Mutual masturbation

Sometimes, when you're single, or separated from your partner an easy way to spice up your day is mutual masturbation.

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

I have been doing a lot more masturbation with friends recently than ever before.

Confession: I honestly just started a few months ago.

If I'm by myself it's usual, quick, quiet, and minimally satisfactory. Throw in a partner though, and suddenly I was taking my time, savoring and getting off on the fact that the person on the other end was getting off on me.

Messages, pictures, phone calls.

And now, I've evolved into what I call Dial-A-Dom™

I'd flirted with him quite a bit. Sending him pictures, separating him from the pack by giving him peeks, at me, my life, my desires. Eventually he called and heard me orgasm. Then we would orgasm together on the phone and I'd reach new heights, knowing he was coming with me.

Over the months, we evolved in the things we did, the way we spoke. I'd follow directions, I'd want to please him. I'd do thing specifically and especially for him. Then he made me wait, made me ask, made me soak my panties in anticipation.

That's when the honorific came. Suddenly I was a pet, a slave, and subject to the whims of my Master.

Suddenly my masturbation wasn't just mutual, it was interdependent. I'm coming harder, having more than one more readily than normal, and am eager and obedient.

This is different than normal D/s play or relationships I've been in. It's new. It's never going to be anything more than a fun relationship over the phone, but yet I find it fulfills needs and desires that have gone without attention in quite some time. It relieves a great deal of stress I've had lately and leaves me with a smile on my face.

I'm quite enjoying exploring myself and others with mutual masturbation, sexting, and whispered (or screaming) phone calls.

So thank you, to the friends I've enjoyed lately. Most especially, to the man who makes me his good, little, satisfied, pet.

Xoxoxo

Expectations

When I was younger, I slept with a (1) man for a few months. Unbeknownst to me, several months after we broke up, I hooked up with a (2) friend he had. While that relationship was no more than one of sex, we did have sex quite often, and I met some of their other friends, another (3) of which I hooked up with just once.

So when the three of them expected me to start sleeping with a fourth friend of theirs, I was mortified. Just because I ended up sleeping with three friends does not mean that I was going to passed around to their crew of friends. Just because I liked sex, and had it when I wanted it, doesn't mean that I would sleep with everyone who crossed my path, that I "ought" to sleep with men who offered me sex, especially if it was someone I knew. I was promiscuous with casual sex and having a good time, but not indiscriminately - I chose who I was attracted to, who I was going to have sex with, and if I even wanted another partner.

The friend was equally mad at me, and felt a sense of entitlement, like it was "his turn". They even went so far to show up at my house, these four guys, and try to sell/persuade me this the fourth guy. I was shocked, embarrassed, hurt, unsure of how to respond. It was one of those freezing up moments,
when time crawls so slowly, when you desperately want to hit fast forward and see it end.

Needless to say, I didn't sleep with that fourth guy, and the other three fast became a (painful) memory. I wanted nothing to do with them after that.

They had labeled me in their minds and to their friends, and they felt that I ought to stay within the boundaries and expectations of that label. It felt shameful that they labeled me at the time, though I hardly recognized that was the emotion. And I allowed that overruling emotion to define me, and I rebelled, and I shut off my own sexuality for a year. A YEAR, without intercourse, without finding a companion to share my desires and sexually fantasies with.

I can look back on that year and say I was proud of my self-control, except it wasn't my control that regulated it - it was the control that I gave those four guys. It was the control that I gave to society's definition that I was a slut, promiscuous with the negative connotations, an oversexualized female.

And I can even point the finger at myself that I had done the same negative judgments, criticizing my virgin friends for not experiencing sex, assuming they were scared, unable to find someone, or...or... the list goes on.

What I should have done is realized that they have a choice and they CHOOSE when to intimate, and with whom. The same choice that I had, that I wanted other people to respect. It wasn't until the judgment was cast at me that I realized that I was guilty of the same type of behavior.

Sticky situation

I always get myself in sticky situations

 

 

Predicament Ponderings

 FFF Prompt = Predicament

Word Length = 250 words

Forbidden Words = "Hard" "Peek" "Trouble"

Bonus words = 25 extra words if Gain 1 new follower this week

Extra Credit if you make it somewhat truthful.

My man was in a predicament. I'd a large bed, even more amazing by there was a metal "halo" hanging over it, perfect for tying his hands up. I blindfolded him, but not before he got my nipple in his mouth and sucked, slightly using teeth as I pulled away.

I stepped back to survey my toy. He was so sexy, his arms, I wanted to run my nails lightly over them, feeling the muscles tense in anticipation. I wanted to run my fingers through his chest hair, nip at his nipples like he had the audacity to do to me; wanted to trail my tongue down his stomach, following indent of stomach to hip to gloriousness.

His small black underwear must've slipped sideways. His cock was peeking out, head already so swollen. I had trouble in past moving closer to not tip him, but I did softly and breathed on the penis tip. He tensed, his stomach clenching the slightest amount. I leisurely moved mouth over the head, careful not to touch skin, before pressing lips right under the head. I circled my tongue around the tip, underneath the ridge of the head, sucking hard as I slowly moved up the brief distance until all that was left was a small kiss at the top; he had sucked in his breath when first sucked and exhaled almost as slowly as my progress up. I kissed the precum, a chaste kiss, and licked my lips.   

I deliberated my next move...

*Truthful elements: I have a very large bed (California King) with four posts and metal connecting the posts, meeting in the middle like a halo. I've not tied a man to this, but I have tied men to the posts, and other than being completely naked while tied up, the rest is pretty much all true.  

 

Wasn't Convinced

Most girls outgrow traditional cover-up panties when they get older, and they move onto something sexier, be it g-string, thong, boy shorts... the list is long. I didn't. I kept with the same boring underwear . You know, the kind that cover every bit and normally reserved for days that the monthly comes.

A sister changed over, and then another. Watching the g-string go up their crack, I asked, "doesn't it bother you having something up your butt all day?"

"No, you don't even feel it, it's so thin. Unlike your underwear, where you get wedgies and they suck. And there aren't any panty lines in dresses and pants."

I wasn't convinced, and didn't change over.

...Until.

I was in a long term relationship. We bought a house together, shared a checking account (there is no bigger commitment to me - not even marriage, than these two things).  

We booked a cruise, and I bought a slinky dress (which I normally don't wear). My underwear showed so apparently that I decided that at least for this dress, I would wear a g-string.

And I was sold from that point on. My sister was right: no wedgie, fabric so slight that I was unaware of it after a period of time.  

Sure, I slowly transitioned from my boring underwear to g-strings, and then tried some boy shorts, and other types. I began feeling sexier about my undergarments. I wanted all the sudden for my bras to match my sexy panties. I no longer worried if the pants or dresses would show my underwear.

And

         then

My partner started questioning why all the sudden I was trying to be sexy. Who did I have to impress? Who was going to see under my clothes? Why did I need to replace one type with another? Why was I wanted more form fitting pants and purchasing more dresses?

...Who was seeing under my clothes?  Why was I changing? Why was I showing more skin? Why did I start dressing like a whore?

                                   Who was I sleeping with?

He didn't believe my simplistic reasons, he wasn't convinced. There was a sinister reason, he believed. Suddenly everything I did was suspect, I could no longer do anything without being questioned.

                                 All over my choice of panties.

Yoga I've been doing for years: why did I still have to do? Why was I trying to be more flexible, to move in more positions?

Eating healthy: didn't I look good enough?

Watching a new television program: who introduced me to that?

Going out with friends: was I really going out with friends? "Send me a picture of you and your friends."

This went on for quite awhile, until I had enough. Sadly, looking back, I let it continue far too long. It might not have started with panties, it might have triggered by so many different factors that I was unaware of (his friend was cheated on, he was gaining weight, we were so serious so young...the list is far longer than the types of panties). Unfortunately, the material covering my ass was just the first target. And who knows: it could've been the change in undergarments.

But my ass, and the lack of material covering it, was out of there.

It's amazing how some people perceive fabric at our innermost layer.  For some, it reflects our innermost fantasies, desires. It represents us, our scent, our secret, our sex. It can reflect our time of the month, our insecurities, our confidence, our sensual side.

It can create suspicion, incite lust, kick start relationships, or end them.  

 

What...?

"I have the bouquets right here. But before we go in, I want to discuss something with you guys. We all know she never, ever expected to get married, and recently she's been questioning this decision. We all know they love each other, that they will be just fine. She's getting cold feet, is all. So I've posted family members at all the exit-" laughter "I'm not even joking. But we're closest to her, so we need to watch her carefully for any signs of bolting, cut her off before she can get started."

"No problem," mixed in with other agreement sounds.

 "Great, her parents are all ready to walk/escort/force her down. Mom on one side, dad on the other, it's perfect." The hands holding me were cool, belonging to the calm and collective voice, the person obviously in charge. I thought I was being given to the person in charge, but she sounds in charge...who...what am I getting myself into? I'm meant for happiness, not an emotional woman escaping prison confines. We moved into another room, and I was put down for final touches to the lady in white, her complexion almost matching the dress color. I was handled by the steady hands again before being handed over to freezing shaking ones. Did anyone even take the time to sniff me in appreciation? I was the perfect perfume gone unnoticed.

A deep sigh above me, the owner's hands were sweaty (seriously: sweaty but frigid?). They hurt in their fierce grip. I was concerned at any moment my lovely fragrant petals would be ripped apart, my stems bent or torn. Music started, and I was almost dropped,  a man's hand moved to my side to steady and stop my descent. Whew, close one, but if she decided to run...would she toss me on the ground? Shove me into a door or the chest of some person trying to tackle her like I was some football? I was meant to be tossed daintily into another waiting woman's hands, where I would be cherished as the love symbol that I am. I am delicate...though apparently not as delicate as this person's nerves.

We began walking, and the quaking became severe. How could anyone appreciate my beauty if I was a blur in her hands? Of course, with the back drop of her white-even the hands, my colors had to be vibrant. At least there's that comfort, though small comfort that that was. Oh my, I'm beginning to feel woozy from the shaking, or is it choking of her hands? I can't breathe, I can't see, why won't the world stop spinning? What....

 

Petal soft

 

See who is being sinful with me 

How my Love Looks

The fit was snug as his hands finished securing the clap, arranging my hair just so, then taking a step back to view what he had done.

This is how my love looks. A tangible thing. I belonged to him wholly and the collar was just the expression of that love in the physical.

He looked at me with longing and hunger in his eyes, and I could see how moved he was,
"you look beautiful".

My throat constricted, but not from the mark of his ownership around my delicate throat. Lips brushing forehead, fingers grazing along my breast. Then came the faint click of the leash being attached.

My pupils dilated and my heart beat in a deeper, louder rhythm than before. My arousal spiked from the sure knowledge that I would be firmly guided and directed. This is how my love looks.

Tonight was about him. The show of his power and strength. The true testament of his control. He would make me taunt with tension, then melt with relief.

His strong hand and graceful fingers tightened suddenly around the tether to my collar. As he brought my face to his and grasped my chin, my knees knocked as his lips devoured mine.

With a mere moving of his arm my body was directed to the place where he desired it. My head pulled back, the collar keeping me in tight position as he whispered "I want you to feel. I want you to focus. I want you to be my good girl like I know you are."

Fingers brush, bringing tension to my nerves, my body alive and humming its pleasure. Soft sighing air brushing gently past sensitive skin.

This is how my love looks. The complete submission of my will into his hands with the beauty of my enslavement. The freedom, brought to me once so ultimately bound, profound in its beauty.

Exhibitionist

People ask how I became an exhibitionist  They remark with awe that I have no shame, in fact I delight and glory in showing off the photos I have of my body.

The truth is, there are two things at play here. I take all of my photos myself, with my cell phone no less (imagine what I could do with a REAL camera!), and I am incredibly proud of the talent for beautiful pictures that I have found in myself. Something akin to magic just happens when I get a camera in my hands recently and my work is just getting better.

Here's the biggest push that made me an exhibitionist:

I hated my body. 

I had gorgeous friends and I certainly couldn't measure up to that. Slowly over the years though, there was a shift in my thinking, and as that shift happened, I started getting complimented more. As I settled finally into my skin, I exuded sex. I breath sex. I walk sex. I am sexy. Then, with the blog, I was reluctantly persuaded to submit a picture to Sinful Sunday, hosted by Mollysdailykiss (*see the picture here). Nervous doesn't quite cover the emotions I was feeling. I'm not skinny by any stretch of the imagination. I was bracing for negativity. Then the comments starting coming in...

Holy Hell

My body is beautiful. That's all I kept hearing. There was so much response and enthusiasm I was suddenly empowered. I started pushing the envelope, taking more pictures, revealing more of myself. With every step I have taken, my empowerment has grown. Now I can't keep my clothes on. I revel in the things my body can do. It can provoke desire, lust, longing. It can comfort and bring beauty to someone. This all, just in the viewing of it.

So why am I an exhibitionist? Because I'm beautiful, and I like sharing.

So really, it's all because of you guys. You got me naked, and you keep me that way and loving it.

e[lust] #46

Photo courtesy of A Penny for Your Dirty Thoughts

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

~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~

How to Shave Your Asshole
Tied and Blindfolded
Why Disney is like BDSM
~ Featured Posts (Molly’s Picks) ~
Because you are so beautiful
Suspension of Disbelief
~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~
Dildology: The Science of Sex Toys

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

The Vagina Thief
The Role of Feelings in Swinging Lifestyle
Why I Feel No Jealousy
Spontaneous
I Asked SilverHubby to Respond to a Comment
Mastering Masturbation in 7 Steps
The One Where I Face Reality

Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor

The Cycle of Change, Simplified
My IMsL 2013 Keynote

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Kink of the Week #5: Roleplay
How To find (and catch) a Male Submissive
How to be a Good female Sub
The Master's Voice
Kink of the Week #5: Roleplay
"S&M: The Dark Side of Gay Liberation", 1975
PolyAnna's Musings: Choosing Revisited
KOTW-Roleplay: W's Perspective
Brat-tastic!
Liberating the Fisherman's Wife
How much realism should be in BDSM erotica?

Erotic Fiction

Sunday Morning
Warehouse 69 Episode 2: The Marquis' Crop
Sunday Morning
Salivate
Suffer
Bend Over, Bad Kitty!
Dirty Sexy Money
Lolita Twenty-Thirteen, Part Four

Erotic Non Fiction

My First MMF Threesome
That Smile
What Wet Dreams are Made Of.....
A Good Match
I was a Naughty Girl
Jets
Right Here. Now.
I fantasize about blowjobs & being a good girl

Poetry

Things to Wear – NaPoWriMo
Blood Lust
A poem for Rose
Vanishing
Colorless
Subby Space

Blogging

Look at Me!

Simultaneous Orgasms

The Dirty Normal discussed simultaneous orgasms as "nearly always requires that you both be fully present, attuned, and connected with your partner RIGHT NOW, RIGHT HERE, eyes open, hearts open, lights on, clothes off, breathing and connected, locked into each other, together, now, US."

I agree with parts of this, and don't others. My partner achieves simultaneous orgasms roughly 90% of the time.

Yes, my partner, and not me. I am capable of multiple orgasms, averaging (thank you Orgasm Race to showing me this) three orgasms per session; I've not met a man who has multiple orgasms, and therefore have never been joined for multiples. Most of the time, by the third orgasm, I am physically exhausted and make sure that he joins me on that ride to the top of three.

I agree with the Dirty Normal in that both of us, to attain an orgasm together, are present in the moment (one of the few times I am), attuned and connected to each other's body language. He reads my body's cues, or the "don't stop, right there" words I say (okay, let's face it, he probably relies more on the verbal cues), and moves accordingly - normally exactly as I've told him to. He feels me tightening with my orgasms, which requires him to be present enough and attuned to feel that connection between his penis and my vagina wall muscles. The tightening around his shaft is normally what pushes him over the edge towards his own climax. And usually the more orgasms I have, the stronger and easier they become, and the less control I have over them - which may be another reason we average three - he's already resisted being pleased with the first two.

But, I mostly control when he cums. It comes in handy when I want a quickie, it comes in handy for faking an orgasm (yes, I've been guilty of this a time or two, but only with new partners who lack self-confidence). I can control my muscles, squeeze him (I've read the term milking-not sure how I feel about that one). It increases my own pleasure; it speeds up his.

Now granted, if he wasn't attuned to me - say he was thinking about what to have for dinner later, then no matter what I do, it may not matter.

As for "eyes open" that just doesn't happen for me. And I can honestly say that I have no idea if any of my lovers have had their eyes open - I don't keep mine open. When it starts to feel good, I close my eyes, cut out the visual stimulation, and just feel. My eyes always being closed hasn't stopped simultaneous orgasms yet. And the lights could be off or on, for him or for me.

"Hearts open" is another one that (at least I) don't need. As much as it bothers my partners, I don't feel emotional when I have sex, they are two separate entities for me. I lived with a man for three years, had the most amazing sex, and didn't fall in love with him (but it wasn't for lack of trying). I've still managed these orgasms with that partner. Of course, I'd like to think that simultaneous orgasms are "more special" with someone I love, everything is more special when it is spent with a loved one. But I am a capable of timing the orgasms without emotional attachment.

As for the breathing, I've read some articles on how couples should play with breathing as an exercise to feel connected - same kind of exercise as to touch without sex, massage without being sensual, etc.. I haven't tried these, I would honestly feel like laughing the whole time, but one day when I mature more perhaps I can give these things a go. 

And of course, some may argue that these orgasms wasn't what The Dirty Normal intended, as they are manipulated at times, but even when I don't consciously do anything to have simultaneous orgasms, I do tighten in my own pleasure which pleases him - regardless of the circumstances of our connection.

TMI: Navigating Sex

Navigating Sex

1. Answer Yes or No:
I Regret My First Kiss - No
I Miss My First Love - Not even close
I Married My First Love - Thank goodness no
I Loved Someone That Didn’t Love Me - No

2. Do you consider yourself monogamous or polyamorous or some other category which you will explain or define for us now?
Monogamous – although polyamory probably suits me more, especially in this military lonely-lifestyle

3. Your partner is in the mood for sex and you are tired – what do you do?
a. Start snoring. There is no way I’m giving it up tonight.
b. Trade. You give me a massage… and we will see…
c. That would never happen!

4. Does your partner mind if you masturbate, in bed, when they are there?
No – sometimes he encourages it, as he finds it incredibly hot
 
5. Describe your typical sexual romp
a. You are playful and tame
b. You have occasionally introduced a few things like outfits and toys
c. You love trying new things and shocking your partner

Bonus: What was your best ever masturbation experience. Why was it the best? Describe.
When I first received one of my (sadly many) rabbit vibrators. For some reason, this one was just designed in such an awesome way as to make me orgasm so hard and quickly. And when I masturbate, I would prefer quick. The first time I used it, I was shocked, and then went for multiples just to see.  

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

Green

It was pale green silk and lace that I slowly slipped from my body.

 

Come see some sin

FFF: First Time

Key word = Disclosure

word limit = 200

Extra credit = share your "real number" along side your Publicly Claimed Number

She raked his back, arching, before remembering disclosure: it's my first time - reminded herself. It kept her focused on that facade, away from the feeling sensations.

He gauged her reaction, trying to go slow. I've had so many women, he thought, but this is the hottest. When her nails clawed his back, he thought of other women doing the same, countless women. Faceless though, with this lovely in his view, eyes shut in concentration. Amazing, letting him have this moment.

"Is it supposed to be this big?" She murmured, eyes suddenly open, trying for bewildered.

He laughed. "Oh yes. You feel so tight. I've never had it so good. I'm going to try to get you cum. Relax." Whispered command, kissing her lips softly, thrusting faster with more force.

She closed eyes again, began arching purposely; couldn't keep appreciative moans silent. He knew how to move, and she found herself unwilling reaching orgasm.

When she tightened, he came, slowed, withdrew, and rolled over to his side, draping an arm across.

"Was that good?"

She smile. "So good. Too bad I'm your first and only, you'd be really good for virgins."

He thought how lucky that she had the experience to switch roles with him.

**This is completely inspired by my lover and myself. Full public disclosure of myself: I tell people I am more than 1 and less than 100. 

Don Wands pink bent g dream review

This is the pink bent g dream from Don Wands and sold by Erotic Toy Town

Let's get technical

Shipping: The package came very quickly to my house. The packaging was discrete and protected, an extra concern for glass products.

View: The toy itself is a delicate pink, and the glass is smooth and beautifully crafted. You get a peek through the box at the toy, which can be misleading in regards to size.

Size matters: The overall is 8½" inches, with a ¾” diameter shaft wand widening
to approximately 1 ¼” in the center.

Down and dirty: Having a glass toy is great for product care. It is non-porous, waterproof, phthalate free, and hypo-allergenic. Clean up is easy as you can use an antibacterial soap (make sure to rinse well!), your favorite toy cleaner, or even put it in the dishwasher. 

What's it do?: The pink bent g spot locator is designed to reach and delight the elusive g spot in females. The bulbs in the handle end make it a double threat as it can be used as an anal plug. Glass craftsmanship means its one glass of water or fridge away from temperature play.

Light the candles and grab the lube

Me time

Aesthetic: The toy is lovely to look at and beautifully smooth in your hand. I love a toy that has little weight to it, it means the glass will hold the temperature longer, and I'm not afraid to break it. Once I removed the toy from the box, it seemed a lot smaller than I had originally thought.

Vaginal play: I have a shallow g spot, so g spot toys are a bit tricky for me. The shape and size of this toy worked for me, but it wasn't the easiest. The toy is by far, the smallest in diameter in my repertoire, including other small g spot toys I have. If you aren't a size queen, this one might be your best friend.

Anal Play: I am definitely keeping this one in rotation for anal play. While again, it is smaller than some of my other toys, the beads on the end, and the length give it something other's don't have. The bent g spot vaginal side makes a great handle for in and out motion, making it the most convenient anal toy I own for that. 

Is it hot in here?: Temperature play with this toy is great. It picks up the heat or cold quickly (in about 30 seconds, if you're not looking for long term), and is ready. While it doesn't maintain cold for long if you're overheated like some thicker counterparts, it does get the job done and a glass of ice water next to the bed will quickly recharge.

I prefer O's over Stars...

The O system ratings (1-5)

Overall: OOOO

Vaginal: OO

Anal: OOOO

Regular rotation: OOO

Closing thoughts: I definitely like this glass toy. The length vs.diameter on this makes it a unique toy that fits a class not many others fit for anal. Erotic Toy Town really delivered with a great product, great shipping times and packaging and a great selection. 

Deep Sleep

I struggled to sleep with my husband. Truly struggled. Actual sleep. Having sex with him was easy. He’s used to sound of mortars and bodies and sweat and violence, and can sleep just fine. But for myself, I need a blacked out, quiet environment with no new movements or objects. Hence why I couldn’t sleep with my husband. And he’s a large presence, broad shoulders, and arms and legs that seem to reach out everywhere. What’s worse: he’s a snuggler. Up until him, I was not. Let me go to my edge, you go to yours. It took over a year of sleeplessness before I could sleep a decent amount, but amazing sex. It’s a fair trade-off.

To make matters worse, it seems like I can’t get enough of him. I can rarely leave him alone. He is gorgeous and sexy; I always want him. He has this bottom lip that begs to be sucked, pulled with my teeth. But I digress just like I do when I try to fall asleep with him. That was then.

The other morning he woke me up, a feat that he rarely accomplishes. I was having the nicest of dreams when I awakened; he was playing with my clit. He often remarks that I must have some wonderful dreams, because I wake up wet the majority of mornings. He dipped inside of me and spread my juices around, and continued to slide his finger around my pearl. One finger applied pressure above it, somehow making it stand out all the more and become even more sensitive. It took me a moment to realize I wasn’t in a dream, and I still felt the fluffy foggy clouds around me, swept up in a romantic fantasy. I must’ve moaned. I heard a chuckle right before my hair was lifted and I was kissed on the side of my neck.

His fingers gently sunk into me, first one, and then two. His thumb continued to rub my clit. His breath warm against my ear before playfully nipping the lobe. His fingers began to press more deeply, with more intent, and I pulled my legs farther apart to give him access.

His body moved lower, the covers sliding down and baring flesh. My nipples hardened and he briefly kissed one before moving his mouth to my growing need. Gently, his tongue flicks at my already hard and tormented bud. He looks up at me, a half smile upon his lips. Again, the tip of his tongue flicked, and he watched me squirmed. His tongue moved lower, tracing my entrance, driving me crazy and my hips trying to rotate his mouth into my opening. He gripped my thighs and held me, looking mischievous back up for a brief moment, before flashing his tongue out for the briefest of moments, and then down against my already slick portal.

Suddenly he was no longer the tease, and he increased both the tempo and the pressure of his mouth. He was gluttonous, but I was starving. I am grateful I can sleep with him these days, for now he has the opportunities to wake me and fulfill my dreams.  

 

For Pity's Sake, No

I cried when he told me "no" after I proposed sex. It was a silly, immediate reaction that I tried unsuccessfully to hide. But the feeling of rejection was fierce.

Being aware that the no wasn't a rejection of me, but to the action at that specific moment, didn't help. It didn't help that we had sex four times already that day. I was unsure of the origin of the sudden tears, as surprised at their arrival as he was. Normally, this wouldn't bring me to tears. Hormones, melancholy that day? Regardless of the cause, there they were: fat, rounded, salty drops rolling their way down my cheeks.

I tried to hide the reaction, but he saw.

"Look at me," he ordered, but I shook my head and tried to duck into his armpit. He grabbed my chin and moved my face towards him. "Why're you crying?"

"I...I...d-don't know," I sobbed out miserably, ashamed at such a reaction that I was helpless to control.

"Let's have sex," he stated, matter-of-factly, kissing my wet cheeks softly.

"N-n-no, you don't want to, it would be pity sex. And I don't want to anymore."

He laughed, wiping my eyes. "Liar." He kissed me softly on the lips, his tongue briefly darted out to feel my quivering lips. "Besides, it doesn't matter what you want, I find myself wanting to have sex with you." He grabbed my hand and tried to pull me off of the couch where we were snuggling, but I stubbornly slipped my hand away from his.

He sat down next to me, and looked at me for a long moment. My tears were slowing, but I was embarrassed and rolled over, my back to him. His hand rubbed my back for a minute, then moved to my waistband of my pajama pants and pulled down. "What are you doing?" I protested, but weakly. I wanted to feel better, and we both knew that sex would make me feel better.

"Taking what I want," he said, right before his mouth breathed on my hip. His hand gently rotated me onto my stomach, and then parted one thigh from another. A finger gently touched my clit, then slowly stroked my labia. His finger slipped inside ever so slightly. I held my breath, until I felt his against the pink tenderness of my sex. His tongue traced around my entrance before slipping inside of me; he sucked gently at my lips as his tongue darted in. He began to move his tongue steadily, increasing the pace and pressure. My core tightened as I tensed, my hips began to move almost of their own accord. "Get on your knees," he told me, not quite taking his mouth away. I slowly moved to my knees, his mouth still sloppily kissing around my swollen sex. He slid his fingers in, first one then two, out and then deeper, probing for my g-spot. He kept pressure there as he moved, and I felt my myself squeezing tighter around his fingers, my body taut, my mind emptying itself of all thoughts save the feelings he was creating. Right before I orgasmed, he moved his fingers and again used his tongue to bring me the rest of the way.

I screamed, I pushed myself into his mouth as if he could devour me whole, as it felt as if I was utterly his. He kneeled behind my shaking thighs, pulled down his pants to his knees, and his cock nudged at my opening. Still swollen and responsive, I moaned as I leaned back into him, pressing hardness into my depth. "Oh god," I breathed, as I moved forward slightly, and then back again, trying for another orgasm, astounded at how ready I was.

"Slow down," he grabbed my hips, and began setting the pace. I began making soft noises that increased volume when he increased pace, and found myself alternating between holding and struggling for breath. Teetering on the edge of another orgasm, he began to slam his cock fully into me and my screams mixed with his moan. I collapsed with the force of my orgasm, my legs no longer wanted to support me. He rolled me onto my side, settled himself into the couch, and my body into his arms. He held my gaze, tried to gauge my mood, and suddenly I remembered how I cried, how absurd I was. As if reading my thoughts, he reaffirmed, "that wasn't pity sex, it was amazing and that's how we're going to remember it."

I nodded, and smiled. "It was amazing," I concurred. "And I'm sorry at how I reacted. It was silly."

To this date, I haven't reacted with tears when turned down for sex. I have, however, jumped up and stomped my foot impulsively, which received me a laugh and teasing: "is that a tantrum?" Where the hell had that reaction come from?

Any Given Sunday

You'll find me taking pictures for Sinful Sunday

My second choice was Scent of a Woman, but I decided the other was better ;)

Ass April

A is out right now with her arm in a sling, but M still wanted to showcase some awesomeness this month.
 
M's monthly picks:

Category: Husband read this and do it!
She wrote several in a role that I kept showing my husband, and I realized I needed to wait to read Molly until I could masturbate or have husband on hand. Hot, hot, hot!
http://mollysdailykiss.com/2013/04/03/once-a-week/

Category: Picture that got me hot and bothered:
http://justarandomscot.wordpress.com/2013/04/07/sinful-sunday-thoughts-of-you/ Some one I would like to straddle and slowly, savoring, ease my way down the length hidden from view, running my fingers through his manly hair (I really have a thing for hair - just not too hairy).

Category: Family facetiousness:
A's Acting: I laughed and could envision her bad acting skills, I've seen when she is purposefully dramatic, and it is a sight worth seeing - especially if you need to be cheered up. In detail I saw her hand go to her forehead and the head tilt damsel-in-distress-style, with her elongating her syllables, trying to go for sultry and breathless.