♦ He said he was too ill for sex. He’d hurt his foot in the rain and his stomach in a Mexican restaurant (I blame the greedily-gulped wine rather than the food). I told him I was tired anyway. My sister had just been shipped back to the Old Country and I’d spent too long browsing pens and paper and pins.
It was hot. I was hot. Summer seems replaced by stickiness and no sun.
I stripped off my clothes down to my underwear and lay back on his bed, cuddling my new owl cushion and flicking interestedly through The Encyclopaedia of Unusual Sex Practices. Absorbed in coprophagy, child marriage and corporal punishment, my flushed skin cooled and my body relaxed.
He came to give me some affection and noted my all-but-bared body with interest.
“I’d fuck you right now if I were feeling better.” He said, with a mixture of lust and disappointment.
We moved into my room to play a boardgame, but it didn’t quite turn out that way. I decided that the short journey required more clothes, especially if we wanted to be sociable and leave the door open. So I donned the khaki jumpsuit from our little military coup the other day. It’s light and not fussy and seemed perfect.
I’d have thought I’d be less alluring to Crush with more clothes on, but no. Covering up just made him all the hornier, it turned out. He crawled over me as I lay on the bed, breasts trapped by poppers that were so easily undone, skin tightly dressed in smooth fabric. He ran his hands over the khaki and ripped the poppers apart.
He pushed me down and swiftly pulled the top of the jumpsuit from my body. I removed the bra straps from my shoulders and he flipped down the cups, exposing my breasts to him. He smothered them in kisses before leaping up and tugging at the bottom half of the jumpsuit.
I toyed with him, struggling here and there, obstructing his efforts, playfully trying to resist him. But I wanted it too badly to really protest.
He whipped off his trousers and rubbed the fat head of his cock against my pussy. I was already slightly slick, but he still had to take things slowly, pushing his cock in and out, adding a centimetre of length at a time until suddenly my cunt resisted no longer, he was inside me and could fuck me with abandon.
And so he did.
He moved like an animal as I writhed underneath him. I bucked my hips and watched his feral movements in amazement. His haunches rocked back and forth, driving his shaft deep into me, his hands gripping me possessively. I moaned and wriggled and soon he was coming loudly within me, spilling himself into me, spending all his little energy.
He collapsed, head on my breasts and I stroked his hair. We’d already reclaimed the room, indeed bed, my sister had borrowed for the week: a week of late nights and camaraderie but not one single bit of sex to speak of.
Well, ill or not, tired or not, it was all better now. ♦
♦ Our ‘new’ mattress is a little harder and the room a little lighter. There are long-forgotten trinkets still strewn on the floor and half-filled drawers waiting for clothes and clutter. An unfamiliar ceiling. A single floorboard that creaks.
But he, at least, is familiar.
Days of drudgery and Domestos have sunk tiredness deep into our bones and our brains are fuzzy from weariness and fumes. We have relied on each other to put in the elbow grease and take care of tasks, but we haven’t yet sunk into each others bare arms in this house other than to flop into fitful sleep.
His hair is tousled and his body, as always, is full of soft curves and hard edges: a smooth belly, jutting hips, long limbs and the barest hint of plush, dark hair. He crawls into bed from the edge and peppers my naked breast with kisses. I ache for affection not snuck between hefting boxes or scrubbing surfaces. I long for the feel of him, the leisure of his body and the pleasure of his cock.
I press into his kisses and plant my own on his shoulder and neck, undulating under his mouth. I slip my hands from his torso as he starts to nibble at my nipple and I move one to his cock and one to my clit.
He lies down next to me, still with good access to my body and lets me stroke us both. His foot is planted steadily against the wall and I hook my leg over his lightly, giving myself better access to the sensations knotting around my clitoris.
I struggle to keep us both at our preferred rhythms – him slower and me faster – as he takes a nipple in each hand and presses and rolls them between his fingertips.
Our little moans and sighs of content mingle in the high-ceilinged room and I edge towards orgasm. After a little rearrangement of my pillows, I am there, gasping and groaning as I shatter the tension built up in my body and shudder into my climax.
I am still masturbating him slowly but now I turn to him and tell him I want him to fuck me. I want him inside me. I want to melt back into desire with him. I want to make it clear that the worst of the life-fuss is over and I can start to relax, that we can reclaim our lust together from the clutches of responsibility.
He pulls himself around so he kneels between my legs and pushes his cockhead against my wettened slit. I so want this. I gasp as he enters me, my cunt still tender and tuned-up from my orgasm. I ask him to keep his angle low so I can really enjoy the full size of him as he strokes the top of my pussy and thrusts me into happiness.
I love the feel of cock on cunt. I writhe in pleasure as I stroke myself leisurely, watching his gorgeous face change with his efforts. Soon he is coming inside me, groaning in the release of too much built-up tension. It has been far too long for both of us.
I pull him down on top of me and feel the last twitches of his cock inside me. The house is ours now and he is mine, but, perhaps more importantly, I belong to myself again, not to life’s little irks. There’s nothing like having a first time all over again.
♦ This Sunday I’m joining in again with Sinful Sunday, but with a new twist! This week is Sinful Sunday’s first ever competition and the theme is Underneath…
Penny: Sometimes people are layered like that. There’s something totally different underneath than what’s on the surface.
Billy: And sometimes there’s a third… even deeper level… and that one is the same as the top surface one.
Billy: Like with pie.
So, Crush and I, I don’t know if we’ve mentioned this before, but we’re geeks. Massive, fuck-off geeks. We roleplay, we wargame, we play video games and we play boardgames that, if you’re not One of Us, you’ve likely never heard of. [/hipster glasses]
Also, I just used a fake markup tag, so that’s a hint.
In any case, it’s quite obvious to everyone we know in real life that we’re geeky. But what our nerdy circle of friends don’t know is that I write this blog. They must know by now that I’m open about sex, they probably even have a clue we’re kinky, but they just don’t know how dirty we are underneath our geekiness. Underneath the awkward roleplayer is a wanton slut. Underneath the gawky gamer is a controlling dominant. Underneath our geekery lies a world of smut and filth and fucking.
And, like a pie, underneath that is a good layer of geek again. I mean, we just took naked photos of each other underneath piles of dice and then fucked in the aftermath.
Turns out, dice sex is good sex.
I hope you’ve liked seeing what we are underneath. Like the rest of humanity, we’re layered, but no matter if the current surface is geeky or sexy or something else altogether: it’s us all the way down. ♦
This Sinful Sunday we’re working to a competition on the theme of “Underneath”. Want to see more sinful interpretations? Click the image below…
♦ I have a couple of collars besides my shiny one and my masculine leather one. Exactly two more, in fact, both matte and black, which close with poppers rather than buckles. One says “SLUT” in metal letters on the front, the other “BAD KITTY”. I don’t get a chance to wear them all that often, but I wore the bad kitty one to Mardi Gras last weekend for a bit of added spice to my rainbow theme, knowing that gay-friendly quite often goes hand-in-hand with kink-friendly.
When we got back from Mardi Gras (having bought a lovely suede flogger), all my accessories came off in a too-hot heap, leaving the collar on the coffee table. I thought nothing of it until last night when, idly fidgety and mischievous, I picked up my collar and played with it briefly before eyeing Crush’s back. Hmm. The collar is basically a leather strap with metal studs, when you think of it that way…
The thwack onto Crush’s back took him by surprise and he yelped. Apparently, it had stung. I’d been talking with him since Mardi Gras about how I’d like to wear a collar more often but that, since he wasn’t overly into it from his side, it would be a little bit like submitting to myself if he wasn’t fussed, which would be a bit rubbish. Nonetheless, I didn’t realise how much he’d taken on board.
It became more apparent when he firmly took the collar-turned-strap from my hands and said to me: “You’ve been a bad kitty…”
Before I could do anything, though I wonder now whether that was because of his speed or because that unexpected phrase had already taken me by the hair and dangled me off the ledge over subspace, he had pushed my head forward and was wrapping the collar around my throat. I must have just frozen because with my hair getting too long now there was no real way he could have closed the snaps on that collar without my compliance or, at least, without my inaction.
My reaction as he fastened the collar around my neck was internal and visceral. An explosion fired within my cunt at the shame and submission of this simple act. It was indescribably powerful and direct. I’ve felt very little like it. His collaring me was ridiculously erotic and I loved it instantly.
I’ve had a collar put on me before, of course. Fractal and I used the shiny one relatively often. But the act of putting it on before had always been during foreplay, whilst the mood was already sexed-up, not out of the blue. Not to mention in private, not out like this in my living room, a mere foot from Alt, my housemate.
If that same housemate hadn’t been there I would have jumped Crush like a shot, that option denied to me and the housemate’s presence (kinky though he is) stopping me from flirting outrageously obviously with my lover, all I could think to do was make mopey noises and pull a joke-sad face. I pouted and complained when all I wanted to do was drown in the envelopingly erotic feelings being emitted from my clit and pussy. I had no words to express what I wanted to, no way of explaining just what that little thing had done to me, especially not in company.
The room continued to move around me as I struggled to stay above water, to remain calm and to present a not-wildly-turned-on-honest face to the world. The pouting was like an armour, a little trick I used to distance myself enough to come up slightly from the submissive arousal he’d thrown me into. It was hard work.
I loved that he had shamed me this way, that he had punished me for my mischief. Heck, I think I even loved that he had done it in ‘public’, even if the only audience was my kinky housemate and even if said housemate was the only thing stopping me from leaping on Crush and fucking his brains out right there and then. The feel of the collar was gorgeous, it was sexy as hell as a symbol of Crush taking a stance and telling me off. It was submission alright.
But what I loved most of all was that he’d done this to me. Crush is dominant in a way that he isn’t submissive (though he tries gamely for me), but he isn’t into as much D/s things as I am. There are plenty of dominant things that I would love to submit to that he doesn’t particularly care for. He’d listened when I talked briefly about collaring with him, but the fact that he’d taken it to heart for me was wonderful. He’d decided I was naughty and thought I would like to be chastised in this way. He’d taken control and shamed me for my behaviour. He’d not just done it to me, but for me. It was romantic.
The shame, the slight public nature, the snug feel of the collar, the fact that he, He, he, had done this to/for me, it was so much to take in. It was a litany of pure lust. I was surprised by just how good it made me feel. I knew I liked wearing a collar, but I hadn’t expected to react so strongly to it. The sub inside me sung with delight.
The night carried on, my collar still around my neck. A friend came over and played boardgames with us, our other housemates came back and we chatted and laughed at Bear’s attempts to get his new gadgetry to work. It was a normal and pleasant evening but I hid a secret that soaked it with unseen pleasure.
The collar was comfortable, though snug, but it nagged at me all evening. It whispered lewd nothings to my cunt. Throughout the evening I was reminded of Crush’s reprimand, of that submissiveness, of the lurch between my legs he had caused.
When I thought about what he had done to me, why I was wearing this collar, a wave of lust surged in my sex, curling and rolling over inside me like a breaker on the shore before eventually crashing down into a wash of desire that never truly dissipated. I couldn’t quite forget that I was his and that I was in punishment. The collar was a constant reminder and it keep my tension on the rise all evening.
The bad kitty collar would stay on until we went to bed and I, naked and humbled, sat before him and asked, please, if I had been good enough for him to take it off for me. He complied and we turned in for the night.
My punishment wouldn’t yet be over for the day. He would make me submit again.
But that is a story for another night… ♦
(Just so you know, the original second half of this post (after “especially not in company”) disappeared into nothing when I accidentally hit “X” instead of the tab I wanted. Whatever you think of the new second half, I can almost guarantee the original was better. It was finished and it was, to me, at least, beautiful. I’ve tried to Frankenstein it back to life but you can still see the stitches and it isn’t the same. I hope I’ve learned my lesson, because, weird as it may sound, I poured a bit of my heart into that lost section. It’s gone now.)
♦ The bad thing about not having any housemates around is that you start to think it’s a good idea to come to your bedroom door in nothing but pyjama bottoms and lean cross-arms and full-breasted against the door frame.
Crush spent the next hour or so showing me that actions have their consequences.
Standing on the landing just below his head was at the perfect height for him to press his face into my bosom. He kissed at my nipples enthusiastically, occasionally stopping for a quick rest on his makeshift pillows. He flicked his head up to look me in the eyes before taking me by the Standard Female Grab Area and pushing me smoothly backwards into the room.
As my calves found the foot of the bed, gravity became Crush’s accomplice and the two tipped me onto my back on the soft duvet. Crush knelt over me triumphantly before quickly grabbing me by the wrists and hoisting me bodily further up the bed. My right wrist was pushed hastily through one of the red rope ties that constantly adorn our sturdy headboard. Its companion followed soon after.
Snugly restrained, I let him pull the pyjamas from my legs, not expecting him to immediately throw them over my face. I stayed quiet under the fabric that all but obscured my vision. I could have struggled, could have probably tossed it from my face if I’d tried, but I wanted to submit. Crush is, in general, a less kinky sort than me so I delighted in the idea of him taking control, of him living up to what I’m sure is a natural dommishness hidden inside him. When he tries he has a flair of talent, but he doesn’t always feel the desire to try. I loved the idea of him wanting to now.
With my sight mostly blocked I didn’t see him remove his clothes, only realising he had when I saw a dart of skin pass my vision on its way to The Drawers. Pulling something out, he turned his attention to me again, taking the fabric from my face and throwing it casually to one side. He kissed me lovingly yet somewhat forcefully. He tasted good on my lips and tongue.
Suddenly I caught a glimpse of what he’d pulled from the top drawer. He was wielding the ruler again. Seeing I had rumbled his plans he grabbed at my legs, twisting them over themselves so that my bottom half was turned, baring my behind as best as possible.
The ruler came down fast on my cheeks, making me wince and moan and causing sparks of sensation to spring forth inside me. He spanked me hard, my hands tied to the bed and my arse roughly displayed to him. I loved it.
Returning me to splayed-out-on-my-back-helpless mode he put down the ruler and picked up a wicked glint in his eye.
He straddled me, his form naked and towering, his gorgeous hard-as-marble chest taut above me, his swollen cock jutting warmly from his body. It’s a big ol’ thing, so even fully erect it took no more than a slight lean forward from Crush to have it brush downwards against my cool skin. He did so as he placed a hand at each of my nipples and began to pinch. Not to squeeze, not to caress, not to pluck but to pinch. He was hard and rough and remorseless as he pressed my poor nipples into pleasure/pain and me into willing submission.
He kept it up, squeezing and pinching as I began to struggle underneath him. At first I accepted his treatment gladly but now I bucked at the pain being pressed into my aching buds. I turned my face sideways into the pillows and writhed into them. He was being cruel and he was enjoying it. He was enjoying having me wriggle and moan under him, having me helpless against him. I kicked out, wrestling-style, but no ref stepped in to save me and finally all I could do was say “Please…”. Please stop.
I couldn’t take any more. As he released my breasts from his grasp the pain/pleasure turned to a lovely warm ache that made me wish I’d never said anything, that made me sure I could have taken more. I’m glad I didn’t though, because moving on to the next part had its merits.
At least, once he let me, that is.
That’s right. He made me beg. I told you he was a natural, really. He asked me if I wanted him inside me, to which I of course said yes. He told me to beg. “Please,” I said, “please, I want you to fuck me. Fuck me”.
“Louder,” he said. I raised my voice and asked him please to fuck me. “Louder”, he repeated and I spoke loudly. “Louder,” he insisted and I practically shouted out “Please, just fuck me! Please!”
After spending what seemed like an age rubbing his cock over the folds of my pussy, he finally deigned to slip it inside me. By slip, perhaps I mean shove. Good lord, he’s so fucking big sometimes! The first thrust of his sex within mine is always like nothing else. Indescribably divine. I think one day I’m going to have to devote an entire blog post just to trying to describe what it feels like.
He fucked me then. He took me. He drove into me with hard, unforgiving thrusts as I squealed in pleasure and bucked joyfully at my ropes. I could feel the length of his cock slide into me and out with each stroke. He looked like a young god.
Crush placed his hands on my breasts to steady himself as he toiled but then began to pluck at my nipples with his fingertips. I felt the long, slow climb of the rollercoaster near its peak and pleaded with him to squeeze harder, harder. The plunge started and I rattled breath-takingly fast down into the dark, close tunnel of orgasm, my world shrinking to the size of this room, this moment.
He came, neck strained, head back and gasping. When our ride was over he pulled out and I thought that we were done for the time being.
But Crush had other plans. As I lay there still tied to the bed, he reached back into the top drawer, pulled out our Basic love egg and placed it tantalisingly between my legs. He flicked it up to the lowest setting and a small buzz started on my clitoris. As my tension climbed he raised the pace to match and soon the vibrator was on its highest speed. He released my right hand from its rope and gave me the vibrator, instructing me to make myself come with it.
And I did. And I did again. He still held the control box, I merely held the egg, and I knew that he had all the power. He was the one who could make this stop, not me. I was going to hold that little vibe tight to my clit until he deemed it over and turned off the machine.
Soon the buzzing was too much, in a good way. I was wriggling and writhing and moaning and coming again and again. Gorgeous and torturous though this was there was a limit to how much of it I could take. Crush finally relented and turned off the vibe but not before my last orgasm caused me to squirt a little, adding to the sopping mix of his come and mine.
All in all, it was a good hour or so. ;) ♦
♦ Just a quick note (with a sexy clickable pic by Smile and Cry) to say I’m off on holiday for almost a week, if you hadn’t heard. So the blog pretty much won’t be updated in that time. You’ll just have to cope without me.
That said, it won’t be entirely radio silence as I hope to log in to my Twitter every now and again and perhaps even check comments here (hint: so you should all leave me some nice surprises :P).
On the plus side, I’m going to be taking a sexy travelling companion with me in the shape of Crush, so who knows, I might come back with some stories to tell… ♦
♦ The bulge in my girl-boxers looked good, I thought to myself as I lay back on the bed. Strangely natural, well sized and beginning to spread a slight tingling where it was touching skin. Crush began to kiss my face and I not-so-subtly moved his hand down to my newly-acquired package. He hesitated and then, overcoming his reservations for my sake, cupped my false cock under his palm, stroking and rubbing as he’d often felt me do to him.
Despite the obvious lack of actual feedback coming from the limp thing stuffed down my knickers, I thrilled to the barely-felt touch. I kissed him back in earnest and rolled myself half on top of him, pressing myself against him. His fingers moved to deftly undo my bra from underneath my short blue summer dress. He plucked it from me and cupped my breasts in his masculine hands.
When he began to roll down my underwear I suggested he leave it on enough to contain my cock and instead cover my bared behind in blows and blushed skin. Quickly he moved to the second drawer and pulled out three implements, the ruler, the leather strap and my favourite, the shiny red paddle. I turned over onto my front and he rained down strikes on my exposed skin, causing me to yelp and wriggle. His other arm pinned me down, leaning his weight on me at the shoulder blades as I gasped. As usual he had to temper himself a little whilst using the ruler and strap, his strength too easily turning into just-too-hard hits. The paddle, though, was perfect. A flatter, broader strike than the stings of the other two. Soon I imagined my cheeks to look as red as the paddle itself and I begged for him to stop, which he did.
Now I needed him inside me.
My thin summer dress was in complete disarray as he rolled me over onto my front and pulled down my pants, setting my packing cock to one side. My breasts had fallen free from their cover, tickled lightly by the breeze. Crush stripped off his top and trousers, his flesh-and-blood cock standing proud between his legs. He parted my legs and began to rub the wonderful thing over the lips of my sex, rubbing deliciously against me. Though moments ago I was enjoying the make-believe male member of mine, now all I wanted was to dive back into reality and have him inside me.
I cried out as his frankly huge cock entered me, as always still shocked by the size of it, despite more than a year of practice. I fancied it cleaved me near in two as he placed his hands on my shoulders, pinning me to the bed. As he plunged deeper and deeper I managed to wriggle the tips of my fingers to my clitoris and began to stroke myself. I knew we’d both worked ourselves into a frenzy and that it wouldn’t be long before we both exploded into orgasm. As his cock opened me up to the core I began to moan louder and louder.
Soon he was moaning too and my orgasm flared into life. I bucked against his weight and he began to shudder into me, his cock flooding come into me as my climax faded. He collapsed on top of me and we lay there quietly for a while, his weight on me feeling calming and immensely comfortable. ♦
♦ So, er, for those who haven’t managed to keep up with the above, I’ve bought myself a real feel packing penis, more to come on that later. I’ve wanted one for a while and finally got around to getting one. Also, still with Crush and he’s still gorgeous. Hopefully I can keep this whole back-into-blogging thing up. Much thanks and squee to those who missed me. ♦
♦ He opened the box carefully, making sure not to let me have a glimpse of its contents. I already knew roughly what the box would contain, but details escaped me. Treats, that was for sure. He told me it would cheer me up. I’d had a hard day and I certainly needed it, in more ways than one.
Crush told me to close my eyes.
He handed me the first little packet. A cellophane shape that I tried to decipher in my mind.
Some kind of leather strap? It must be the ball gag… The next shape came. This one was harder, but the small, hard bumps on one end gave it away. It had to be the studded paddle.
The next packet helped with our little game. I recognised it immediately and smiled, taking it out of the packaging, eyes still closed. I slowly pulled it over my head, the blindfold coming down to rest snugly around my eyes. Now I was properly without sight.
Crush passed me several more items from the box, making me guess each one. I couldn’t guess the cuffs, laid flat as they were, but the rope was free of packaging and therefore easy as pie.
Once I had found and felt them all he laid me down on the bed. I wasn’t expecting to be seduced, but in his favour I did already have a blindfold on and I was already naked. Heck, it’s summer, what do you expect?
I heard the sound of Crush pulling something from the box and then felt the fabric of the velcro cuffs clasping my wrists. It would have been easy to wiggle my fingers under them and pull them off, but that’s not really playing fair. And besides, I could suspend disbelief. Sure, I could escape, but I certainly didn’t want to.
It felt good to be restrained, even only superficially.
He started to kiss me and to run the feathery tickler over my bare breasts. It felt better than I expected. I’ve never really seen the point of those things. I mean, a duster…in bondage gear? Surely you can do better than that. But it felt surprisingly sensual. Hardly kinky, sure, but certainly very pleasant. I found myself shuddering slightly and moving under its light touch. I was getting deeper into excitement with each pass of the feathers.
Crush put the tickler down and placed his bare hands on my skin. He kissed my breasts lightly before turning me over onto my stomach.
My face was pressed into the softness of the pillows as he started to bring the studded strap down on my behind. I moaned as it bit into the flesh slightly, flinching away unthinkingly with each strike. I couldn’t see, I couldn’t escape, I couldn’t help but give myself up to his attentions and enjoy myself. He’s still new to “‘ittin’ sticks” as I occasionally call all things beat-y and strike-y, but he shows a lot of promise. A few stray strikes hit too high or too low, causing me to yelp even louder, but I was mostly lost in how good it felt to have the skin sting a little more each minute.
He made sure to redden me nicely before turning me back over and attaching my cuffs to the metal struts of the headboard.
He pushed himself between my legs and I smiled, still blind under the cloth over my eyes. I was so wet and he slipped into me easily, first rubbing the length of his hard cock over my sex.
I groaned and he began to push further, moving back and forth smoothly, fucking me deliciously. His hands were on my breasts and mine were stroking his chest, craving his touch, needing more of the remaining senses I had left to go on. It felt wonderful.
Soon he was moaning too and carefully twisting my nipples with each thrust. That was what it took to throw me over the edge. I came hard, my muscles spasming around him and causing him to groan louder.
By the time I reached the final uphill stretch of my second orgasm he was right there alongside me, both of us crashing down into the depths of pleasure and bursting, pulsing sensation. A rollercoaster of the mind and body.
Still inside me, he kindly unclipped my hands and let me withdraw the blindfold from my eyes. He looked more beautiful than ever. My Crush. My love. Gorgeous.
And all mine.
The box had been good fun to play with, that was for certain, but I think that in the end it was knowing that which really put the smile on my face… ♦
♦ In other news, we’re moving house over the next few days (me and Crush officially in the same place, along with two friends) and so I’m going to be offline for about a fortnight or so, unfortunately. Just thought I’d better say so you don’t all think I’m just getting lazy again! :P ♦