However, I seem to be far too busy running around like a chicken with it's head cut off, so I shall have to rely on you, oh faithful readers, to do the summertime lounging thing for me.
(Let me know how it feels, willya?)
Back asap!
J.
Friday, July 29, 2011
It's Summer, Dammit!
I'm supposed to be spending my time doing this:
However, I seem to be far too busy running around like a chicken with it's head cut off, so I shall have to rely on you, oh faithful readers, to do the summertime lounging thing for me.
(Let me know how it feels, willya?)
Back asap!
J.
However, I seem to be far too busy running around like a chicken with it's head cut off, so I shall have to rely on you, oh faithful readers, to do the summertime lounging thing for me.
(Let me know how it feels, willya?)
Back asap!
J.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Birthday Candle
I was on my knees before him but I was neither bound nor being directed. The pace was mine to set and what I wanted was slooooow. The focus was pleasure, not release.
I slid the swollen flesh into my mouth for a long, languid glide to the back of my throat. Pulling off with a slight *pop*, I worked my way around the outside, suctioning up the wide ridge, caressing the soft tip with my tongue, before finally pulling it back between my lips again.
He bent forward, hands sliding down my back in a long caress that ended at my rump, palms smoothing and stroking. I braced myself for the sting of a slap, but it never came. Instead, he pulled back up, hands reversing themselves until they could slide around to cup my breasts. As the caresses began, my head found the rhythm of his hands and matched it, stroke for stroke, lick for squeeze.
He took my hand and guided it down until I could feel my own softness.
"There. That too."
Our movements synchronized further.
Hands, hips, mouth, breath...
All quickened in unison.
Energy spiraled between us, giving, receiving, moving from one to another and back again.
"And I'm not even being rough with you," he growled.
His hands clenched once, HARD.
"But oh, I want to be...!"
My breath caught in anticipation but his grip softened and, slowly, his hands took up our rhythm once more.
It couldn't last.
The heat was too high, the pace too inexorable.
But we drew it out, let it consume us while the flames roared, before slowly dwindling ... and finally flickering out.
A power exchange is a living thing, vibrant and unpredictable.
Sometimes, the dom needs control and obedience.
But sometimes the exchange wraps back in on itself.
Sometimes, he'll just love you.
I slid the swollen flesh into my mouth for a long, languid glide to the back of my throat. Pulling off with a slight *pop*, I worked my way around the outside, suctioning up the wide ridge, caressing the soft tip with my tongue, before finally pulling it back between my lips again.
He bent forward, hands sliding down my back in a long caress that ended at my rump, palms smoothing and stroking. I braced myself for the sting of a slap, but it never came. Instead, he pulled back up, hands reversing themselves until they could slide around to cup my breasts. As the caresses began, my head found the rhythm of his hands and matched it, stroke for stroke, lick for squeeze.
He took my hand and guided it down until I could feel my own softness.
"There. That too."
Our movements synchronized further.
Hands, hips, mouth, breath...
All quickened in unison.
Energy spiraled between us, giving, receiving, moving from one to another and back again.
"And I'm not even being rough with you," he growled.
His hands clenched once, HARD.
"But oh, I want to be...!"
My breath caught in anticipation but his grip softened and, slowly, his hands took up our rhythm once more.
It couldn't last.
The heat was too high, the pace too inexorable.
But we drew it out, let it consume us while the flames roared, before slowly dwindling ... and finally flickering out.
A power exchange is a living thing, vibrant and unpredictable.
Sometimes, the dom needs control and obedience.
But sometimes the exchange wraps back in on itself.
Sometimes, he'll just love you.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Screwed Again!
BBC News Headline today:
"Tall People 'more likely to develop cancer'"
Like just trying to buy jeans isn't hard enough, now we find out that being tall increases your risk of getting 10 common cancers.
By 16% for every 4 inches over five feet.
Until finally, you come to the tallest group - those over 5'9" (*smiles and waves to the crowd*) - who are, in fact, 37% more likely to develop a tumor than people under 5 ft. tall.
This comes from a 5 year study of 1.3 million middle aged women in the UK, undertaken by University of Oxford researchers.
Too much thinking causes mental disorders.
Death by height.
But NEVER any "Pudgy Tall Chicks Best in Bed"
I think I'm just gonna stop reading BBC News...
"Tall People 'more likely to develop cancer'"
Like just trying to buy jeans isn't hard enough, now we find out that being tall increases your risk of getting 10 common cancers.
By 16% for every 4 inches over five feet.
Until finally, you come to the tallest group - those over 5'9" (*smiles and waves to the crowd*) - who are, in fact, 37% more likely to develop a tumor than people under 5 ft. tall.
This comes from a 5 year study of 1.3 million middle aged women in the UK, undertaken by University of Oxford researchers.
Too much thinking causes mental disorders.
Death by height.
But NEVER any "Pudgy Tall Chicks Best in Bed"
I think I'm just gonna stop reading BBC News...
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Summer Heat
******************
he walks in, hugs me, pinches a nipple... and holds.
"is that coffee?"
he grabs a mug and walks over to the pot...
pulling me behind him by my nipple all the while.
a quick sip
"could be hotter"
he switches to other breast and walks over to the microwave...
pulling me behind him by my nipple all the while.
my wrists are tied
pants unzipped, he sits...
"you know the drill"
i drop to my knees in front of him, hands out to slide down his back
bound arms circling him, we become each other's prisoner.
my head drops down,
his belt comes off...
i earn a sore jaw, burning bottom,
and cum all over my face and hair.
he gathers the rope and vibe in one hand and motions for me to follow,
we wander from room to room
in search of the optimal location for his plans.
a satisfied smile on his lips, he turns to me...
"you'd better get naked now"
i obey.
knees to shoulder, i am tied, barred, and spread.
"you can't move"
"no, i can't sir"
"you can't really give head like this, tho'"
"no, not really sir"
(he wanders out of the room)
and returns holding a shiny, lubed plug
*nudge* ... *swirl*
*nudge, nudge* ... *swirl*
*push*... *swirl*
*SHOVE!* *tap-tap!*
(he wanders out of the room)
*CRACK!* *CRACK!*
he flogs my ass,
my tits,
my pussy,
all in random order
then sticks the flogger handle between my teeth
(and wanders out of the room)
two vibrators
one pushed in me, one laid across my clit
he retrieves the flogger
("don't let that vibrator fall...!")
and resumes flogging.
*CRACK!* *CRACK!*
(he wanders out of the room)
"ooo, what perky little nipples! let's see what we have for them..."
*clip!* *clip!*
he retrieves the flogger
and aims directly for the clothespins.
*CRACK!* *CRACK!*
("watch that vibrator, now!")
he unties the rope that run from wrists to bedpost,
removes the balanced vibrator,
fucks me hard and deep with the buried one.
my moans ratchet in a crescendo
until they become screams.
he pushes his cock past the spreader bar
into my mouth
and removes the clips from my nipples.
straightening up, he snaps one on my clit...
("mmmm, yeah, that hurts, doesn't it?")
snaps the other on my labia...
("but that one wasn't so bad, was it?")
then walks back up my body to re-tie me into position
making sure his thigh jostles the clips with every move.
he dons a condom, removes the plug,
plunges into the now-gaping orifice,
and goes to town.
things get pretty fuzzy --
I blink dazedly at him when he stops,
cock still buried deep.
"your hands are going purple" he says,
untying the rope i didn't realize i was straining against
then he takes us both to the stars.
he walks in, hugs me, pinches a nipple... and holds.
"is that coffee?"
he grabs a mug and walks over to the pot...
pulling me behind him by my nipple all the while.
a quick sip
"could be hotter"
he switches to other breast and walks over to the microwave...
pulling me behind him by my nipple all the while.
my wrists are tied
pants unzipped, he sits...
"you know the drill"
i drop to my knees in front of him, hands out to slide down his back
bound arms circling him, we become each other's prisoner.
my head drops down,
his belt comes off...
i earn a sore jaw, burning bottom,
and cum all over my face and hair.
he gathers the rope and vibe in one hand and motions for me to follow,
we wander from room to room
in search of the optimal location for his plans.
a satisfied smile on his lips, he turns to me...
"you'd better get naked now"
i obey.
knees to shoulder, i am tied, barred, and spread.
"you can't move"
"no, i can't sir"
"you can't really give head like this, tho'"
"no, not really sir"
(he wanders out of the room)
and returns holding a shiny, lubed plug
*nudge* ... *swirl*
*nudge, nudge* ... *swirl*
*push*... *swirl*
*SHOVE!* *tap-tap!*
(he wanders out of the room)
*CRACK!* *CRACK!*
he flogs my ass,
my tits,
my pussy,
all in random order
then sticks the flogger handle between my teeth
(and wanders out of the room)
two vibrators
one pushed in me, one laid across my clit
he retrieves the flogger
("don't let that vibrator fall...!")
and resumes flogging.
*CRACK!* *CRACK!*
(he wanders out of the room)
"ooo, what perky little nipples! let's see what we have for them..."
*clip!* *clip!*
he retrieves the flogger
and aims directly for the clothespins.
*CRACK!* *CRACK!*
("watch that vibrator, now!")
he unties the rope that run from wrists to bedpost,
removes the balanced vibrator,
fucks me hard and deep with the buried one.
my moans ratchet in a crescendo
until they become screams.
he pushes his cock past the spreader bar
into my mouth
and removes the clips from my nipples.
straightening up, he snaps one on my clit...
("mmmm, yeah, that hurts, doesn't it?")
snaps the other on my labia...
("but that one wasn't so bad, was it?")
then walks back up my body to re-tie me into position
making sure his thigh jostles the clips with every move.
he dons a condom, removes the plug,
plunges into the now-gaping orifice,
and goes to town.
things get pretty fuzzy --
I blink dazedly at him when he stops,
cock still buried deep.
"your hands are going purple" he says,
untying the rope i didn't realize i was straining against
then he takes us both to the stars.
Friday, July 8, 2011
*sigh*
I have been given a writing assignment.
Remember me telling you that SP says I need to "write from the cunt"?
Well, apparently, not enough of my cunt is showing -- and he is quite determined to correct this. He wants me to push the pointy-headed intellectual aside and let the emotion pack the punch.
He's not wrong (*dammit*) nor is he picking on me (altho' it sure feels like it) -- and what's really sweet about it is that he's pushing me for me. He wants to see my "talents soar". (His words, not mine!)
However, we're walking a fine line.
First, because I am dismayingly pointy-headed -- so that's going to be a tough push. But more importantly, my cunt (both literal and metaphorical) is private -- not intended for public consumption. Sure, sometimes I throw open the door but for the most part, total disclosure is only for special guests. (Is there such a thing as a finicky slut?)
So, yeah, I create a distance. I don't lie in how I present myself but I do muffle the impact with words. In part, because I don't want to put anyone off with unwanted familiarity. (It's a Golden Rule thing.)
But even more to the point (and this, I think, is what he's trying to address) is that I'm just plain scared. I'm not very good at emotions so I don't trust myself to represent them well -- I'm afraid I seem puerile.
Baby bird likes it in her safe little nest.
Professor bird is determined she'll fly - even if he has to push her.
And I know he's right. His points are all valid.
So, I will accept the assignment and all accompanying dictates. (No to certain word constructions, No to precision, Yes to emotion, Yes to humor, and [my personal favorite] Be Myself -- while staying strictly within all of his designated constraints.)
I will write.
But I am really pretty uncomfortable about it...
(wish me luck?)
Remember me telling you that SP says I need to "write from the cunt"?
Well, apparently, not enough of my cunt is showing -- and he is quite determined to correct this. He wants me to push the pointy-headed intellectual aside and let the emotion pack the punch.
He's not wrong (*dammit*) nor is he picking on me (altho' it sure feels like it) -- and what's really sweet about it is that he's pushing me for me. He wants to see my "talents soar". (His words, not mine!)
However, we're walking a fine line.
First, because I am dismayingly pointy-headed -- so that's going to be a tough push. But more importantly, my cunt (both literal and metaphorical) is private -- not intended for public consumption. Sure, sometimes I throw open the door but for the most part, total disclosure is only for special guests. (Is there such a thing as a finicky slut?)
So, yeah, I create a distance. I don't lie in how I present myself but I do muffle the impact with words. In part, because I don't want to put anyone off with unwanted familiarity. (It's a Golden Rule thing.)
But even more to the point (and this, I think, is what he's trying to address) is that I'm just plain scared. I'm not very good at emotions so I don't trust myself to represent them well -- I'm afraid I seem puerile.
Baby bird likes it in her safe little nest.
Professor bird is determined she'll fly - even if he has to push her.
And I know he's right. His points are all valid.
So, I will accept the assignment and all accompanying dictates. (No to certain word constructions, No to precision, Yes to emotion, Yes to humor, and [my personal favorite] Be Myself -- while staying strictly within all of his designated constraints.)
I will write.
But I am really pretty uncomfortable about it...
(wish me luck?)
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Whoops!
Company's Coming!
You do your best to hide the evidence from outside eyes.
Toys are put away...
Clothespins returned to the laundry bag...
Ropes hung innocently from hooks in the basement...
Spreader bars tucked into closets or disguised as artsy curtain rods…
Accoutrements gathered and stashed out of sight -- check!
*phew* -- safe!
Or Are You????
I live alone. When you live alone, you quickly come to expect that if there is another person in the room and they are talking, they must be talking to YOU.
This company? Includes a dog.
People talk to dogs...
So you can hide the paraphernalia 'til you're blue in the face -- but if you can't stop your mouth from uttering it's instinctinve response to the words, "Shall I take you outside and tie you up?" -- you're still busted.
Totally and completely busted.
just sayin'...
*insert casual whistle here*
You do your best to hide the evidence from outside eyes.
Toys are put away...
Clothespins returned to the laundry bag...
Ropes hung innocently from hooks in the basement...
Spreader bars tucked into closets or disguised as artsy curtain rods…
Accoutrements gathered and stashed out of sight -- check!
*phew* -- safe!
Or Are You????
I live alone. When you live alone, you quickly come to expect that if there is another person in the room and they are talking, they must be talking to YOU.
This company? Includes a dog.
People talk to dogs...
So you can hide the paraphernalia 'til you're blue in the face -- but if you can't stop your mouth from uttering it's instinctinve response to the words, "Shall I take you outside and tie you up?" -- you're still busted.
Totally and completely busted.
just sayin'...
*insert casual whistle here*
Monday, July 4, 2011
Allegory in Miniature
His hands combed softly through my hair in long, fluid strokes.
Section by section, the strands were smoothed back and gathered.
Gentle fingers teased the damp tendrils away from my cheeks.
Face exposed, visibility improved, his grip tightened at my neck.
Caress morphed to guidance, to command.
Smooth to powerful to forceful.
Cherished. Led. Controlled.
Section by section, the strands were smoothed back and gathered.
Gentle fingers teased the damp tendrils away from my cheeks.
Face exposed, visibility improved, his grip tightened at my neck.
Caress morphed to guidance, to command.
Smooth to powerful to forceful.
Cherished. Led. Controlled.
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