FFF: Illuminations

FFF Prompt - Stratagem - June 28
 Key Word = Stratagem
Word Length = 700
Forbidden Words = Spy, Tuxedo
Bonus Points - Quote your favorite line (and link to the source in case we don't know it)

She leaned over, rested her chin on her hand propped up on the table, hair cascading to the side, and winked. He cocked his head to the side, unsure what the wink was for.

After all…he was winning.

The city lights shined brightly in sharp contrast to the night sky, just as her nudity contrasted his evening attire. They were both in a suite, sipping champagne, seated at a table playing chess; but he was fully dressed, even wearing his shoes, and she was kneeling on the chair, naked, nipples almost grazing the table. Clearly, they were on unequal ground. He was aloof, clothed in the uppermost formal shield; she was exposed, vulnerable.

Still, a small smile, one corner turned up slightly more in a crooked smugness, her eyes shining brightly as she looked at the chess board. He was puzzled by her reaction.

She couldn’t believe her position. When she normally took jobs, it wasn’t to sit naked and play chess, though she was sure he would have other, more wanton requests. But chess? And then what? Checkers, moving to cards, moving to naked Twister? Or was he too refined for that?

He would want his monies worth, of that she was sure, was just unsure what that entailed for this client. And yet he sat across from her, gazing intently at her, equally focused on the beautiful board between them, and gave an impression of superiority.  Little did he know her stratagem.

She leaned back, pretended concern, and moved. His eyes had drifted to her hands, watched as she gracefully manipulated a small figurine. Her hair shifted slightly to cover one small but perfect breast, the other breast revealing a hardened nipple. She studied the board; he studied her.

But pride would not let him be distracted by her beauty. He moved a piece, and his eyes widened with disbelief when she reached across the board suddenly, and moved to checkmate. She clapped in delight, still leaned over the table, eyes on the winning board; he stared at her, eyes darkening and broadening, leaning back.

She looked up, a smile on her gorgeous face, and saw his expression. Smile vanished. “Would you like to play another game? We have all night,” she offered as reparation.

He casually swiped the pieces onto the floor. “Let’s play the game you were meant to play,” he said, his voice gruff with intent, and passion. He moved next to her, stepping on her dress. She seemed concerned, and he felt his manhood harden. He felt powerful with her unease, and grabbed her hair, ignoring her mewling sound, pulling her off the chair. She fell, not able to get her legs out to catch her descent, and tears were brought to her eyes with violent tugging of her hair.

She made a sound: half whimper, half plea, and situated herself to her knees. She tentatively reached up and unzipped his pants, adjusting his sex through his boxers, and wrapped her lips around his shaft.

His hand still in her hair, he moved his other hand to grip behind and slightly to the side, and thrusted in, until he felt his tip hit the back of her throat, until he heard her gag and almost retch, and watched as tears formed in her eyes.

He chuckled, murmured as he stroked the side of her face, “I think you are losing,” as he watched her continue stroking his cock with her mouth, eager to please, cautious in case he forced her too far again.

She moved rhythmically, glancing up often to gauge his reaction, trying to bring him to pleasure quickly. She felt him tense, throw back his head, and knew he was going to cum. Her fingertips scanned ever so slightly, delved inside, and gripped. She swiftly pushed away when she felt fluid pumping into his base, cum splattering onto her breasts as she rose up, slashing with the knife she gripped across his throat, blood mixing with his cum on her porcelain skin, watched as he now kneeled, hands going to reach his throat, but not making it before dropping with his body onto the floor.

She was dismayed that he bled on her dress and she didn’t have another. She also felt like gloating, stepping barefoot over him, saying, “*wars and temper tantrums are the makeshifts of ignorance; regrets are illuminations come too late.”

 

*Joseph Campbell, The Hero With a Thousand Faces, an excellent perspective on mythology, and one of my favorite books. My absolute favorite quote of all time.

Now, this is over 700 words slightly, which I've never gone over. At first I added more fluff because for FFF this is a lot of words allotted this week, and I am not used to it for these prompts. Then the story grew, and I had to trim, but I liked my fluff at the beginning, and couldn't stand cutting out anymore. So it remains. I'd get down on my knees and beg for forgiveness, but I can't guarantee what I'll do after that, so let's just call it even, shall we?

Room service

He opened the door and my heart was pounding like a mad thing. A million thoughts raced through my head becoming a jumbled blur. This was it then...

I'm a flirt. I love banter and I love the delicious interactions between men and women who aren't afraid of their sexuality. Since I had first entered the world of sex blogging he'd had my attention. Lighthearted, playful, and easy interactions flowed.

I was intrigued as well by this man for more than the delicious glimpses I'd gotten of his body and his intelligence, but also by his life. Beautiful family, open loving relationship with a gorgeous, supportive wife. I'd never been with someone in an open relationship. I'd never been a toy.

I'd never really thought, beyond the fantasy, to seek out such a person or interaction though. Until, amidst one of the flirtatious exchanges of words and images, he suddenly issued me an invitation to join him while he was nearby for work.

I knew it wasn't cocktails and a pleasant meeting he was proposing, although that was certainly part of the deal. Suddenly, this vague daydream was a real and actual possibility. I instantly got hot and wet at the thought and agreed. No hesitation, simply excitement.

We began making plans. Not only did his wife know, she bought the condoms for the trip, which just made me all the more in awe of her and excited. Being single, there wasn't really anyone to tell, except my sister, and that was something I was a bit hesitant to do. After all, how would that conversation go:

"Hi sissy! Just wanted to let you know that I am taking a couple days off of work to go have sex with this really pleasant married man I know from the Internet!"

Um, yeah. I avoided the scenario and imagined reaction throughout all of my planning. Instead I focused on the meeting and the items I wanted to pack for my little overnight adventure. He and I exchanged several emails about practical, logistical concerns  but there were quite a few more texts about what we wanted to do to the other when we were finally afforded the opportunity. Suddenly it became a question of "How many sex toys are too many?" and "Is lingerie overkill or killer?" One of the extremely exciting factors to this for me was the fact that I already knew about this man's sex life. I already knew he was just as open and adventurous as I was and that really, can you ever have too many sex toys?

Finally, the day came to make my trip. The only time I'd spent this much time in grooming prep was when I was doing photos (ok, you got me, I take photos constantly.... but there was extra attention given!). Well, and really, I WAS going to be doing photos. He not only liked photos as much as I do, he even had gorgeous equipment I lusted over almost as much as his beautiful dick.

I'd ran into a little problem earlier on in the week. This problem I refer to as "spray tan leprosy". I'd gotten a spray tan on my legs as usual for photos. The problem this time, was that it rained immediately after and my legs got wet. You aren't supposed to get wet for a few hours after application. So, thanks to in-climate weather, I now had light spots on my legs that needed to be filled in. A bottle of tan in a can and suddenly the holes were filled, even if my legs were now a bit too dark.

I dress immaculately normally. I am a woman who loves to ooze femininity and sensuality, so a lovely, form fitting dress to show of my curves and a pair of strappy heels completed my pinup hair and ruby red lipstick. I was packed, ready, and on the road.

The drive time between home and my destination was about 4 hours. I was overly excited and decided to make good use of the present my sister had purchased me for long car drives. So, thanks to that wonderful little bullet, my trip was made much more pleasant by the two orgasms I had while thinking about what was to come (no pun, okay, maybe a little, intended).

It was during the drive that I finally found my gumption. I'd always confided in my sister, and no matter what she said, I was already on my way, there was no turning back. I finally picked up the phone and told her. To my surprise, she not only said that was awesome (she knew the man too and had actually expressed an interest in meeting him and his lovely wife), she also said she envied my spontaneity. It was perfect, there was nothing left now to worry about...

Except actually BEING there. I pulled into the parking garage of his hotel already wound up. I was in a tightly populated business district with construction going on. I hadn't taken anything for my anxiety because I didn't want the dulled senses side effect. My anxiety was through the roof! I was here, he was so close and my heart began to flutter. I checked myself and decided I wasn't too rumpled from my car trip, it was time to go upstairs.

I knocked. Counted my irregular heartbeats, and suddenly, the door was opened. Bright eyes peeked out at me from behind the door where he had playfully hidden to perpetrate a joke we had previously discussed of him waiting naked for me. His tall frame moved from behind the door and I saw him, in front of me (dressed), for the very first time. The next couple of minutes are a bit hazy to me because my nervous system went into overdrive. Thankfully though, despite my pink stained cheeks and nervous glances away, he was able to make me feel comfortable with the lighthearted banter I'd enjoyed engaging in with him previously.

He cupped my cheeks and kissed me, taking the edge off while I got settled and we exchanged pleasantries. I can't describe the transition from friendly meeting to me yanking his shirt off. No more than a few minutes had passed since I had been in the room. He heeded to my earlier expressed desire of worrying about taking clothes off and foreplay AFTER I already had him inside of me. I am notoriously impatient. I wanted to taste him, I wanted to feel him, I wanted to fuck him.

See our next segment Special Delivery coming soon to hear what happens next.

A's Acting

To be, or not to be the school girl was the question of the night. I stared at the skirt in my hands and let my eyes drift over to the Mary Jane stripper heels, before rolling them at the whole scenario. I've always prided myself on being open sexually and game to try anything, but I didn't know if I could pull this one off.

Random A fun fact: I don't usually go beyond two or three different phrases in the heat of sex talk. The reason being, I think I sound very, very special, and not the OMG-look-at-her-take-that-whole-banana special, more like the I-confused-snack-foods-for-my-vagina special (see Twitter). So this then has me limiting myself to a few key phrases I have grown comfortable saying.

This obviously doesn't lend itself to being a genius sexy-kitten role player. So, with visions of him thinking he is fucking William Shatner in a plaid skirt, I was a bit apprehensive to fulfill this particular fantasy. This is when my real acting skills shine. I could charm the pants off of a nun, so I quickly started trying to come up with ways and excuses not to do this.

So far the only go-to move I could come up with was to just be naked and waiting, and get his dick inside of my mouth as quickly as possible. Maybe he wouldn't notice the lack of pigtails and super itchy skirt. In a mild, sarcastic panic for a bit, I indulged the fantasies of pleading illness or insanity (I call it the snack food defense), before coming to grips that I had to at least try.

Sigh. He'd indulged the things I wanted to try, and the nightmare of getting all of that honey out of his chest hair meant that I owed it to him to at least attempt the school girl thing. On went the white knee highs which I couldn't help but admire sliding over my smooth, tan legs. Naughty red lace thong gracing the ample ass I'd come to love, that blasted skirt....

Ruby red lips in a nervous smile and a slight fidget greeted him as he came in the door. His eyes lit up in appreciation as he took in the sight of me, and my body relaxed. William Shatner or no, I knew we were going to have a great time together. He came over to take me in his arms and I made some coy remark about "Oh Mr. So-and-So! What are you doing!?" because it was his fantasy and he was breaking the rules.

It was bad... The only thing missing was the dramatic hand placed against my forehead and the fluttering of my lashes. He laughed. A lot. I laughed. Role playing just wasn't something I was ever going to be good at, but laughter during sex I can handle.

He tumbled me to the bed, and I am grateful to say, the rest of the evening was just "Let's fuck A with a plaid skirt on and try to avoid getting stabbed with the stripper heels" instead of the Shakespearean acting session I had been dreading all day.

Sometimes, as long as you try, the failed attempts at kink can be just as hot and fulfilling as those you can do like a pro.

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).

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

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.

Our Mother's Blow Job Story

We are clearly a family that doesn't shy away from the topic of sex. Our mother was always dressed nicely. The polish on her toes and nails always matched her lipstick as well. She was an incredibly proper, old-fashion mannered woman; that might be why the words were all the more shocking that came out of her mouth.

Let's set the scene of many times: our mother at the head of the dinner table. It was always set perfectly, with the china and silver. Friends would raise an eyebrow at such a former meal.

My mother would correct our grammar, ask politely about our friends, joke with a love interest of ours, and then transition into her blow job story.

She'd start: "well when I was in school, I was dating this guy for awhile, and I thought I was in love. I had heard people talking about this thing called a blow job and how the guys loved it. I wanted to give my boyfriend something special, so one night I undid his pants and I..." here she lowers her face, slowly shakes her head back and forth, and blows gently. A picture of an earnest young woman softly blowing along the shaft of an excited man's penis always comes to mind.

Laughter, and then she'd continue, "My boyfriend asked me, incredulous, 'What are you doing?'"

"And I broke out in tears. I so wanted to make him happy and do something special. It was all I could do to reply, "but...but...but I...I...was giving...you a b-b-blow job."

"He laughed and told me, 'you don't really blow'".

Whether or not our mother intended this to be a lesson, rather than for entertainment, I'm not sure. But I researched, and watched porn, about what a blow job was before ever attempting one. And why is fellatio called "blow job" when blowing isn't the main event?