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♦ The both of us naked, I found my face pressed into his stomach and my arse being caressed by his rough palms. I had already slowly stripped him of his clothes and stroked his soft thighs. He had already grinned and laid back as I ran my fingers over his oh-so-silky cock. Now I planted kisses on his belly and flank as he turned caressing and light strokes into firm pats that threatened solid swats.

The spanking began in earnest, though our positions stopped too much force, and he made sure to stroke my behind lovingly between each blow. I liked that. It ramped up the anticipation and kept it intimate and somehow more filthy. More calculated, perhaps.

He snuck his free hand around to my clitoris and teased at me lightly, again hampered by the angle. Seeing a better strategy, he told me I should rub myself instead and keep rubbing until he said otherwise. I love to be made to touch myself beyond what I’d normally inflict on myself. I love the threat of punishment if I let up even for one moment, no matter my wishes.

So I started to rub. I plucked my clitoris into pleasure as he started to put his usual force into his spanks, hitting me hard but still giving me a comforting stroke in between each. My masturbating became more frantic with my rising excitement and so did his stroking of my bare behind; he now squeezed and grabbed a little as he stroked, almost possessive in his actions.

I was close to coming and begged out loud for release.

“May I come please, sir?” I said, adding the “sir” out of my own desire to be subordinate.

He leant into my ear and whispered a hasty “yes” to me, allowing me to relax into my climax, making me shudder with pleasure and release of not only tension, but built-up emotion too.

Of course, when I was done, it’s not like I could just stop touching myself. I had orders, a fact he seemed to enjoy reminding me of.

“That’s right, keep touching yourself,” he hissed as the spanking continued. I allowed the tender, heightened feeling of my sex to carry me along and soon I hit another orgasm, making me gasp and moan. The shock dying down, I asked if I could stop and he relented at last.

My recovery didn’t and couldn’t last long: he pulled at my legs, flipping me over onto my back. I was balanced awkwardly on a lump of duvet, but I didn’t care. I just wanted him inside me.

He pushed his cockhead against me, but my wet cunt offered little resistance and he soon sank in deep. I had wanted this this evening, but thought my earlier outburst of emotions had ruined my chances, so I was so, so glad to be getting what I wanted anyway.

He was, as usual, a little too big for comfort, which I absolutely love. I asked him for it slow but hard and deep, so that I could feel every delicious flash of feeling, every gorgeous millimetre of his cock opening me up, driving to my depths.

He thrust slowly into me, but getting that little bit faster with each stroke. I writhed and wriggled on his cock, feeling his chest with my hands whenever I wasn’t steadying myself. I came again, pushed into climax by the pounding of his cock just as he came inside me. I love doing that.

I pulled him close to me, buoyed up by my orgasm and our physicality but also by the emotions of this intimate act with him. So easy to forget that not long ago he was new to sex entirely, new to kink entirely, new to me entirely. When I see how far he’s come for me, I can forgive that we have a way to go and I see how much he loves me. If there was no other reason to love him, that’d be a pretty good start.

Luckily for me, I have plenty already. ♦

Arse Over Tits

♦ I straddled him as he lay back on the bed, serene except for the excitement in his eyes. He loves to see me on top of him, loves to gaze at my body stretching up to the smile fixed firmly on my face. He likes me to lean forward just so and lift up my top, exposing my breasts.

Naturally, that’s what I do.

His eyes open wider still and the expression on his face is one I want to never forget. He loves me, he wants me. He thinks I’m fucking hot.

I feel a need grow between my legs, a tingle start in my pussy, not helped by my closeness to his body.

He wants to fuck me and says so.

I feel the need for more than just a fast and frantic fuck, no matter how good it would be.

I want to be hit with things.

I unstraddle him and coil up loosely on the bed as he prepares his instruments. I don’t ask for anything in particular, except maybe something lighter to start with just to warm me up. Other than that, I let him choose. He returns with the soft suede flogger for starters and a choice of main course: the spanking ruler, the shiny red paddle and the studded one.

He encourages me into position on my stomach and pulls my clothes from my backside. He brushes the suede tails of the soft flogger over my skin, making me wriggle with the sensation. It’s a light flogger and he has to work hard for it to sting, but I still like it and I love the sensuous way it caresses me in-between strokes.

He began to flog me, softly at first and then, more confident in his aim, with more twist and sting. I practically purred as the flogger hit, but soon longed for firmer things.

Luckily, I wasn’t wanting for long. Crush lay the flogger down and began with his hand this time, spanking me hard until I squirmed, pressing my face into the pillows. I occasionally mumbled when his hit was off or just right and he adjusted accordingly, but any requests for mercy were ignored.

When my arse was red with the sting of his hand, he switched to the shiny red paddle, slapping it into me with each strike. It’s a red shiny PVC on one side and matte black leather on the other and I was surprised to learn that not only did they feel markedly different, but that I could tell which side was which.

After he thought I’d had enough, at least for now, he stopped and allowed me to face him. My bum was hot and tender and I felt wonderful. I felt so ready to fuck him except for one thing.

He’d made a promise to me just the other day and I thought it was time for him to keep it.

See,  I’ve taken to occasionally tying my own legs to my headboard via cuffs with long straps when I masturbate. I’ve always felt my best with my legs in the air when I come and when I was single I tended to brace my legs against the wall a lot. Now I’ve taken to a bit of light self-bondage as it feels great to have my legs secure when I orgasm and it’s always fun to feel restrained.

Crush promised recently to use and abuse me in that position and so I made the suggestion. He smiled and agreed on the condition I took a little more punishment.

Oh, yes.

Soon I was on my back naked with my legs held firmly in the air by velcroed cuffs. Easy to get out of, you say? Not so much, because my arms were firmly placed under my own body weight in such a way that escape would take a good minute of wriggling before even getting to the cuffs. And with Crush right in front of me, that wouldn’t be allowed.

Being paddled with my bare arse in the air meant something else too. I was looking right at Crush as he did it. This is a bit of a new one for me. Normally he’s behind me and my face is turned away. I’m used to closing my eyes or hiding my face. It’s almost instinctive. And whilst I could close my eyes, there was nowhere else to look. He was right there and his eager face kept me fixed on him. The paddle rained down hard and fast and oh-so-pleasurably.

I yelped and gasped and wriggled and even pleaded when the harshest strokes hit, but to no avail. I was on fire with sensation and lust and despite (or perhaps because of) the pain, the tingle in my pussy was growing from a tingle to an ache and an ache to desperate need. He was going to paddle me to orgasm. I could feel it.

Suddenly, the blows stopped. My cries ceased and turned to confusion before realising that he had decided he was done.

“No!” I begged, “More, please, more! More!”

Hearing the need in my voice, he continued and I felt a shaking in my muscles and a throbbing in my cunt. I moaned as the orgasm elbowed its way through my body, setting me shivering and screaming and melting…

As it subsided, he put down the paddle and started to take off his clothes. The angle of entry was new to us, but it didn’t pose much problem and soon he was making his first thrust inside my wet cunt. He rested his hands on my still-aching arse and began to push in and out of me.

“Slower, please,” I said, his cock hurting me a little more than I’d like. He did so and it wasn’t long before I was begging for faster and harder now that I’d warmed up to his girth. I asked him to rest his weight around my neck instead of my arse and he did so, leaving me utterly pinned and at his mercy. Of course, there was no mercy, only relentless fucking from a man who took me inch by inch and threw me open.

To be his to fuck without hope of escape was to be oddly free and I floated on a bed made of thrusts and aches and restraint.

He groaned and I started the climb to orgasm again, coming hard as he spilled his semen into me. I ached and throbbed and gasped and crawled into his arms when he released me. ♦

Valentine’s Evening

♦ I should have taken the day off after Valentine’s Day just to write about the sex we had that evening. Sure, it’d have been a bit frivolous, but how else was I expected to write all that up and do it justice? Well, I didn’t and I haven’t and it’s now too hazy for a write-up, but fear not. You can have a hint, at least.

We hadn’t planned anything. We don’t really do Valentine’s. We were going to have Hot Sex though. When he nipped out of the room to get me a cup of tea beforehand, I dressed up in this. And then Hot Sex occurred. And it was good.

I ran my shiny red opera gloved-hands over his torso, relishing the contours of his body transmitted through the silk touch of the fabric. I stroked his cock in those gloves and the new sensation hit him like a tsunami. We 69ed, which is new for us (though not for me) and it was beyond amazing. He tongued and fingered my clit as I pressed my face into his erection and sucked him. We moaned in flashes of red and black and when the flurry of orgasms hit, all I could do was bite into his thigh and weather it. It was frantic and romantic and that now-cold cup of tea came handy to calm down with afterwards.

And then we nerded out on Pointless for the rest of the evening.  ♦

The Swinging Tree

I wrote this story for the Erotic Meet competition A Pleasure Shared. The idea was to take a fantasy or pleasurable moment supplied by another member and turn it into a erotic creative piece. I chose MissPlayer’s inspiration, which was “outdoors intimacy – a little more specific, bare toes, barely touching damp soil, arms raised and restrained…” I didn’t win, but I still really love this story. What do you think?

♦ The first drop of rain hit just as the familiar shape of the swinging tree came into sight, but by the time we had reached it, we were half-soaked through. We laughed as we ran in under the branches of the tree and gasped surprised breaths into air made oppressive by the recent heatwave. The day had started out as we remembered them: baking sun, still air and a heavy feeling that, had we but realised, should have warned us of the rainstorm to come.

You hefted the rucksack from your back and I turned from your brown-eyed gaze to look at the tree before me, filled with a sense of comfort to be back under its branches. As children we had learned to jump up and grab the one branch low enough to reach, swinging from it for as long as we could manage.

Now we were older, the swinging tree’s same perfect branch was within tiptoe reach and I marvelled at how I had ever managed to jump so high so young.

You sighed and I turned to see you pulling off your sodden top. I smiled at your rain-slick torso, remembering how it felt when I first stroked the firmness of your chest. I saw flashes of skin, flusters of nervousness, our first faltering fuck. That summer had been particularly glorious.

“You’ll catch your death of cold in those clothes,” you chided, playfully.
“Yes, mother.” I replied and you swatted at my thigh.

We were sheltered from the worst of the rain and from prying eyes and I relished the thought of being naked again with you. It had been too long since my last visit. My canvas shoes were the first to go and my socks along with them. My feet felt free of burden now and I relished in feeling the damp soil between my toes and in knowing how black my soles would become. I watched you somewhat cautiously as we stripped, but your smiles and skin soon put me at ease.

The only thing not too badly drenched were my little white knickers, so that’s all I had on by the time I leant back under the limb of the swinging tree. You hadn’t changed one jot over the years and wore no underwear. That much was clear as your erection stood proud and clear in front of me.

You had a dopey sort of look on your face as you approached me, one I’ve always loved. You put an arm around my neck and pressed your hardness into my front, pushing my back against the damp bark. All I could hear was our shallow breaths and the rushing patter of droplets as the rainstorm broke around us.

Your tongue found mine as the first thunderclap rolled. The weight of the air lifted and the oppressive pressure of that stifling day broke in an instant as I opened myself to you.

“Close your eyes,” you said and I did so willingly, my pussy knotting at the memories those words evoked. I’d always trusted you a little more easily than perhaps I should, but you’d never betrayed me.

I heard the zip of the rucksack and the rustle of rummaging over the rain. When you returned I felt the tip of your cock press against me as you lifted my arms gently above my head. You pulled me up onto tiptoe and guided my hands to the branch of the swinging tree. The feel of rope pilfered from the tent slipping around my wrists was, I admit, not the biggest surprise. I remembered a whole weekend of us poring over illustrations of knots and positions and harnesses and how we had muddled our way through several silly mistakes before you perfected the art.

And perfected it you had. “You can open your eyes now,” you said and I did. I was firmly trussed, arms raised above my head and body at almost full stretch, teetering on tiptoe. That wasn’t to last.

“Let me swing your legs up,” you told me.
“Why?” I replied.
“For old time’s sake.”

I raised an eyebrow, but agreed all the same. The branch was still firm and slightly supple and wobbled a little as I swung my lower body up and into your arms. I trusted it no less than I trusted you, having seen it stand our attentions over many years.

You lifted me by the rump, taking care not to slip on my damp skin. Soon my ankles were locked around the sturdy branch and not long after you had secured those too. My knickers felt decidedly more damp then they had been a moment ago, but I was sure I hadn’t felt the splash of any of the raindrops finding their way through canopy there.

You waited by my behind, naked as a babe, goosebumps peppering your flesh even in this still-hot air, your cock now only semi-erect. I wondered what you were waiting for.

Thunder rolled through the afternoon again and only a split-second afterwards I felt the sting of your hand on the slick skin of my bottom. I yelped but did not shudder with shock, aware that my position was precarious.

Thankfully, the storm was not close enough to be in danger of a lightning strike and the only thing I had to fear was your resounding smacks, each one coming in tandem with the booms of thunder, the pauses filled with a soothing rub from your palm or a salacious tease of my pussy lips.

“We’ll get you warmed up yet,” you teased.

You kept to your word and soon my ass felt on fire from your ministrations and my knickers were soaked through with my own pleasure. The air smelt wonderfully of pussy juice and petrichor.

Each spank made my flesh sing and my cunt twitch, each one was seared into my memory. You were unforgiving and I was unending in what I could take. The branch of the swinging tree wavered and shook, but did not give. I wavered and shook, but did not give.

When you grew tired of spanking me you loosened the rope from my ankles and lowered me by the legs, leaving me once again on tiptoe. My limbs were sore from taking my weight and my bottom ached in the most welcome, wanton way.

“Thank you,” I said and you smiled. You kissed me passionately and I wished I had my hands free to hold your face.

With my body stretched like this and my toes barely touching the moist earth beneath my feet, I was at the perfect height for you to slip your once-again stiff cock past my pathetically see-through panties and into my opening. You fucked me roughly against the bark of our old childhood haunt and I gasped and giggled in the fresh, new air as the sudden rainstorm began to wane around us.

As I bounced on your cock in the security of your restraints and the shelter of our intimacy, I relished the dying sound of the rain and the crescendo of our orgasm together. We’d likely have to turn back so as not to catch cold in our wet things, but for now the sanctuary of the swinging tree was all we needed to fuck and be fucked, to love and be loved and to revel in every moment of it. ♦

A Read to Remember

♦ I found you nestled in the attic, half-walled-in by piles of books and a few old trunks, like a contented Rapunzel in her tower. Like her, your long braid of hair was your beauty, but certainly not your only charm, and now it lay shimmering in the light of an old lamp perched precariously nearby. You were curled into one of our many fluffy blankets that you had brought up the little ladder to the top of the house. In weather like this, you were barely ever seen without one, no matter the actual temperature inside. They comforted you in the dreariness of the bleak midwinter. The soft, fluffy fur laid warm kisses on your skin and I think you liked to fancy yourself wrapped in a pelt, the honoured daughter of a noble barbarian tribe.

I wondered what land you had lost yourself in now, what faraway scenes filled your head. You hadn’t noticed me come up. Your eyes were fixed to the page, your lips slightly parted and your face radiant with a familiar tranquillity. You were transfixed.

I didn’t want to disturb you. It would be like waking you from some glorious dream, a six o’ clock alarm blaring into fantasy land with a cruel message to return to the real world.

Only, I had to get closer. You were magnetic. I love you and I love the trill of your laughter, the feel of your body undulating as we fuck, the sway of your hips when you dance… But this was like candid photography, a glimpse into the private you that even I don’t always clearly see. A you deconstructed.

You turned the page delicately and the movement of your arm pulled the blanket from your neck a little, exposing the start of a collarbone and a hint of smooth skin.


I moved a little closer, the better to see you, my dear, but in the dim attic I caught my foot on some frippery and sent it rolling, clanking a metre or two.

The spell was broken, but you cast another with your smile as you saw me standing there like a lemon. You could so easily have been cross, but you beckoned me close, the blanket falling fully from your bare shoulder as you did.

I too smiled as, in the glow of the old lamp, I saw the spatter of freckles on your shoulder peeking out from under the braid of your burnished hair.

You made space beside you in the blanket-bower and threw your barbarian pelt around my shoulders like a cape, drawing me into your world and pulling me close. You put the book down reverently on a nearby trunk and turned to me, taking my hands in your own.

“Kiss me,” you said and your word was law.

Your lips tasted of honeyed tea and your skin was cool as I brought my hand to your neck. Your braid brushed the back of my hand and your fingers stroked sigils at my temples.

When we moved apart my eyes flickered not to yours, but rapidly around your haphazard book-fort. You raised an eyebrow.

Just enough room, I thought.

I took the blanket from our shoulders and spread it on the floorboards. I tucked a stray curl of hair behind your ear. I kissed you firmly on the forehead, took you by the shoulders and lay you back on the now-covered floor.

You smiled another beatific smile, this one with a hint of something less saintly, and drew me to your hips. My pelvis pressed into yours and I placed one hand on either side of your shoulders to prop myself up. Just the position was a match to my kindling; desire spelt out in flames that wrote themselves onto my skin, that scorched me to action.

I put a hand behind your braided head and pulled you upwards into a kiss. I transferred my heat to your mouth, my ache to your body, sent it scurrying down nerves and pathways into the reaches of your body.

I woke you with a kiss.

As my hand had flown to your head, now yours flew to mine. You took me, but not roughly, by the hair and in a deft movement flipped our positions, sending me to the floor and you over me in an exact and graceful reversal. We were still locked together at the hip, but now your legs straddled mine and you rose above me like a caryatid. You cupped your breasts and caressed them; you rolled your hips, grinding at my pelvis, pressing your sex against mine, only thin layers of fabric separating us.

I watched, enraptured, as you squeezed your pert breasts, your nipples hard under your lace-hemmed pyjama vest. In the dim attic room, your breath misted and caught the low light of the lamp. Your eyes were closed as your fingers pinched at your nipples through your top. Your hips continued to roll as I took them in my hands. My fingers crept under the trim of your top, but not for long as, now warmed a little by your fervour, you stripped it off in one move.

I sighed at the look of you and your eyes opened, fixing me in their sights before you darted forth at your target. You peppered my neck with kisses and pulled my top awkwardly from my torso. The rest of our clothes followed, one by one, until we were both naked in the cool air, surrounded by paperbacks and paraphernalia.

You sunk claws into the flesh of my flanks and rode me again, the slick, soft lips of your downy pussy sliding over my unsubtle erection. I stroked my way up the curve of your stomach, taking my time with your body even as you began to drive me mad with your teasing. Your thighs and hips fully explored, I made my way to your breasts, plucking at your nipples and grasping at the soft undersides. You gasped and quickened your pace, your eyes taking on a lost look as they did when you were reading. But you were lost in the here and now, rather than before in some faraway fantasy. You were lost in the euphoria of flesh upon flesh, your juices and my pre-cum mingling, creating a musk in the air that smelt like all our past lusts together combined.

You pushed your clitoris against the head of my cock as you rode me. Your breath grew heavy as you masturbated yourself on my body, my hands tweaking your nipples and my tongue deeply wishing for your taste. I watched as you shuddered to orgasm, your groans sounding too big for your seemingly delicate body to have made.

“God, I love you, ” I spat out.

Watching you come on top of me was now too much for me to take without burying myself inside you. I needed to feel your pussy around me. I needed, frankly, to fuck.

Luckily, in our time together we’ve come to know what each other wants fairly well and you knew I’d be aching to be within you now. You dipped a finger in your wetness, leant forward and curled your fingertip into my mouth, leaving the indescribable taste of you on my tongue as you kissed me on the forehead and turned to face my feet.

You leant forward on all fours and presented your flawless and slightly freckled behind to me, your plump pussy lips poking out from beneath a sculpted pair of cheeks. You lowered yourself gently, but smoothly, towards my straining erection and stopped just as the tip touched your sex. After a few agonising seconds, you continued your descent and I wrapped my hand around the base of my shaft to keep it steady. I felt the push of my fleshy head against your entrance and the slight resistance of your pussy, even as wet as it was.

Soon the head of my cock slipped inside you, the tight, warm walls of your pussy hugging it tightly. You lowered further and I pushed my hips upwards to meet you, both of us desperate for the feeling of satisfaction it would bring. I wanted my whole length inside you. I wanted to fill you up. I wanted you to bounce on my shaft until I exploded. I wanted to give my pleasure to you, to press it firmly into your hands to do with as you wished. I wanted to give myself, wholly.

You began to move up and down on top of me, my cock sliding in and out of your wet sex, my breath ragged. As you moved your braid swung rhythmically over your back, a metronome for our pleasure. I enjoyed the show before me as much as I enjoyed the feelings coming in waves down my cock. Your back was arched beautifully, forming little ripples at the small of your back. Your hair was shining with a golden tint. Your curves rippled with each movement.

My fingers curled into the blanket beneath me as my shoulders strained and my neck tensed and the build-up of glorious feelings in my cock became too, too much. I was engulfed in my orgasm and you cried out as hot liquid pulsed out into you. When I re-awoke in myself I felt my own juices start to slide from your pussy and pool around the base of my shaft.

You pulled yourself from me and crawled up beside me, pulling the edges of the blanket over us as you snuggled into my chest. I wondered briefly how long we had like this before the lure of the books piled all about us drew you away into a wonderland again.

I decided I didn’t care. We were here now, nestled and panting in our own wonderland that smelt like sweat and felt like bliss. I looked into your eyes and we lost ourselves together there, for a time. ♦

Spoon Fashion

Sleep Together

I mentioned a little while ago, before Christmas, that I’d taken a little tumble in a bit of a dispute with the edge of a paving slab. In what I can only assume is a related bit of rib fun I’ve been suffering for about a week with absolutely hideous back/waist/flank pain on one side. Worse than the original injury by far, in fact. So painful that the doctor summoned me up some delicious, delicious opiates to ease things a little. Even with these, things have been…ouchy.

Coupled with this old-womanyness is the fact that both Fractal and I spent Christmas at my dad’s house in the room next to my bat-eared, insomniac sister. Given all this we’d basically resigned ourselves to building up the tension until we returned to our own flat, where, back-joy allowing, we’d have an immense fuck-a-thon.

Would it surprise you to learn that in the end we entirely failed to wait that long?

So close, as well! So very close! But our failure was wonderful fun.

It was the night before returning-back-to-Cardiffmas and all through the house not a creature was stirring except for Fractal and I. And even we were on our way to bed. Sleepy.

But we forgot a vitally important danger, the danger of…..spooning! Oh spooning, the insidious seducer, the spark that ignites snoozing lusts, the cosy but erotic arrangement of skin on skin, bodies pressed close, thigh against thigh, arms wrapped around breasts, cock snuggled into buttocks.

It wasn’t long before Fractal’s penis sprang unbidden into erection and before I really knew it I was rubbing my ass against him, small circles, presses, wriggling slightly in his grasp. I bent at the waist slightly and we were both suddenly engaged in the struggle to find an angle where he could slide his cock inside me.

After much fidgeting we had found it and he thrust his cock in up to the hilt. It felt glorious. In my opinion there is nothing in the world like the first anticipated full-length slide of sex into sex. Being filled up, opened up, made to gasp.

My bed at home is creaky and so we had to be careful, but luckily our movements didn’t make a sound except our somewhat heavy breathing and my occasional minuscule murmurs of pleasure. It had been quite a gap and I’ve no shame in saying that I was pretty desperate for a good fucking, so we both moved with a sort of repressed franticness, feeling every milimetre of movement magnified.

Fractal fucked me deeply and pinched my left nipple between his fingers. When he thought, rightly, that I was about to come he stopped and swiftly withdrew. I murmured again, this time in disappointment, but turned to him and began kissing him, grateful for the wonderful sex and just amazed by how much I love him.

After kisses and such we turned back to getting to sleep.

It didn’t last long.

As he pressed up against me, spoon fashion as Fanny Hill heard it called, his still-erect cock slipped effortlessly and unintentionally back into my slick sex. Immediately we were at it again, moving slowly but surely back and forth. Deep, long thrusts. His cock felt like something else inside me, thick, hard, perfect.

“Pinch my nipple.” I whispered.

He did so.

“Harder, please”

He did that too. Then his hand started sliding down my side, aiming for between my legs. I opened them wide, allowing his hand access. He began to rub my clitoris firmly. I groaned quietly and took over his previous task of nipple-pinching.

It was all heaven, it seemed like we were both lost in some delirious little pocket plane where all we could sense was the movement of our bodies and the feelings it created. I was getting to close to the edge, very close, and I knew we were supposed to be saving that for the next day, so I told Fractal to be careful.

Breathily he replied “It’s too late for me at least.”

No turning back now, he was going to come. And it was sexy to hear it, not just because I like him coming but also the fact that he couldn’t control it any longer, he was helpless, he was going to come whether he wanted to or not. The tone helped too, ragged, needy, a little sheepish perhaps.

He came inside me and tipped me over the edge as he did so. Waves of pleasure hit the both of us and when done he collapsed back, now half beneath me. But the whole session had been immensely hot and I was still full of pent-up sex-energy. I started touching myself.

I rubbed my clitoris, fingers wet with our mixed juices, ass pressed into his still-hard cock, both also damp and hot. It was so sexy to be masturbating after sex like that, covered in dirty, lovely come and sweat, hearing him breathing heavily next to me, lights off, dark and quiet and tense. I came hard, then a second smaller orgasm attaching to the tail end of the first.

I too collapsed, turned lazily and began to cover Fractal’s face in kisses. We beamed at each other. It had been a good way to fail to wait.  ♦

Home Sweet Home

♦ God, has it really been two weeks? Oops.

Well, we’ve been Netless, having moved into our new flat about ten days ago. We’ve only just today got it back. So, yes, new flat. Our flat. Just me and Fractal.

It felt a little unusual at first, being in a new place all on our own. But it feels like home now. Not least because we’ve managed to christen 50% of the rooms. And okay, so they’re the easiest ones, but sue me, it’s been busy. That plus I’ve had an awful virus/cold type thing for over a week that’s been going around (serves me right for still hanging around students :P). Despite this, while still groggy and fluey Fractal unexpectedly straddled me on our new mattress (which is still on the floor with no frame), pinned down my arms very firmly, and took me.

The front room has been utilised more than once for antics. The best being yesterday’s absolute marathon. Apparently after recovering from being ill Fractal gets very horny (he’d picked up what I had but wiped it out in a day, the git) and when I came home from work he was rather insistent.

We fucked on the floor, on our pleasantly rough carpet.  Missionary with my legs held up, him pressing his cock into me and then kneeling back as I touched myself til I came. Then more close thrusting. His cock felt huge after all that and my orgasm then was very claustrophobic. He was so big inside me and so close around me that I had nowhere to shudder to. But it felt so good.

Then we tried perhaps my new favourite position, and almost undoubtedly Fractal’s. Him crosslegged, me with legs wrapped around him sat on his lap. Writhing and wriggling up and down. Either with arms wrapped about him or leaning back, propping myself up on them and levering my hips.

It’s a very vigorous, very tiring, very sweaty position. It really does your knees in (especially after the battering he’d already given them). But it’s infinitely worth it. Fractal’s feet got terribly carpet-rubbed, but he loved the sex. His face was beautiful, his breath short.

He still hadn’t come after the missionary and this. It was quite surprising.

But then in a break between sitting-sex he admitted something.

While I’d been at work he’d been so horny that he’d touched himself and come. Then again. Then later on in the afternoon a third time. Three orgasms. Three. Crikey! And I wasn’t even around to watch! It turned me on though, that he’d done that. I love to think of him touching himself, making himself come.

And besides, he was still ravenously horny. He still lusted and needed to fuck.

After hearing that, despite the fact that I’d thought I couldn’t do the sitting-sex anymore, I had to carry on. I knew he loved it, and I had to make him feel good. I wanted to make him come again. I writhed and bounced and came several times again myself as he told me to take it, but soon Fractal’s poor feet were protesting.

We stood, meaning only to take a break and move to somewhere softer, but found ourselves naked facing each other. He pushed his cock towards me and I allowed it through my legs, pulling him close. We stood thrusting into each other.

He told me he thought he could come that way and I asked him to. Then I begged him to. I begged him to please come for me.

He came. The juices ran down my legs.

He tried to pull back when it was too intense but I followed and thrust and rubbed wherever I could til his knees were nearly buckling and he couldn’t take anymore.

When he had done I asked him to run his tongue up the trail of come on my leg, to lick the thin line of his semen off of me, kneeling naked on the floor. He did so. And as he did I shuddered at his tongue and came just from watching him do something so filthy. I love that he can make me come just like that.

After that we wrapped ourselves up in each other naked .

Yes, it really does feel like home… ♦

Kinkier – Part 2

♦ I left you on a slight cliff-hanger last time, sort of, and so it’s really about time I got on with things and told you all the rest of the story. So here’s part two, after the cropping and cocksucking and so on, of what happened when we first put me in my new outfit…

I had come when I shouldn’t have, turning my punishment into pleasure. So I needed more punishment. More teasing, more pleasant torture and sinful, delicious being used.

As I lay somewhat out of breath on the bed, hot and sweating inside my nurse’s dress, the white latex clinging to my flushed skin, Fractal pulled himself forward, hovering over me. He was naked and had a cruel look in his eyes, his calculated ‘anger’ just what I deserved for being so bad.

He crept further up my body, pushing the very tip of his hard cock into the wet flesh surrounding my clitoris. My tender clit sent waves of pleasure into me as his skin met mine, his glans rubbing against me. He moved back and forth slowly, teasing, his sex skimming up the length of mine. I lifted my lower body up, pressing back and soon he entered me, a single forceful thrust sending him fully inside me.

He felt amazing. He thrusted. Back and forth. The weight of his lower body half-pinning me down, his arms either side of me adding to the sense of being his, of bondage without rope or chain. I was moaning and he knew he was making me need to come again.

Soon he lowered the top half of his body too, now engaging his hands not in holding himself up but in grasping my two latex-enclosed breasts. His fingers closed on my poor, sore nipples, tweaking at the already teased and tortured buds. They hurt. It was going to make me come.

My moans grew and between them I told him that his treatment of my breasts was bringing me closer to climax. He grinned, but didn’t want me to come. This was my punishment. Teasing. I wasn’t to come.

Fractal told me that he was going to keep fucking me anyway, but that I had to be a good girl. He’d continue to fuck me for 30 seconds longer and I had to endure that time right on the edge of orgasm, but not reach it. I had to hold out. He counted the seconds out slowly, still thrusting hard. I shivered and panted on the edge, trying hard to do as I was told.

When the 30 seconds was up he pulled out, the sudden lack of his cock in me causing me to gasp as it always does.

He told me to assume the position I’d discovered that week, whilst browsing the pictures in the book I’d bought. Almost an all-fours position, but not quite. I was on my knees, legs apart and ass in the air, displaying my pussy and anus in a way that made me feel very vulnerable and therefore very hot. The weight of my torso was on my shoulders and neck, my face turned to one side, half-pushed into the mattress. My arms were between my legs, resting on the bed, a hand next to each ankle.

In this position I was helpless to resist any punishments or pleasures given to me, particularly as Fractal brought out the handcuffs, closing them around my wrists. He also added one of our red rope ties to my legs. It felt wonderful to be tied up like that. I think I may very well love B over and above even D, S and M.

He started to spank me. Hard hits against each cheek. Needless to say that felt wonderful too. (Am I saying that too much? :P) The slaps became harder and I cried out often until after a time he switched to the crop, what is fast becoming perhaps my favourite of our small number of hitty devices (it’s fairly new actually, Fractal having broken the last one while slightly the worse for wear, for shaaaame). It really does do the trick.

Throughout all this I was helpless in position, my limbs tied, my hands actually grabbing on to the rope between my ankles, half for support and half out of that compulsion to hold on tight or claw at things  which comes with a good thrashing or rough orgasmic sex (beware the gentlemen who lets his skin into my grasp when this happens, Fractal still has the scabs from when I broke the skin over a week ago. Long scratches at the base of his back, very pretty indeed).

“You know the good thing about tying you up like this?” Fractal asked me when he’d finished with the crop.

“What’s that, sir?”

“I can touch myself all I want and you can’t do anything about it. All you can do is lie there and listen .” He knows how much I love to touch his cock, he knows how frustrated it gets me, how worked up, when he masturbates himself and won’t let me touch.

I whimpered.

After an agonising few minutes I heard him stop and felt the mattress shift as he moved closer to me, behind me. I felt the tip of his cock against me again. He rubbed the head over my anus and pussy, teasing before once again plunging it inside me. I groaned. I love to be taken from behind, it feels amazing. And he can go so deep inside me and move so easily that the sex becomes so rough and intense.

It was when I looked back at him that I noticed that Fractal seemed almost possessed. The way he moved suggested to me that he was getting into things even more that usual. He was practically rocketing back and forth, his face showing wild pleasure. And he was gasping. He’s so quiet usually during sex that this alone was a huge turn-on.

Then he had an idea.

He left the room and came back with something and soon I felt the harsh cold bite of an ice cube against my clitoris, he rubbed it up against me as a little switch inside me flicked back and forth rapidly between intense pleasure and pretty intense pain. One second I couldn’t bear it, the next I loved it. He moved the cube to the opening of my pussy and pushed it inside me. His cock swiftly followed.

Now he really gasped. He told me afterwards that fucking me with the ice in my pussy felt fantastic. He kept thrusting hard and fast and soon I was close to coming, the ice somewhat numbing the effect in a strange, but pleasant, fashion. I asked if I could touch myself, but he refused me. I wanted so badly to come that way, but the refusal was also hot. It seems I like my denial.

Fractal pulled out and told me to lie on my stomach, he entered me in missionary then, but with his legs on the outside and mine locked as tightly as I could together, squeezing his cock in my pussy. His hands once again rested on the latex covering my tender, pinched nipples and the rest of my breasts. He squeezed at them and it felt marvellous. They were sore and aching and the nipples had been put through a lot for me, but I loved that he continued to play with, and thereby punish, them.

“Harder.” I said.

He got rougher, pulling and pawing at them, squeezing, pinching. I started to come. And as I did so I begged for him to torment my breasts harder. I lose track of how many orgasms were in that little chain, but by the last one I had sucked Fractal into the chain with me and he climaxed, coming hard inside me.

We lay there for a while when we were done, we stroked each others’ faces and basked in the glory of some damn good sex. It’s certainly in the running for best sex we’ve had. ♦