungrily at each other, and my hand moved lower, to smack her mound. She gasped and then kissed the side of my face tenderly, even submissively. I kneaded the soft padded flesh gently, massaging her into pleasure, and then swiftly smacked her again.

She liked it, and we kept playing that way for a while, softly massaging, then slapping her mound with fingertips at first, then the full palm of my hand. I knew she liked it because she reached down to let her fingers and thumb encircle my dick, squeezing me softly, pleasantly, each time my hand came down on her.

After a minute she softly moved my hand away from her and started up from bed. “I’ll be right back,” she said.

“Where are you going?”

“Bathroom. You started something down there.”

I stopped her, holding her wrist. “Take me with you,” I said.

She tilted her head and her smile was hard to read. Was it a sad smile? I wasn’t sure.

The hallway was dark and the bathroom was dark until L lit a candle. We embraced in the flickering light, and then pulled back, watching each other’s eyes with a fierce, challenging tenderness. She rested her hand on my cock, confirming that I was rock hard, then tugged at the waistband of my boxers. “Lose these,” she said, and I shucked them. She was already naked.

She waved at the tub. “Lie down.”

She knelt in the dim light, straddling me, planting her hands on the sides of the tub.

One of the things that makes sex good is imagining what it’s like for the other person. As L poised over me, her knees on either side of my chest, I could sense her willing herself to overcome a lifetime of conditioning. Most of us have a hard time urinating with someone else in the room, and for her to kneel over me, watching my eyes, willing the secret muscles inside to release the urine here publicly, on the man she loves… It must have felt impossibly wicked.

The trickle started and a few drops touched my chest. The four-year-old heart in me swelled with wonder at the nasty, forbidden thing she was doing, the thing I was allowing to be done to me.

“I love this,” I told her, and she smiled down at me as she bit her lower lip and managed to release everything.

The trickle from the pink pearly flesh near her clit became a stream. I could hardly stand the degradation and pleasure. The warm, golden pee from my lover’s pussy splashed against my chest, mingled with the hairs there, and rolled down to pool up under the small of my back.

L watched the liquid strike me, observing its effect on me. I was mesmerized.

“Mouth,” I said, craning toward her for a taste. She moved her pelvis and the stream splashed my face, allowing a few drops of the warm, bittersweet urine to strike my tongue. It was the taste of something hidden, something forbidden from deep inside her.

We were like very bad children, exposing everything to each other.

The stream became a trickle again, and before it was all gone I pressed my lips against the pink flesh and sucked, savoring the remaining hint of yellow taste; the finish of this secret thing we did for each other. Her hands rested against my cheeks as I lapped hungrily at her, lapped at her clit and sucked the soft pearl to thank her for going to this sweet, dirty place with me.

When I pulled back and looked up at her, she smiled a thin-lipped smile and lowered herself on me, engulfing me inside her cunt. She raised and lowered herself once to initiate the act, and we began fucking there in the tub. My hands roamed all over her belly and tits; I pushed up against her over and over again, piercing the sweet wet hole in her. Her mouth stood open and in time, harsh sounds from her throat announced her orgasm. She came, and I came hard, shooting inside her, gripping her hips, grinding fiercely then more slowly into her until the pleasure running along my cock and spine slowed and finally ceased.

We separated then, to shower in different bathrooms. L slipped into a clean t-shirt; I put on a pair of ballers, and we went back to bed, curling up together to sleep like spoons or happy puppies.

Read Theo and L’s entire story, Age of Discovery, in paperback and Kindle versions, and epub format for Nook and other readers.
age of discovery cover
Posted in Erotica, golden, Memoir, Pain, Sex | Tagged | 76 Comments

Theo’s in print, and some words from L


Hey, I been busy. I’ve been revising and combining many of the pieces from this blog into a book that is part porn, part romance, part memoir, part dissertation on the strangeness of life.

The book got named age of discovery, and it can be had in paperback and Kindle versions on Amazon. It’s even on Smashwords for those who like a reader other than Kindle. Woo. Hoo. I am a happy little smut-monger.

The favor I’m asking discovery cover for wordpressis this: If you liked what I’ve been posting here, you’ll like the book I made out of it. Would you go to Amazon and give me some stars, maybe leave a review?

I would never have written the book without the feedback and encouragement of the readers and writers here online. I really feel the love here sometimes, and you guys have given me a great deal of pleasure in your own blogs as well as your comments on mine. You also give me a boner sometimes, so thanks for that, too.

You will see that I’ve removed most of the posts from this blog, because it seems necessary, to make room for the book. There won’t be much in the book that’s -new to anyone who’s been reading this blog for the past two years. I wouldn’t expect any of those faithful readers to buy the book. But if some of you were willing to write some positive reviews, I believe I would be rewarded with sales, and would be grateful enough to post some smut here from time to time.

While I’m busy getting the book launched, here is a taste; this is a piece L wrote herself:

L’s Epilogue: Five Dollars and a Piece of Rope

Up till now I’ve let Theo tell our story. He has a better memory than I have, a finer eye for detail, and a more philosophical perspective. Over these past three years I have loved reading his blog posts. They help me stay connected to our passion when I am far away, and they remind me of what I’m missing.

I remember very early in the relationship: I was staying at his condo on the lake. He came home from work and found me sitting on the floor looking at photos of him when he was young. He was thinner then, his hair almost black. But that sardonic half smirk lingered on his face then as it often does now.

He sat beside me on the floor and after a few minutes kissed me. I wrapped my arms around him, and kissed him back. Within moments I could feel the gears in my pelvis start to turn — the great aqueduct at work. Then his hand moved between my legs and he began rubbing me. He stopped long enough to pull my jeans down and push my panties aside. I lay sprawled on the floor, my jeans still on one leg, my top pulled over my breasts and his magic hand touching me there and then there and then there.

Theo and I met in art school. He was studying studio art; I was in the art history track. We shared the same friends, went to the same parties, and drank in the same bars. I always liked him. Everyone did. He was funny, smart, and talented. But he had a busty, blue-eyed girlfriend, and I was busy working my way into a relationship with a man who would later turn out to be manic-depressive. I think Theo feels that he sold out because he stopped making art for more mundane pursuits, i.e. making a decent living, but as I’ve told him: an artist is not what you do, it’s who you are. I am reminded of that every time Theo’s strong beautiful hands touch me.

As Theo’s hands molded and stroked my thighs, my labia, my vagina, and my clit, a sound from forty fathoms deep emerged from my chest. In short order Theo had brought me to the most intense climax I’d ever had in my life there on the floor of his living room. And this was before we had even learned to play.

When did we start getting imaginative? I want to say he started it, but I suppose I opened the door. One night on a king-size bed in a hotel room in Orlando, I slid on top of him as he lay on his belly watching television. I started grinding against him as if he were a woman and I was the man fucking him relentlessly. I bit his neck. I gripped his arms. I brought myself to an orgasm while he lay there. Later that same night, he put his tongue between the cheeks of my ass. I didn’t like it, but I didn’t stop him. My policy is to give Theo anything he wants. It wasn’t that it didn’t feel good, but I was embarrassed that I was not as clean as I like to be down there. I would have bathed for God’s sake if I’d know he was going there. He asked me if I liked it. I shrugged. But the door had been cracked open so to speak.

Theo bought a big four-poster bed when we first got together. Was he thinking ahead of time? “Would you let me blindfold you some time?” he whispered one time as his fingers tweaked my nipples. I couldn’t speak. I could only nod my head. Then one day he brought out some scarves and tied my hands to the headboard and blindfolded me. I trembled as if I was freezing as I waited for him to do whatever came in his mind to do. Theo, I learned, always has something in mind.

Theo likes to give, but he also like to take. And every once in a while something inside me just wants to hurt him, to slap him as hard as I can, to slap his face, to slap his ass, to slap his dick. I’ve never slapped anyone in my life, and the first time I slapped Theo, I felt an enormous sense of freedom. Women are taught to always be nice. We’re smart enough to know that if we slap a man, he might turn around and beat the crap out of us. We learn how to take what they dish out. With Theo I get to be the one who does the slapping, and I do like it almost as much as he does.

Though Theo has let me hit him in the face, I’ve told him not to ever do that to me. Part of me thinks I might like it, but part of me is afraid that something in my psyche would snap and I would no longer to see our activities as play. When that happens this precious thing I have with Theo could disappear like smoke. There are risks here on the razor’s edge.

Theo has tapped into a part of me that no other man has ever bothered to look for, much less cultivate: my love of role playing. When I was in college, my roommate and I were addicted to Dungeons & Dragons. I was the one who organized costume and theme parties at the sorority house. When Theo and I play games, I lose myself in the role: I become the sexy teenage babysitter, the submissive model, the sodomizing dominatrix, the compliant call girl, the womanizing woman, or the queen, lording over her slave. I can feel my own personality being subsumed by whatever role has taken over. There’s a childlike thrill in being someone else, in losing myself as if my ego has been blasted into microscopic bits. I think my ability to transform so thoroughly unnerves Theo and enthralls him at the same time.

Theo and I used to try to watch video porn, but I always found it stupid. “We’re way more erotic than that,” I told him. Photography, on the other hand, has an entirely different effect. I explained to Theo that pictures of objectified women excite me not because I am attracted to the women but because I identify with them.
Theo is curious about my bisexual impulses, but I’m not sure if they are genuine. It adds a nice touch to the fantasies but do I really need to visit another woman’s pussy? I guess I’ll never know unless I try it, but that is not likely.

Have things changed between me and Theo? I’m not sure. The other night I had an urge to go pink. I put on a pink corset trimmed in black lace, a tiny triangle of pink cloth covered my pussy, a thin pink string slid between the cheeks of my butt, and I wore sheer pink stockings. Then I put on a pair of silly pink bunny slippers. You can’t take yourself too seriously in these games.

While we watched a movie, Theo’s fingers stroked the tops of my breasts, grazing against the black lace. I ran my hand along his thigh, swirling my fingers against his skin. Just being close to Theo’s body stirs my juices in some primal way. I want him to touch me all the time. Seriously, I want his hands on some part of my skin constantly. Which is weird because I’ve never been like that in my life. I could never stand for a guy to always be pawing at me. Even with Theo, I’m shy about public displays of affection. But when we’re alone, I find that I crave his touch. I’m mindful not to make a nuisance of myself, but when he reaches over and strokes me I can’t help but purr.

After the movie we went to the bedroom. We shut the shades and lit a candle. Theo’s room is pure den of iniquity. When the door is shut, anything can happen. The game was French whore in a New Orleans bordello. I took the cash from his wallet and placed it on the nightstand as my payment. As I slid next to him in the bed, I told him to be sure he got his money’s worth. He said, someday he wanted to give me an extra five bucks to tie me up. (I was not an expensive whore as you can tell.) After a few minutes of succumbing to his masterful handiwork, I almost said, “I need the extra money now.” But I didn’t. We both had to get up the next morning, and I had a feeling that our games would be tame tonight. As he used his fingers to work me up to a climax, I thought for a moment that our sex was not as playful as usual; we were doing what we needed to do to satisfy each other and then go to sleep. That was the ultimate goal: sleep.

I’m okay with that. There are times when I am so exhausted from traveling and working that I can only lie in bed like a blow-up fuck doll. But I worried just a tiny bit that maybe he was losing interest in me. A week earlier he’d said he was just depressed. His work was sucking the life out of him. And there were the constant reminders that life was fleeting — friends dying, children growing up. I get depressed too, but I wasn’t depressed then. After all, classes at the museum where I worked had ceased for a month and there was a guest curator so I had a whole month off. We had a chance to see what day to day living with each other felt like: waking up together, having dinner, going to movies. And really of all the games we play, the very best one is Theo and L simply making love.

Love. The sex we make and the games we play are so intoxicating to me because with Theo I feel loved deeply and completely for the first time in my life. Except when I don’t. And that’s because inside me is a scared little girl who has never felt good enough for love, a little girl who wanted her mother’s attention and never got it. There’s the nagging voice that wonders, what if he’s losing interest? What if he no longer wants me? This is the voice of fear that sometimes whispers and sometimes screams in any relationship: what if it was just an infatuation? The reality we don’t want to face is that ultimately each of us is alone.

After my mind has made this journey, I inevitably turn gratefully to this moment now. As I write this, I am wearing a black and white push-up bra that Theo bought for me last year. I don’t necessarily look like the models in Theo’s Victoria’s Secret Catalog, but I feel just as sexy as one of them when Theo looks at me with his appraising and appreciative eyes. And I know that tonight or maybe tomorrow night, Theo will wrap his arm around the back of my neck and pull my face to his. His chin will be scratchy, and his warm, clean smell will envelop me. The wheels inside me will start to turn and without even realizing it has happened, imagination will take over. Something new will happen. It always does. We will find there are still uncharted territories, new places to explore, another game to play. We might find ourselves with five bucks and a piece of rope.

Posted in 69, Anal, Bondage, Erotica, Exhibitionism, Masturbation, Memoir, Open Relationship, Oral, Pain, Philosophy, relationship, Rimming, Roleplay, Sex, Sex toys, Tantra | 38 Comments

What Else I Want


After the nap we had lunch, and because it was Saturday we had time, and I asked L if I could blindfold her.

She was willing, and stood quietly in the center of the bedroom while I wrapped a folded scarf over her eyes and tied it behind her head.

From that point she was silent, waiting.

“Take your shirt off?” I asked, and she pulled the shirt over her head and dropped it on the floor. She wore a flesh-colored bra that pushed her breasts up, and khaki calf-length shorts that were becoming her favorite weekend attire.

“You are fucking beautiful,” I said. “You give yourself to me, and I just…” I didn’t know how to finish the sentence, and my hand brushed the lace and the soft flesh of her breasts.

“Take the bra off,” I said, and she did, and her breasts were free before me. I cupped each breast, kissed each nipple, then stood back.

“The shorts, too,” I said, and she opened the buttons and fly, let the shorts drop, and stepped out of them. She was naked except for the blindfold and a pastel-flowered thong that delicately covered her mound. I was almost shaking with desire for her.

“I want to abuse you a little,” I told her, and she didn’t object. “I have a few more items I bought since you were here.”

I let her stand there while I retrieved the things I had in mind.

First, I buckled the cuffs I’d bought to her thighs and wrists, and clipped her wrists to her thighs by the O rings and carabiner clips. That rendered her effectively helpless, unless she chose the option of running away naked and blind.

She stood quietly and accepting as I placed the O ring gag gently between her teeth and buckled that, too, behind her head.

“Okay?” I asked, and took her silence as consent.

The gag featured chained clips that I fastened to each nipple, watching her lips pull back from the sharp bite as they dug into the tender, dark pink flesh. “In case you don’t behave,” I said, grasping her hair and pulling her head back lightly to stretch the chains tight, pulling her nipples, raising her breasts. She panted and her mouth hung open until I released her. She was exquisite for me.

“Now we’re going for a walk,” I said. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”

I tugged lightly on the chains, stretching her nipples out just a bit, and said, “Come along, baby, I got plans.”

I stepped back and pulled on the chains to lead her out from the bedroom, tugging the chains just enough to make her tits point the way in front of her. She came along into the hallway, slowly, silently. I brought her down the hall from the bedroom. Blinded, wrists fastened to her thighs, she took baby steps into the blackness, and I held the chains on her nipples taut, slowing down to her pace, just keeping her tits pointed ahead as she moved.

Helpless, blind, naked except for the tiny triangle of cloth, it must have felt very strange to her, and halfway down the hall, her trust in me weakened and she balked.

She stopped. “Where are we going?” she asked through the gag.

“We’re just going outside,” I teased, and she didn’t like that. She shook her head and stood firmly; even when I tugged pain out of the clips, she wouldn’t move.

I realized she was actually afraid. Blind, bound, tits stinging, and vulnerable for more pain whenever I felt like inflicting it — who wouldn’t be afraid? I’ve never been walked down a hall blindfolded; it’s unnerving, obviously.

I took the gag off her, removed the clips from her nipples and massaged them for a moment, kissing them tenderly.

“We’re just going to the living room,” I said, and guided her more gently then, by her shoulders, not the chain.

I was grateful for her willingness, because this was all about the pleasure of her willingness to step into the dark with me.

white* * *

There is a chair in my living room, classic Scandinavian wood, elegant, sensuous, solid. I could see the soft curves of the smooth, gold wood, but she couldn’t. She must have been quite disoriented, no clue where I was taking her. I walked her to the back of the chair and placed a couch-pillow between her and the back of the chair before I bent her over and pressed her blindfolded face into the chair cushion, her ass in the air, her hands still bound to her sides. Silently, I knelt to spread her ankles and move them next to the chair legs and tied her there with scarves I’d brought from the bedroom.
“You wait,” I told her, as if she had a choice now. I went back to the bedroom, collected a bamboo beater, a riding crop, a leather flail and a belt.

I worked her over with all four implements in turn, listening for real distress in her whimpers, some sign I should stop, but no sign came, no word from L as I carefully marked her ass, her thighs, and very gently, the tender flesh where her mound was left exposed by her spread legs.

When I stopped, I looked down at her ass and legs marked with harsh pink handprints and slashes, and said, “Fuck you are beautiful.”

I had a strong desire to take her anally, but instead, I walked around in front of her, pulled her head up by her hair, and put my dick against her lips. They parted and took me inside, and she sucked me willingly, generously, until I pulled out and walked back behind her.

Her cunt was so wet and slick I slid in without trying. She grunted when I was buried to the hilt, and I slapped her ass, and she grunted again, and I fucked her hard. She was bent over blindfolded with her face resting on a pillow, ankles tied to the chair legs, ass in the air, hands clipped to her thighs, breathing hard each time I slammed into her. “Fucking you,” I said. “Fuck fuck fucking you.” When my sperm shot inside her I could feel the sparks enveloping my cock and balls and running up my spine so hard I didn’t want to stop. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I breathed as I slowed down and finally eased my softening dick from the sweet, wet hole that she’d allowed me to make of her.

I left her bent over the chair for a moment while I turned on the Hitachi vibrator she’d enjoyed so much that morning. I brought the wand along the inside of her thighs, touching her ass and the base of her spine before I rested it against her cunt and moved it gently over her mound.

Beaten, blind, frightened, driven by the mechanical vibrations, she came in sobs, panting sharply, and when her crescendo seemed complete, I put down the vibrator, removed her blindfold, released her wrists and ankles, and helped her up.

We embraced, and the only thing she had to say later when I asked if it was all right was, “I liked the gag.”

“Then maybe next time I’ll leave it on.” I said, kissing her cheek tenderly, physically and emotionally satisfied, grateful for what she’d been willing to endure for the sake of our pleasure. And knowing that there would be a payback.

Read Theo and L’s entire story, Age of Discovery, in paperback and kindle versions, and epub format for Nook and other readers.
age of discovery cover
Posted in Bondage, Erotica, Memoir, Sex | 37 Comments

The Sensual Blogger Award: I will strive to live up to the ideals.


Thank you, Love, Sex, and Marriage, for the signal honor you have bestowed on my blog.  You have graced me with the Sensual Blogger Award, and I am proud, yet humble.

sensual-blogging-award

The SBA comes with the responsibility of answering seven questions, writing a sensuous paragraph to prove you deserve the honor, and nominating some deserving recipients.  Here are my responses:

1. Describe your last sexual experience in 3 words. (Not a question, I know, but deal with it.)

sweet dirty fuck

2. What did you think about last time you masturbated?

my baby’s teeth sinking into me here, there, waking my flesh with sharp intimations of attention to come.

3. What’s your number one hard limit, no exceptions?

I would not enjoy poop.

4. What’s the easiest/quickest way for you to get off?

Seriously, it’s all easy, and quickness isn’t a goal for men.  I’m usually looking for the easiest/quickest way to get her off, and I think it’s all in her head.  I loved the time when we hadn’t seen each other for weeks, and I barely touched her mound through her panties and she came instantly, effortlessly.  I’d love to know what was playing in her head at that moment.

5. What movie, not porn, do you find the most arousing?

Mulholland Drive (Is that porn?)

6. If you had to have, or do have, a fetish, what is it?

I’m interested in learning more about pain and bondage.

7. Anal sex… you like it or no?

Anal sex is the dirtiest way to own someone, to use them for pleasure and make them like being used.  So the answer is, yes, I like.

8.  And the bonus paragraph of erotica… The prompts include: a kiwi, a sharp knife, an erection and an orgasm.

So this paragraph would involve an Australian girl lashing a middle-aged American tourist to the deck of a sailboat in a storm. The rain, wind, lightning pounds them both as she cuts his clothes off with a sharp knife.  She kneels over him, fucking his wet face while she bends to envelope his erection in her lips. The boat rocks dangerously in the storm, and the flashes of lightning and cracks of thunder mingle with their cries of pleasure and the rush of their simultaneous orgasms as the the ropes holding him down snap, and they are swept overboard to drown together, locked in a 69 embrace as they sink slowly, happily to the ocean floor.

Sharing the honor:

This part is always confusing because so many bloggers deserve recognition, but many of them have already received the honor, so some of my favorites had to come off my list.  Yet some bloggers you are sure would have been awarded the honor have been missed….  So it’s an imperfect list, but I am listing the first several awesome bloggers who come to mind.  Please have your way with the same 8 questions.  The prompts for # 8 are “rope”, “school”, “impossible”, and “discover”.

Jayne Ayres

Kayla Lords

Fatal

Alice

Miss D

Ella

Maggie Carpenter

Read Theo and L’s entire story, Age of Discovery, in paperback and kindle versions, and epub format for Nook and other readers.
age of discovery cover
Posted in Awards, Erotica, Sex | 12 Comments