Kiss

I was drowning in a sea of hate and self-loathing. My eyes pooled and spilled over with tears of anguish. I wanted to scream "I don't want to DO this anymore! I just want to get AWAY!".  I wanted to pound on the walls and express my rage. I wanted to be someone else at the moment, anyone, as long as it was not me,  as long as I didn't have to feel this way, to be this person.

 I needed something from him that he cannot quite understand but I cannot live without. The jumble of feelings and emotions, I needed pain to overcome it all. Pain felt that was wholly my choice, not forced on me by another. To drown out the screaming in my head.

The strike of his hand and the grasp of his strong fingers was what I craved. I wanted the power stripped from me and unleashed through him. It was more than dominance I craved, it was consumption, ownership, to be absorbed into him. I quaked with my need and pleaded with a tear stained voice, trying to express that which was locked inside of me, trapped like I was in the place in my head.

"No."

I was being denied. This was MY life so I shouldn't be surprised, that sad pathetic thing I lived every day. I felt unworthy, wilted more than before, broken. Didn't he know? Couldn't he see I was in pieces on the floor, lying at his feet, at his mercy of which he was giving me none? How could he deny me the thing I needed most? 

Those fingers caressed my cheek and suddenly the dam within me burst. I had been pushed past the limits of my endurance and I couldn't contain it anymore. His cruel denial was the last straw and my anger bloomed in furious color in the staining of my cheeks and the sudden cessation of my tears. My hand came crashing into his cheek with a fury born of everything I was feeling and everything he was denying me. The sound was deafening and the feelings vibrating up through my fingers gave me a vicious satisfaction.

One way or another, someone was feeling the sting.

I turned as quickly as my hand had delivered the blow and tried to dam the hated tears that were brimming and threatening to spill and weaken me again; fully intent on leaving, on seeking solace in privacy from the Hell I was in. Strong fingers in a grasp that demanded my attention, but yet did not claw, suddenly gripped my arm and spinning me about quickly had me crashing into his arms on unsturdy legs.

Those beloved, hated fingers gripped my chin as he stared into my eyes. His lips brushed mine in a whisper. "No". One arm encircled my waist and the other held firm my chin as those same soft lips grazed mine. Once. Twice. Finally the lips took mine in a kiss that held all of the emotion I felt, and the deliverance from it. 

The tears I had so valiant a struggle against came now in torrents and rivers and flooded the earth and our cheeks. The salty taste of them intermingled and caressed our lips as they caressed each other in healing. He moved both arms around me in a tight embrace that told me I was home. The anger and the hurt had no room to be, for there wasn't even an inch between our bodies for them to gain space. He caressed my cheeks, kissed my tears, and stared into my eyes.

He knew me, better than I knew myself right then. I had lost myself, given myself over to things that are dark and seek to destroy but my lover was still there. He was my anchor and saw me when I could not see myself. I needed to see love, not power. The submission of myself and the power of his dominance was shown now not through force, but through an understanding that he would care for and protect me through  and from everything, even myself.

My clothing slipped to the floor in a pool as he slid his hands softly against my skin, caressing and worshiping every fevered inch as he went along. There were no restraints but I could not have broken free from the sensations now humming along my nerves. I loved the feel of his breath, the sigh lightly playing along my skin as his cheek rubbed against the side of my breast while he lowered himself to remove my panties. His head came to rest on my stomach and his arms encircled me for yet another embrace. There are no word I could use to express what the embrace of this man conveyed. As the last of my garments joined those on the floor, the last vestiges of my fury abated. I was soothed, I was loved, I was aroused.

He laid me gently on the bed and parted my thighs with kisses and caresses. He knelt down before me in worship and showed me the submission of his heart to my needs. His tongue was strong as it flicked across the very center of me; unlocking the secrets of me and causing my legs to quake.

The aftereffects of all of the heated emotions that had me so keyed up earlier were still coursing through my blood, making my nerves more sensitive and ready to explode. I could not contain my hands and needed as much as air to caress him, to touch every part I could. Within moments caresses turned into insistent tugging as I needed him to hold me again, to kiss me , to fill me.

No longer being denied, he rubbed his body over mine as the heat of him seared a memory onto my skin that would last an eternity. He was mine as I was his. He caressed my cheek, still damp with my emotion, and stared into my searching eyes.

As he slid into me, with one strong, fluid stroke, those lips, that had saved me from the precipice minutes before, formed the words I needed so badly to hear to heal my soul.

"I love you."

As my muscles melted with my relief they started gathering new tension in preparation for my release. My back arched and my hips rose up to meet his with increasing demand, my body expressing all of the love and need that my heart felt, to drive us forward to completion. As so rarely happens, the world fell into place and we reached our pinnacle together, my body tightening and wringing every drop of his orgasm at the same time, demanding it and claiming it as mine.

I had wanted his violence, but what I needed was his kiss.

Being on the ropes

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

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

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

"You need this don't you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Playing footsie during casting call

I've had a man profess to having a foot fetish before. He'd suck my toes and rub my feet and generally be a normal guy otherwise. When I met K and he claimed to have a foot fetish as well, I didn't even bat an eye.

I love my feet. I think they're adorable. Getting a foot rub or having my toes sucked on while being licked from head to foot is delightful and erotic, sign me up! I did, however,  get a bit more than I bargained for with K.

The man never stopped touching my legs and feet. At first I had my usual motto of "if it gets you off, it gets me off". I did enjoy the attention. I did get a shiver when romantically engaged and he'd put my toes in his mouth, but this was becoming a pandemic.

To him, touching my leg or foot was no different a sign of affection than patting my shoulder. One night, while I was meeting his friends for the first time he bent down and kissed my foot as he was getting up to go grab something. You could've heated the house with my cheeks as his friends looked at me, curious expressions upon their faces. We had to have a talk about what was considered taboo in public and what wasn't.

K and I would be in bed (or the livingroom, or any other part of the house) behaving like naughty kids,  and invariably, more attention was paid to my legs and feet than any other part of my body. K made the experience, something I'd been pretty neutral about, erotic. I enjoyed distracting him with stockings. The sight of my small delicate feet strapped into a pair of gorgeous shoes would drive him to whisk me into the bedroom where he'd slowly remove my clothes and worship my body, kissing and caressing his way down.

It was a unique experience, adjusting to my partners fantasies. I loved the foot rubs and pedicures. I eventually stopped apply lotion to my legs myself, knowing how much pleasure he got from caressing soft skin and smoothing, working lotion into my feet. His attention solely focused on the objects off his desire resting in his lap.

After some time, because of my openness, K confessed to another fetish, a side dish, an accent if you will. K had a cast fetish, for, you guessed it, feet.

According to him, casting was the only socially acceptable form of bondage, which he knew I was into. My interest was piqued and I questioned him in depth. According to K, there is nothing more erotic than a leg and foot held immobile in a cast. He enjoys putting his partner in a medically unnecessary cast, he also enjoys the sex while his partner is thus "bound".

When questioned about the feasibility of this fetish, K expressed that his previous partner would be in a cast from as short a time as one day, to once,  two weeks. When appearing in public people simply assume that the person in the cast has merely been injured. Happens all the time, no one would ever dare assume it was a fetish. K's fetish always involved the foot in some way. Any cast he wanted his partner to appear it, it was always at least the foot/ankle.

I'm incredibly open about exploring and experimenting, however the cast fetish proves too much of me. The anxiety of being trapped, the damage one can do to ones body, and the lack of normal mobility are things I cannot get past.

To compensate I've decided to be a martyr and purchase more red tie polish, endure another pedicure, sit through having my thighs caressed and kissed, my calves kneed, and my toes sensually sucked on... It's a hard life, but we do what we must. ;)

Tied and blindfolded

"Tie me." Okay, so I'm not for subtle, or pretty words.

He smiled, indulgently. "Okay."

"And we're bringing the knife, and the candles."

"Okay."

I bounced on the bed as I waited for him to get the ties out of our ammo can (must be a military things). He fastened them to the four bedposts, already knowing that they need to be as loose as possible to compensate for a small female stretched out on a Cal King bed. He lit the candles, grabbed a large towel and draped it in the middle of the bed. I proceeded to flip myself onto the center of it, crinkling the towel so he grabbed the corners and smoothed it out again.

He reached over my to strap a wrist in, and his penis hovered above my face. So tempting, so delicious, and I wasn't tied up yet, so I lifted my head and wrapped my mouth around the shaft, probing the head with my tongue as my lips pushed further up onto his shaft. I started sucking gently, but he moved up further; I increased the suction, but he pulled out of my mouth, smiled and shook his head, then proceeded to tie my other wrist.

He brushed the hair back from my face, gently stroked the side of my head, and then reached back and grabbed my hair at the base of the neck. He forced my head up slightly and pushed his still damp member into my mouth, allowing me to suck a few times, then pulled me back, then pressed me back to suck. He had never controlled this element before, and being denied something I wanted made me want it even more. I would let out a sound of disappointment every time he forced me away. After five or six times, he completely moved away and down to my ankles, tightly binding them, forcing my legs apart.

He grabbed the blindfold and tenderly adjusted it to my face. When we take out ties, we always use a blindfold; I don't recall us ever using one without the other. I love not knowing where he is going next, trying to anticipate, relying on the sounds, smells, subtle movement from the bed. He has more of an advantage than I do - he can reach me without touching the bed, I am too short and he can almost always feel where I am on the bed when he is blinded.

He was still near my face when he proceeded to torment me again with sucking him, his hand back firmly in my hair, guiding my mouth and his cock where he needed, withdrawing and then allowing my mouth back around him. Just ever so briefly, then I felt him remove himself completely off the bed.

"Oh, we have all the temperatures tonight," he stated matter of factly and I felt something very cold and smooth rubbing against the side of my rib. I drew in a breath at the touch of chill, exhaling the breath gradually. Chilliness brushed lower, down the side of the hip and around above the knee, before unhurriedly making its way up to my inner thigh. I recognized it now as our glass dildo. The glass seems to stay arctic for so long. It nudged itself delicately between my lips, rubbed its way up my clit, and then grazed a trail around a breast, rubbing the nipple and making it pucker from the cold. His mouth warmed the cold flesh, a pleasant contrast, soft but wide open kisses to fully cover as much as possible, the tongue flicking the nipple a few times, before pulling up, grasping with suction and tightening on just the nipple, applying a bit of tugging with his mouth. I moaned and attempted to arch up, my pussy clenching.

He inched away just briefly, and there was a small buzzing noise. My other nipple was pinched and forced up, stretched for a nipple clamp to come down on it, the vibrating strong in such a small sensitive zone. He kissed the other nipple again, his hand slowly going down to gently stroke my clit, and I thought he was going to apply the other clamp, when I heard him whisper, "I wonder if you'll like this".

I felt him sit up, and another small buzzing sound, before his fingers played with my clit, rubbing back and forth until it swelled and became more prominent. Suddenly a vibrating sensation was there, and I protested (was it a protest?), "Oh fuck." He inquired if I was okay with that, but before I could offer any other opinions, cold steel touched the side of my breast that did not have the clamp. The tip of the knife point gently scratched its way around the soft globe, the flat of the blade massaged its way across my nipple, and I was breathless.

While I was aware of the shaking clamps on my nipple, and my clit, it became almost background sensation to the cold knife making its way across my body, browsing my stomach, scratching delicately on the inside of my thigh, flat blade almost pressing against my lips. It moved in a slow, icy, deliberate manner. He alternated between the cold smoothness of the blade, pressing it more firmly, chilling my hot skin; and the tip, softer, almost gossamer at points, daintily skimming and scratching the surface.

He set the knife aside, and his tongue flicked the tip of the nipple trapped in the clamp. The tiny little top became so central to every nerve ending, every thought. It felt ridiculously hypersensitive, and amazingly good. He gradually slid the clamp off, kissed the nipple more firmly, softly blew on it, cooling it with his breath. He reached down and carefully took off the clamp on my clit. "Did you like that?" he asked, his fingers massaging the incredibly receptive pearl, before dipping between my lips and discovering how wet I was. "Oh yes, you liked that," he confirmed, and I could hear the smile of satisfaction in his voice. He moved his finger slowly in and out a few times, not to please or press any buttons, but to tease, before he withdrew and I felt the side of the bed give slightly as he shifted away from me.

Suddenly a hot splatter stunned me, and my indrawn breath gave voice to my surprise. It wasn't pleasurable - it was fiery and shocking. Another scalding drop kissed my chest, but being more prepared, it didn't bring me out of any reverie - but it still required my upmost attention. Trickles bit by bit fell, first falling in the center of my chest, then my soft breasts, a few scattered splatters touched very sensitive rosy nipples. My body, already aching, adapted quickly to random drips; the hot drops brought the skin to a heightened sensation, quickly cooled, hardened and left traces with the weight and texture against my skin. I began moaning into it, unable to prevent a twitching every so often at the heat, but always an awareness of my own self and my increasing desire.

He brought the glass dildo up against my skin, skimming the surface where the wax was so swiftly I had no idea what he did with the candle. It was excruciating winter, such a stark dissimilarity, and I writhed as much as the bindings allowed me to, trying to escape the icy glass against some sensitive places and endeavoring to welcome the touch in other places. Slowly, the glass skated across bare skin or raised slightly over the wax, the wax a buffer against the chill in small places. Both nipples were massaged until they were hardened points, then the glass was rubbing against my clit, just briefly. I cried out, wanting...I had no idea what anymore, but just yearning.

The glass parted my lips, and dipped agonizingly slow into my folds, my heated wet passion seemingly an unbearable furnace that felt the onslaught of frosty glass, slithered slowly, sinking, still so cold, my entrance cooling with every new movement inside, my depths aware of the temperature difference but adjusting, warming. Once he moved the dildo fully inside me, he pulled out just as slowly, my folds cocooning, my excitement allowing easy movement. Then down, fast, quickly, and back up to almost the round tip fully out, and suddenly he was fucking me hard with the toy, and my body was so ready for the release, my hips moving as much as the ties would allow, my thighs taunt and resentful of the stinted freedom, and I was screaming into the orgasm.

When I was done, he wrenched the toy suddenly out of my spent body and positioned the head of his penis against my aroused entrance, pausing with just the tip. I let out a moan of frustration, my body greedy already, longing again so quickly for him. Effortlessly slipping inside, but just as slowly as first with the toy, he was so hard, I held my breath and focused on feeling his length slide down further and further into me. He rotated up, patiently measured, and back down, letting out a sigh of pleasure. After a few more times, in his attempt of fully tease me by almost completely retreating before gliding fully in, he shifted too far out. (The ankle ties make sex challenging, as my legs are not a fully spread as he needed for his broad body.)

"I have an idea," he said, and I questioned what. He didn't respond as he released my ankles. I felt movement around my wrists, but I was busy attempting to move my legs around his body to pull him into me. He seemed impervious to my endeavor, and grabbed a hold of one ankle and raised it up to my hand. I believed he was going to hold one leg up and enter me, but felt a fasten around my ankle, attached to the wrist binding. He had used extra ties that were otherwise too short, and I had forgotten even the existence. My other ankle joined up to my other wrist, and suddenly I was spread as open as I've ever been tied up. "Are you comfortable?" he questioned, the concern in his voice.

"Yes, but I feel very open, and vulnerable," and swiftly as I was speaking his mouth was upon my pussy, a gentle suction on the lips and his tongue thrusted inside me. His mouth was unbelievably hot, the suction was amazing, and I tried to squirm against the feelings - a motion that had always been available to me, but suddenly was not. I was splayed, full access to him. And oh my goodness, his mouth was doing the most incredible things with that advantage. He seemed to lick and suck for so unbelievably long, and I felt spent and ravaged. He hoisted up and then entered me, absolutely no gentleness - but my body offered no resistance. I clenched around him, I shouted so loudly that my throat immediately felt raw, but he now fucked me roughly. In the position I was in, he could thrust against me with no boundaries, he went so deeply into me at moments that I felt him hitting a wall, but beyond any sensation beyond orgasm, I continued to scream as he continued to pound into me.

A slight lull, a shifting of his body, after that extreme pleasure that took me to heights and would have kept me until he decided otherwise, and he alternated at a slower pace. It was more controlled, and I could feel the ridge of his head rubbing the inside of my quivering body.

Oh my...and unexpectedly sweltering tormenting rain on my breasts, on my stomach. The wax was commanding my attention, sizzling, startling, focused skin. He persisted to move slowly in and out of me, my body started to grip him tighter, preparing for another orgasm. Suddenly wax poured down the interior of one thigh, still wholly exposed because of the ties, and it burned a fierce path down, cooling and resting about halfway. It took me out the feeling of orgasm with its intensity, but his continual plunging pushed me right back towards that mood to focus on my muscles beginning to tense and shudder, and wax splashed downward again, bringing my concentration back, but my body wasn't to be diverted for long by a lowly thigh, not when the entire core of me was taut, tight, clenching, spasms rippling through that the third time wax was splayed the thigh was rigid and barely registered, consumed by a violent orgasm. I screamed again, forgot to breathe, floated and became dizzy, became aware of his decelerated movements, of his calm withdraw, almost a mockery of the ferocious orgasm just felt.

His mouth was back between my legs, and his fingers and tongue took turns pillaging my already spent but oh so sensitive sex. I sensed a vibrator, and he used my own juices to stroke up against my clit, amid my folds but not quite entering, and then transitioned down to my asshole. "Can I?" he asked.

He could have asked to bring in twenty people just to gawk at me, for all I cared at the moment. I was blissfully happy, exhaustively spent, easily amenable. I gave a shaky agreement - the few times we've tried anal anything with me I didn't like it, and we had only tried a finger, or a small anal toy, nothing that vibrated, and nothing as large as that.

With the same infinite patience that he used throughout this session, he carefully inserted the vibrator into my small hole after using a lot of lube. I tried to relax into it, for once a little easier just because my body was so complaisant after such pleasure. Before I could feel and fixate on any sort of uncomfortableness, he entered me again, not removing the vibrator.

I felt so full, like there was not enough room for me. My muscles immediately reawakened and began a squeezing pattern that was fast leading to another orgasm, but he kept ruining the pace. "It keeps slipping out," he vented, and slid out of me. "Do you mind if we do it doggy-style?"

I didn't mind if he did me on the moon, I just wanted him deep inside of me again. He reached up and pushed the blindfold up, and even the low lighting hurt my eyes, so I shut them. He freed my ankles, and I felt stiff, it hurt my hips to move my legs down and together. Next, my wrists, and then I rolled over, mostly so I didn't lose my nerve again with the vibrator. I pressed my chest flush to the bed, and raised my ass up. He cautiously slid the vibrator in again, and then sank his length into me. A repeat, that feeling of fullness that I was unused to. He increased the pace of his thrusting, the vibrator easier for him to keep in place, and it wasn't long before we reached a peak of pleasure together from this position. Once more, the release was so quick, and made my entire body respond with such force. He withdrew the vibrator first, and then himself. I managed to do nothing more than collapse on the bed, just laying there.

He laughed at my limp form, laid down next to me, and kissed me on the forehead. "You're a mess," he said. I could do nothing other than smile, (and tweet about it the next day).

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.

See the kink of the week!

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

Pride cometh before a fall

There it was, laying in tatters at my feet. I didn't know how I was reduced to this... I didn't know how I had gotten myself in this position. Or maybe I did.

I was ready to beg him; no, plead. I was ready and more than willing to make a deal with the devil to have all of him, and yet be consumed. There were so many things that he, this man, held that I wanted. I wanted his love and desire. I wanted his heart and his mind. I wanted him in my mouth.

There I lay, trussed up, on my back, on my bed. Wearing rope as lovely as silk garments, seeing his dick, throbbing hard in front of my face and I was consumed with want of it. I wanted to feel it slide past my lips, I wanted to taste the very essence of him. I wanted to have him fuck me senseless and with a fierceness to match my own.

His compliment, "You look lovely right now" as tears course down my face, I'm bound and helpless, my ass glowing red from the punishment it has just received.

My plea, "please".

"Please".

So much meaning and passion raging behind one simple word. I was screaming with this one word: "here is my pride, my heart, my being! Take it! It is yours. My will, my control, take it!"

"You've been a good girl, I suppose I should reward you..." He lovingly runs his hand along my tear stained cheek then finally let's me capture my prize with my mouth. Watering, waiting to taste. It is finally mine. It is worth it. The wait, the teasing. He knows how to drive me to peaks and push me right to the edge. Just when I am about to fall, to crack, to break, he catches me and soothes me and brings me fulfillment.

I get what I want that day. All of it. I was filled with him in my mouth, I was turned over and thrust into release. I more fully captured his heart and while I may have been bound and he in control, he was now bound to me more firmly than before.

I have no need of pride in the face of such things, and I more than willingly give it up.

Wicked Wednesday

Until Thursday

"I wish you could call me so you can hear me find my pleasure."

My phone rings almost instantly. He's at work, on base, in his office. My panties are tucked in his pocket and I've sent him a picture of pert nipples, creamy skin, silk panties. I'm being a bit of the devil. I've instructed him not to find release until he sees me later this week.

He likes to please me. Against his better judgment he's agreed to my request. Now I'm just teasing, taunting, making him feel every moment of that wait. To twist the screw a bit more I not only inform him that I'm masturbating at that very moment, but now I'm making him listen to my ragged breath.
The torture continues as I make him tell me what he wants to do to me, and I to him. I find my release but am still enjoying the sensations so I leave my vibrator down there as we talk of other things. I continue to throw sexual innuendo into our conversation; I like this game I'm playing. He asks what I would do if he just showed up at my house. The vixen in me tells him I'd let him watch me masturbate, then send him on his way to continue the vigil until Thursday.

I think he's had enough because suddenly the tables are turned. His voice deepens, evens out. He's speaking in an authoritative tone telling me that no, what I really want is his mouth between my thighs and to feel his tongue flick the sensitive skin of my bud. He asks if I want to be a good girl and of course I do. "Then cum. Cum to the sound of my voice and the thoughts of me tasting you."

I'm undone. My breath catches and my legs shake as I reach that crescendo. He did it. Let me know who was in control even while playing my game. He taunts back one last time about showing up and I tell him I don't believe him. He's at work and devoted, I knew better. He wishes me a pleasant afternoon and I reiterate about being impatient for Thursday.

I am languorous and stay half naked as I continue my afternoon, quivering with excitement over what is happening in just two more days. I'm talking to a friend on the phone when there's a knock at my door. I grab a towel (still naked) and peak out of the window.

It's him. My jaw drops along with my phone and I'm flustered. Oh my God he has work, how is this possible!? It's the middle of the afternoon! My house is a mess and so am I but all I can think is, "he's here! HE'S HERE!"

I open the door and he holds me firmly and ravishes my mouth. He holds my face and says "Never issue a challenge like you did earlier, I'll rise to it. You've no idea what I'm capable of doing." I'm bewildered at how he accomplished it, but rank has it's privilege I'm to find out.

His mouth, his words, his gaze... His every touch and everything get me soaked with excitement. I don't know how he is able to do this to me. I'm still amazed every time, I'm usually dry but apparently this man, out of all of the others, was made to push my buttons. The man could send me a text and I'm damp with desire.

I decide since I need a shower, he does too; two birds and all that. I make him join me and I revel in the feel of his skin, the water caressing us both. I want him so badly and to see him kneel in front of me, to bring me pleasure with his hands, his mouth at my breast, I buck and shiver and dissolve into a pool of taunt nerve endings and arousal.

I maneuver us into the bedroom. I know I'm supposed to wait until Thursday but I no longer want him; I NEED him. He's teasing at the entrance to my very core and I'm going quietly insane. Suddenly he drives into me with a fierceness that draws a scream from my throat. It's mine, fulfillment, the fullness inside and the greatest sense of release. He suddenly withdraws and I've the strongest urge to hit him, curse him, kiss him and beg. He teasingly thrusts into me again and just as quickly out. There are tremors rocking my body and I'm fighting for control.

"What is that look for, hmmm? Why are you shaking your head?" He knows full well I'm hanging by a thread and I think he delights in it. I've been cruel, teasing him, making him ache. I haven't thought of his reasons today, just my overwhelming desire.

"Why?" I ask, I beg, I plead. Why is he denying us? His penetrating blue eyes stare deep into mine and he says, "I am honoring you. I'm saving my orgasms for Thursday with you just as you requested. I gave you my word. I will honor you, you are worth it."

Oh God, I'm done. I'm in so much trouble now as his words move me. I roll him over and climb on top. I ride him. I reason he can't stop me. I need it I need it I NEED IT. Suddenly he says, "No!" and pushes me off but it's too late. As much as he pushes me over the edge I take him with me. I'm a bad girl and I've broken my own rules.

Then he chuckles. Somehow we were playing my game, but I'm the one shaking with need right now and he's the one who got off. He makes sure to point this all out to me, including the fact that now I'm the one who won't be finding their end until Thursday. He tried so hard to hold to our bargain and in the end it was me with no self control.

It's hard to say goodbye, we keep kissing and touching and I wish I could keep him forever today, but I know that I can't. We both have commitments. I am full of longing for him already and he hasn't left the door. He chides me again for issuing challenges like that. I pout like a petulant child but am already plotting my next challenge. I'm determined to out fox him.

I kiss my lover goodbye for the millionth time, trying to ignore the fact that I'm bereft at his absence even before the fact. My desire, my longing for him are so strong. He returns my kiss, and with a gentle caress whispers against my lips, "until Thursday".

Blow off some steam

I'm attracted to military men. There, I've said it. There is so much to be attracted to besides just the job/stability.

One word: uniforms.

Good God! My favorite thing is to see him come home, and as I stop him from bending down to remove his boots, I drop to my knees and slowly unbutton his cammie trousers... One by one the buttons part to release his dick, already hard with desire; he knows what is coming.

My mouth waters and I become moist just at the sight of that gorgeous cock standing proud at attention out of his uniform. And as I wrap my lips around his head and slowly slide his shaft into my eager mouth, his hand goes to my soft hair, and a sigh escapes his lips.

As the momentum builds I'm no longer in control. I plead with him to fuck my face until he can't take it anymore and he forcefully bends me over the couch and enters me swiftly, knowing I'm already so prepared for him from just the sight of him in his uniform. My skirt tossed roughly up, panties ripped down. As he fills my body and pummels me into the couch I cannot keep from screaming his name and I feel the rough fabric of his well worn cammies rubbing my skin because the trousers are still half on.

As he fills me with his release I cannot help but to find my own as I tighten around him.
This is just one thing, out of so many things I love about a military man, but truly there is nothing better than getting your face fucked while he's in his cammies... Except for their dress uniform and that is a whole different delicious entry in its entirety.

Bad Thoughts

        Sometimes I sit at home. And just think. I think of things I shouldn’t. I think of you. Heat, sweat, moans, standing alone in a moment. Whispers flash through my head, bad they say, but oh so good. Sacrifice, maybe something I shouldn’t have done. Possibly fates damning force. Feel. Taste, touch, sight, overwhelming my body. Driving me crazy. Just the thought of the things I want to do to you. They make my mouth water as I see my lips, my tongue, and my hands all over your body. Flashing, coursing, burning through my head. Bad, so bad, but oh my…so good. I bite my lip. Stop, I try but to no avail. So wonderful, overpowering, consuming, fulfilling it would be. Each time you are near, my body begs for your touch. I behave in ways I shouldn’t. Erotic. Pulsating. Hot, wet, hard. Oh yeah, just once, one chance, one moment. A memory to savor on cold nights. I can already hear my screams for more playing in my head as if they have already happened. Waiting. Holding on for the moment. I think of you and my blood soars. I can feel your hard breathing next to my ear; I can hear your heart beating so fast. Your body…pressed so close to mine. Can’t get enough. Bad, so good, stop, oh well. I can’t help it, I won’t try, don’t want to. Make me feel the things I want. I can almost taste you in my mouth, smell you on my skin, and feel you on my body. Bad thoughts…oh they feel so good.