Incapable of Thinking

We argued, and I couldn't sleep. Finally around midnight, I pulled him into bed. "Make it right," I demanded.

He laughed and kissed me softly. I rolled my eyes, not quite what I had in mind and he knew it, so I pushed the covers off of him and kissed the head of his penis, just as softly. Then I looked up - not quite what he had in mind when I went down, I could tell. I winked and then moved my mouth as low as I could on the shaft, feeling the thick head hit the back of my throat, increased the suction, and pulled up. One hand steadied his thickly engorged member at the base, the other hand cupped and gently played with his balls as I kept moving my mouth up and down. He whispered encouragements, or quiet sighs, his hand sweeping my hair away and holding it up so that he could watch.

After a few minutes I moved up, kissing a trail up his body until I got to his neck, and then gently nipping it and applying more pressure on his more sensitive areas, feeling his pulse throb under my probing tongue. His hand moved between my legs and stroked up and down my lips. I wasn't quite wet enough for him to dip in yet. The hand moved up to nipples, pinching each other briefly between his fingers, and then to my shoulder. He gently pushed me to my back, off of his neck, and then rolled me to my side, moving to position his mouth between my legs. One hand held my top leg up and his tongue swept up and down my lips, before his hand separated my lips for his tongue to settle into my sex more fully. He sucked while moving his tongue around and in and out of my entrance, and soon I was panting and begging for more. One hand moved to my clit, an awkward angle considering I was still laying on my side, and teased the bud while his mouth still fucked me. I was trying to push myself more fully onto his mouth, unable to stop myself from moving into him.

Taking his mouth away, he rotated me more towards laying on my stomach, inserting a finger in my very slick sex, his tongue almost doing a questioning lick at my anus. He normally doesn't go back there, but I was too gone in my own pleasurable sensations to do anything more than moan my appreciation, and hinged my hips against his tongue and fingers. Two fingers, and rimming in earnest began, and I was moaning and climaxing, not in my usual hard way, but slowly and softly.

"Hold on," he said quietly, and stretched to over the side of the bed. By this point I was chest down, ass up on the bed, and swiftly I had a buzzing and vibrating toy thrusted down into me, rubbing my g-spot easily from this angle, his mouth back between my cheeks, and I was orgasming so quickly and hard, screaming. Before one orgasm had even ebbed another one began and then another and I was lost completely to the world, swept up in pleasure.

After three incredible orgasms, he positioned himself up between my legs, entering me violently, reaching over for some lube and making me slick before slipping his thumb in my ass, pushing down slightly, giving me a full feeling. His other hand smacked my ass hard. His cock pumped in and out at a downward angle, continuing to slide against my g-spot as his head slammed against my wall, and I screamed with an immediate orgasm, my body so tense, so full. Again, his other hand came on to spank my already red cheek. Again, before one orgasm could completely allow me down another built and crest, and I clenched around his shaft, his thumb, held my breath, felt my already sensitive heated cheek being smacked, became dizzy, moaned, screamed, and cursed as yet another orgasm came. I felt him push himself more fully, shuddering with the force of his own orgasm.

When he pulled out, I already came again, moaning softly at the feeling of the ridges of his head moving along my walls before he was gone. His thumb slowly moved out, and I couldn't believe how sensitive I was even there. I let my shaking legs straighten and sunk into the soft mattress, utterly spent. My head was foggy, my thoughts incoherent, but I turned my head and smiled, unable to see his hand descend upon that same fiery cheek. I yelped at the sting, instinctively moving up towards the source of pain, finding that a strange reaction instead of moving away, a moan following a yelp.

"God that feels good," the words dripped of my mouth, unbidden, like my juices flowing down my thighs from the sudden tightening the spank gave me. His hand came down again, and again I moaned into it. Suddenly his fingertips ran softly over my oh-so-sensitive skin, and I tightened and tensed, raising my hips, thighs pressed together as my body clenched itself into another orgasm. I was just surprised as he was, and he spanked my ass a few more times, the pain intense, the pleasure overriding the pain. His mouth followed his hand, licking up and down the hand imprints, and I begged for something incoherently, his mouth now alternating between soft licks, hard suction. He smacked a few more times, following with his mouth a few more times, and I came in the tension my body created.

His fingers sunk between my legs and he grazed my g-spot, bringing me to another orgasm, and I was again mindless.

Breathless by the time he moved away from me, I rolled over my back, the one side of my ass so aware of all the fibers of the sheet. I panted, by this time hours of pleasure not allowing me any sense of realism, and unable to help himself from toying with my quivering self, his fingers grazed my clit. I sucked in my breath, already feeling dizzy from the slight contact, my legs parting without thought. Suddenly two of his fingers danced upon my pearl, and I was so taken with pleasure I had no idea how I ended up laying with my back on his chest, one solid arm across my shoulder and neck so fingers could tugged at a nipple, the other hand quickly alternating between slipping into my sex and rubbing up into my clit. When had I moved?

I screamed, arching against him, arching into his tormenting and pleasure inducing fingers, both on my breast and between my legs. I felt his breath against my ear, harsh and ragged as if he was matching my own breathing, his body seemed to be an unforgiving hard mass against my back and my throbbing swollen ass. It seemed as if my scream lasted for days, and I don't remember quite coming back to the present, just his sexy voice quietly promising to "leave me alone now". I think I drifted; I think I got up shortly afterwards to clean myself up, my legs a wobbly mess and he playfully slapped my ass lightly, but it was still so sensitive, and it felt so good that my legs almost collapsed underneath me. I think he said something to the effect that I came every way imaginable tonight, and I mumbled what other ways he could surprise me about myself.

I don't remember if I ever really opened my eyes, it seemed as if the world shut itself out and the after moments were but a dream. I slept soundly.

FFF: A dream shattered

FFF Prompt - July 12 - Phone Lines

Required Phrase =
"Answer it"

Forbidden Words = Orgasm

Word Length = 661

Extra Credit = Tell us who's calling

Bonus Words = 50 if you tell us a phone sex confession

“Are you going to answer it?” The voice sounded wrong, really wrong. She felt drawn out of passion’s dream-like quality more from his voice than the phone ringing beside her head.

She didn’t open her eyes, just groped around for the phone. He stopped moving in and out of her, withdrawing, rolling onto the side of her. She could feel his weight beside her, and missed that feeling so much.

Her voice cracked with unexpected emotion. “Hello?”

“That guy you brought home isn’t Matt, honey. I saw you walking out of the bar with him. You can’t bring Matt back.”

“Fuck off,” she muttered, frustrated at her best friend. She went to hang up, hit the phone receiver, but if fell down. Refusing to her open her eyes, she grabbed at the cord and swung it up above her head. “Where were we?” she asked.

“Who was that?" A brief chuckle at her ridiculousness, "Why are your eyes shut? What’s wrong?” God, why did his voice grate on her nerves so badly?

“My eyes get very sensitive after I’ve been pleased.” She lied, rubbing his muscular thigh, feeling her way up to his balls, massaging them, feeling him shift and smiling a little.

His body covered hers again. He went to kiss her but she turned her head to the side, and instead his warm mouth molded itself against her neck, sucking and nibbling in the most delicious ways. He moved inside of her, parting her lips, and she relished the feeling of fullness. He began the rhythmical movements in and out of her again, and the ridge of his head felt so amazing when it slid in just the right spot. She moaned, moving one hand around him to stroke up and down, encouraging him to continue. He continued to feast upon the susceptible side of her neck, such an inviting mouth and tongue, and yet she shivered. His hand reached to capture her other hand, and he began increasing the movement.

For the briefest of moments, she believed that he was Matt. It was the right build, the pace was now similar to his favorite. A warm male body covering her own, filling her, loving her. He was here, now. She hadn’t answered the door to the men in stiff, formal uniforms, offering their immediate condolences about her husband. It didn’t happen…that was a dream.

A dream, she thought desperately, as the pleasure began building, and she felt herself drifting off with the indulgence, losing coherent thoughts for the briefest, most needed, escape.   

**Phone sex confession:
I suck at phone sex. I am okay in the beginning, though it feels awkward to me. But then I start touching myself, and listening to the voice on the other side, and lose myself to the pleasure. Eventually I abandon speaking to my lover, instead moaning or gasping at my own pleasurable sensations. Fortunately, they don't seem to mind this verbal communication on my end.  
Sadly, right now I am having far more phone sex than actual sex. 

Clear Vision

         She found herself standing in a dark room alone, silence except for the booming thunder, blind except for the brief flashes of lightning from a large window. She fumbled for the tornado radio on a table, next to the front door, hitting her knee in her effort and dropping something before feeling the radio, and turned it on. The radio crackled out a thunderstorm warning for the following counties, hers being one of them.

            She breathed a sigh of relief. Just recently, a neighboring county had been hit by a tornado, leaving a trail of chaos and destruction. She was glad that it wasn’t a tornado warning. And she cursed that she became so consumed in her work that it was now dark, and for all she knew, she was alone in the building.

            She wondered where a flashlight could be located, and reached into her purse, removing her phone. Turning it on, she used the feeble light to move in between the cubicles towards a large window, stumbling slightly from time to time. Through the window, the rain slashed and splattered down, and the lightning exposed the tips of the trees swaying violently, the moon completely hidden above the storm.

            Not just the darkness confused her, but she still felt as though she were in that book that she was translating. The book she simply struggled to render appropriately, as the words mesmerized her with their dark erotic fantasies. She had always felt superior translating, this book left her humble and hoping she eloquently did it justice; it provoked a physical reaction that still left her wanting.  

            Halfway to the large window, a flashlight’s beam shone directly in her eyes, blinding her. She stopped abruptly, squinting. A man’s voice stated with some surprise, “Ah, Jen, I had thought you had left with everyone else.” His accent thick, making him distinguishable even blind, Jen was glad she wasn’t alone in this frightening storm. He lowered the flashlight, but she still couldn’t see anything. Too bad, she thought, he was gorgeous to look at. Recently joining her department, she and other women would cast stolen glances at him when he was near.

            “I lost track of time, I guess.” She shrugged. Spots of lights still flashed before her eyes, but she could see his form silhouetted in front of the window. She noticed that the beam of light was pointed downwards, at a spot between them in the carpet. The light moved forward, towards her, and she looked up to see him closing the distance between them. She smelled his cologne when he was close enough to grasp her upper arm, and she felt like leaning into his smell, becoming enveloped in his scent that it became her own.

            “Are you alright?” the lightning exposed his smile, he was so close that his words were felt on her forehead. She shook her head a little, blaming her current thoughts and predicament on the book she was working on. Of course, there could be worse things than being stuck in a storm with a hot man. He mistook her shake, and wrapped his arms around her, and she felt his hard chest through his suit. “It’s okay, the storm will pass over us soon,” he murmured, rubbing her upper back. She found herself putting her arms around him, holding him tightly. His heat seemed to cocoon her, and she felt so hot all the sudden she was afraid of perspiring. At least she could blame it on the storm, and his assumption that she was terrified.

            “I’m okay,” her voice came out muffled from his suit jacket; she felt oddly calm at the soothing strokes of his hand on her back, the other arm still holding her tightly to him. The hand moved a little lower, to her lower back, and the circles would sometimes reach the top of her ass. She was sure that wasn’t intentional, and decided to not protest it.

            Still holding her but allowing more room between them, he looked down at her face. “So lovely, Jen, even in shadows and darkness.” She was surprised at the words, but more surprised when his face could be vaguely seen lowering, lips came down to meet hers, his hand now firmly on her ass, pushing her towards him again. She found herself kissing him back, his tongue melding with her own, the taste of him unique. “So hot,” he leaned back and murmured, and she briefly felt his hardness against her through the layers of clothes. The hand caressing her butt gripped tighter, the arm supporting her shoulders was suddenly used to turn her around so fast that she was shocked, letting out a little cry, tripping over her own feet and grabbing in the dark a nearby desk. The arm snaked over her shoulder, pulling her up and against him, the other hand lifted up her heavy mass of hair, and she heard him whisper something in his native language, so soft she wasn’t sure what it was, as his mouth came down upon her neck.  She felt goose bumps along her skin, and her body tremored slightly.

She hazily wondered what she was doing, alone in a storm with a near stranger that apparently didn’t ask for permission to approach her sexually. She debated briefly if she would tell him to stop, or do something, but his other hand slowly started unbuttoning her blouse, the palm grazing the newly exposed skin as he unhurriedly went down the row. His mouth moved to the side, the hand still gently lifting the hair up to give him full access. She moaned, and decided that she would see where this would take her. She could always tell him to stop later.

Fingers deftly made their way into her bra, fingertips caressing nipple tip to a hardened point before tugging slightly. He lips and tongue so warm sliding along her jawline, she turned her head to be able to kiss him. He dropped her hair as his mouth seared against hers, his tongue probing and asking of her own passion. Suddenly, he pinched her nipple hard at the same time as he trapped all her hair in his grasp and pulled her head back, away from the kiss. “I wonder if you are ready, lovely,” he questioned to her ear, still holding her head back as the fingers moved from nipple down, pulling up her skirt so quickly and moving aside her panties that she didn’t even think to protest.

She almost felt panicked at his aggression, unused to it, unsure of him, but a finger stroked against her clit, sliding easily along her slickened lips to penetrate her sex. She gasped, and he inserted two fingers. His mouth again moved to the side of her neck, nibbling and sucking, as his fingers moved quickly in and out of her. “So ready for me,” he said.

Yes, she thought, you and the book of words have me mesmerized in fantasy. She felt herself soaking his fingers, tightening around them, and began panting. He withdrew them right before she could clench around them in orgasm. He grabbed her hip, the hand in her hair now between her shoulder blades pushing, bending her. Her hands out, they felt the impact of the steady desk, and she laughed, curious if he even cared if she had smashed into it face first. Her skirt was hiked up above her hips, her underwear yanked down, and his mouth moved upon her clit. He pushed her legs further apart, and in her frustration to have him down there, she untangled her high heel from one side of the undergarment, leaving it like an anklet around the other. The tongue darted against her nub, once, twice; sighing, she felt him sucking on it.  She shifted slightly, bending more fully over the desk, pushing papers out of her way. The thundered boomed, the lightning flashed, and she prayed the electricity stayed off and not waken her to reality.

His mouth moved back, his tongue fucked her, his lips pulling at her lips. She moaned and pushed against his mouth, trying to increase the pressure, before he moved, the fingers seeking where his mouth had been, his mouth moving up to licking her anus. The fingers sunk in deeply, curling, fucking her to an orgasm that she screamed more voraciously than the violent storm outside.

“Ready for me?” he panted, moving up to stand behind.

It took her a hazy moment to realize he had actually asked her a question. She heard his clothing shifting. “Oh yes,” she stammered, backing up slightly, bumping into his shadowy form. He chuckled, grabbed her hip with one hand, guided himself to her with the other, before both hands were on the sides of her hips, and he was moving them back and forth, pulling her upon him as he pushed, and roughly taking her to another orgasm, slowly the tempo slightly. She became briefly aware of the rain still pounding down to the earth, very aware of him still filling her deeply, and then thrusting fast again, competing with the speed of the rain, until they both shuddered and groaned.

He stepped back, smoothed down her skirt. He began reassembling his clothes before she even moved to stand up again, feeling wobbly, using the desk for support. She decided to lean against it, and turned, still just seeing him vaguely. She struggled to pull up her panties in the same amount of time that he dressed.

A dream lover, she mused. “My tempest,” he leaned down and kissed her forehead, his accent thicker from their passion. The thundered rolled, but it seemed so far away to her, a relaxing soothing background sound. “You were lovely,” he leaned down and picked up the flashlight, shining it again at the floor.

“What now?” she breathlessly asked. He put an arm around her shoulder, and steered her towards the front door.  

“Shall we get you to your car?” He handed her the purse she had dropped, grabbed an umbrella in the doorway, and continued to move her into the rain. As they stepped outside, the umbrella snapped open, lightning flashed, and the lights behind them were suddenly on again. They laughed as they walked away; she was grateful it was still dark outside. She wanted him to continue being a mysterious dream lover. Tomorrow back at work would be soon enough for her to cast furtive glances of longing or askance at him, translating his mood more than her current book project, amid the papers, chatter, clicking of keyboards, and clear vision.

Guilty Pleasures

            Thoughts overtake me. Walking, attempting to sleep, sitting down, in the company of others when it’s not appropriate the thoughts rush my body. Wicked imaginings: I envision you. Heat, moans, a quickening of the breath, water pouring down us both. Guilty pleasures flash through my head, bad but oh so good. Whispers of limits, shattered lines, softly uttered curses, religious prayers, and begging of need. Feeling, taste, sight, overwhelming my body, forcing my breaths heavy, devastating my senses. Becoming an obsession, addiction, a drug I need inside my body. Oh the things I need to do to you:  I yearn to have my lips, my tongue, and my hands all over your body, my body gliding along yours. Memories flashing, burning through my head, coursing down my body.  A tightening of where I crave you most. Stop, but to no avail; I bite my lip.  So amazing, overpowering, consuming, fulfilling. Each thought of you my body begs for your touch, careless that it can’t partake. Tender from bittersweet pleasures, a physical reminder of what was. Erotic. Pulsating. Throbbing, hot, wet. Oh God, just once more, one chance encounter, one moment, but it won’t be enough, just a slight cooling and releasing until the next buildup. I’ve had a taste, I desire more. A memory to savor, torture on cold nights. I can already hear my moans for more, sense my body arching towards yours. Anticipation. Waiting. Aching for the moment. I think of you and my blood pounds, excitement mounting. I can feel your deep breathing next to my ear; eyes conveying longing, your desire pressing hard and ready against my skin. Your lips gently pulling on mine. Our bodies entwined, unable to deny urges. Can’t get enough; you’ve taken over my thoughts, my body now powerless to our yearnings. We shouldn’t, so good, stop, please I need you. I can’t alleviate it, I won’t resist, no longer want to. Make me feel the things I crave. I can almost savor you in my mouth, your hands gently in my hair, compelling me on. Smell you on my skin, a stimulating, impetuous scent. Feel you in my body, overwhelming, pushing, engulfing. When I was mindless with heady passion, not yet you said softly then, the words no truer than now. But like then, it’s only a matter of time. Bad thoughts…guilty pleasures.



Ever read something and feel so inspired by the words, that they echo to your story, and you feel the need to express them? My sister's rough drafts did that to me, so read and see her words that inspire Bad Thoughts

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.  

 

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.

The tearing of my heart in confusion

A splaying open if you will of my heart. I read "confusion" and this instantly came to mind. The following is an emailed response to a story I wrote from my lover, used with permission, if not a great deal of trepidation. The key to this story is that my lover was bound and drawn by duty and honor to a place I could not reach. My heart left with him. "It hurts! I hate that it all starts off letting me know that it "is the last..." Whether it's title is Fiction or Finale, both are aptly applied and it hurts! Life, recently, has lost damn near all flavor. While I hoped that the story only has some similarities to me, with us, that was pounded to oblivion like surf on a rocky shoreline with our texting yonder-eve. I had wondered if I would receive any more writings; now, though, I'm quite confident that this will be the last of'em. It's not the way I wish it...but it seems the writing is on the wall... I think the thing that hurts the most was the use of the term "goodbye". I remember having that conversation with you. Absolute! Granted, the more I read it again and again and again...well, I go back and forth. One reading of it will point out my being "irrelevant" now, while another reading through drives, like a skewer, home the resounding "goodbye." Loud in my ears and full of... I don't want it to be true; I want to still be the one to drive you to heights un-reached with a mere touch; a thought...to be irrelevant...it hurts. Had we not been in the particular circumstances of that evening, the events described might have actually come to fruition. It's certainly a pleasant fiction to think upon and certainly would have been a much better way to have parted...probably...most like. I didn't...I don't want this story to be about me; about us, but..............well, we can't always get what we want. I chuckle, a bit uncontrollably; that is to say that it's an automatic chuckle that I've not been able to really stop; at a thought regarding Valentines Day. "I guess I didn't knock it out of the park!" So much for Steak and Blow Job day?. I was so looking forward to such a wonderful treat! There's that surf, again; can you hear it crashing against the rocky shoals? I can, and it causes my heart to ache; to long; the sting in my eyes are not that of surf spray though I pray it were so simple. Will they fall... You got want you wanted, it hurts; unfortunately it hurts physically, too. For that I'm sorry, but sometimes it is what it is. My heart aches; a breaking if you will. Only truly been felt twice in my life. Once, you know about. The other, we hadn't gotten around to having that discussion. I'm sure that we would have, in time; you were destined to know more than any one person was ever meant to know of me. The compartments so carefully created seemed to have ethereal walls when it came to you -- we never got to that discussion. I can't count the number of times I pick up the phone looking for a text or email from you. I don't know how you managed to work yourself into my heart so fast...no one ever has. And we didn't even get to all of the "secrets". You never found out how dark my fantasies go; in what direction they lie. There were so many things I was hoping for...looking forward to exploring...I still want to experience you! I WANT YOU! I LOVE YOU! Much like a venomous bite, though, your words resound in my head from our phone conversation..."what's the point? What's the point." ... I had a dream about you some nights ago; a dream where I was needing a room to rent and had asked you if I might could. Very reluctant you were; though you weren't exactly opposed to it. You had a very specific condition that I needed to meet and if I did, then it was on. I awoke then... I thought I saw your car, the other day; made a U-turn to check it out. It wasn't you. It was a red _, but not your car. I was sad. I don't know that I'll ever send this message. Hours and hours it has taken me to respond, as I told you that I would. I'm sure you read the severe editing process that was involved in sending the one message in response to your email. I guess I want to know if I have left a brand on you? Is there something that is wholly you and I? Aside from the We Vibe III. Maybe one day I'll send this to you -- I think that it will spark pain and possibly create some anguish. Foresight would suggest I'm doing it intentionally, but that is simply not true. Hard to dispute, but absolutely not true. I never have wanted; I do not want to hurt you. (Well, obviously in the good ways that we both crave; but then that's not really hurtin' you is it?) I'm sorry! Random thought...do I still retain "AWESOME" with approved hand gesture? Silly stupid stuff to think about, huh? I don't want "goodbye!" Does it have to be goodbye? Is that what you want...goodbye? I've promised I would send it...not exactly what you were expecting, I'm sure; nevertheless here it is. The other night you texted that you didn't want to know if was hurtful or cutting; yet you've asked for this message; my initial response; the dread confirmed...I'm sorry! I'm truly sorry. Forgive me? Love me? I LOVE You! I want you! p l e a s e . . . . . . . . . . . . ."
Wicked Wednesday

Invitation

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Speaking of wicked delights...

The dark night

A bit darker than the norm...

The itch, it's burning inside of me. I'm restless. I'm anxious and angry. Lonely, depressed, and enraged. I'm pacing the floors of my head space, trying to get around everything.

I want you. I want you for so many reasons but tonight they are selfish. I want to fill me up with you until there is no room for these thoughts, these hateful emotions. I want you to use me. I want you to treat my body with no regard for anything except pleasure.

I want you to be rough like the tides in my head right now. I want to feel the sting of your palm and the power of your hips. I want to feel as though you have a tenuous hold on keeping me safe, like the safeties that feel so absent in my head.

As I get lost in the madness of my thoughts and the insanity of your arms I feel the shift. As pain becomes pleasure, the jumble of my thoughts become more cohesive. As I focus on your body and the heat, and the coursing of my blood I feel the calm of the stormy seas in my mind coming.

As I feel my self, my control, unraveling in your arms, it's there. The peace. The light in my night of darkness. The spark of sanity amidst all of that madness. I lay in your arms, sweaty, tired, satiated. Protected at last from the things I cannot control.

You are desire. You are love, soothing, lust. You are my anchor and my drug. You are home.

The Sigh

As I lay in my bath the steam rises and clouds the mirror, a damp tendril of hair curves around my breast as it shimmers in the candle light.
A sigh escapes my lips in the form of your name.
I run my fingers lightly down, smoothing a stray strand of hair from my forehead, brushing a fingertip across a taunt nipple, trailing my hand in the water. The scent of flowers rises from the steamy heat but all I can smell is your body, all I can taste is your mouth.
All I want is your arms, and the heat that I feel to be created by the friction of our bodies as we find madness and sanity in each other. I'm waiting for you with an ache only you can fill and a desire that is unending.
I wait with a sigh escaping my lips in the form of your name.

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.