♦ Apologies, apologies. We have but one Internets between us at the moment, and well, it’s his, so I feel bad stealing it too much. But I admit, I’ve been a bad girl. When I last stole the Net from under him, did I use it to write a loving blog post to my dear readers? I did not. I browsed pictures of ladies in varying degrees of naked naughtiness.

Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Blacksilk and I have a kink addiction.

So, to make up for my ogling and neglect, I’ll tell you about one of the sauciest sex sessions Fractal and I have had recently. We’ve had plenty of fun, often when we’re supposed to be getting up and doing something constructive, or, like this time, when we’re supposed to be getting our beauty sleep… ♦

♦ It was late at night, Fractal was just finishing up his interminable computer-tinkering for the day (we all know how sexy it is to be geek, remember?) and I was a little restless. I didn’t really have anything to do while I waited and it was a hot night, so decided to strip a little, while he was looking the other way.
I pulled off my top, leaving me in my new tight, grey short skirt (very secretarial and only £2, charity shops are marvellous) and my black bra (which does wonders for my cleavage. I wubs it), then removed my knickers. I crept up behind Fractal and kissed his neck as he did…something Linux-y. As he tinkered I kept teasing, pulling up the back of his shirt and running my hands over his back, scratching down alongside his spine and up again, paying particular attention to his flanks and shoulders.

He gasped when I was particularly rough, and turned his head to let me nip at his neck, but continued to potter. I undid his buttons and pulled the shirt off him, making sure to scrape my nails over the flesh under his ribs. I was feeling rather dommish, rather devilish. I wanted to tease and torment and play.

I scratched further at his back and he told me that he could cope with…wanted…harder scratches. I had a little idea. I’ve written ‘mine’ on his skin before, in eyeliner, but it occurred to me that it would look so very good across his gorgeous back, scratched in, the skin rebelling in glorious pink-red lines.

Mine.

But it seems that just scrawling possessives in enflamed skin onto a man doesn’t make it so. Fractal, at least, had other ideas.

Moments earlier I had jokingly called him a prude and it seemed he was keen to prove otherwise, as if he needed to. He straddled me on the bed; I love how he looks in just his jeans. He had his hands around mine, up above my head, pressing down onto me as he kissed me, tangling his fingers in my hair. He shifted and held onto my hair with one hand, sticking his tongue out for me to catch and kiss. But as I tried to do so he pulled back. I was caught in an extremely erotic little dilemma, if I tried to taste his tongue, to lick and kiss him, the grip he had on my hair would tighten.

And it hurt. I’m not even sure if it was actually in that pleasure-pain way or if it was just pure ouch, but I loved it. I really did. He teased me like this for some time, dodging my mouth, pulling my hair, letting me catch little morsels of his tongue, pressing himself into me.

My skirt had ridden up quite far by this point and Fractal says it was this made him clamber off me and start to pull down his jeans and underpants. He slipped my skirt up the rest of the way and paused, his penis at my entrance for a moment, before thrusting fully into me.

It felt amazing. It always does.

He pulled out immediately, and just as quickly thrust in again. He kept this up, withdrawing entirely before making his entrance again in deep, forceful thrusts, over and over, pausing now and then, making me wait. Agonising. Thrilling. Before long I was on the edge, desperate for every thrust, needing to come.

After doing so he changed his method, staying inside me as we moved. He told me to call myself a dirty slut, and I did so, gladly. And I kept going, calling myself every filthy, sexy, degrading word I could come up with. His filthy whore. His little bitch. His slave. His fucktoy.

(That last one was particularly well received).

I came again as I did so, orgasms rolling into each other.

Soon both of us were breathing heavily and I knew that Fractal was close to coming, the very fact of which drew me closer to the same (I wonder why people seem to think simultaneous orgasms are apparently rare? Fractal coming is hot enough, and feels good enough to make me come, so it’s easy). What came next, as it were, was surprising.

After I saw Fractal’s face change in the throes of his orgasm there was a short pause before a well-timed muscle contraction from me seemed to cause yet another gasp. He confessed as soon as we were done, that he’d had not one but two distinct peaks of pleasure.

Multiple orgasms.

And perhaps I’m wrong, though I don’t feel I am, but from what I’ve read and heard it seems that for the male half of the population that’s pretty rare. I was thrilled. I was so pleased in fact that I could have started the fucking all over again, right then.

Realistically, however, I think we were both a bit tired for that :P

Either way, whilst I started in charge it seems I didn’t really hold onto it for long, but nonetheless I felt happy with my little show of dommishness. Besides which, I really do love to sub. ♦