Of sex, lions, kings and the food of love

•August 19, 2009 • 1 Comment

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This man slipped inside my skin and seemed to fill every space…and I delighted in him being there. We’d had one night… all night… and like hungry mountain lions who had not eaten through the long winter, now feasted on flesh and blood. We ate and ate, ferocious, yet pacing ourselves, expanding, reveling, savoring, and roaring to the wind, so filling the heavens with the sounds of our gratefulness.  No one could take away our prize. We had no fear of loss and so tore at that fresh carcass again and again with joy.

I saw in him an earthy nobility. He was my Assyrian King and I, his harems Queen. My king, My Lord, and worthy of my gracious submission. And then, he was gone, for three long weeks. I, powerless to contact him, and he, away on the hunt, had chosen not to contact me.  For the first week I quelled the rising panic, the flighty girl fears that wanted to shout and scream, extricating each dark thought diligently as thorns in my flesh…”Patience my lovely, patience.” He was tender, wary, shy. He knew hurt, but I knew love, and love prevails. Maybe it is a test, his way of seeing what stuff I am made of, but whatever it is, now I am content to let it be and wait.

And so I am left with dreams and this story until he returns.

Tonight, I awoke early, as I do, to write, while the stars are still bright in their blackness. I dream of his body, naked as I press mine behind him and nestle in, running my hands down his chest and over his strength.

We are in his little kitchen, sizing up the produce, considering our meal. I had meandered through the shopping isles, with no plan but the inspiration of love hunger, selecting whatever gave me that divine spark and joy. I arrived with my bulging bags, no fanfare, and then, without a word, held him and breathed him in deeply with my face pressed into his chest. What a moment to savor…and I smelt his ripeness as fresh as the pineapple I had selected just moments before.

I undressed myself, then him and took my fill of his dark eyes and he mine.  I think I answered his questions because I felt the tremble as that wild, untamed part of him volunteered his captivity and our nakedness spoke of deeper things.

“I brought food, are you hungry?”

“Ravishing.”

“Then lets prepare to devour…”

And so we were in his little kitchen and I savored every moment. “Smell the pineapple, it’s divine…cut into its flesh and taste its juice.” As he grasped the knife I kissed his back and fondled his balls and ran my hands over his loins. I wet the fold between thumb and finger with my tingling, salivating liquor and with silky softness enfolded the thick tip of that stallion cock of his. Already I longed to have it in my mouth, but not yet…remember, patience my lovely, patience.

He presented my mouth with its first taste, and the sweetness made me swoon. I bit and juice gushed in an explosion of heady delight. I fished through the bags for the crisp red fujis and plump hearted strawberries and laid them before his knife. More of my mouths juices and a fist full of cock kept me occupied as I anticipated new sensations. This time a strawberry was served with his mouth as a platter. He grasped my buttocks and lifted me high so that his moist warm cock nestled into my own soft moistness then slowly filled its deep places. The pleasure of it filled every inch of my body in a way no other pleasure ever could. God I was so hungry, wild with ravenous desire. “Fucking hell.” I know ladies are not suppose to swear, but a good cock brings it out of me. “Fucking, fucking, fucking hell,” was his response… so I guess he doesn’t mind. “Oh, I’ve missed you,” I hiss, “I’ve missed you sooo much. You were cruel not to call and leave me for so long.” He doesn’t answer, but I don’t need him to. I sink back into the pleasure of it all and take my fill. He carries me to his bed, to his throne of love and my Assyrian king delights in his Queen and I, worship him.

I guess I am slain, pierced through like the lioness at the hunt of the King, but I give my life gladly and surrender to his spear. It can enter me deeply and penetrate my heart till he has my life’s blood at his feet. And I am content to be his prize and adorn his courts with my skin.

Political Campaigner found Sexually Compromised

•August 16, 2009 • Leave a Comment

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He was a bad boy. He came too fast and didn’t give me what I needed. A lousy, selfish lover like so many men I have known. He groped too much, always after my titties and sliding his hand between my legs…never leaving me alone till got what he wanted and then it was all over.

When I was a girl it confused me and hurt me, that kind of boy stuff. “You don’t really love me!!!” was the inner cry. I was right of course, but now that I was a satisfied women in the love department, his selfish behavior just made me want to discipline him.

It wasn’t anger I was feeling, it wasn’t love, it was just that he needed to learn a lesson, and I wanted to tease the fuck out of him, and leave him hanging like he had done to me. I suppose most sexually aggressive women would right him off as a dud lay and find a more generous lover, but I already had three of them and a good lay was not necessarily what I was after.

I wanted him for different reasons. He was virginal when it came to real love. I’m sure he couldn’t even spell the word. Too much porn, too much testosterone, too little aesthetics. His heart was a barren wasteland, and a good man shouldn’t have to spend his days like that.

He was very generous in other ways. If I was his wife I’m sure I would nag him for being such a soft cock to the party, never saying no, staying away to finish the campaign , being the guy everyone calls on when they needed a favor and a job done. He went to great lengths to satisfy them, but sold himself short when it came to satisfying himself.

No, that was not a typo. In the end, he was robbing himself of pleasure in his ignorance of lovemaking. His orgasm was just a blip in his groin. A hollow experience, something that still made him feel guilty somewhere deep inside, like a teenager wanking when he hears his mother groaning with pleasure in the bedroom next door. Somehow I had to snap him out of it and teach him how to be a good lover, not for my benefit, but for that good girl somewhere, yet to come to be his woman.

This was only our third meeting.  The first was to see if he was worth the effort.  I already knew he wasn’t my “type”. He loved football and drinks with the boys, he had three feet and no rhythm and there was not an artistic bone in his body. But what I did see was a good guy bound by lust with a desert soul. I wanted to bring him fresh showers and see his wildflowers blooming, for no other reason other than I thought I could.

He was a political campaigner and part of the very conservative right. He ran one of the liberal party branches in one of the most blue ribbon of seats. Personally, politics bores me, but someone has to do it, and it may as well be a good guy. When I talked to him I could see that he was tired of it in many ways, but there was a greatness, an ability, a passion that continued to keep him in the party despite the disappointments.  I liked that quality. I wanted him to have what destiny was offering him.

Our second meeting came with some boundaries. I was very clear about it. No kissing or touching my lips, tits or pussy. Everything else is yours. I like to see if a man has self control and integrity, its important to me. It also ensures I can keep my head about me when I still need it. We were driving and it wasn’t long before he had his hand pressed deep into the crease of my thigh, his little finger moving as if to “accidentally”  brush my pussy, he was going for my tits, those always hard nipples of mine. “I think that is touching tits and pussy…”  I said. He so failed the test, again and again. Eventually, after a few hours,  I let him suck my titties, he was pining for it so much. I shouldn’t have compromised, but I hadn’t cum in almost two days and thought it would be nice to let myself get a bit hot.  But I know my limits and it wasn’t long before I wanted his fingers inside of me and then his lips on my clit. I was only settling in, now wanting to please him, stoke the fire. I kissed his ears, then his mouth, his neck. “Lets play a game,” I said. ” I’ll be your love slave for 15 minutes. I’ll do exactly what you ask of me, but you must describe it in detail and ensure I obey.” He wanted me to suck his cock-so many other possibilities, but that’s blokes for you. He dribbled his load after a few minutes and then it was all over. Now no passion, no interest, just shutdown.

The drive home was spent with him taking calls from his mother and some other woman he was  “helping out”.  As for me, I was exploring why I let myself down so easily and didn’t follow through with my resolves. I hate chocolate cake, I hate cigarettes, I hate a lusty man, so why do I indulge so easily? I considered what my next move would be. I certainly was not interested in repeating this exercise. I love to suck cock, but  I prefer my husbands any day. I certainly have no time to give to a dud lay. The only way I would be even remotely interested in seeing him again was if he made it worth my while, and gave me what I was not getting. A very expensive dinner, a trip away, or cold hard cash.

I felt squeamish when he text’d me the next day to organise another get together so I laid it on the line. What were my exact words…”Pretty busy till next week. What did you have in mind? If u are after a few hours of pleasure it will cost $200.”  Funny how I managed to find time to see him a few days later when renumeration was brought into the mix. Is that prostitution or just a mutually beneficial arrangement? It also empowered him to have what he wanted. I asked him what he would like to do when we got together. He basically said “What we did yesterday.” Not one for a failing creativity, I said, “Sure, that’s just a beginning. I want you to tell me your fantasies and let me make them your reality.” His big fantasy was menage a trois with two women. “I can organize that for you.”

Either way it was working for both of us. He was getting  sex with a good woman who would expand his horizons and bring out the best in him, I was getting a way to devote myself entirely to what I was best at, love and sensual pleasure and giving that intense female essence that so transforms a man and makes him the best he can be.

The menage a trois would have to be for another time, but today I had something in mind he needed.

I would have loved to tightly lace up leathers into a perfect hour glass with titties bulging and put on those slutty high boots I had ordered, but that would be for another day. When he came I was hot for him. I wanted to play. I wanted to control his pleasure and draw out of him what his imagination lacked. Things he had not even considered but would learn to love. I was rough with him and pressed his cock onto my pussy and told him how much I was looking forward to this. He went to kiss me but I just pushed him down onto the chair. He needs to learn self control and to wait before he has my lips. To wait until my tongue and lips burn to please him, until he absolutely needs it, rather than wants it. He went for my titties like a hurt boy as if to say, “Well can I at least play with them?”. I slapped his hand away. “No, you were such a bad boy last time I’m going to teach you a lesson. Take off your top. And the rest.” I picked up the long jute rope that had cut tightly into my pussy on a few occasions before. I bound him the way I wanted him. Where I could get to him as required, where I could taunt and tease and control him.

“You know you didn’t please me the other day. You didn’t suck my pussy long enough or use your fingers hard enough. You were a bad boy, only after your own pleasure. I’m going to show you how to make me cum, and I’m going to get you so hot and make you wait for it so long that when I let you blow you won’t know what’s hit you. I’m going to suck on your cock, I’m going to play with your balls, I might even stick something long and hard up your ass, but I’m not going to let you cum until I am good and ready and satisfied.”

I put on some salsa and began to circle my hips and undress, closing my eyes, letting the music and dance erotically charge me. I could feel my pussy emanating waves of pleasure to him, soft, like a warm evening breeze fragrant with Jasmine, intense and alluring.  Using my stomach, hips, pelvis to draw and build the fire in me, I began to feel that animal passion, that cock hunger that seems insatiable. I pinched down hard on my nipples sending electric shocks to intensify the fire. Oh, I was wanting a cock in me, needing a cock in me, but not yet. It has to become unbearable, it has to become ravenous. I slipped off my panties, but kept my titties pert and just peeking out over my lacy bra. I wet my fingers and slowly, ever so softly, circled my smooth pussy, drawing my hands down over my thighs and back over my buttocks, up, up and away, spreading the sexual energy building in my cunt right through my body, emptying and drawing so it can be filled again and again, spread again and again till I lose my mind completely, so consumed am I with pleasure.

I start to groan now. I can’t help it. I’m sure he’d love to suck on my pussy but he’s not going to yet. I want him to dribble, to salivate, to pine and hunger. I want him to want my pussy so bad that when he does taste it, it will be like honey to a bear and eaten deeply, sucking it down, filling up his body with my feminine essence, feeling it charge him, enter him, enliven him. I pull out my big cock toy, my favorite pleasure stick I use when my lovers are away and I can’t get enough. I let out a deep sigh as it slowly, slowly, slowly enters me and I savor that first  initial electric pleasure. Each deep slow thrust illicits  a new shock of sexual fire flashing, swirling around my breasts, into my ears, dulling my brain to all else.  I revel in this place, dwell in it, let it do me good, filling each and every cell of my being with healthy life giving fire.

My mouth is open, I drink deeply, I’m filling up, every pore, stronger now, faster, harder, more, more, more, more, more. I start to swear, “Fucking Hell, fucking hell, oh fucking hell,” I can’t help it, it feels so good, I have to take every last drop, every last inch of me filled to capacity. I am really pushing hard and fast now, sucking it in, filling it up. I have to vocalize, I have to let it out, all restraint is long gone and then….then….it pounds, roars like Niagra Falls, strong, hard, again and again.

After composing myself I said to him, “Now that’s how its done. Did you like watching that? His cock was hard and hungry, “I guess you did.” I walked slowly behind him, sizing him up, deciding how to drive him crazy. I let my hands  move slowly over his chest and pinched his nipples as I bit his earlobes and neck. My hands moved down to circle his abdomen then across the side of his arching hips, along tense thighs then up to the crease of his loin…and stopped. He wanted me to roll his balls up into base of his shaft, he wanted me to suck his cock, he wanted to see me, and touch me and taste me.

I let him watch as I ripped the crotch off his undies, and slipped them over his eyes as an impromptu blindfold. I put my clothes on, just like he had done after he last had his fill of pleasure, and I left him, straining and urgent and unfulfilled. He heard the click of the motel door and with a flood of inspiration, I turned over the sign to indicate that the room was ready to be made up.  In my mind I wickedly imagined a parlor maid entering to clean up the room. Herself, very horny due to her own lovers selfishness, when she spied that available cock, blindfolded to ensure her anonymity, she decided to make the most of it. We’d actually only been there an hour or so, and the room attendants had left for the day after making up all the rooms earlier, so this scenario was not going to happen, but I noticed a room trolley down the end of the corridor. He was blindfolded after all…I could be the parlor maid.

I didn’t want to leave him hanging too long, but I bet he was aching to touch himself. I wonder what was going through his mind. I wonder if he was making the most of the game…

“Room service.” I knocked loudly and entered, squeaking the trolley and banging around making lots of noise. I made my voice  a little squeakier, more like a teenager. “Oh my God…what the…”

“I’m sorry”, he bumbled…”Um, we were…can you untie me please?” I walked over towards him silently. “Well, I don’t know…are you suppose to be untied?” With embarrassment he was soft now, but the hesitation of the maid to oblige and put an end to his fantasy stirred something and I noticed an ever so slight filling.  How did he imagine her? Could he begin to think a strange woman would find him so alluring that she would throw all caution to the wind and desire him, now. I hope he could, but he probably was just feeling a little confused. He wasn’t use to women throwing themselves at him after all. But no matter. That was fast going to be his reality.

I slipped off my panties and skirt, straddled his thigh and let the moisture slip delicious softness over my sex.  I opened my top and scooped my breasts to plunge over the lace of my bra, and without a word offered my nipple to his lips. He sucked deeply. He was still nervous, and not quite hard, so I reached over and fondled his balls, his inner thigh and brushed ever so slightly against his anus. I let him know I was enjoying this and reached down to build my pleasure, circling fast. I figured a maid in this situation would not be keen on a lengthy session, so hit and run was the order of the day. It didn’t take long for me to come. It wasn’t an all encompassing affair like the last one, but I let out a little sigh to let him know I’d arrived.

His cock was nice and hard now. I longed to pleasure him, but not now. I got dressed hurriedly, faining embarrassment and quickly left the room, dragging the trolley behind me.

I wonder if he knew it was me? Did he know my scent and body well enough yet? I hope not. I hope it was all so mind blowingly real. What was it doing to his ego? Was he one step closer to becoming a love God? How much of the years of sexual rejection had just been erased? I pondered my next move.  If he was a lover I would ache for his cock, but that was out of bounds…maybe jealousy…

I entered the room only seconds after I had left as the maid. “What was that woman doing here? She looked flushed and hurried, did you frighten her?” Silence. I noticed he was still hard. “What are these panties? What have you been doing?” I touched his thigh, still moist and fragrant. “I see she didn’t please you though.” I ran a finger slowly up his pulsating shaft. “Would you like me to? I could suck your cock…but first you have to tell me about the lady. What did she do to you?”

“Um, nothing much really. She wasn’t here long.”

“What did she do?” I insisted.

“Oh, she wanted me to suck on her tits.”

“And did you?”

“Yeah.”

“Were they nice tits?”

“Yeah.”

“And did you come here to suck on some other girls tits, or mine?”

“Ah…” I could see the wheels spinning.

“If I wanted you to suck on someone elses tits I would have brought her here to you. Now I am having second thoughts about organizing your little menage a trois.  What else did she do?” I got up and walked away, just to make my disgust a little more convincing and picked up my violet suede lash.

“I think she came…uh…she played with my balls a little too.”

“Did she moan like I do, or did she just give you a shy little squeak?”   “Ah…”  “No matter…  So, why don’t you tell me what you would have liked your little maid to do before she ran out the door.” I had my suede lash softly circling around his balls and thighs, now just rhythmically slapping them ever so gently, the ends bending round to flash his anus like little flickering tongues. “She sat on you…right here, didn’t she.” I swung the suede alternately between inner and outer thigh from groin to knee and back again, not hard, but firm. “Right here?…” I laid one hard sting in the middle of his thigh where only minutes before I had writhed and left it awakened. “Is that where she sat?” I demanded. I continued to sway the lash softly down either side of his thigh, letting the sensation enfold all the exposed flesh, and letting the sting dissipate.

I went back to gently slapping his balls. “She touched your balls? …She got your cock nice and hard, so you must have found her exciting? Do you wish she sucked on your cock or did she? I was going to suck on your cock, I was going to make you really cum hard, but I’m annoyed because I bet you will be thinking about her. Maybe I should go and find her” I began to plunge his cock deep inside my mouth. Dropping the lash, I fondled his balls and inner thigh. “Do you think I should go and find her?” It doesn’t take long for him to cum and it was building fast. I stopped suddenly, got up and walked to the door. “I’ll tell her, she can make $100 bucks if she gives you a blow job, what do you reckon?” Without waiting for an answer, I left the room.

After 5 minutes I return, pop my head in the door and say, “I got her, I’ll leave you two alone.” Now I’m the maid. I’m 18, shy but very interested in cock.  First I just stand at the door, awkwardly, looking at his straining hard on, feeling it pulsing through his legs and abdomen.  “I…ah…” faining that gawky, uncomfortable barrier between fantasty and reality. In truth I just didn’t want to give my voice away. I slowly came forward to kneel in front of him. I have to remember to not touch as I would touch. It has to be young, a little clumbsy, maybe some accidental brushing of teeth against the shaft. I have to make my lips thin and hard and keep my tongue out of it all together. Don’t play with his balls, maybe hold on tight to his thigh…I coach myself in adolescent sexuality. I can feel him getting really excited despite my best attempts at a bad blow job. Amazing how the mind can comphensate for anything.  The imagination is certainly a powerful thing…he is heaving and straining and his face is all crunched up and when that moment arrives he even gives a bit of a grunt…so much of an improvement on the last blimp.

I don’t swallow. I admit, cum makes me vomit  and I have no desire to overcome my distaste. I think it all stemmed from my first boyfriend that had recurrent candida infections… fortunately I timed things right and I now had a cheek full. I got up, went to the bathroom and cleaned myself up then left the room and reentered as myself.

“Jack, where’s your wallet. The girl wants her pay.” I rifle through his pants pocket, grab his wallet and take $100 out of the generous wad I find there, open the door and say, “Thanks.”

“Did you like that Jack. Did she suck your cock as good as I do? You came fast, you must have liked it. She was pretty you know. 18 I suppose, cute firm ass. ..How does that make you feel, knowing that a hot young thing is getting off and sucking your cock?” I’m fondling his balls now. I want to get him hard again. I bet you’d like it if she came back and you watched us together. I know you’d like that, you’ve told me”. I start to suck hard on his cock bringing it back to life, pausing every so often, switching to a hand job, leaving my lips free to taunt him further. “I’d suck on those nice titties and you’d watch her squirm as I tease her but don’t touch her just where she wants it, till she wants it so bad…. I’d put my fingers inside her and make her moan.” I could feel his cock bulging and swelling and responding ever so nicely. “You could come and sit close, where you’d have a real good view of her pussy and I could suck on your cock just like I’m doing now…. I could time it so you came together, so you cum hard like you’re suppose to, so you feel really good after. Would you like that?” He wasn’t responding, but had his eyes back in his head somewhere nice. I knew he was close. I just had to tip it.  “I might just play with myself as well. Two hands and a mouth, I can manage that.  How would that be? All of us moaning together, getting lost together, rising together”…I felt the slippery warmth under my hand and a deep guttoral response…”pounding together…” easing off now to cradle his balls and draw long strokes over his body…”resting together…enjoying peace together…mmm”

I like this time nearly more than the passion. There is openness and trust like at no other time, especially with men. I think women open during sex if they are treated right, men open after, unless they already trust you,  but with Jack, he was just learning to be honest and visible. After about 30 minutes of just “being”and not saying anything, he dressed slowly, tripping a couple of times as he attempted to put feet into holes.

“See you next week.” I gave him a little peck on the cheek. I keep my deep kisses for the few I have surrendered to. He handed me $200. We’d made good progress today. I was tempted to give him back the $100 I’d earned as the mystery maid, but why spoil the reality he now had. Besides, I deserved it.

The Massage

•August 13, 2009 • Leave a Comment

Next week, if all goes well, I will give my first erotic massage to a woman. I don’t fantasize about women, although when I was a girl looking at Dad’s pornos-the delightfully seductive innocence of Playboy in the 70′s-girls did get me hot. But up till now, I’ve only ever touched my best friends titties one morning when we hopped into bed together. There was no guilt and we never talked about it or thought about it again. I was wet though…

I wonder what it is all about. Is the excitement of another woman like falling in love with your own sexual femininity. Is it media induced? Time will tell, but for now I woke with a story…

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I got her number out of the local paper, a bold girl providing erotic massage. She only did SMS, so I had no idea how old she was or how she looked. There was a vulnerability that I liked though. When I suggested a swap, telling her I was a professional masseuse she got a bit shy about her abilities, being untrained in massage, but I assured her that I was coming to learn from her.

When I arrived at her place, she was slight and 30ish and not that pretty, but I liked her. She seemed a bit worn down and sexually disengaged. I figure that is what happens when you sell yourself short. I also liked that. That is what I am looking to work with. I suggested that I give her a massage first. It would be fun to see how well she can play after I free her up a bit.

She took off her clothes and I asked her to lie face up and put a towel over her to cover her nakedness. I noticed she had little teenager titties and a big black bush. So different from me. Her skin was pale and freckled. There was no fat anywhere…again, so different from me. I calmed myself from the inevitable performance anxiety most men must feel when negotiating the mysteries of the female sex. I trust my hands, I trust my wisdom, I trust what I hear…

I begin by holding my palms to the soles of her feet, with a beautiful oil blend that centers and calms and helps to connect me to her. It’s about contact, waiting, listening, feeling…there it is…I see her now. I move to her head. The fragrance of my palms fills her with peace and calm. She sinks a little deeper, becomes a little more vulnerable. Long slow strokes across her brow to her temple, then her ear lobes, under her head and then to the top of her skull, opening, awakening. I move onto her chest, above her breasts, careful not to move there until her trust is mine and she is aching for it. Long strokes over the chest, shoulders then up the neck.  Hold. Each time I repeat this I feel her sink deeper into trust. I take each arm and draw from shoulder to fingers. I play with her palm, I link my fingers between hers. Signs and memories of affection catch her off guard.

“Turn over please.”

I leave the towel off and use plenty of oil, spreading it with slow downward rhythmic strokes from her neck to back, over buttocks, thighs, legs and feet. I spend extra time circling her buttocks lightly, spreading to include the inner thigh, then slowly lift up along the spine and back down the tops of the arms, up and down the side of the torso and back to her arse. Now I spread the strokes to include more of the legs. In my mind I am pulling up sexual energy through her feet to her reservoir of delight, that area that encompasses the whole female sex organ, including the womb. A huge capacity and a big job to fill.

Personally I am of the opinion that women require long sessions of lovemaking and nurture in order to fill this reservoir. If its full, then she is. She has what she needs to give to the kids, her parents, her work mates, her girlfriends…and of course you. If you can keep it full, and dare I say, even keep it flowing over, you will have one wonderful rich life with this woman. Try it.

By now, I have touched every part of her body except her big erogenous zones. I hasn’t been long, I don’t want her falling asleep, but I do want her body awakened to touch… everywhere. Now my focus is on pussy, but its got to be subtle, almost accidental so she doesn’t tighten up. Light rhythmic strokes work up her inner thigh across, scooping between her legs to catch her pussy and down the other thigh, then up and across and down. Kind of like a sprinkler in the garden of love. Just a taste then it moves on. She is aching to have it back again. There, now I linger with that stroke, over and over, the gentlest touch, brushing her clit then dipping deeper into the opening flower.

She wants penetration, she arches and squirms. I find that part of the G spot just inside the opening and tease her, making her ache for more but also forcing her to feel and taste fully of this pleasure first. Now I slip out and over her clit and back up to the opening. She is really writhing now and wants my fingers deep inside. This time I enter slowly, deeply, fully. She lets out a little surprised moan. The silky smoothness is extraordinary and I can feel her G spot filling and softening.

With my other hand, I work over the buttocks and spine, deep rhythmic thrusts are echoed by my hand moving up her spine, as if to spread her pleasure to higher centers of her body. After a delightful time of play, I ask her to roll over. There is no embarrassment now, just a hasty turn eager for more.

I use plenty of oil and let it dribble over her breasts, abdomen and bush, trailing down between her legs. I am feeling very aroused myself as I sense her anticipation growing. Long strokes over the top of her thighs, brushing her clit, up the center of her womb and spreading energy to culminate with a pinch hold on her nipples. I feel her shudder. I circle her breasts and tweak her nipples gently, then spread this pleasure up her neck to her ear lobes. Again I repeat, over thighs, clit, abdomen, tits, tits, tits, neck, ear lobes. Now I play with her clit, spreading her generous bush out of the way and exposing that pretty pink flower, I keep my fingers flat,  and make soft circles of delightful oily smoothness that sends ripples through her body. Now I spread fingers firmly into her and bend upwards into the middle of her generous G spot. My other hand plays with her nipples and circles over her womb and thighs. By now I would love to be moistening her clit with my lips. I ask permission. She is breathing hard now with glazed over eyes but she manages a yes. As I move my face to her sex I catch her scent…beautiful, musky, exotic.

I like the softest touch on my clit, so I wet my lips and keeping them generous and full, circle and gently enclose her little pearl. I sense a definite change in her body now, stronger, harder, faster is the requirement. I suck her clit and thrust deeply with my fingers, I tweak her nipple hard. She cries out in pleasure pain. I’m pushing her energy up with my hand over her womb, now over her heart, now feeling the hard thumping as she cums and cums and cums. I blow over her clit and thighs and let my hair trail over her body softly as I come up and gently kiss her on the lips and then softly brush her forehead and let my hands trail through her hair, over her shoulders and up the back of her neck.

After a few minutes, I enter her once more and circle the middle of her G spot, letting her enjoy the afterglow. Now I move a few inches out and then back in to that spot, putting more pressure on the outward stroke as if to milk and drain her G spot. She begins to writhe once more, opening her lips, arching her neck, I work faster now but still in the same place. My other hand just rests over her womb and I can feel the pleasure building. She is moaning short sharp jabs of voice with every stroke. I press down hard with the flat of my hand just above her pubic bone, as though trying to feel my fingers within her. She is vocalizing stronger now, a light shout. I slip my thumb over her clit while still keeping the pressure on her womb. This was all the trigger she needed. Streams of warm watery essence cover my hand as she pushes my fingers out with her muscles. I can feel her womb pulsating rhythmically as she cums and cums.

I place one hand resting on her bushy mound, just covering her clit, the other on her heart and smile…

Of Puppies and Pussies

•August 13, 2009 • Leave a Comment

Puppies…warm, soft and inviting. Irresistible. You just have to kiss and cuddle and croon over them, lavish them with a silliness reserved only for the playfully vulnerable. Puppies …they make you melt on the inside. Your defenses are down and your heart is open. That is unless you have been hurt by one.

A good woman should be soft, playful and as inviting as a puppy. Someone to make your heart melt. A good woman is like a sigh that brings you back to who you really are.  Someone that opens up all your being and allows you to shine, and be…

I weep for all the men wounded by women who were wounded by men wounded by women. This vicious destructive circle that fucks us up good and proper. But someone, somewhere has to trust again to break the cycle.

If you’ve never really experienced melting and fusing essences with another soul and becoming one in love making, chances are you are still spinning in the hurt cycle. Break out of it. There are good women out there, just wanting to pour their heart into you, but if you are in the hurt cycle, chances are high that you will miss her, blow her off, judge her with dark glasses that distort her words and actions into something cruel and not to be trusted.

Imagine a puppy and the joy and openess you feel, the ease with which you embrace it and allow it to enter your heart. Hold that feeling and then picture a woman. A new woman, a woman of your deep heart, and then call out to her and draw her to yourself. If you can do this, and hold this picture fast, and not sway back to the hurt image, then miracles will happen and your dream woman will appear sooner than you can imagine. Try it. I know it works because I have done it. Firstly there were years of calling and drawing that woman out of my own heart, of setting her free from the hurt cycle. And now, I call out for my lovers and they have come, more wonderful, more unexpectedly rich and encompassing that I could have asked for. And I wait for them to recognise the puppy in me.

Girl and Puppy

A twisted little sex story

•August 8, 2009 • 2 Comments

Every so often I like to post someone elses story, and in particular I love Jacks writing from writingdirty.com. This is his latest offering. Also worth checking out is his series, Mr McIntyres Secret, which to date has 9 parts but I want more. Like my series “The New Slave”, these longer works take time and ebb and flow according to whats going on and how disciplined you are with your writing. and discipline is something Jack particularly likes…

Ménage à Text

Truth be told, Elise didn’t even really like him. That’s not to say she wasn’t already wet when she got off at his subway stop and climbed the familiar stairs into the lingering evening sun. She hadn’t been to his apartment in weeks. She hadn’t walked through the dirty streets of his neighborhood, next to the big school with the high metal fence and the little stores with the weird religious candles and the exotic smells.

All right, maybe she liked him in some weird way. He could be a good friend, in his own fashion, if he wanted to, but he was so very full of himself sometimes, so very Mark. They had dated for a while around two years ago, and maybe they were even in love for a couple of minutes, but Mark was an ass and that all disintegrated quickly. He was a much better fuck than he ever was a boyfriend.

Mark could be a good listener too, when he was in the mood. If he got interested in what you were saying and thought your little problem was entertaining he could set his mind to solving it. He was an egomaniac but sometimes that gave him the detachment to give you really insightful advice. Also he was really good in bed.

Sometimes you want to fuck someone you’re not in love with. It’s good to have someone like that who you can trust. And then there was the fact that Mark always had a way of making things dirty. Elise craved that sometimes. More than craved it, she needed it. As she walked down his block she knew that this was one of those times.

It was hard to ask someone new for those things. When you are falling for someone and you want everything to be perfect and so you can’t have the awkward conversations about how you needed to be held down or spanked or called a slut or more.

Mark knew all her boundaries, though. He read her like a book and said out loud all the dirty things that were in her head and made her blush. He made her blush! Elise was always the bold one, the brash one, but Mark could make her feel like a veritable prude sometimes. And as much of an asshole as he was, he never crossed her lines. He knew just from looking in her eyes what she needed and what was too much. That kind of connection could take years to create and there was no reason to waste it just because they couldn’t make a relationship work.

The truth was, she had met someone the day before. The truth was, every time she thought about this new guy she melted a little and her knees almost gave and her heart started pounding. This guy was serious, though, no one night stand. This guy was amazing.

Elise swooned as she pictured him. He was tall and yhandsome and so very gentlemanly. He worked for some kind of not-for-profit organization. He recycled. He was a genuinely nice person. He had good skin and a crooked smile and used big words and had a nice ass.

Her stomach dropped. There were things she needed though and she wasn’t sure someone so “nice” could give them to her. She thought about Mark, who certainly wasn’t a bad person. Mark who drank too much and make crude jokes about horrible tragedies. Mark who admitted to a somewhat criminal youth. There was also Mark with the bookshelf full of interesting things and his world-traveling past and there was the fact that his cockiness was all bullshit and he was actually very humble about how smart he really was.

She thought about the last time she saw Mark, his hand in her hair, his body on hers. There was something that pushed the moments in his apartment to hyperreality. The way he half-closed his red curtains which made the light from the street glow crimson on his white walls.

Half way to Mark’s apartment Elise’s phone vibrated. Pulling it out of her bag, her heart was beating hard. It was like being in high school again.

“It was cool meeting you. I’m kind of really excited about our date.” said the text message.

Elise stopped walking and let out a happy little noise. Then she looked around quickly to make sure no one heard her. Swooning she looked up to see Mark’s building, an old brownstone with a sort of ominous array of little angels and demons carved into the staircase and windowsills.

She texted back from Mark’s hallway. “I’m pretty excited too. Can’t wait. See you soon.”

She rang his bell twice without an answer. She knew he was home because he had buzzed her up. When he opened the door she saw his familiar face a bit stubbly, his graying hair a bit messy, the piercing blue eyes never focusing on her completely. He nodded hello to her, “give me like five minutes, okay?”

Elise stood confused at the door as he quickly walked back into the apartment and picked up a book on his big leather chair and started reading something intensely. She came in, looking around a little confused. The apartment was cool, with a fan in the window and the evening air flowing in. It was tidy, but cramped with stuff. Books, computer parts, a couple of leather floggers peeking out from under the Sunday Times.

Walking around the room she saw things she remembered. There had been three months when she was sleeping over every night. The salad days when she learned how badly he snored and how decadent his breakfasts were. She smiled at the little box of Peruvian Worry Dolls he’d told her the secrets of one summer night.

She jumped when she heard the thump of a book closing. Turning around she saw Mark get up from the couch and stretch.

“Okay. Sorry, I was in the middle of this… intense chapter.”

She shrugged, he was already smiling at her with that predatory smile.

He used to play this game where he made her admit why she came. He made her tell him that she needed to be beat up and fucked. That got old a while ago, but sometimes he just watched her. He watched her until she squirmed.

She fingered her phone, wondering if he would text her back, wanting to check, wanting to know more and tell him more. Mark eyed her, she was extra nervous and she knew he could tell.

Mark walked over and she backed up until she was against his bookshelf. He laughed, “I’m just saying hello.” She looked up with her big eyes. He had good lips, soft and expressive. He kissed her on the cheek and she tensed, unsure of what he was doing. Mark always changed the game, never wanted her the same way twice.

“I like it when you’re nervous,” he whispered, already husky-voiced.

“You’re an asshole.” But she couldn’t look up at him.

“You should take off your pants.”

She shook her head, “no.”

He pushed and pulled her, like a child getting out of her winter jacket. He pulled off her shoes and socks. He roughly unzipped her pants and pulled them down, bending her over and pulling each leg off.

When he was done she steadied herself on his bookshelf, her hair in her eyes and her legs looking extra naked with her only in a shirt. She didn’t wear underwear with jeans, Mark was never really sure why. Her cunt was bare, Mark could tell it was freshly shorn from the slight redness and complete smoothness.

He grabbed her arms and just moved her around. Shaking her a little and pushing her here and there like a rag doll. He liked how docile she got when she was like this; when she wanted to be hurt and controlled. So different than the Elise on the street. He pushed her over to his bed and slapped her ass once.

She growled, feminine but feral, when hit. The first time Mark hit her he had been a little surprised. It was lovely though, the way her bright eyes and smart mouth just vanished. This brilliant girl rendered dumb by nothing more than pulled hair and a spanked bottom.

She crawled up onto the bed and got on her knees in his sheets, her butt in the air, her chest against the bed, face buried in the blanket, trying to hide her red face and open mouth. The red lips of her cunt peeked out from between her closed legs in the way that made him aggressive. In the silence between smacks, the room was suddenly filled with the dull echo of a phone vibrating.

Mark watched as Elise’s head shot up. She was breathing hard and fast. She looked back at him and then to her handbag.

“Oh, I get why you are so nervous. It’s a boy, isn’t it? Is that him?”

She whined and buried her head in the blanket.

“What’s his name? Is he dreamy?” he mockingly fainted.

“I hate you so much. You’re such an asshole,” she said as she crawled away from him, trying to reach her phone.

Mark let her get up, then stood and looked down on her as she laid on the floor pulling out the Blackberry and reading the new message.

“What’sit say?”

“Fuck off.” She rolled her eyes and bit her lip as the little device blinked to life.

The first blow came to her ass, then it was followed by five more. He was on her, straddling her legs as he grabbed her hair and pushed her face against the floor.

“Tell me what it says.”

Her heart was pounding against her chest and against the hardwood floor. His weight on her legs and ass made her pubic bone press into the floor and she could feel the grain of the wood on her bare mound.

“It’s private.” She wanted to yell it but it came out a choked little whisper.

She wanted to tell him this was too personal, this wasn’t part of their game, but her sex throbbed at the intrusion and she knew he loved it.

His fingers snaked into her hair, closed on it and pulled. Elise let out a high whine as she pulled up the text.

“Ow! Wait, okay!” She paused — this was something different, there was a weird line that she couldn’t put her finger on. Mark’s hand tightened in her hair.

“I really…” She swallowed, her throat felt like it was closing — “enjoyed kissing you that night. Hopefully I…” His hand tensed in her hair, she felt individual strands being pulled out. “Hopefully we’ll get to do more of that next time.”

Mark’s laugh was a slow rumble. She could feel it on the back of his legs, the slight vibration of his body as he chuckled. Her face was hot and her hands were sweaty.

“Is he a nice boy? Is he going to bring you flowers?”

Elise tried to squirm away. “Shut up.”

Mark took her wrists and pulled her arms behind her back. In his struggle, his hardening cock pushed between her legs, not inside of her but rubbing, poised. She tensed.

“Is he gunna be your boyfriend?” Mark stretched out the word like a playground chiding.

He leaned down and whispered into her ear. “Are you gunna wait until the third date to put out? Why buy the cow when you can get the milk free, right? Are you going to marry him?”

“Shut up, shut up.”

It was stupid. He was making little kid jokes. It was such ridiculous teasing, but she felt cold in her chest. Her eyes were itching, maybe even wet. She whined, she shook her head but he kept talking.

“Maybe you’ll get drunk one night and ask him to spank you. What if he knew the girl I knew? What if he saw the little slut suck three boys off in a bathroom?”

The images flashed into her head. It had been a year ago. Mark had taken her to some event of some kind. Some kinky club, hidden entrance, secret password. They’d watched bodies writhe, they’d seen a boy hung up with rope. Mark had eyed two friends of his and when he’d pulled her into the bathroom, they had followed.

It was the most embarrassing memory in her head, and it was also the one her mind went to every time she couldn’t come and needed that little push. The dirtiness swirled in her belly, like their come had. Her tongue was thick.

“What if he knew even more? What if he knew about the parties? Will you tell him or should I?”

“No. Stop it. Shut up.” Her throat closed and the words came out as squeaks.

“What’s his name, Elise?”

“I… I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

Mark laughed loud and let go of one of her arms. She felt him shift on her, reach for something, then the sharp pain of a leather crop on her ass. Then his hand because he couldn’t get the right angle with the crop.

“Okay! Okay. It’s…” she struggled, thinking maybe she should lie, but that was no use. “It’s Todd.”

The spanking stopped. The pressure on her wrist loosened.

“Todd?” he said with a much lighter voice. “Toooodd,” the chuckle was different, not dark and angry but silly. “Fucking Toooodd,” he laughed.

Elise squirmed from under him and pouted, folding her arms over her naked breasts.

“Fucking asshole, just stop,” she mumbled, getting up and going to his bed.

Then there was the look. She glared at him and he glared back with his wicked sarcastic gaze, but then it shifted. The questioning look. “Is this okay? Should I really stop?”

She swallowed. Was it okay? She shifted on the bed, a dark spot on the gray sheets where her dripping sex had rested. His eyes were light, gray and blue, but they seemed to change depending on the light.

Was it silly to see so many things in a look? How much of it was wishful thinking? She could have sworn she saw something else, behind the sadistic grin and the questions, some little hurt, some primordial jealousy.

He got off her and his grin wavered but didn’t fade.

She panted as she laid back on the bed looking up at him. He walked over to the window and looked out. He picked up the book he was reading when she came in and he licked his finger and then turned the page.

She waited. She knew this game even if it did have all sorts of new dimensions.

“Why do you have to make this so fucking hard?” she whined, her voice gone sad little girl.

He looked over the top of the book at her, his eyebrows raised. The tiny hurt hiding somewhere in those cool blue eyes was all she could see now. His big ego bruised because this was supposed to be their time, this was supposed to be their game, even if it was just a game it was all they had and she didn’t realize that was important.

The sadness of it made her feel small. She pulled her knees up to her chin and cradled her legs and gave Mark her puppy dog eyes.

“I’ll put my phone away,” she said meekly. “Can you come over here and cuddle with me?”

Mark put down his book and glared at her appraisingly.

“No. You brought your phone here and wanted to read the message, so now it’s fair game. If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

She bit her lip. This wasn’t turning out how she wanted, not at all. She liked it when he was mean, but not like this. She sighed, laughing at herself. She thought, “you can’t want someone to be an asshole to you and then complain that they aren’t being the right kind of asshole.”

On top of all of that, she was curious. What was he going to do? What could he do?

He walked over to her while she was thinking and picked up her phone on the way. He pulled her and pushed her around, pushing her face into the bed right next to the phone, pulling her legs so that she was up on her hand and knees, ass high and head low.

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this but all day I’ve been thinking about doing a lot more than kissing you.” His voice was flat and rough.

She looked back at him. He was taking off his shirt and then unbuckling his belt. He looked down at her and smiled.

“Type it,” he said sternly in that voice that made her reach for the phone before she knew what she was doing.

She stopped, though, and looked back at him.

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this but all day I’ve been thinking about doing a lot more than kissing you,” he said it slowly, enunciating each word.

Her fingers lingered on the little keyboard, her thumbs at the ready. She typed the first two words and then stopped, feeling him shift behind her, then his fingers, wet with his saliva, grazing her clit. He knew how to barely touch her so that her body whimpered and begged for more. He did it again so softly that she could swear she could feel his fingerprints like rough little ribs tormenting her most sensitive spot.

She typed a few more words. Her head was buzzing, her eyes were stinging, her cunt was itching with need.

He slipped two fingers into her, the way he always did. Fingers bending and finding the spots that made her stupid, made her make silly noises and do what ever he said. She pushed her ass back, wanting more of his fingers, more of his attention.

“Keep typing,” he growled, and then she felt the wet warmth of his tongue circling her asshole.

She should have been over the shame. After all, in all the time she’d been a sexual being, people had done all sorts of things to her ass, but there was something instinctually naughty about this little intimate act. As he rimmed her, his tongue pushing slightly into her, she blushed and hid her face in his sheets and groaned with pleasure. His fingers inside of her, his tongue playing with that secret, dirty place.

When she looked up, she saw the sentence he had told her to type. The nervousness and embarrassment and need and lust were all swirling in her stomach, crawling through her veins. She hit “send” and heard Mark chuckle low and quiet.

His fingers worked her harder now. She was so wet she took three of his thick fingers, she felt them press down, she felt filled up and overpowered. The orgasm was building, but she wasn’t sure she could get there because of all those damn emotions.

The phone buzzed and he slipped his fingers out of her. They both waited. She felt him leaning over her, looking over her shoulder at the little screen.

“To tell the truth, I’ve sort of been thinking the same thing for most of the day,” the tiny letters read.

She bit her lip. His cock rubbed against her ass, hard and hot.

She continued to stare at the screen as he slipped off of her and walked into his little office. Her body shuddered as she heard the familiar sounds of him opening his little toy drawer.

When he came back, she didn’t look at him. She knew she should have stopped this little scene of his, but somehow her hands were on her phone, thumbs waiting.

He slipped something under her, then positioned her. Her breath was coming faster. When the vibrator started he pushed and pulled it under her until the head was pressed on her clit. Elise let out something between a gasp and a wail. Then she heard the rip of plastic; she knew he was putting on the condom, and soon he would be fucking her. She knew the vibrator and his cock would be almost too much.

“What have you been thinking, exactly? I shouldn’t tell you this, but I have some particular tastes.” He dictated in that commanding tone that told her she should type it word for word.

Worry flooded her again. Was this going too far? Would she scare Todd away? She should tell him these things about herself eventually, but like this?

Her eyes unfocused as the vibrator pounded her nerves and pleasure rang through her, spreading out from her clit and making every part of her body tingle.

As she typed his words she felt him pressing against her, the thickness of his cock meeting the wetness of her sex. He was just waiting, slipping the head in and out a little, holding her hips and pressing her down against the vibrator’s unrelenting buzzing.

“You sound like you’re in a frisky mood. I’m no prude, tell me about your intriguing particulars, please.”

Half of her brain was filled with elation about the text, imagining Todd, the boy she was so smitten with, also being potentially kinky. At the same time she was about to be fucked by Mark. Then there was the vibrator. Then there was the shame — she realized what a slut she was being. Then the embarrassment turning into that white-hot emotional pleasure in her head. At the same time, Mark slipped his cock into her with a smooth slow push.

Mark voice was straining to stay steady. “I like to be spanked.”

“Hard,” he added.

She started typing when the first orgasm came. She screamed into the mattress and balled her fists in the sheets.

“Type the fucking message!” he said, slowing down as she bucked and writhed under him, the vibrator suddenly far too much for her sensitive parts.

“I like to be spanked. Hard.” He repeated the massage and she typed it, her finger lingering over the “send” button.

He started fucking her seriously then, his legs on either side of her, pushing her legs closed so that her sex was almost painfully tight around him. As he fucked her he pressed his chest against her back , his mouth on her neck, biting the pale skin.

The phone buzzed as his thrusts started getting spastic and his grunts loud and animal.

“I think our next date is going to be very interesting.”

He let out a chuckle just before he came, grunting hard and punching the mattress and then throwing a pillow across the room. He always got like that, violent when he came.

He turned off the vibrator, dropping it on his night table. Elise was still trying to settle her body enough so that she could think. She felt a huge wet spot under her and her face flashed red. She hadn’t even felt herself squirt, but when she was forced to come like that it usually happened.

She looked at the phone, scrolling through the messages. She hadn’t really said anything that crazy. She could tell him she had too much wine with lunch.

When she looked up Mark was dressed in a t-shirt and boxers.

It always seemed to end up like this, him clothed, her naked. She pulled the sheets up to cover herself and then felt silly. He always seemed to do that, keep her dangling on the edge of aroused and ashamed.

“Hope that wasn’t out of line,” he said, pulling on a pair of jeans.

She didn’t know if it was or wasn’t, but she did know that she hadn’t come so hard in a long time.

“Let’s get something to eat. That was fun, but quick. Round two should take a while and I need food. We can talk about your boyfriend.”

She winced, but it faded into a smile.

“He’s not my boyfriend. We only went out once,” she complained as she pulled her jeans back on.

“We’ll talk about it at lunch. You know I don’t like you going out with boys I haven’t fucked first.”

Elise sighed, trying to make herself presentable.

“You can’t fuck him, Mark!” But the thought made her knees weak.

“We’ll see. We’ll see.”

Elise smiled to herself, remembering at once why she loved him and why she could never stay with him. She was happy to have these moments, though. She was happy to have a friend who could make her feel so deliciously dirty.

The New Slave II-a continuing erotic tale set in 1800′s Jamaica

•August 6, 2009 • 1 Comment

If you haven’t yet read The first “New Slave” post, please take the time to read it first… http://brieferotica.wordpress.com/2008/10/14/the-new-slave/

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“Jimmy, take the slave”. On the pretext of being free to ride ahead to check on the other slaves, I was able to distance myself from him, though I could feel his eyes tearing at my clothing. I was confused and shocked at the risk I had just taken and was tempted to loath myself but for an overriding erotic hunger that, though somewhat satiated remained to make me want more…

Now I had to think through what was to become of it. Now that my husband was gone, I was the only white freeman living on the plantation and controlled 25 slaves, including the 6 just procured. The new slaves were to start clearing another 50 acres for the planting of more coffee bushes. We had a small coffee plantation started 10 years ago by my husband who took up the offer of land grants and free passage in order to establish coffee on the mountains of tropical Jamaica. He was one of the failed gentry, whose fortune was squandered by his father, and I was the tutor of his brothers children before everything went pear shaped back in England. We figured the best option was to marry and leave England and start afresh.

I loved Jamaica. I loved being free of the tiresome pretense of English society, and even though it was impossible to avoid all together, by and large I was able to live as I pleased. My nearest neighbors I could respectably shun as they were Dutch and largely ignored by everyone. Jimmy, our head slave had been with us from the beginning and he really ran things on the plantation, I just managed the accounts, nursed any sick and taught our 6 slave children once a week. I often went riding, spending lazy days around clear mountain streams, drawing or reading. The truth was, I was quite bored, but I think I had just found the solution. The idea of filling days and nights with new found this pleasure stirred a deep untapped well which I found myself more than willing to drink from. I was quite sure I was cunning enough to risk it.

Resolved, I then resumed my place, riding behind Jimmy so I could easily feast on my new slaves form and consider how to best orchestrate this lusty sonata.

Firstly I wanted him all to myself. I wouldn’t share him with the other slaves girls. Second, he had to be gainfully employed in some capacity, and third, he needed to be easily and privately accessible both day and night. After some thought, probably inspired by the smooth slip of moist clit on leather, I had it, he could be stablehand. It was next to the house, in a place I could frequent without suspicion.

I wonder if he knew anything about horses. My stallion, black and rippling could be a handful, especially when the mares were in season, but I loved his strength and he was sweet on me. Rising up on hind hooves, all show and testosterone and passion, glorying in his power but he would never use it against me and he knew that I knew it. I was his master, but we had an understanding and I gave him room and he filled it magnificently. I let my hand run softly over the muscular bulge that ran along his neck, yes, we have an understanding him and me. I pressed my knees  hard into him wanting to feel his strength under me. I yelled to Jimmy, “See you at home.”

As hooves thundered my head cleared.  I thought of nothing but exhilarated with the speed and motion and freedom. At the stables I loosened his leathers, setting him free and watched with satisfaction as he feasted on his oats and molasses. The smell of the sweat from the ride was heady and alluring, and I found my thoughts returning again to my other black stallion, equally rippled, powerful and mine. We too would develop an understanding.

I paced the stables, scouring every inch, fragrancing them with my lusty thoughts. My place of passion, inspire me…

The Naturalist meets Mr. Cock-a couples sex story

•October 28, 2008 • Leave a Comment

I love to be naked with nature all around me, spending lazy hours with the sun on my body, reading or writing erotic stories. I’ve been doing this since I was a kid, climbing trees, enjoying the free feeling as I’d stretch my legs wide to reach the branches. It use to get me hot even at 9! I have a few places I like to go, but today I am going to “Pussy sun rock”, a wide clearing hidden from view off a local track. I call it this because it has a prefect place where I can comfortably lie down with my pussy tilted to the sun and feet resting on a wide platform below. There is a stream further down the valley, barely audible now, but after rain it becomes a refreshing torrent where hard faucets of water are strategically placed, allowing me to kneel and arch backwards letting the water pound my clit, bringing me to a hard fast come.

But today it was not hot enough to approach the icy stream. This was one of the first fine days after the coldest winter in 50 years. My poor pussy had been shut up for months, but today she was going to welcome the sun. I didn’t bring anything else with me except a yoga mat to lie on and a bottle of water. I just wanted to feel the sun on my body again.

Once I had shed my outer skin, the sun was luscious on my naked body, like the gentlest of lovers. A soft cool breeze ran its fingers over my thigh, circled my clit then playfully up the slope of each breast, setting my nipples on alert, hungry for more. With my pussy curved upwards towards the sun and my legs open wide, the sun felt like the head of a hot cock ready to penetrate my depths. Luscious.

I heard the sound of someone walking on the track above me. The footsteps stopped and paused directly above where I was lying. For a minute I felt panic, suddenly aware of how vulnerable I was, a single woman, naked, alone. But the lull of the sun and how good it felt over rode any urge to move from where I was. The footsteps resumed. No one could see me.

I started to wonder who he was and why he was here. It was Tuesday and most people were at work or shopping or cleaning house. I wonder if he was here to sun his naked body like me. What was he like? Was he handsome young, old, straight or horny like me? I actually felt disappointed that he wasn’t here. I could do with some cock by now.

I licked my lips, aware of the rising pleasure surging through me. I pinched each hard nipple, ever so slightly, sending electric twinges through my abdomen and into my womb. The sun teased and I could feel my pussy dripping in response. My body was calling for a lover, lifting, needing a cock to fill me. My hands ran over my abdomen and thighs circling and lifting this rising pleasure. Soft groans left my lips as I sunk deeper into this abandonment.

It is just so good to explore pleasure, and ordinarily I would happily substitute whatever was available but today, I was aching for cock, and cock alone. I let my voice release the ache I was feeling, intensifying loud groans as I pinched my nipples harder and arching higher as if to welcome some invisible lover.

A crack of twigs and a rustle of bushes brought me back hard into the reality of my surroundings, alert, yet still ravenous as a vixen. My ecstatic song had roused him, and Mr Cock had returned to find me. Now, I did not even consider the consequences, I wanted him and I wanted cock. I knew I had really been calling for him and today, all I wanted was to find him.

Is he hungry too? I abandon myself once more to this journey of pleasure. I will trust and see what he will do. Every pore tingled with the excited anticipation of his first view of me.

Who is he? He’s got my scent, I know that, but is he hungry enough to play the game and not think twice? I decided that I would not open my eyes. They can deceive. I will sense him, smell him, feel him, but I will not see him. Now he stops, pauses and I know he can see me. He drinks deeply from the intoxicating nuances of my form, sun-kissed, pussy lifted, straining, hungry…a gift ready and prepared. I sense he wants me. My pleasure rises, again I groan softly, calling for Mr. Cock.

He’s near me now, his eyes eating me from the pussy up. I feel like Aphrodite, a goddess given for pleasure, whose worshipers fall to their knees to fuck hard, and are translated to divine places. Fuck me Mr. Cock, fuck me hard.

But he doesn’t fuck me, he just walks around my writhing body, eyes fixed as though sizing up the best way to make this meal memorable. Mr. Cock takes off his shirt, then with his teeth tears at it. Each rip sends shudders of anticipated pleasure down to my hot wet cunt. He stands over me now, and bends to take my hands and deliberately, carefully binds them with torn T-shirt chords to a sapling behind me, forcing my breasts up and tightening into my clit. Mmm Mr Cock is going to play…

Next he undoes his belt and whips it out of its shackles. Should I expect to be beaten and whipped? Instinctively I hold my breath but exhale softly as I feel his hands brush across my abdomen and under the arch of my back. His first touch is gentle. He slips the belt under my back and tightens it around my waist. Now he lifts each leg, one by one from their resting place, bringing them back against the outside of my buttock. He binds my ankles and secures them tight to the belt around my waist. Again, he pauses and circles, considering his game play.

I am breathing hard now, every part straining in anticipation. I’m so wired, he could touch me anywhere and it would be wild. I hear his zipper, then him sliding out of his skin. Is he hard? My mouth moistens. If I could, I’d grab his buttocks and pull him close so his warm cock rested gently at the doorway to deeper pleasure. He’d feel the silky softness of swollen wet pussy lips milking the head, letting him I know I want him, but I wouldn’t take more than this. I’d let him decide if he wanted to take the plunge. Oh yeah, I want Mr. Cock alright, but this is a two way street. I won’t tell him, I won’t ask for it, I’ll let him play with me as he sees fit.

He’s standing now on the ledge, facing my aching pussy. His mouth juices up and the urge to fuck me is so strong it sends waves of intoxicating passion through him, threatening to consume him, but he compresses it, controls it, distills it to an intense warm liquor around the base of his engorged shaft. Kneeling before me, he knows I want his cock, he can hear me sighing and whimpering for it, but not yet. Its nowhere near time yet.

He teases me with his cock, rubbing its silky head along my straining inner thighs, but nowhere near where I want it to be. I feel him brush against my side, and slowly the torn remains of his T-shirt gently slide over my aching tits, part of it catching against my erect nipple, bending it and releasing a shock of pleasure that results in an unexpected cry from my lips. I hear the tearing of more T-shirt chords. Anticipation grips me about what might be next-anticipation or fear? I’m not sure, the lines are blurred.

I feel a soft chord under my breast, lifting it and tightly encircling the base, forcing the nipple and surrounds to become engorged, tight and even more sensitive, so that every little breeze sends shivers of ecstasy surging into my dripping cunt. “Fuck”…before thinking, I had spoken it, but was seriously hungry for cock-no beyond hungry-starving-so desperately needy it hurt. “Fuck me… please, fuck me”

Obligingly his hot turgid bar sunk into my thick swollen pussy lips. It was so wet, so soft, so smooth…I was straining, lifting, wanting to eat every inch, but was prevented by my bonds and he was not going to penetrate my depths. Instead I felt him move up, circling my clit, then back down again to the nurturing folds. His hands ran over my abdomen then traced broad strokes of pleasure over my buttocks, thighs then up to tease my engorged nipples. As he leaned over to softly enfold them in the smooth wet places of his mouth, he allowed his cock to fill me, slowly, deeply then pushing hard. A loud cry involuntarily left my lips and another and another with each deep stroke of his plunging cock. I was drowning in waves of pleasure, doomed, hopelessly overpowered as wave after wave plunged in me, over me, through me. There was no time or space here, only abandonment.

Harder, faster, my whole body now covered, immersed, drowning, waves rolling through every pore, exploding cries leaving me with each pulsing thrust. I am aware of the rising of his pleasure, our etheric bodies entwining, encircling, dancing above our mortal flesh. His cries meet mine and travel together to the place of dancing. Faster, harder, we circle higher, voices, spirits, body and soul fully open.

I’m breathing out hard now and my whole body throbs fast heatbeats, sinking heavily into the rock beneath me, while our souls still soar like a pair of eagles caught up in a thermal. Gradually we settle into a deep peace as we rest looking up to perfect blue skies with the sun gentle on our bodies and a cool breeze sending refreshing fingers soothingly over us. We stay like this for a long time until I turn and look finally into that familiar face of love and kiss him. ” I thought you forgot the way here.” “Honey, when you’re that horny, I’ve got you on my own inbuilt GPS and nothings going to stop me finding you”. “Mmm well, have you thought what we’re going to do next Tuesday?”

 
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