To see other sexy images clickety click
Sunday, 13 January 2013
Texture
"Texture is the most enduring and ubiquitous underpinning of form... certainly a calming, meditative and appealing world for both the eye and mind." (Lynda Lehmann)
Wednesday, 9 January 2013
101 Things in 1001 Days: The Launch
“I’m making a list of 101 things that I want to do in 1001 days … including
the naughty stuff” This was Tweeted by @SexwithRose on the 30th December 2012. I was encouraged to do the same thing by @RebelsNotes, and so the journey to the center of the abyss begun – like all good things,
while I was in bed!
This idea seemed particularly perfect for right (here, right) now because many changes are afoot in my life, many more than those I discuss on my blog. My list includes everything from getting my hair cut to having sex in a car (I licked someone’s cock in a car once about twenty years ago, but I don’t really count it, my dad caught us, whoops!).
Some of the items on the list are very personal and private so I haven’t fully described what they are (and I won't tell you which ones are in code!). As for why the items are on the list, well that is for me to know and … oh, all right then, twist my arm. Have a couple of explanations …
“Go to a nudist beach” This seems pretty easy for someone happy to go to the toilet in front of total strangers, but nope. I really hate sand! It gets everywhere and is uncomfortable. Also, it is tricky finding someone willing to go with me. Maybe hubby will, just for the hell of it.
“Finish the 30 days of Truth (not necessary to post)” Why would I complete a blogging meme and not post the answers to the prompts? For my own growth. I started answering the prompts before I started the 30 Days of Kink meme, but it became very emotionally raw and too intense to post so I gave up with it. Writing it was valuable though, so I will finish the prompts and perhaps some of them may even end up on the blog.
This idea seemed particularly perfect for right (here, right) now because many changes are afoot in my life, many more than those I discuss on my blog. My list includes everything from getting my hair cut to having sex in a car (I licked someone’s cock in a car once about twenty years ago, but I don’t really count it, my dad caught us, whoops!).
Some of the items on the list are very personal and private so I haven’t fully described what they are (and I won't tell you which ones are in code!). As for why the items are on the list, well that is for me to know and … oh, all right then, twist my arm. Have a couple of explanations …
“Go to a nudist beach” This seems pretty easy for someone happy to go to the toilet in front of total strangers, but nope. I really hate sand! It gets everywhere and is uncomfortable. Also, it is tricky finding someone willing to go with me. Maybe hubby will, just for the hell of it.
“Finish the 30 days of Truth (not necessary to post)” Why would I complete a blogging meme and not post the answers to the prompts? For my own growth. I started answering the prompts before I started the 30 Days of Kink meme, but it became very emotionally raw and too intense to post so I gave up with it. Writing it was valuable though, so I will finish the prompts and perhaps some of them may even end up on the blog.
“Return to volunteering
in a social role” Since I was 11 (yes, eleven), I have been a volunteer. This
has never, ever stopped. I cannot recall a time where I have not volunteered.
The problem is, for the past eight years this volunteering has all been for
professional purposes. I have organized events, networks, meetings and all
sorts of other things. I have represented women and
young people until I was blue in the face. I have done all manner of necessary
and important things that I (mostly) enjoyed, but they were also not very
useful for society in the broader sense, more for the disenfranchised members of an elite group. It is time I returned to
volunteering with children or older people or people with (learning) disabilities
or animals, or perhaps now with some other community groups. Working with sexuality campaign groups or something more relevant to my current lifestyle may be the way forward. Donating money to charities and ranting on the internet just doesn’t cut it
anymore!
“Have sex with someone other than myself every day for a month (online sex and phone sex counts)”. It has been many years since I had sex with someone every day for a month, although I did come close back when I was mucking about with James. I want to have a go at getting this fixed. I don't think hubby would be up for 30 days of sexing with me, but I am sure I can pull together a couple of online pals to play with. But I do have three years, so maybe if I wait a couple his ever growing sex drive will match mine eventually.
So, where is the rest of this
list, over here on its own special page: 101 Things in 1001 Days
If you have any questions about it do ask, and if you are inspired to make your own let me know!
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This post was written for
Wicked Wednesday, clickety click for other interesting stories, poetry, and a
healthy dose of porn!
Monday, 7 January 2013
Tea and Spoons Part Four (Erotica)
Yes, Yes, late again. Anyone want to punish me? If you haven't read them, or want to read them again, the previous parts are her: One, Two, and Three
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Tea and Spoons
Part Four
The doorbell rang with Charlotte smirking at Jon as his cock reacted to the giant dildo in front of him. “Such precision timing! Jon, get the door.” Jon looked down at himself then, mild panic brushed through him, quickly replaced with excitement and an eager enthusiasm to serve. It felt different and new and special.
The man at the door was a giant, well over six feet tall, a good few inches taller than Jon, and wide. Very wide with muscles that stretched his neatly pressed shirt. He was beautiful with dusky blonde hair and green eyes that looked right passed him. “Charlotte, my love, you look gorgeous. The dinner is ready in the van, the boy should get it.”
Without even looking at Jon, Charlotte said “Boy, this is Bobby, you will call him Sir. Do as he says.”
“Yes Ma’am” He spat the words out, feeling jealous and curious and angry all at the same time.
“Now, boy, don’t speak to your Mistress in such a tone. Go to the van, in the back is a large box. Bring it in and follow the instructions on the lid. Oh, and put some shoes on before you go outside, these should do it.” Bobby went into his bag and pulled out a pair of red knee length boots. They had a slight heel and were laced up the front. Jon knew he should say “yes sir” but he felt slightly sick and tears (of sadness, anger, shame, fury, he had no idea) were threatening to fall.
The boots fit perfectly, of course they did.
When he opened the front door it was twilight and warm. A nervousness about getting caught ate into him, but it was easier to comply than fight and end up having to do it anyway. As he leant into the van and his lacy dress rose above his arse, exposing it to the air, he heard the neighbors leave the house laughing and joking. They must have spotted him because suddenly it was silent, then some coughing and hurried footsteps before the car left. His face burnt a bright red and he was grateful they hadn’t seen it.
The box was heavy. When he took it into the house Charlotte and Bobby were nowhere to be seen, but he could hear them laughing and chatting, but the words were jumbled and he couldn’t understand a word. Once or twice he heard footsteps going up and down the stairs. Occasionally he heard a groan of pleasure and his stomach twisted in knots.
The instructions were simple enough. The box contained a fully prepared steaming hot meal. It would seem Bobby was a chef of some sort. Jon had to prepare the dining table for two but serve everything onto plates for three. He had to take his boots off (that was written into the instructions, just how planned was this event?) and call out when everything was ready. He did so.
Charlotte and Bobby entered the dining room and sat down.
“Boy,” Bobby spoke with a deep American accent, Jon wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed that already. It was clipped and his voice was practically scraping gravel. “Bring us our dinner.”
Jon did as he was told.
“Good boy, now for your hard work, you may share our table. Get your dinner plate, quickly before it gets cold.”
Jon did as he was told.
“Now, boy, you may eat with us, between us in fact. On the floor, under the table, between our feet, like the scum you are.”
He almost burst into tears. He didn’t know this man, although he suspected who he might be, surely Bobby wasn’t his real name. It was all too much to bear. Shame and humiliation ate at him as he sat under the table. His throat constricted making it almost impossible to eat. He heard the two laughing and chatting, sometimes about mundane ordinary things, sometimes they were teasing each other. Four times Jon heard them talk about him, when this happened they pointedly spoke louder and in clearer, crisper tones. Each time Bobby asked: “He seems to be doing well, should we reward him?” Each answer Charlotte gave was different: “No, I thought I heard a whimper earlier, he has no humility.” And “No, he is only interested in his own pleasure.” And “No, he has not yet learnt to reflect on his own wants and needs and desires.” Jon cried then, he tried to cry silently but he knew he failed. What seemed like an eternity later, but must have only been five minutes, Bobby asked the question the fourth time. “Yes, I believe he has learnt something, a little reward would be good.”
At that, Charlotte opened her legs. What he thought were thick black tights were actually stockings, leading to her completely bare, naked pussy. She was so wet she glistened and the skirt beneath her was damp. Jon could smell her. He groaned loudly, desparate to taste her, to lick her. His hand reached out to stroke her but he pulled it back before he did, to avoid further punishment. He wanted her so badly his cock was dripping wet, he stroked it idly. And just like that, almost as if she knew, Charlotte closed her legs, moved the chair back and stood up.
“Now, Bobby, shall we retire to the lounge?”
“Excellent plan. Boy, come with us. Leave the plates. You will be cleaning them tomorrow.”
Jon ached when he stood up. He had to stretch himself, move his body to relax the muscles. He caught both Charlotte and Bobby admiring him and put it down to a win for him.
The brief pleasure from that vanished as soon as he entered the living room. Charlotte and Bobby had already sat on the sofa next to each other. Snuggling. (They were snuggling? What?) In front of Bobby was a footstool, one of those that rocks forward and backwards slightly. Wrapped around it was what looked like a belt, except standing up from a hole in the middle was the giant dildo Charlotte had been holding earlier. It was shining, glistening with lube and next to the dildo was a bottle of lubricant.
Jon seriously considered leaving then, calling “Red.” He had fantasized about being humiliated so many times, but when it came to it, he really wasn’t sure this was for him. He felt sick. He felt used. He felt ashamed. He felt disgusted with himself. And yet, and yet ... He had never felt this desparate in his life, this needy with want. If he had to beg and lick this strange man’s feet he knew right then he would do it.
“Start the DVD, boy. Then you know what to do.” It was Bobby who spoke.
“Yes, sir.”
The DVD that started was porn, a whole mixture of bodies of different sizes, shapes, genders, and colors playing in a lavish Edwardian style house in a confusing mix of scenes. Jon wanted to watch, but returned to the sofa. He looked at the stool and, picked up the bottle of lube.
“Turn around, bend over, I want to watch you lube yourself up.”
Jon heard the man undo his fly, he heard the man touch his cock as Jon filled his hands with slippery liquid. He smeared it on his arsehole. He easily put the first finger in. Then the second. Knowing that two people were behind him, watching, made him want to put on a show. He groaned as the third finger slid in and he started stretching his own arsehole. His legs wobbled, but he managed to stay upright. He touched his prostate, pushing it, pressing it, feeling the ecstasy roll through him. His legs buckled then and he nearly crashed into the floor.
“Enough! Face me, boy and sit down.”
Jon caught the look in Sir’s eyes, he saw lust and desire and want. For a moment they shared that, then Bobby looked at Charlotte and kissed her with a passion he had never seen before. Jealousy and lust caught him. He wanted to lean over and join in, he wanted to run his hands over their bodies and be touched by them, be kissed like that. He wanted it all.
“Really, Jon, have you learnt nothing?” Charlotte spoke then, with an exasperated kindly teacher’s voice. It was as though she were talking to a child and not a man wearing a lace dress about to slide his arse onto a giant dildo.
“Sorry Ma’am. Sorry Sir.”
Jon straddled the stool, he held the dildo in one hand. It felt rubbery and large. It had some flexibility and give, but not much. It was ribbed and he guessed about nine inches long and obscenely thick. Much thicker than his own ample cock. He placed his arsehole at the top of the huge penetrating toy (is is really a toy?). Anxiety and excitement about what such a large thing would feel like bubbled through him. The tip entered, stretching his anus, not enough to hurt but certainly enough to feel like his limit was being pushed. He started to slide down. There was never any pain, but occasionally he felt tiny amounts of discomfort, questioning him like a challenge. Mainly he felt ecstasy. Pleasure coursed through him. The further in the dildo got the more his muscles stretched until he felt waves through his body and like his head was fit to burst. He forgot where he was and started rocking the stool backwards and forwards stretching himself more and more until he felt his balls hit the stool and his arse totally filled and pulled. He was groaning and crying out in ways he hadn’t known possible. He was acting like a cheap hooker and all he wanted was more.
“Enough!” Charlotte's voice was broken and raspy, but quickly returned to the authoritative controlling voice of before. “You are here for my pleasure. Now I want you to suck Sir’s cock. Put on a good show and you may just get a prize.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
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This is the penultimate chapter in this story, although I have so many scenes chopped out there may be extras at some point. The last chapter will be up sometime in the next week.
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Tea and Spoons
Part Four
The doorbell rang with Charlotte smirking at Jon as his cock reacted to the giant dildo in front of him. “Such precision timing! Jon, get the door.” Jon looked down at himself then, mild panic brushed through him, quickly replaced with excitement and an eager enthusiasm to serve. It felt different and new and special.
The man at the door was a giant, well over six feet tall, a good few inches taller than Jon, and wide. Very wide with muscles that stretched his neatly pressed shirt. He was beautiful with dusky blonde hair and green eyes that looked right passed him. “Charlotte, my love, you look gorgeous. The dinner is ready in the van, the boy should get it.”
Without even looking at Jon, Charlotte said “Boy, this is Bobby, you will call him Sir. Do as he says.”
“Yes Ma’am” He spat the words out, feeling jealous and curious and angry all at the same time.
“Now, boy, don’t speak to your Mistress in such a tone. Go to the van, in the back is a large box. Bring it in and follow the instructions on the lid. Oh, and put some shoes on before you go outside, these should do it.” Bobby went into his bag and pulled out a pair of red knee length boots. They had a slight heel and were laced up the front. Jon knew he should say “yes sir” but he felt slightly sick and tears (of sadness, anger, shame, fury, he had no idea) were threatening to fall.
The boots fit perfectly, of course they did.
When he opened the front door it was twilight and warm. A nervousness about getting caught ate into him, but it was easier to comply than fight and end up having to do it anyway. As he leant into the van and his lacy dress rose above his arse, exposing it to the air, he heard the neighbors leave the house laughing and joking. They must have spotted him because suddenly it was silent, then some coughing and hurried footsteps before the car left. His face burnt a bright red and he was grateful they hadn’t seen it.
The box was heavy. When he took it into the house Charlotte and Bobby were nowhere to be seen, but he could hear them laughing and chatting, but the words were jumbled and he couldn’t understand a word. Once or twice he heard footsteps going up and down the stairs. Occasionally he heard a groan of pleasure and his stomach twisted in knots.
The instructions were simple enough. The box contained a fully prepared steaming hot meal. It would seem Bobby was a chef of some sort. Jon had to prepare the dining table for two but serve everything onto plates for three. He had to take his boots off (that was written into the instructions, just how planned was this event?) and call out when everything was ready. He did so.
Charlotte and Bobby entered the dining room and sat down.
“Boy,” Bobby spoke with a deep American accent, Jon wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed that already. It was clipped and his voice was practically scraping gravel. “Bring us our dinner.”
Jon did as he was told.
“Good boy, now for your hard work, you may share our table. Get your dinner plate, quickly before it gets cold.”
Jon did as he was told.
“Now, boy, you may eat with us, between us in fact. On the floor, under the table, between our feet, like the scum you are.”
He almost burst into tears. He didn’t know this man, although he suspected who he might be, surely Bobby wasn’t his real name. It was all too much to bear. Shame and humiliation ate at him as he sat under the table. His throat constricted making it almost impossible to eat. He heard the two laughing and chatting, sometimes about mundane ordinary things, sometimes they were teasing each other. Four times Jon heard them talk about him, when this happened they pointedly spoke louder and in clearer, crisper tones. Each time Bobby asked: “He seems to be doing well, should we reward him?” Each answer Charlotte gave was different: “No, I thought I heard a whimper earlier, he has no humility.” And “No, he is only interested in his own pleasure.” And “No, he has not yet learnt to reflect on his own wants and needs and desires.” Jon cried then, he tried to cry silently but he knew he failed. What seemed like an eternity later, but must have only been five minutes, Bobby asked the question the fourth time. “Yes, I believe he has learnt something, a little reward would be good.”
At that, Charlotte opened her legs. What he thought were thick black tights were actually stockings, leading to her completely bare, naked pussy. She was so wet she glistened and the skirt beneath her was damp. Jon could smell her. He groaned loudly, desparate to taste her, to lick her. His hand reached out to stroke her but he pulled it back before he did, to avoid further punishment. He wanted her so badly his cock was dripping wet, he stroked it idly. And just like that, almost as if she knew, Charlotte closed her legs, moved the chair back and stood up.
“Now, Bobby, shall we retire to the lounge?”
“Excellent plan. Boy, come with us. Leave the plates. You will be cleaning them tomorrow.”
Jon ached when he stood up. He had to stretch himself, move his body to relax the muscles. He caught both Charlotte and Bobby admiring him and put it down to a win for him.
The brief pleasure from that vanished as soon as he entered the living room. Charlotte and Bobby had already sat on the sofa next to each other. Snuggling. (They were snuggling? What?) In front of Bobby was a footstool, one of those that rocks forward and backwards slightly. Wrapped around it was what looked like a belt, except standing up from a hole in the middle was the giant dildo Charlotte had been holding earlier. It was shining, glistening with lube and next to the dildo was a bottle of lubricant.
Jon seriously considered leaving then, calling “Red.” He had fantasized about being humiliated so many times, but when it came to it, he really wasn’t sure this was for him. He felt sick. He felt used. He felt ashamed. He felt disgusted with himself. And yet, and yet ... He had never felt this desparate in his life, this needy with want. If he had to beg and lick this strange man’s feet he knew right then he would do it.
“Start the DVD, boy. Then you know what to do.” It was Bobby who spoke.
“Yes, sir.”
The DVD that started was porn, a whole mixture of bodies of different sizes, shapes, genders, and colors playing in a lavish Edwardian style house in a confusing mix of scenes. Jon wanted to watch, but returned to the sofa. He looked at the stool and, picked up the bottle of lube.
“Turn around, bend over, I want to watch you lube yourself up.”
Jon heard the man undo his fly, he heard the man touch his cock as Jon filled his hands with slippery liquid. He smeared it on his arsehole. He easily put the first finger in. Then the second. Knowing that two people were behind him, watching, made him want to put on a show. He groaned as the third finger slid in and he started stretching his own arsehole. His legs wobbled, but he managed to stay upright. He touched his prostate, pushing it, pressing it, feeling the ecstasy roll through him. His legs buckled then and he nearly crashed into the floor.
“Enough! Face me, boy and sit down.”
Jon caught the look in Sir’s eyes, he saw lust and desire and want. For a moment they shared that, then Bobby looked at Charlotte and kissed her with a passion he had never seen before. Jealousy and lust caught him. He wanted to lean over and join in, he wanted to run his hands over their bodies and be touched by them, be kissed like that. He wanted it all.
“Really, Jon, have you learnt nothing?” Charlotte spoke then, with an exasperated kindly teacher’s voice. It was as though she were talking to a child and not a man wearing a lace dress about to slide his arse onto a giant dildo.
“Sorry Ma’am. Sorry Sir.”
Jon straddled the stool, he held the dildo in one hand. It felt rubbery and large. It had some flexibility and give, but not much. It was ribbed and he guessed about nine inches long and obscenely thick. Much thicker than his own ample cock. He placed his arsehole at the top of the huge penetrating toy (is is really a toy?). Anxiety and excitement about what such a large thing would feel like bubbled through him. The tip entered, stretching his anus, not enough to hurt but certainly enough to feel like his limit was being pushed. He started to slide down. There was never any pain, but occasionally he felt tiny amounts of discomfort, questioning him like a challenge. Mainly he felt ecstasy. Pleasure coursed through him. The further in the dildo got the more his muscles stretched until he felt waves through his body and like his head was fit to burst. He forgot where he was and started rocking the stool backwards and forwards stretching himself more and more until he felt his balls hit the stool and his arse totally filled and pulled. He was groaning and crying out in ways he hadn’t known possible. He was acting like a cheap hooker and all he wanted was more.
“Enough!” Charlotte's voice was broken and raspy, but quickly returned to the authoritative controlling voice of before. “You are here for my pleasure. Now I want you to suck Sir’s cock. Put on a good show and you may just get a prize.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
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This is the penultimate chapter in this story, although I have so many scenes chopped out there may be extras at some point. The last chapter will be up sometime in the next week.
Sunday, 6 January 2013
Sunrise
I had a seriously sexy season!
On Christmas day hubby and I had sex in the morning and again at night (the first time my Crimbo has been this exciting!), not bad considering how many family members were in the house at the same time. It seems hubby has a fetish for silencing me, which nicely complements my fetish for getting overheard.
I ran around the garden naked in the rain while hubby watched safely from inside.
One night we slept in separate rooms because I was poorly (his mum insisted, don't ask), so we wanked while sending each other filthy text messages.
Hubby took total control of my orgasms telling me when I could and couldn't orgasm (he enjoyed this a little too much I think... *does the dance of nervous joy*). He "forced" me to masturbate so often I can't tell you, my fave was when he straddled my naked body while he was fully clothed with just his cock out. It dripped over me while I was masturbating and I was forbidden from touching him. He kept smearing his juices over my face and breasts and legs and tummy. He made me beg to taste his juices, but he still denied me his cock. Only after he had let me have a clitoral orgasm was I permitted to touch his cock, and only then so I could sit on it. I wasn't allowed to wash any of the jism off even though we were staying with his family. Fucking sexy!
When we got home after the holidays hubby fucked me while I had a dildo up my arse. It was the first time we have ever done that and he LOVED it!
We also took a whole load of pics. This is me watching the sunrise while we spent a couple of days away from our families in a lovely cottage in the middle of some mountains. May 2013 be this beautiful and so full of sex!
(PS The thing I am wearing is the inspiration for the outfit mentioned in this story)
(PPS I always get hubby to read my Sinful Sunday posts and approve the pic. He read this and said "reading that made me a bit aroused, when you put it down like that, we did all that, that's really sexy." HELL FUCKING YEAH!!!!!!!! Now, time for some more sex...byeeeeee)
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Edit: This photo was chosen as one of the five in Molly's weekly round-up along with Mollena, That Position, Beck, and Curvaceous Dee.
This post was written for the first Sinful Sunday of 2013, and as it is the first I'd like to thank Molly for all her hard work in coordinating it! Clickety click for more sexy images!
On Christmas day hubby and I had sex in the morning and again at night (the first time my Crimbo has been this exciting!), not bad considering how many family members were in the house at the same time. It seems hubby has a fetish for silencing me, which nicely complements my fetish for getting overheard.
I ran around the garden naked in the rain while hubby watched safely from inside.
One night we slept in separate rooms because I was poorly (his mum insisted, don't ask), so we wanked while sending each other filthy text messages.
Hubby took total control of my orgasms telling me when I could and couldn't orgasm (he enjoyed this a little too much I think... *does the dance of nervous joy*). He "forced" me to masturbate so often I can't tell you, my fave was when he straddled my naked body while he was fully clothed with just his cock out. It dripped over me while I was masturbating and I was forbidden from touching him. He kept smearing his juices over my face and breasts and legs and tummy. He made me beg to taste his juices, but he still denied me his cock. Only after he had let me have a clitoral orgasm was I permitted to touch his cock, and only then so I could sit on it. I wasn't allowed to wash any of the jism off even though we were staying with his family. Fucking sexy!
When we got home after the holidays hubby fucked me while I had a dildo up my arse. It was the first time we have ever done that and he LOVED it!
We also took a whole load of pics. This is me watching the sunrise while we spent a couple of days away from our families in a lovely cottage in the middle of some mountains. May 2013 be this beautiful and so full of sex!
(PS The thing I am wearing is the inspiration for the outfit mentioned in this story)
(PPS I always get hubby to read my Sinful Sunday posts and approve the pic. He read this and said "reading that made me a bit aroused, when you put it down like that, we did all that, that's really sexy." HELL FUCKING YEAH!!!!!!!! Now, time for some more sex...byeeeeee)
------
Edit: This photo was chosen as one of the five in Molly's weekly round-up along with Mollena, That Position, Beck, and Curvaceous Dee.
This post was written for the first Sinful Sunday of 2013, and as it is the first I'd like to thank Molly for all her hard work in coordinating it! Clickety click for more sexy images!
Thursday, 3 January 2013
Hubby’s Sexual Moments of 2012
Over at one of my favorite wank-inspiring blogs, Girl on the Net
wrote a blog post based on her primary partner’s favorite sexual moments of
2012. While her blog is largely about the sex, with occasional political rants, and mine is an emotional exploration involving sex, the idea was a
grand one. Mostly it works for me because, as regular readers know, my own primary partner, my hubby, has been going
through major developments of his own this year.
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This post was written for the first Wicked Wednesday of 2013! Hello everyone, especially the coordinator of the Meme Marie Rebelle
While walking round the garden of hubby's parent's house, he merrily told me his two specific sexual highlights. The
first was also one of mine and I’ve already written it up here! It is a
heartwarming tale of a couple finally meeting in sexual bliss together after a
long, hard ten years of borderline abstinence.
The second experience happened back in June while we
were on holiday, so we were very relaxed. But it was also before I was due to
go off and have my first in-person playtime with James (my first poly-partner
while with hubby) and so emotions were very high. We were deeply
emotionally connected in a way we had never been, and also under enormous
pressure. It was a heady mix within which to play…
My pubes were in one of their gigantic bush phases
(take a peek at my Cunt Pride post to see what I mean), and needed a
prune. Out came hubby with the magic hair removal cream. We were in a tiny
room. Normally a tiny room is less than fun, but when a six foot tall bloke has
to squish in a teeny weeny space between the bed and the wall to get to your
cunt, things get a little more interesting. There is something about having your
most intimate parts stared at for ages by the person you love while your feet
are slammed against the wall above his head and you can’t move because acidic
cream will get everywhere. While he was applying it and timing it and scraping it away with a deliciously hard piece of plastic, I got wetter and wetter and
wetter. Hubby occasionally tortured me with a finger, placed just at the entrance to
my cunt. By the time my bush was
nice and neat, the bed was sopping wet and I was climbing up the walls, ready to beg, scream and cry
for anything.
Unlucky for me, hubby isn’t a fan of giving oral sex (no matter how little hair I have), but on this
occasion he craved it and drank my juices until I was screaming the happily detached house down. His cock was so wet and hard that there was no way he wasn’t going to fuck me. While
trapped between the bed and the wall he pulled my body off the bed and slid my
cunt straight onto his cock. He fucked me with passion, love, and enthusiasm.
It was astounding, and we were both emotionally and physically drained
afterwards. A wonderful kind of sex. Hubby chose this experience above the
others in 2012 because he loved being so close to my vagina (his word), he
loved me giving control to him (*does the dance of joy*), and the intimacy between us (magical).
To be fair, this is indicative of the main thing that
has come out of 2012 for both of us: understanding and embracing our sexual
needs and desires as individuals and as a couple. It has led to hubby
uncovering his own sexuality and welcoming his dominant side. It has been about
recognizing that sexuality is important to our emotional world. It has been a
wonderful journey and it is one we will continue to explore in 2013.
Here is wishing all of us a sexually and emotionally
liberated 2013!
Emily
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This post was written for the first Wicked Wednesday of 2013! Hello everyone, especially the coordinator of the Meme Marie Rebelle
Sunday, 30 December 2012
Tea and Spoons Part Three (Erotica)
A story about female dominance, parts one and two are already live, parts four and five are on their way. Apologies to regular readers for the delay in this posting. I promised it yesterday but internet was denied! It was traumatic. I need a spanking, or perhaps I need to spank the internet providers....
....................
Charlotte stands there with the paddle in her hands. She caresses it slowly, gliding a hand along the long shaft, rhythmically moving her slender fingers up and down. The paddle has a solid rubber grip, shaped perfectly to fit her hand. It is the paddle itself that makes Jon’s breath catch. It is about eight inches long and a good hand width across. There are holes dotted along it, holes which Charlotte keeps fingering between her caresses. Jon looks at the paddle with fear and excitement. He looks away from it, from Charlotte. He looks down at himself, sodden in piss, his tongue is rancid and furry, covered in piss and dust and filth.
“You are disgusting. Stand up. Remove your clothes. Put them in the washing machine. Then go and wash that filth from your body, and make sure you clean your teeth. You stink, you disgusting boy, you do not deserve to be in my presence.”
The instructions are like a gut punch, he is like this because she told him to be, he doesn’t understand.
“Yes, ma’am, sorry ma’am”
“Good boy, leave the bathroom door unlocked.”
He did as he was told. As he walked through the house he felt ashamed of what he could smell and taste on himself, but his cock kept twitching in anticipation. His pulse raced and he felt close to the edge. He didn’t know what of, but an abyss was just there waiting for him.
The hot water ran down his back and across his face, warm and comforting. He seemed to have been in there forever and had almost forgotten her when the door opened. His body tensed.
“Feeling better, boy?”
“Yes, much, thank you”
“Good.”
Charlotte bought a little foldaway stool with her. She unfolded it, saying nothing. She sat on it, directly in front of Jon as he stood in the shower. The paddle was placed across her lap, looming over the room.
By now, the water was off and Jon was getting cold.
“Now, we must start your punishment.”
Jon’s stomach dropped, he felt sick wondering what counts as punishment if the past three hours didn’t.
“First, you pathetically inept idiot, you need to be reminded of the importance of correct spelling and punctuation. Face the wall. Put your left hand against it. With your right hand I want you to spank your arse. You must count as you do so.”
Jon looked at her a little dazed, perhaps confused, and disbelieving.
“Look at me like that again, and you will regret it. Now begin.”
Her voice was stern and full of something not quite anger, but definitely irritation, maybe even boredom? Could that be possible?
His hand lifted and made contact with his arse, it was a fairly delicate flat-handed SMACK
“One”
SMACK
“Two”
SMACK
“Three”
It felt ridiculous and silly to be doing this. Jon could barely feel it and it was more than a bit embarrassing.
“Stop! You aren’t even trying. Pa-The-Tic. Here, take this brush. You are not leaving that shower until your arse cheeks are red and sore. Spank yourself hard, in very quick succession. Ten times on each cheek.”
The hairbrush was a plastic thing with a flat oval back about the size of Jon’s hand. He raised his arm; the angle was awkward, adding to the discomfort. He bought the brush down hard. “Fuck,” he muttered, surprised at how hard it stung, the water had softened his skin and the remaining droplets enhanced the sensation. “One, Two, Three… Nine, Ten.”
“Again!”
Again he spanked himself; it was stinging now, the impact heating up his buttocks and making his cock twitch appreciatively.
“Now your thighs. Make it twenty each side, and hit harder. I know how hard you can hit and you are being easy on yourself. Cowardly little boy, do not make me punish you for failing such a simple task.”
It was impossible for Jon to use the full force of his strength at this angle. The shower was still wet and slippery beneath his feet and his large muscles were developed for strength, not for flexibility. He had to concentrate so hard to aim and stay upright that he hadn’t been able to hit hard. He felt compelled to try harder. The embarrassment had given way to a compulsion, a deep need to do what his mistress (oh, is she really that, already?) commanded. He used all the force he could muster and landed a strike on his thigh.
“Fuu…One”
He wasn’t expecting the searing pain the brush would cause, he clearly didn’t know his own strength, even in this impossible situation.
“Two”
“Three”
“Four”
By the time he had gotten to fifteen on the first thigh, it was agony, his leg was burning and he was making pathetic whimpering noises.
“hnngh….Sixteen”
He started to slow down, his breath was shaking, his thighs were starting to wobble. All the time his back was facing his mistress and she wasn’t saying a thing.
“Seventeen”
At the eighteenth Jon gave a little squeak. The nineteenth hurt so much he bit down and caught his lip making his eyes water. Finally, it was the twentieth strike on the first leg. His arm was starting to ache now, it wasn't used to making this kind of twisted movement. He bought the brush down against his thigh, right on top of the burning muscle he had already pounded. His mind screamed and yelled at him to stop. The thought of doing this all over again made his eyes water but his cock throb.
“Enough! You did that better than expected. Well done, you are relieved of the duties for the other thigh. We shall leave it blemish free.” Jon felt disappointment, he wanted and needed more punishment, but he felt proud about doing so well and excited about the unspoken “for now”.
“Get out of the shower.”
As he did so, he caught himself in the mirror. Bruises were forming on his thigh, he felt vaguely sick, proud, and desperately aroused. Pre-cum leaked from his cock as he gave in to the heady, confusing mess of feelings.
“On your bed you will find what I want you to wear. Put it on.” Charlotte held the paddle as she said this; she stretched her arm out. Jon tensed; his throat constricted expecting to be hit. Instead, the paddle gently caressed the bruises on his thigh, as though the paddle were a soft cushion easing his discomfort. He shocked himself by feeling desire and want so great he groaned and heard himself beg, “Please, ma’am, please.”
Charlotte chuckled, barely audible.
“Go, get dressed.”
On the bed was an item made of black lace. Jon felt confused, his sense of touch heightened, his body electric, his mind lost. He put the lingerie on and stood in the mirror. He saw himself in a skin tight negligee with long sleeves. He could just make out his nipples through the flowery lacy pattern. It came just beneath his arse and cock. The bruises on his thigh visible. He saw Charlotte in the mirror behind him and turned around.
Charlotte stood before him, the paddle on the bed behind her and in one hand she held what looked like a belt and in the other, a huge rubber cock.
Jon’s own cock responded, tenting the lace, rock hard, and dying to be touched.
will be up on 3rd December (assuming the internet doesn't die again!) 5th December, due to my shiteness! 7th December, due to reasons (it really will be, it is all ready saved and proofed, ready to his "Publish")! If you read this series do let me know what you think. Constructive
criticism is welcome in the comments especially but Twitter and email are also
good. Many thanks to Dan especially for his ongoing enthusiasm (and sound telling off for being late!).
....................
Charlotte stands there with the paddle in her hands. She caresses it slowly, gliding a hand along the long shaft, rhythmically moving her slender fingers up and down. The paddle has a solid rubber grip, shaped perfectly to fit her hand. It is the paddle itself that makes Jon’s breath catch. It is about eight inches long and a good hand width across. There are holes dotted along it, holes which Charlotte keeps fingering between her caresses. Jon looks at the paddle with fear and excitement. He looks away from it, from Charlotte. He looks down at himself, sodden in piss, his tongue is rancid and furry, covered in piss and dust and filth.
“You are disgusting. Stand up. Remove your clothes. Put them in the washing machine. Then go and wash that filth from your body, and make sure you clean your teeth. You stink, you disgusting boy, you do not deserve to be in my presence.”
The instructions are like a gut punch, he is like this because she told him to be, he doesn’t understand.
“Yes, ma’am, sorry ma’am”
“Good boy, leave the bathroom door unlocked.”
He did as he was told. As he walked through the house he felt ashamed of what he could smell and taste on himself, but his cock kept twitching in anticipation. His pulse raced and he felt close to the edge. He didn’t know what of, but an abyss was just there waiting for him.
The hot water ran down his back and across his face, warm and comforting. He seemed to have been in there forever and had almost forgotten her when the door opened. His body tensed.
“Feeling better, boy?”
“Yes, much, thank you”
“Good.”
Charlotte bought a little foldaway stool with her. She unfolded it, saying nothing. She sat on it, directly in front of Jon as he stood in the shower. The paddle was placed across her lap, looming over the room.
By now, the water was off and Jon was getting cold.
“Now, we must start your punishment.”
Jon’s stomach dropped, he felt sick wondering what counts as punishment if the past three hours didn’t.
“First, you pathetically inept idiot, you need to be reminded of the importance of correct spelling and punctuation. Face the wall. Put your left hand against it. With your right hand I want you to spank your arse. You must count as you do so.”
Jon looked at her a little dazed, perhaps confused, and disbelieving.
“Look at me like that again, and you will regret it. Now begin.”
Her voice was stern and full of something not quite anger, but definitely irritation, maybe even boredom? Could that be possible?
His hand lifted and made contact with his arse, it was a fairly delicate flat-handed SMACK
“One”
SMACK
“Two”
SMACK
“Three”
It felt ridiculous and silly to be doing this. Jon could barely feel it and it was more than a bit embarrassing.
“Stop! You aren’t even trying. Pa-The-Tic. Here, take this brush. You are not leaving that shower until your arse cheeks are red and sore. Spank yourself hard, in very quick succession. Ten times on each cheek.”
The hairbrush was a plastic thing with a flat oval back about the size of Jon’s hand. He raised his arm; the angle was awkward, adding to the discomfort. He bought the brush down hard. “Fuck,” he muttered, surprised at how hard it stung, the water had softened his skin and the remaining droplets enhanced the sensation. “One, Two, Three… Nine, Ten.”
“Again!”
Again he spanked himself; it was stinging now, the impact heating up his buttocks and making his cock twitch appreciatively.
“Now your thighs. Make it twenty each side, and hit harder. I know how hard you can hit and you are being easy on yourself. Cowardly little boy, do not make me punish you for failing such a simple task.”
It was impossible for Jon to use the full force of his strength at this angle. The shower was still wet and slippery beneath his feet and his large muscles were developed for strength, not for flexibility. He had to concentrate so hard to aim and stay upright that he hadn’t been able to hit hard. He felt compelled to try harder. The embarrassment had given way to a compulsion, a deep need to do what his mistress (oh, is she really that, already?) commanded. He used all the force he could muster and landed a strike on his thigh.
“Fuu…One”
He wasn’t expecting the searing pain the brush would cause, he clearly didn’t know his own strength, even in this impossible situation.
“Two”
“Three”
“Four”
By the time he had gotten to fifteen on the first thigh, it was agony, his leg was burning and he was making pathetic whimpering noises.
“hnngh….Sixteen”
He started to slow down, his breath was shaking, his thighs were starting to wobble. All the time his back was facing his mistress and she wasn’t saying a thing.
“Seventeen”
At the eighteenth Jon gave a little squeak. The nineteenth hurt so much he bit down and caught his lip making his eyes water. Finally, it was the twentieth strike on the first leg. His arm was starting to ache now, it wasn't used to making this kind of twisted movement. He bought the brush down against his thigh, right on top of the burning muscle he had already pounded. His mind screamed and yelled at him to stop. The thought of doing this all over again made his eyes water but his cock throb.
“Enough! You did that better than expected. Well done, you are relieved of the duties for the other thigh. We shall leave it blemish free.” Jon felt disappointment, he wanted and needed more punishment, but he felt proud about doing so well and excited about the unspoken “for now”.
“Get out of the shower.”
As he did so, he caught himself in the mirror. Bruises were forming on his thigh, he felt vaguely sick, proud, and desperately aroused. Pre-cum leaked from his cock as he gave in to the heady, confusing mess of feelings.
“On your bed you will find what I want you to wear. Put it on.” Charlotte held the paddle as she said this; she stretched her arm out. Jon tensed; his throat constricted expecting to be hit. Instead, the paddle gently caressed the bruises on his thigh, as though the paddle were a soft cushion easing his discomfort. He shocked himself by feeling desire and want so great he groaned and heard himself beg, “Please, ma’am, please.”
Charlotte chuckled, barely audible.
“Go, get dressed.”
On the bed was an item made of black lace. Jon felt confused, his sense of touch heightened, his body electric, his mind lost. He put the lingerie on and stood in the mirror. He saw himself in a skin tight negligee with long sleeves. He could just make out his nipples through the flowery lacy pattern. It came just beneath his arse and cock. The bruises on his thigh visible. He saw Charlotte in the mirror behind him and turned around.
Charlotte stood before him, the paddle on the bed behind her and in one hand she held what looked like a belt and in the other, a huge rubber cock.
Jon’s own cock responded, tenting the lace, rock hard, and dying to be touched.
---------
The next part of
the story is here Monday, 24 December 2012
Tea and Spoons Part Two (Erotica)
Part One of my story for the seasonal festivities can be found here. I
have no idea how many parts there will be. I should give a warning for this
story because it includes a hard limit for many people. Highlight to get the
warning: piss play, including consumption
------------------------------
Tea and Spoons
Part Two
---------
Part Three will be up on the 29th December
------------------------------
Tea and Spoons
Part Two
“Undo your belt
buckle, please”
Jon gets
goosebumps and gives a little smile. He doesn’t mean to, it just happens. He’s
nervous and embarrassed and feeling ever so slightly scared. He releases the
belt buckle and starts to pull it through the loops of his jeans.
“Stop! Did I say
take the belt off? No. I give precise instructions. Do not deviate from them or
things will not go well for you. Do you understand?”
Jon nods. Charlotte
accepts his acquiesance with a smile.
“Very well, Jon,
undo your jeans and drop them to the floor.”
The man does as
he is told. Something he can’t explain makes him cover his cock with his hands,
even though he is wearing jockey shorts, and even though she has seen and
sucked and fucked it. He starts to realize that he has totally underestimated
her. His cock twitches at the thought just as his brain screams for him to run,
to beg, to say sorry.
Charlotte stands
up and walks around him. She looks him up and down. Every so often she kneels
down and stares at his legs, casually running a finger along the inside of his
thigh. He turned around once to look at her, she didn’t even speak then, she
made the same sound you might make when stopping a dog eat food from your
plate, a gutteral “ach, ach” sound. He did as she commanded, humiliated that
such a simple sound could make him submit. The inspection seemed to last
forever before Charlotte sat back down on the chair, her methodical skirt
arrangement exactly like before.
“Come here Jon.
Keep your jeans as they are.” Jon hobbles over to Charlotte. He needs to pee
but says nothing. This will be over soon. Charlotte isn’t very strong, he can
always just stand up and go to the loo. No worries ... he ignores the niggling
doubt at the back of his mind.
Charlotte pats
her lap.
Jon mentally
screams and runs and shouts to not be so fucking ridiculous. But he feels
himself bending over. His toes and fingers barely touch the ground. He tries to
keep his head held up in defiance, but it is too awkward to stay like that. His
cock brushes against Charlotte’s thigh and Jon feels shame as it stiffens
knowing she will feel it.
He feels Charlotte
grab his arse through his shorts. She kneeds it and tugs it and pulls it. She
gently taps it. He feels her hand slip into the shorts and squeeze his arse.
His cock gets hard. Jon feels Charlotte slide the shorts just over his butt
cheeks. The cool air reminds him he needs to pee until THWACK. He flinches and
twitches.
THWACK, another
smack lands on his butt
And another
And another
And another
It stings.
“Ok, that’s
enough. Charlotte, really.”
It wasn’t that
it hurt, the smacks just stung a little. It was more that this wasn’t how they
were meant to be. Charlotte did what he said. Jon hurt and humiliated Charlotte.
It wasn’t meant to work this way. Charlotte’s smacks were certainly not
supposed to sting. She’s so small and weak and ... THWACK
“Charlotte!”
The anger and humiliation
grows as she ignores him. She doesn’t say a word. All he can hear is the sound
of her hand landing on his arse and her breathing getting heavier.
“Charlotte, I
need to piss, please stop.”
“Very well, Jon,
stand up.”
Jon is confused
at this, just like that? Maybe he was right, maybe she really is that weak. He
really is her boss. He laughs a little too loudly.
“Jon, go to the
sink and pick up the mug I left in there.” He looks at her, his face falls, and
turns ashen white. Realization sinks in. She isn’t playing. She isn’t his toy
to do what he wants with. She is taking what is hers, and somewhere Jon knows
he deserves it. He does what he is told. He picks up the mug, knowing what is
coming.
“You may piss in
that.”
His heart
thumps. Excitement and disgust course through him in equal measure. He holds
the mug in one hand and his cock in the other. He looks down at himself,
standing in the kitchen his jeans around his ankles, his shorts just below his
butt cheeks. He looks pathetic. He wonders if his butt cheeks are red. When the
piss comes it is a humiliating but blessed relief until he realizes the mug
isn’t big enough. He looks at Charlotte, his eyes wide showing panic and shame
but also a challenge. He doesn’t know if he is challenging himself or her. She
nods at him and moves her hand indicating he should continue.
“I can’t, it’s
going to spill out, on the floor, my kitchen floor, I live here, with Jemima,
that prim lady you met. I can’t do this.”
“You can and you
will.” Charlotte stands up and moves to the door to watch from a distance.
His stomach
churns as he feels the warmth of his piss flow out of the mug and over his
hand. It cascades to the floor. It falls on his jeans. By the time he finishes
he is standing in a pool of his own piss.
“What a good
boy, that wasn’t so difficult was it? Now, take the mug to the fridge and put
it on a shelf, any shelf will do.”
Part of him feels
trapped in a glass cage, his mind screaming for him not to do it. He does it
all the same. As he hobbles to the fridge he drags the piss on the floor with
him. The mug is dripping with piss but he puts it on a shelf. He shuts the door
and tries not to think about it.
“Oh, well done.
You get a gold star for that. Take off your jeans, leave them there and kneel
on the floor.”
He does as he is
told. He doesn’t know why.
“Crawl to me. As
you do so, I want you to lick the floor clean. Lick your piss off the floor.”
Jon’s face contorts
into revulsion. He feels shame so great he never
imagined it possible. He looks at the woman in the door and feels awe and
hatred and lust. He crawls towards her, his knees and hands covered in piss. He
licks the floor, tasting his own piss and whatever other shit falls on kitchen
floors. When he reaches Charlotte he looks up.
Somehow,
somewhere, out of nowhere, she is holding a thick wooden paddle.
---------
Part Three will be up on the 29th December
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