Clarity

April 18th, 2009

My hair is matted to my face with sweat. In the movies, it would swirl around my face in perfect waves but this is not a movie. It’s messy and tangled and it suddenly dawns on me how erotic that is.

I am covered in sweat, the sheets beneath me are warm with it. I always sweat more when I masturbate than during sex. I could say I don’t know why but I would be lying. It’s not because you do all the work, either. It’s because during masturbation, I feel it so entirely. I move my entire body. My back and hips lift from the bed. Some might use words like “gyrate” to describe the movement but I prefer “hump.”

I’ve always wondered if it’s the same for other women. Or am I unique in the way I pleasure myself? It’s a constant increase in effort. It’s a lot of work and it’s not explosive when I get off. It’s almost angry in a sense, as though my body were screaming.

I’ve masturbated so hard my arms and wrists have hurt for days. Sometimes I cannot help but laugh when I remember why I hurt. I moan and sigh and blood rushes to place no one else has experienced. No one but you.

Without fail, my fantasies turn to you. Sometimes things we have done. Sometimes things we have yet to do. In my mind, we’re fucking. In reality, my legs spread to let even the thought of you penetrate me.

I try to remember the last time we had sex. It’s been too long and I don’t know the date anyway. I can never remember how frequently we hace sex. Is it once a day or once a week? I remember, the orgasm though. I remember your body, slick with sweat, atop mine. I remember my fingers working furiously at my clit and feeling my orgasm. I remember looking up at you and commanding you.

“Look at me. Look at me!”

And you did. You looked at me as I came, your cock thrusting into my pussy and I worked it for all I was worth. It was the first time I ever really let the orgasm take control. My hips bucked beneath you and it just kept coming, my pussy contracting around your cock. I don’t know if it was the longest orgasm I have yet to experience or simply what can be only be called a clusterfuck of orgasms. But I know I came and my face was intent on yours as I did.

It was a bold move on my part, commanding your attention. It took so much, more than any other time I ventured to try something new. For years, I had avoided eye contact. Eye contact, I thought, showed vulnerability and I could not afford that. I remember you, early on, lying in my bed and wanting to look me in the eye but I simply stared at the ceiling instead.

It changed. Somewhere along the way, it was okay to be vulnerable with you, to look you in the eye, to cry when the need arose. Isn’t that a testament to our bond? But it still took years to break the barrier that prevented me from making eye contact during sex. How could we been having sex, been married for years without ever doing this? Why didn’t I push for it earlier? Had I known..

Had I known how deeply I would feel my orgasm. Had I known how deeply connected I would feel to you. Had I known how it would make you orgasm with me. We should have been doing this all along. I should have let myself experience this all along. I should have let us.

My revelation is short lived. You’re not here to share now and my heart feels heavy, my pussy shockingly empty. I can’t count the days until your return, either. It’s like I’m stuck in limbo.

And so I return to fantasizing about you. It’s like I have been rewired and every erogenous zone, every lustful thought connects straight to you. I imagine making up lost time. I throw myself into our love making, in my mind, straddling, kissing, stroking, touching you. Loving you. I don’t have to imagine to know that nothing has ever come so naturally to me. There were times I wanted to fight it with every fiber of my being yet I can’t imagine why. I can’t imagine fighting it anymore. Ever again.

I fantasize about you. See your body, hear your voice, feel your skin in my mind. I moan your name aloud as I cum, as though you are there with me. You’re not but I promise you all of my fantasies – and more – when I see you again, love. I don’t need to close my eyes to you anymore.

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Tense and Tension

April 8th, 2009

When he gets home, I’ll throw my arms around his neck and kiss him deeply, our bodies pressed close together. The blood will rush straight to my pussy, my mind ever aware of the searing heat between my legs as our lips meet, our tongues dance against eachother, our bodies straining to be closer. I’ll feel his cock grow, urging to be free of its restraints, lusting to be in me.

He’ll push me against the wall as his hands slip beneath my clothes. Or I’ll do the same, my hands working at the buttons and zippers between us. Maybe we’ll make it to the bedroom. Probably not. Maybe we’ll move to the couch, hands groping and grasping frantically at each other. Maybe we won’t make it anywhere and pants and shirts will come off in record time, landing haphazardly where they may.

He skin will be salty against my tongue when I drag it across his skin. I’ll make note of his taste amidst the thoughts spin dizzyingly around my head. Suddenly, the floor is beneath us. He’ll lean back, his hands supporting him as mine travel up his chest, across his shoulders, down his back. My kisses will move from his face to his jaw down his neck, slowly transforming into gentle sucking along the way.

I’ll kneel, straddling him, pressing my hips against his, able to see his cock, feel it through the thin fabric of his boxers and my panties. My arousal will build until I am barely able to contain it, my pussy hot and wet for him. I’ll grind against him, listening to his breathing grow heavier, the way it does when he wants me. He’ll kiss me, my neck, my shoulders, leaving marks upon my flesh. His hands will roam my body, one finally settling against my breast, caressing and squeezing, playing with my nipple. The other will move to grasp my ass, pulling me into him, squeezing gently, the way he loves.

He’ll lean back further, arching his back and pushing his hips up further. My hand reaches to his shoulder, fingers grabbing, pressing into his skin deeply as my hips grind harder, faster against him. My panties will be wet and my skin flushed. I’ll tip my head back, run my hand through my hair, tugging on it as my lips part, breathily moaning. His name will escape my mouth as I work myself into a frenzy, hips grinding, pussy pulsing, heart pounding as I rub myself against him.

Then it will begin to build, my orgasm. The tension builds in my body, in the air, an explosion just waiting for the perfectly still moment to release. I’ll lean forward over him, my breasts brushing his mouth and he’ll strain to lick, to suck, to bite my nipples growing erect as he does. In turn, I’ll chew on my lower lip, grinding myself harder and faster yet, my erect clit rubbing against his erect cock.

Then it will happen. The fervor is too much. The bomb goes off. My muscles contracting and expanding in quick succession. My pussy spasms. He can feel it against his cock, if he pays close enough attention, and I think he will. My body will be flooded with heat, with hormones, with ecstasy. My orgasm will roll over me quickly but not so quick that I don’t have time to grasp the back of his neck, pulling him close for a passionate, heated kiss. Our tongues entwine and I will hold my hips against him as I cum, moaning into his mouth.

Somewhere along the way, the sky has grown dusky. I’ll part from his lips, smiling at his silhouette in the dimming light, my breath still ragged as my orgasm subsides and I pull away from the peak.

“Welcome home.”

And now it’s time for the fun to begin.

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Make love to your long distance lover online

Come

April 4th, 2009

“Come.”

With one finger, I slowly motion her forward. She moves, unsure at first but then quickly makes up the time, fearing my wrath. Head low, ass high. My eyes trace the curve of naked flesh along her back. Thin fabric traces the crack of her ass, dividing it into two perfectly round cheeks silhouetted against the dark background behind her. She moves fluidly, sliding one leg in front of the other, stretching one arm out and then the other. She keeps her palms flat against the ground as I request.

In between her movements, I see the roundness of her breasts sway beneath her body. She is beautiful but it is more than that. She moves sensually. She emits sexuality. Is that a drop I see, already forming on her skin? It slips silently to the floor, unnoticed by my slave as she inches nearer. The sight of her nervousness, her fear, he desire sends a shudder down my spine. I suppress shivering but can’t help the blood from rushing between my legs. My clit tingles as it grows hard and I entertain fantasies of her in my mind.

I keep careful eye on her hair, she knows I don’t like when it’s touched the ground. She is careful but there has been a time or two when she has forgotten. Sometimes she is too anxious too approach – or too fearful – and she forgets. It’s times like those when I lash her wrists to the wall and lash her flesh with a flogger. Rarely, do I make her bleed but I have and I will, when it’s necessary. It won’t be necessary now. I can tell she is concentrating.

She reaches the ground in front of me. Cold concrete to remind her that she is the one on the floor, not I. She remains with her head down, her hair floats just above the ground and I reach down to pull it over her one shoulder. I drag a nail over her now bare shoulder and it leaves a welt but I do not break the skin. With her hands placed against the ground, I reach for a shackle built into the leg of my chair. My hair falls around her as I do, tickling her skin but she knows better than to make a sound. Were she allowed to look up, she would see my breasts pushing against my bra as I lean forward. But she is not, does not.

The shackle is around her wrist. I know she can see its origin. They’re a recent addition to my throne and if she is surprised, she makes no sound. I spot the smallest movement form her, however. I grin. She has not grown complacent yet. Good. I lean to my other side, fastening the second cuff around her wrist. Fine dark brown leather, worked with gold filigree. Neither are colours I would normally choose but something about this combination pulled at me. The leather is still stiff and I know it will prove to have an extra bite. I may have been a little slack lately. She deserves no special treatment now.

With both wrists secure, I lean back in chair, slide my hips forward. I’m sure she hears the movement which I follow by lifting one leg over her shoulder. Bending it at the knee, I rest the heel of my boot on her ass. The point sinks into her flesh and I smile. At last she emits a soft sound, barely audible, but I know the heel is biting her flesh. At this distance, I see the thong cutting into her hips. I often gift her items that are too small. The gift reminds her of me and the discomfort reminds her of her place in life, just as the silver collar around her neck does both.

With my leg lifted my pussy is exposed. She has surely been aware of this, the cunt slut that she is. I instruct her curtly.

“Eat, girl.”

Slowly, she raises her body up so that her mouth is level with my cunt. I stifle a gasp as her tongue flits between my lips from between her pouty, red lips. She has such a beautiful mouth, so perfect for her current duty. And she does it well. My heat pounds faster as her tongue travels down my lips and back up, around my clit. But she won’t stay for long. She knows what happens if she teases. That’s my job not sure.

I sink my heel further into her ass as she puts her expert skills to good use. Her mouth surrounds my clit as her tongue darts this way and back. She begins to suck on my clit and it’s all I can do to keep my composure. I love to surprise her when I come, to squirt all over her face unexpectedly. She always makes such faces, so unglorified, so unladylike. She thinks of herself as elegant, classy even, but I love putting her in positions she can’t control, to force those natural reactions that she would eradicate had she the power to change human nature. Of course there’s nothing like seeing your slut, covered in your own cum. It always gives me such satisfaction.

I bite my lip harshly as her tongue probes inside, but not for long. She knows where I like the focus and she returns to my clit, licking from the base to the lip in a slow, unbroken motion. I swear, with just one movement she has made my clit grow. Involuntarily, I’ve begun to grind my hips against her face. So much for opacity. She moans at my reaction and, instinctively, I shoot up, reaching behind her to smack her ass. Hard. And again. Her skin is bright red after only making contact twice. I have hit her harder than I intended but she knows better, now.

“Shut up, slut.”

I think I feel a slight nod as she continues, never breaking her mouth from my pussy despite the spanking. She’s pushing her tongue against my clit roughly now, just how I like it. Rather than returning my heel to her ass, I drape my leg over the arm of the chair, spreading my pussy open for all the see. She moves forward, having more access now. She is not accustomed to not being able to use her hands but you wouldn’t. know the difference.

Her tongue dances talented across my clit, around my lips. She even licks down my mons, following the thin strip of hair I let grow down to my clit once again. This time she works with a fervor, as though her life depends on my orgasm. I let her think it just may. I chuckle to myself.

And then I feel it. Building up deep within, my orgasm builds. I’m not even sure there is an ounce of blood left in any part of my body. My clit so impossibly hard as she works her magic. It’s coming fast, faster than I prepared for. Soon, my orgasm is barreling through my body like a train. Nothing can stop this force. My hips buck involuntarily and I grab the back of her head, tangling my fingers in her hair. My orgasm rolls over my body and I feel the contractions of my cunt, each one separate and strong yet all part of the same. I finally let go as I come, moaning and fucking her face as I push a stream of cum against her face. I feel it dripping down my cunt. Like a good girl, she has never stopped and my pleasure keeps coming.

As my orgasm subsides I pull my hips away. My cum is streaming down her face. Hair has plastered to her skin. She looks entirely ungraceful, now. She looks like my slut. She is my slut. I stand.

“Come,” I direct her. And she does, pulling at the shackles around her wrists. I can hear her moan as her body responds to my demand, even as I walk away.

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Totally Fuckable Tuesday

March 24th, 2009

Sorry I’ve been slow with posts lately. My little break is not so conducive to anything sexual or any private time alone for that matter. LOL but here’s this week’s pick:

Batman
Batman

I couldn’t tell you when the caped crusader became so attractive to me but I’m sure my husband (the comic book lover) had something to do with that. Tall, dark and masked definitely works for this character and I’m not even partial to him in any specific form – he is as attractive on the big screen as he is in print. It’s neither about the actor nor about the man behind the mask. Bruce Wayne, without his cape and cowl do nothing for me.

Batman

Batman is a character which exudes pure power and masculinity. He’s such a perfect fantasy man for me because I could never deal with the reality of a partner who seeks control. But in my mind, I can sometimes relinquish control enough to let this extraordinary character do what he will.

Batman and Catwoman

I also think his pseudo-romance with Catwoman is ever attractive and the pair of them together is pure hormone inducing dynamic for me. The whole Batman person is sexy enough but paired with Catwoman’s skintight catsuit and whip, i’m ready to drool over this couple.

Batman and Catwoman

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