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Sunday, March 31, 2013

March's Madness

So, A had an idea. She suggested that each month we review and list some of our favorites, including one from each other. I think it's brilliant, and we're going with it! Our top three each:

M's March Magnificence:

Favorite Photo:
The Big Ugly created this scene called "The Happy Homemaker", on March 7th. I think it's brilliant, but most of hers are. Many contain nudity, but this one is my favorite just because recently I've been feeling domestically challenged... and exhausted.

Sister's Choice:
A favorite of my sister's, A, would have to be Quickie. I don't believe it is her best piece, but often readers aren't always drawn towards the eloquently written. Sometimes it is more personal; I do so love the quickie moment, as a parent and wife to a busy life, quickies tend to be the thing I experience the most. Even a quick release is a sweet release, especially with someone who knows all the right places to go and the things that I love.
A has become very photo happy and hasn't written as much this month. Despite that, Finale is an amazing piece from her.

Outside blog:
And the most useful blog I've read this month would have to be Adventures in Lube-Land by Lorax of Sex. My husband and I have been having conversations about lube, and the many different types we need depending on what we get involved in. Our knowledge wasn't as extensive as I thought, so I am grateful to add some knowledge.


Favorite Photo:
Birthday Challenge by Marie Rebel is my choice this month. I love the candle, the lighting, and the way that you get tantalizing peeks at her piercings and lovely tattoo. It's beautiful and provocative and I think a great way to say happy birthday! Talk about eating cake!

Sister's Choice:
My choice this month for M's is a personal one as well. Spanking Noob made me laugh in gleeful delight. Not only had my sister been talking about wanting to do this forever, it is one of my favorite things. I hope she makes it into subspace soon. The reason I like this post the most is that it's like seeing a new awakening. Exploration is a great thing and it's awesome to be reminded of what it was like first exploring those boundaries.

Outside blog:

My favorite post this month is shorter, and incredibly sweet. The post I chose is What is erotic by Silverdropstoybox and SilverHubby. It is the perfect definition, individual and loving, just like the people who posted it. This post melted my heart and reminded me that erotic is many things to many different people and erotic things can be found anywhere.

We can't wait to continue being inspired and sharing our naughty adventures with you and hearing yours...

"Hey M, next month can we call it "Ass April?"

Saturday, March 30, 2013

Frisky visitors

This week's choice for Sinful Sunday was turned into a sexy threesome as Jack and Jill of Frisky in the 916, one of my favorite couples, helped decide which photo made the cut. Thank you for your awesome help and great inspiration!

From Jack and Jill: 

This one may be our favorite, though as stated above, it was really difficult to decide.  This one feels like a modern-day cheesecake type pinup, the sort of image one might find on the cover of an erotica anthology edited by Violet Blue or Rachel Kramer Bussel.  An exquisite shot that combines everything we love about the two previous shots, from the position of your head to the alluring stockings.  Yeah, I'm going to go ahead and say it: This one is our favorite.

Thursday, March 28, 2013

The absence of

Sex. My muse, my will, my motivation.

He was gone and there was nothing I could do. I'd never have him, I don't know that he was ever mine to begin with. At the same time as this rent in my heart was split wide I finally bit the bullet and admitted I was in a funk I couldn't get out of. Cue Lexapro.

It was wonderful to be at a continual even keel. Truly. My friends and family all remarked on how calm I seemed, less harried, able to slow down and enjoy and not stress over everything all the time.

Suddenly though, my motto of "An orgasm a day" was forgotten. I didn't even think about sex.

Uh, I'm a sex blogger, I read beautiful, stirring, erotic things all day from others in the community and that's not even mentioning the images. I love sex, it's a integral part of my day. Suddenly though, the desire had flown swiftly from me.

I couldn't give you an honest evaluation of what percentage each event had in the disappearance of my libido. The most heart-achingly painful thing to see in me though was the drying up of the wellspring of creativity. I knew losing my lover had a great deal to do with that, but a lot of my writing came from being simply turned on... I was suddenly rendered in a perpetual state of OFF.
Something had to be done. Boundaries explored, a solution to be had. Masturbation suddenly took 30 minutes, a previously unheard of length of time, and I might as well forget involving a partner, I couldn't even get wet. It wasn't like other medications, where I might as well have been Barbie for all of the sensation created in my erogenous zone, this was more like a dull echo. I felt it, I could vaguely tell it was pleasant, but eh... I could be playing Minecraft.

I approached my Dr about my concerns. After all, a woman at her peak doesn't go from positively exuding sex to being a diminished light overnight. Creams were prescribed to increase sensation, and assurances of normalcy issued. The problem is, even with the possibility of sensation being increased, I didn't have the desire. In fact, when the compound wasn't ready when it was supposed to be at the pharmacy I merely shrugged my shoulders and didn't go back. Lack of desire.

So, I flirt and I flit, and try to go through the motions. I try falling back in love with me and focus what creativity I have on pictures, on revealing myself to myself. My sister carries the brunt of the force of our blog and due to luck and a previously raging muse, I have pieces in draft from back when I was that goddess of smoldering sexuality. The things I do produce are lackluster, I can see the drop in interest...

Sometimes the dam breaks. Sometimes the tears fall, the indifference is lifted, and sometimes I feel the spark. There are so many beautiful and provocative people in my blogesphere, it's impossible not to be moved. I get wet at the thought of someone's hands caressing me, the sight of someone's body captured in ecstasy. A flirt and banter exchange with someone will move me to get naked, grab my camera and be the embodiment of sex I so recently was and always had been. I owe so many thanks to so many people who have unwittingly jump started my drive.

It is a heavy weight in my heart, the decision of continuing on a medication that I see making improvements in my somewhat crumpled world right now, or gaining back my passion, my zeal, and my lust for life and all the sexy things in it...

I'm still not entirely sure what path to take, but right now I feel as though I'm in a holding pattern, in the absence of... anything.

Wednesday, March 27, 2013


For this week I decided to post a piece I've been holding onto. I guess I took this week's prompt of "peace" and decided to find mine by letting it go....

He's here, in my arms, sitting so close to me. I have him. All of him. All night he is mine and I instantly find comfort and the ability to relax as soon as he is in my presence. The stare and longing in his eyes create heat that's spreading through my veins.
I love that; his ability to drive me to heights without touch. I hate his ease of it. After this though, those abilities will be irrelevant. I will no longer quake at the thought or touch of him.
This is goodbye.
I want it to hurt. I want it to leave an impression on my skin as it has left an impression on my heart, my soul. I want it to last, to remain, long after he is gone. I want to be bound tightly in rope as my heart is bound to him.
He brushes the hair back from my neck, fingers grazing the sensitive skin on my collarbone. Chills run down through to my fingertips and the heat is spreading faster.
To touch him, to taste him, is a compulsion. I need this like air. I curl into his side and my lips find his as my hands reach searchingly for some purchase that will keep him here.
I want this to be the best, consuming, unforgettable. My pride demands that I make him remember this for all time. I want it to hurt him too but not in the physical. I want to be a brand in his mind and on his heart.
Soft sheets caressing fevered skin. My mouth explores the recesses of his body, I know all of his secrets, and I use them to increase the ache. His mouth finds my heat and I am a puddle of desire.
I struggle to push him onto his back, I need to drink him in, I want to taste him in my mouth. My nails rake down his sides as my tongue strokes his hard shaft, coming to firmly hold him while my mouth devours him.
The need has driven him to the brink and suddenly the hand in my hair tightens. I'm flipped over and driven into swiftly. His shaft fills me and drives a moan from my lips. This is everything. Love, heat, lust, need.
Ever moving, never still. Gliding together to heights where its hard to breath and the world is miles away. He flips me over, upside down, turning me inside out. We have the passionate fight for control that has me grinding on top of him one moment then screaming my pleasure into the pillow as he pulls my hair from behind.
It isn't enough, it never is. The fulfillment leaves me speechless and wilted, floating and sated, but I always want him. Always. This then is it. A last memory, a last time in his arms. My body was made for him, for his pleasure. I hold him through the night but my bed is already cooling from that fevered pitch and I know not when it will witness such ecstasy again.
Until such time, I will wait, and whisper softly as he falls asleep in my embrace: "Goodbye my love".

Wicked Wednesday... be inspired & share...See who else is being wicked this week

Monday, March 25, 2013

Spanking Noob

This kink response will differ vastly from my sister's.

I was one of those people who didn't "get it" at all. Why would anyone want to be spanked? I didn't enjoy pain in the slightest, it was one on my "no-no" list.
And then he started sucking on my nipples, hard, and I craved his mouth to increase the intensity, to make them hurt. I loved the feeling of being sore afterwards too, of knowing that he was there. Of my nipples hardening by fabric, of me turned on from nothing other than the sensitive little bits of rose-colored flesh.

And I became curious...would I like spanking?
For some reason, as I was still debating this whole issue, right after multiple orgasms one night he smacked my ass, hard. I moaned and lifted my bottom, feeling the sting, feeling my already sensitive but exhausted vaginal muscles tighten so quickly that I was almost lost to another orgasm. The imprint of his large hand covered almost one entire cheek, which he stroked softly and almost in apology. Almost, because my moan gave away my delight. He was almost as surprised he spanked me as I was. But the stroking so much more sensitive, my hot burning skin felt soothed but expectant to touch. The lightest graze felt so much more intense.

And I became curious...would I like more? Harder?
I've asked for it, but considering this is new territory to us both, he is hesitant. He is afraid of hurting me, but I become more anxious to be hurt by this activity. At first, he would rarely spank me, only once, and only after multiple orgasms. Then, with more encouragement, he would bring his hand down upon my ass at the height of an orgasm. Now, he will do it intermixed, and with slightly more frequency. Recently, he spanked me three times, curious more than any other motivation if he could see the different imprints. After three smacks on the same cheek, it looked something like a peacock. I loved it.

He has never bruised me. I am excited to see if I enjoy this, but again, I need to work at his pace, with his comfort level. But what we have done so far, I have loved and enjoyed.
The fantasy would be at this point simply to have him go rougher, with more frequency. And I hope to one day take a picture of my reddened ass, burning but oh-so-sensitive. Or a bruised one - a constant reminder of what he's done, how he made me feel, and how badly I want it all over again.

bannershoes See the kink of the week!

Sunday, March 24, 2013

Elust #44

Photo courtesy of Plumptious Pea
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] #45? Start with the newly updated rules, come back April 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~

Everyday D/s
Honesty sometimes feels like manipulation
Blood, life, sex
~ Featured Posts (Molly’s Picks) ~
Grief and Sex
Bringing Others into a Dom/Sub Relationship
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!

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Adventures In… Lube-land
PolyAnna's Musings: Radar Love
A productive morning
Livia Has a Crush
Terms of Fatness

Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Thoughts: Feminism, Sexism and Submission

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Deep subspace - sexy or scary?
Django Unchained: the suffering black female
What the hell is 'NORMAL' sex anyway?
All About the Collar
Dirty Little Secret

Erotic Fiction

Master's Valentine's ToDo List
The Passion of First Encounters.
Ma'am's Turn (First Meeting Part 3)
Nipple torture and girl love
The Boundary
I'm in the Mood
Lolita Twenty-Thirteen, Part Two
A Quick Preview

Erotic Non Fiction

Lindsey's Orgasm
Blog Jammin'
Postponing the Inevitable
Watching Has its Own Rewards
A Farewell Torment
I want to lick your pussy
Cap D'Agde 2012 Foam Party
Dirty Hot
Eighty-Five Minutes
Saying Goodnight
Hundreds of orgasms
our open marriage- mina's date
1+1+1= My first threesome
Writing Sex Scenes
Beginnings and Endings
Glass Bottle
One Cole the Dane + One WeVibe Salsa = Orgasm


Epiphora's beginner’s guide to sex toy review
Very Inspiring Blogger Award


Erotic Eroticon
Finessing Sex- A Snippet Of Fiction
Eroticon Highlights
Bite Me


In the Back Seat of the Bus
Oiled Seduction

Friday, March 22, 2013


He brings life into my skin, turns into a rosy hue. Makes my eyes sparkle and dance, delighting in the vision of only him, the only thing I am capable of seeing.

He kisses me, and makes breath, gasping, wrenching, painful first inhalation in between being dominated and consumed by his tongue.

I want to move, to feel. I am anxious to explore. I am soft all the sudden, limbs can gradually slide down and hands can grasp his hardness. I wonder what he tastes like, and dip in for that first forbidden sample. My tongue delights on the plump texture, investigates the crevice under his head, mouth goes lower to the hard and mostly inflexible shaft, a slight saltiness touches the back of my throat. How far can I take him into me? Perhaps I can make him mine?

Aw, puppet, he mutters softly; as he pulls my hair, cords suddenly bound to his command. The deft fingers wound and tauten, pluck me up. I swear I wasn't trying to pull his strings, to take control. The threads tug, making me move to his demands, release suddenly but before I become lost in a tangle of indecision,  his large hands grab my upper arms and shift me up.

I am beneath him, but the sole focus of his attention. I am his creation, I am made to be his. He smiles, proud of his handiwork in me, and dips his mouth, paints my nipple. His mouth finds my heart, draws to his attention, nips until it is raw and only aware of his presence.

He opens me, explores my crevices with a sure knowledge, the path already known to him. It shocks me into the surreal, surely this has never happened before, this awakening.

I must be dreaming, a little puppet's reverie of being real and heat and life. Of surrounded by pounding blood and covered in nothing by sensitive flesh. How can I feel so animated in this moment?

My thighs are painted cream, a sharp contrast the blood red marked upon my chest.

He lowers himself into me, possessing me even more fully, stretching and testing my limits. He drives within me, claims my soul. Takes my words, my mewling little mumblings, feeble attempts at expressing the experience, and swallows them between his lips.

Why must he take everything that I am trying to do? I resist a little, wanting to slow down the onslaught of an approaching surge, but I wind and tighten anyhow; ineffective at his hegemony. I leave my drenched body in a scream that he allows, glide away and become lost in an worn out slumber.

Who knew consciousness was so consuming? So invigorating that it requires revitalization?

I hope he wakens me again soon...

Thursday, March 21, 2013

The tearing of my heart in confusion

A splaying open if you will of my heart. I read "confusion" and this instantly came to mind. The following is an emailed response to a story I wrote from my lover, used with permission, if not a great deal of trepidation. The key to this story is that my lover was bound and drawn by duty and honor to a place I could not reach. My heart left with him. "It hurts! I hate that it all starts off letting me know that it "is the last..." Whether it's title is Fiction or Finale, both are aptly applied and it hurts! Life, recently, has lost damn near all flavor. While I hoped that the story only has some similarities to me, with us, that was pounded to oblivion like surf on a rocky shoreline with our texting yonder-eve. I had wondered if I would receive any more writings; now, though, I'm quite confident that this will be the last of'em. It's not the way I wish it...but it seems the writing is on the wall... I think the thing that hurts the most was the use of the term "goodbye". I remember having that conversation with you. Absolute! Granted, the more I read it again and again and again...well, I go back and forth. One reading of it will point out my being "irrelevant" now, while another reading through drives, like a skewer, home the resounding "goodbye." Loud in my ears and full of... I don't want it to be true; I want to still be the one to drive you to heights un-reached with a mere touch; a be hurts. Had we not been in the particular circumstances of that evening, the events described might have actually come to fruition. It's certainly a pleasant fiction to think upon and certainly would have been a much better way to have parted...probably...most like. I didn't...I don't want this story to be about me; about us, but..............well, we can't always get what we want. I chuckle, a bit uncontrollably; that is to say that it's an automatic chuckle that I've not been able to really stop; at a thought regarding Valentines Day. "I guess I didn't knock it out of the park!" So much for Steak and Blow Job day?. I was so looking forward to such a wonderful treat! There's that surf, again; can you hear it crashing against the rocky shoals? I can, and it causes my heart to ache; to long; the sting in my eyes are not that of surf spray though I pray it were so simple. Will they fall... You got want you wanted, it hurts; unfortunately it hurts physically, too. For that I'm sorry, but sometimes it is what it is. My heart aches; a breaking if you will. Only truly been felt twice in my life. Once, you know about. The other, we hadn't gotten around to having that discussion. I'm sure that we would have, in time; you were destined to know more than any one person was ever meant to know of me. The compartments so carefully created seemed to have ethereal walls when it came to you -- we never got to that discussion. I can't count the number of times I pick up the phone looking for a text or email from you. I don't know how you managed to work yourself into my heart so one ever has. And we didn't even get to all of the "secrets". You never found out how dark my fantasies go; in what direction they lie. There were so many things I was hoping for...looking forward to exploring...I still want to experience you! I WANT YOU! I LOVE YOU! Much like a venomous bite, though, your words resound in my head from our phone conversation..."what's the point? What's the point." ... I had a dream about you some nights ago; a dream where I was needing a room to rent and had asked you if I might could. Very reluctant you were; though you weren't exactly opposed to it. You had a very specific condition that I needed to meet and if I did, then it was on. I awoke then... I thought I saw your car, the other day; made a U-turn to check it out. It wasn't you. It was a red _, but not your car. I was sad. I don't know that I'll ever send this message. Hours and hours it has taken me to respond, as I told you that I would. I'm sure you read the severe editing process that was involved in sending the one message in response to your email. I guess I want to know if I have left a brand on you? Is there something that is wholly you and I? Aside from the We Vibe III. Maybe one day I'll send this to you -- I think that it will spark pain and possibly create some anguish. Foresight would suggest I'm doing it intentionally, but that is simply not true. Hard to dispute, but absolutely not true. I never have wanted; I do not want to hurt you. (Well, obviously in the good ways that we both crave; but then that's not really hurtin' you is it?) I'm sorry! Random I still retain "AWESOME" with approved hand gesture? Silly stupid stuff to think about, huh? I don't want "goodbye!" Does it have to be goodbye? Is that what you want...goodbye? I've promised I would send it...not exactly what you were expecting, I'm sure; nevertheless here it is. The other night you texted that you didn't want to know if was hurtful or cutting; yet you've asked for this message; my initial response; the dread confirmed...I'm sorry! I'm truly sorry. Forgive me? Love me? I LOVE You! I want you! p l e a s e . . . . . . . . . . . . ."
Wicked Wednesday

Saturday, March 16, 2013

A few things I like

Black satin ribbon, red polish, and high heels...
Sinful SundayCome see who is being sinful with me...

Friday, March 15, 2013

Great Things

I get out of a shower and go into the bedroom, sore from just working out,when he greets me naked on the bed. His smile is seductive, his eyes are confident and mischievous; he is stretched out fully in the middle of the bed, already hard. I laugh and state that I am sore, to not expect great things from me at the moment, but shed my robe. His eyes light up when I stretch my sore body next to his, intentionally rubbing skin to skin. He suggests then, that great things need to come from him.

I can only nod in agreement as suddenly his mouth is upon my nipple, the other hand squeezing my other breast, fingers discover and pull the nipple hard. His fingers rolled the nipple, his mouth pulling the other, hard, until I catch my breath with pain and pleasure. He moves, the cold air hitting the sensitive nubs, and positions his face between my legs. I spread them a little further, bend my knees slightly out, and he pulls apart my lips, and immediately his hot mouth is upon me. His movements are focused, practiced, determined, and he has no intentions of playing the tease.

I am pressing into his mouth, his warm breath against my tender pink sex. His tongue flicks back and forth, then circles around my clitoris. He stays there until I try to shift his mouth lower by moving my pelvis up. He slips one finger around my moist entrance, taunts, softly tracing the lips, dips in slightly and spreads the moisture around, before slowly sinking in. Then two fingers slip inside, curl and press into my g-spot, and probe in accompaniment to his tongue. He begins to suck, his free arm grips my thigh and holds me forcefully there, slows my bucking hips. As his mouth moves harder, his tongue a solid, slick presence against my pearl, his fingers move faster and harder until I am arching into him, panting, moaning, clenching down hard on his fingers, climaxing, drenching his hand.  

I am dizzy, still on the verge of coming down from the cloudy plane of pleasure, when I feel his cock draw me open, quickly thrusting and fucking, my own juices oiling against any friction or resistance, and I am right back up on that surreal fantasy of an orgasm, barely able to breathe, unable to contain my screams in pitch with his plunging in and out. Everything is tense, my thighs gripping, my hips rising up to meet him, falling with his answering weight, muscles clutching his hard shaft, my legs wrapped around pulling him deeper, toes curling, arms around his shoulders and arms, fingers digging into skin as if I'm afraid of falling, nails marking him as surely as his body is bruising mine. I milk him, force him to travel to the finish with me.

I am aware of the pounding in my ears, harsh breathing, his weight pressing me into the mattress though slightly reduced where he's lightly braced on elbows. He rolls over to his side, takes me with him, adjusts so I am also on my side facing away, one arm is my pillow, another arm wraps around me, my butt nestled against his now glorious spent member; we're as pressed together as possible. He brushes my still wet hair away from my face, tenderly kisses me, a sharp contrast to our fucking. Tells me that I am beautiful, and that he is a lucky man. I quip that he is surely a man capable of great things.

Read some more great things for the weekend.

Tuesday, March 12, 2013


It arrived in the mail in an ornate envelope made of parchment so thick it felt heavy in her hands. This weight, too, may have been a product of the things that weighed so mightily on her mind.
Heart drumming as her feet padded against the floor into the livingroom, she came to a halt in front of him, breathless. "It's here" she said in almost a whisper.

His attention instantly shifted from the book in his hands, his laser gaze boring into hers made her shift her feet. She wondered madly if he could glean her thoughts from the pulse pounding in her neck. Suddenly his features soften, the book set aside, an invitation to sit in his lap issued in the patting of the proffered space. Tension easing out of her, as a sudden weight sliding off, and she curls into his arms.  He knows her. His ultimate pleasure comes from the pleasure he brings to her. He is in tune, connected, a part of her.

A soft sigh stirs the delicate hairs by her ear. "We don't have to go, you know? If for a moment, I had thought that it would cause you this much apprehension and not excitement, I never would have sought out the invitation in the first place."

She wilts, slightly ashamed, mostly confused. That envelope, that simple, construction of ink, paper, glue... It was so much more. Especially because all the time and trouble was undertaken at her instigation...

About two months prior to it's arrival, the path to this choice she was facing was embarked upon on a steamy summer night. Bodies damp from the sweat of vigorous sex and moisture in the air, they laid talking, enveloped in each others arms and whispering secrets, fantasies, forbidden longings in each others ears.

"Tell me, you can, don't be ashamed lover, I want it, every thought, every piece that makes up you. Tell me." A simple request, one she was not against.

Heart pounding, she licked lips that had suddenly gone dry, then began to tell him about her fantasy. Voice trembling at the start, she quickly warmed to her subject upon seeing the desire being rekindled in his eyes at her words. She wanted to be used, on display, caressed by many hands. She wanted him to see the outside perspective of her being brought to her pleasure. She wanted to see women lavish their attention on him and spoil him as she felt he deserved.

She wanted sensuality, sex, pain, bliss. She didn't want a dirty hotel, a shameful or awkward swap. Elite. "If we were ever to do this, it would have to be right, perfect."

She continued to speak of tantalizing things. She wanted to stare into a strangers eyes as she swallowed his orgasm. She wanted to grip the hair of an unknown man as she ground her hips against his eager mouth. She wanted to kiss her lover sweetly as another man pounded her into another world. She wanted to taste another woman on his tongue and be flogged by power of several arms.
Each moment and scenario she dreamt and disclosed made his mind race more and his body grow stiff. He'd heard, vague whispers, allusions, to a very elite house where those with an open mind could go and play and be free. This woman, this tempest of passion in his arms, meant the world to him, and to think of the pleasure she could have in one night, more ever, than he could even begin to bring to her at one time. He began to think of ways he could inquire, to make this fantasy a reality. There was a favor owed, one he'd been holding for something important. It seemed it was time to call it in. He'd heard invitations to these particular parties were exceedingly hard to come by.

Thought fled though as it was impossible to ignore the naked temptress in his arms and her shyly whispered, dirty desires. His body releasing tension the moment he slid into her warm sheath, he didn't realize just how much of an effect her words had been having on him.

As they writhed in the pleasure of each others heat, the momentum building to an almost blinding crescendo, they had no idea of the path they had started on that night, or what wicked delights were to come of it...

Speaking of wicked delights...

Monday, March 11, 2013


I laze in the sunshine, breathe it into my skin, content and basking.

You do not see me immediately through the tall grass in our yard;

I pause and prospect, before I pounce my prey

But simply, for I know that I am your spirit and soul.

Cherished, but everything in my universe is under my influence.

I sit up suddenly, watch you walk nearer, smile tolerantly,

Roll over onto all fours, stretch, long, languidly,

Upper body lowers, rustles and crushes the grass blades,

Arms reach out in front, back rolls, lower body raises,

Hips hinge, ass up, see how graceful, how tempting;

Positively feline-like to catch your interest.

And my eyes never leave you, stare unblinking.

Yes, come closer to me as I contemplate.

Shall I be affable or aggressive, my lovely toy?

Shall my claws clasp, cling, cut in ecstasy?

I smile in anticipation, as you near me and wait my next move

You are my playground of infinite possibilities

I unfurl, whirl, curl up on your lap

Caress, pat, pet and watch me arch into your touch

Let me rub my body beside yours, feel how velvety I am

I lick at your lust, lap at your skin, nibble at your thighs,

Come up and sink my teeth into your neck.

You try to anticipate what I will allow, gauge my temper,

Stroke my skin, sense my hunger to have you,  unrelenting,

Nourish my needs gradually, ease in until I am accustomed to you.

I know a diminutive dialect, use it when I sense silence isn't suitable,

I purr like pure poetry expressing my pleasure.

You feed me what I demand, what I hint I want;

Satiated for a moment, but by no means long satisfied.

I do not show appreciation to you as I abscond,

My gratitude is given away by being near you,

Even as I slink, strut, swagger, sway away

To recede back into the shadows towards the house, done.

Thursday, March 7, 2013


Hot, wet, hands gliding over hard planes. He comes up behind me as I finish the last of the dishes from the scrumptious dinner we just shared together.

Its been a long day. Work, errands, life, nuisance. Its easy to curl into bed, drift into sleep.  Just then though he brushes the hair from my neck and softly licks the sensitive skin behind my ear. A hand runs lightly up my skirt searching for the wetness he knows will be between my thighs...

All thoughts of sleep have vanished. A sudden firm hand in my hair and I'm spun around. The soapy dish goes crashing to the ground as I'm roughly lifted up and my legs are wrapped around his waist. His insistent hardness pressing into the softness of me as he sets me on the counter and drives into me.
My hands flail, fervent, seeking leverage. I knock the water on high, soap over, things I can't identify go crashing to the floor. He's driving into me so hard I can barely catch my breath. I'm rasping his name as he's telling me to come on his nice, hard cock. Demanding, insisting.

I splinter, fracture into a million pieces like the ill fated plate. He stares into my eyes and fills me with his throbbing orgasm moments after I shudder to completion. I'm panting, legs shaking, tremors still gently coursing through my body. I slide off the counter onto the floor.

He smooths my hair, kisses my head. Helps me adjust my skirt as my hands seem unable to responde to the impulses being sent from my brain. He laughs as we look around at the chaos created in mere minutes in our orderly kitchen. He pats my ass in appreciation and the self satisfaction of male prowess.

It's moments like these that make the long day of work, the crazy coworkers, the killer traffic, and the stupid dishes not seem to matter.

And all it took was a few minutes.

Something for the weekend Read something for the weekend with other ways to escape

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Now Please

Sometimes he gets ornery. Last night apparently I wasn't allowed to kiss the side of his neck, if the sudden wrenching on one arm to move me was any indication. He smiled mischieviously. When I am told I don't get something, that's all I want. Childish whimsy meets adult fantasy. He knew this.

"What do we say?" He prompted.

"Now," I insisted. I flashed my adorable smile, show dimple. He shook his head, his smile wider. "Now is perfectly acceptable."

He leaned over me, briefly kissed me, moved his neck where just the tip of my tongue could barely touch for the briefest of seconds, before pulling away and gazing down at me expectantly. That was it, I was pulling out the big guns, or my bottom lip as it were, in a pout. "We say please, not now," he instructed me, oblivious to the cute pouty lip strategy.

"Does please guarantee me?"

"Almost always," he left a loophole in that statement, I saw it, but still pushed for my advantage.

Later, I was devising, I was going to demand sex several times a day with a please, and remind him of that statement. For the moment, however, I didn't want to give myself too much of an advantage. I liked the game. "Please release my arm then," he seemed surprised with this request, but immediately obeyed. I rolled us over and tried again with his neck, but he turned his head, and even with me pushing, I couldn't access it still. He went to grab the same arm, "I said please, you can't get it." He tried a different tactic, and rolled me over, holding both shoulders, but I had my legs, and pushed away.

It was some minutes of twisting and turning before he had my legs under control, but I still had my elbows, and I was insistent on gaining the upper hand and getting to his neck. He kept complaining of elbows in his chest, and before you knew it, I was on top again, my legs free.

He was apparently done with elbows, as he grabbed around me, flipped me off of him, and laid on top of my back. His feet wrapped like steel around my legs, applied pressure and kept my thighs apart. He moved his hard, warm shaft against my entrance, the head rested against my clit. His hand moved to the back my neck, brushed aside hair and roughly kissed the exposed skin,  before the fingers moved higher still to the base of my skull and gripped the hair, pulled back, and kissed the laid bare side of my neck. He used force with his lips and tongue, then went lighter, moved up the ear lobe, used my hair to manipulate where he wanted to trace his mouth. He nibbled for a moment, then whispered how much he loved me as he moved his shaft along the tenderness of my sex at the same time.

"You're so sexy," I muttered, "such a turn-on," and some other compliments that barely even penetrated my consciousness but escaped my lips. He continued to breathe softly on my neck and ear, whispered of his love, tongue delved upon skin briefly, teased, moved on. His fingers still tangled in my tresses, not releasing any pressure.  His other hand pressed into the bed, in front of a hip, and fingered my clit, before discovering that I was wet. He gently guided his head to my entrance, probed me open, glided deeply, paused there, before his hips began the rise and fall pattern, and I was begging please...and now.

Now + Please = Wicked Amazing

Monday, March 4, 2013

Piece by Piece

I want  you, need you, every inch of you

The touch of your skin against mine

The taste of your lips like passion's dew

As when we were that very first time

Tongues mesh, begin nibbling on lips

Mouths meld hot and fervor breaths

Move to your neck, soft kisses, playful nips

Sensitive skin, hearing your sharp intake of breath

Cloth barriers become a tug-of-war

I want you, need you, such a longing

Clothes find scattered places on the floor

My body aches, skin hot and burning

A moan escapes me as hands explore

The feel of you, the flavor of your body

I want to taste every part and more

Your fingers roam, slip inside slowly

Velvet secrets, closed eyes, arched back

Buttons pressed, I need you,  now

Inside of me, consuming,  building climax

Uttered prayers, my  begging vow

Skin against me, lower yourself gently

Feathery kisses and utterly filling

Slowly, engulfing, then urgently

Screaming, giving, more demanding

Capturing, surrendering, rhythms seethe

Grasping, relaxing, sweet release

Need, Want, Love, you're all that I breathe

Lovingly drifting back piece by piece.