Elsewhere

October 13th, 2009

I’ve been a bit more inspired lately when it comes to posting on my blogs. I’ve also written a couple of articles for EdenCafe including one about cheating and another about my first orgasm. The former was submitted to Divine Caroline and is even being linked on their relationships page (although, in rather small text ;)). It’s awesome nonetheless.

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Categories: Everything Else, internet

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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Categories: Stories

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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Categories: Stories

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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Categories: Stories

Toy Intimidation

November 9th, 2008

A good friend recently came to me with concerns about his girlfriend and her sex toys. He was feeling a little bit intimated and wanted to know this:

Am I, as a guy, good enough to make my girl have a better orgasm than she can get with using a toy? Is it weird or wrong to feel bad about something like that?

No, it’s not wrong to worry about something like this.

Because you’re only human. I think feeling intimidated is fairly common and understandable. However, taking a look at what makes up the intimidation can help to greatly reduce or even eliminate it. While I advocate sex toys, I understand that some people simply do not like this. This is not about not liking sex toys; rather, it is about feeling replaceable in relation to them. Furthermore, although my examples focus on a heterosexual relationship, these feelings are universal.

Yes, sex toys may be bigger than you are.

Vibrators and dildos may be bigger or longer or thicker. They are often even made to look realistic and next to your natural manhood, you may feel small. But keep this in mind. Bigger is not always better. The vagina is not a neverending canal and there comes a point when size is painful rather than pleasurable.

Yes, vibrators may have more bells and whistles than you do.

Let’s face it: vibrators do a lot of stuff. For starters, they vibrate. They pulsate. They rotate. They bend and wiggle and wave and have beads and even thrust like a penis. Furthermore, vibrators run on batteries or are rechargeable so they may last longer than you.

Yes, sex toys may sometimes feel better.

With all the technological advancements, no one is surprised how far sex toys have come. Sometimes sex toys do just the trick but sometimes a guy just wants to masturbate for a (relatively) quick and easy orgasmic release, too.

Yes, toy induced orgasms may be better.

But orgasms vary in intensity for many other reasons. I’ve had both awesome orgasms and really disappointing orgasms with a partner and with sex toys.

No, sex is not all about physical sensations (or even orgasm).

I don’t want to generalize but for many men, sex ends with orgasm and ejaculation. It’s easy to understand how this can lead to the assumption that the goal of sex is orgasm through pleasure. However, females are different creatures. For them, sex more often focuses on the emotional aspect. Pleasure is also important and, luckily, we’re becoming a society which stresses pleasure for both genders. However, the female orgasm is still one which can often be difficult to achieve. So if you think that sex is all about physical sensation, then sex toys may just give you a run for your money. However..

Yes, all that “other stuff” is important to her, too.

As I said, there is often a stronger emphasis on the emotional aspect of sex for women. The bond you share, the vulnerability you’re willing to show when stripped to the skin and intimate moments during sex are all important factors when it comes to enjoying sex. When these factors are high, the physical pleasure may not be as necessary or may be a secondary reward.

No, sex toys are not human.

I think this is what it all comes down to. It’s easy to feel intimidated when only consider the factor of pleasure but sex is made up of much than that for all people. Being comfortable with your significant other using sex toys is easier once you realize you are not replacable because of the human aspect. The emotional bond, your desire to please your lover, your ability to observe her reactions to please her better, small talk and even awkward moments make sex with another human unique and irreplacable and are why not heteosexual woman is likely to put her boyfriend in the nightstand instead of her vibrator.

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Categories: Articles

Premature Ejaculation: What does it mean?

October 21st, 2008

It might be pretty cut and dry to some what it means but I think the assumption that there is a time when a man can ejaculate too early shows a lot about our expectations and perhaps misunderstandings about sex.

In my mind, assuming there there is a time which is “too early” for a man to orgasm, means that there must be a “correct” time for him to orgasm. To imply cut-and-paste directions to sex is not only futile but potentially harmful. How many problems from people only wanting to be viewed as normal? I think I am fairly educated when I come to sex and reasonable as well. I figure if I want to do it, if he agrees and if we’re not hurting anyone (or at least taking care not to cause irreparable harm) or breaking any laws, then it’s a go even if it’s not  seen as normal.

With that said, I don’t think that any averages are accurate when it comes to judging sex. Who is to take that a the average penis size is 5.3 inches or black men have bigger cocks or sex lasts and average of 15 minutes The fact is sex shouldn’t even be looked at in the terms of average but in the terms of what’s right for you. Why are we so busy obsessing over a model of typical behaviour when, in actuality, that model itself is skewed because people are too afraid to admit how it actually is.

So what is the model in this context? I think the model is that a guy must last a certain time in order to please his partner. Often, this includes helping the partner achieve orgasm as well. While I am all for satisfaction, attentiveness and orgasm, I think it’s impossible to apply a blanket statement over sex. The only person who can set a standard is your partner and, even then, the standard may vary drastically from time to time.

When it comes down to, “holding out” as long as you can or until your partner cums maye actually be less pleasant than you might think. In fact, putting pressure on your partner to orgasm may prevent him or her from being able to do so.

So when is the right time to orgasm? Do you need to last X amount of minutes or provide X amount of orgasms? Ask your partner! Know what it takes to satisfy your partner and be attentive to those needs first, if you feel you might not last as long as you would like. Remember, however, that sex can be completely satisfying without an orgasm for your partner. We don’t know if your partner prefers to orgasm once or twice before you do but she or he does!

Stop listening to everyone else and listen to the one person who matters most in your sex life, the person with whom you are having sex!

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Categories: Articles

If we cum together, would you like me better?

July 24th, 2008

Sex on an air mattress is different. There wass a certain fluidity to our movements. By design of the air mattress alone, my hips were positioned differently, coming up to meet his in a way that was similar but not quite the same as the way our hips met on a regular mattress.

The pressure of the mattress helped me to thrust upward easier, allowing me to do more of the work than I usually would while in missionary.

And thrust up I did, as my fingers pressed and rubbed my clit and pelvic bone. At first I thought I wouldn’t cum, as aroused as I was from his wonderful oral manipulations on my clit beforehand, but then I felt it building as I thrust up and again, fucking him in a way I normally couldn’t, in a way that brought more pleasure to us both.

He moaned then, saying he was going to cum, his way of indicating we would need to slow down if I wanted this to last longer. But I didn’t. I wanted to cum and if it was going to cause him to do the same so be it.

He moaned as he came, spilling hit warm seed inside of me in shocking amounts. I was too busy to notice as I came myself, fingers around my clit. I felt the contractions of my pussy, skin twitching involuntarily from my orgasm.

It was then I noticed how wet I was from his cum. Or was it mine? It didn’t matter. We had cum together, our bodies giving the other pleasure in such a natural, simultaneous way as we had never experienced before.

I quite think I do like this way better.

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Categories: Stories

Image © MisterUnlucky; used with permission.