♦ 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. ♦
♦ I came across this absolutely fantastic and apt quote about sex and our attitudes towards it by a Norwegian writer. Heck, you all know me enough by now to know I think this way, but it just sums it up so well and I really think it bears repeating. On sexual morality and why it is mostly bull… ♦
People speak of ‘sexual morality,’ but that is a misleading expression. There is no special morality for sex. No matter what you do with yourself, whether you go to bed with girls or with boys, and no matter what it occurs to you to do with them or with yourself, no moral rule applies to that sphere of activity other than the principles that govern every aspect of life: honesty, courage, common humanity, consideration. – Jens Bjørnboe
♦ “Close your eyes,” I said and he did. He lay back on the bed and shut them firmly, anticipating, always eager to obey when he knew I had something planned. I did have something planned, even if that plan had come together in the space of five minutes in the next room, rooting through The Drawers for kink and kit.
We’re having our housewarming this weekend and it’s fancy dress, because fancy dress is fucking fantastic. I’ve been making a military beret for mine and something clicked in my head when I saw it lying there, discarded. I’d been thinking lacy and stockings, but now…
I shut the door behind me and straddled him at the hips. When I allowed him to open his eyes he saw me dressed in the green beret and a very military-like khaki jumpsuit buttoned to the collarbone. I carried a crop under my arm, swagger stick style. I swear his eyes almost bulged from his head.
He was dressed only in his trousers and he looked beautiful. I’d already been impressed earlier that day by how gorgeous his arms looked: swimmer’s muscles, lean and lithe but strong.
You’ll have to forgive me. I may say it myself, but what he said to me and what I said to him and the roleplaying was so fucking hot. But I forget. My waves of orgasms are too good at wiping out the coastal villages of my memory. The details merge, the lines become brush strokes of eroticism on an Impressionist painting.
So, yeah, I forget stuff.
But the night was swimming with “Yes, Ma’am”s and permission asked and occasional cheek given. I enjoyed ordering him around and domming shit up and punishing insubordination where I found it, rewarding good behaviour too.
I unbuttoned the top of the khaki jumpsuit to show my breasts, naked but for a fishnet bodystocking and, supporting them, an almost Steampunk “bra belt”. My nipples poked through the black fishnet and I leant in towards his face. He sucked on my left nipple with ardour and I gasped and ground into his body beneath me.
Before I knew it, I was surprising myself with an orgasm. My grinding into him wasn’t even involved! This was all from his attention on one of my nipples and I inwardly praised my body as I shuddered on top of him.
Military-style banter that I so wish I could remember followed. Trust me: fucking hot. Crush respectfully suggested we try the experiment again to see if we could reproduce those results and I agreed, but this time I demanded to lie on my back.
He took my nipple in his mouth again and he began to suck, but my nipple wouldn’t be so easily swayed this time. No matter. As he sucked hard I began to rub my crotch over my jumpsuit and, not that he knew that, my black PVC thong underneath. I rubbed furiously, so turned on by his desire and the sheer fucking hotness of it all. Soon I was shuddering, a second orgasm rippling through me.
Now Crush was bold with lust and, as we switched places again, asked me if he could spank me.
Well, I was in charge as his Commanding Officer, so what to do? But a filthy thought occurred. I quite like the idea of hurting a man, something he might not necessarily like, as a form of payment by him to get something he really wants. I’m not sure what it is about it. Perhaps the idea that his lusts have overtaken him so?
In any case, I offered the price of five pinches of his nipple for an undefined period of spanking me. He accepted nervously and I began, gently, to pinch him. I brusquely told him to count and he did. But he tried to be cheeky, tried to count three when it was two. So I started again. He counted the fourth pinch before I’d actually done it, so guess what? I started again.
This time there were no mistakes and I dismounted him, leaning forward on hands and knees as he spanked me with the red paddle. Sometimes I hate that paddle. Sometimes, as you’ll see, I love it. But right now it was a hard one to take.
Take it I did, though.
Now naked, he sat on the edge of the bed and I produced my black metal handcuffs from the little pile of toys I’d brought in. I set them down and, hot from our exertions, stripped the khaki jumpsuit from my body. Now he saw the thong and the full glory of my bodystocking as its netting covered my sticky-hot curves.
The hat, I noticed, fell some time during the spanking. Now it was pure kinkwear, but we kept up our roles nonetheless. My geek society would be proud. :P
I opened the cuffs, managing to hook them into my fishnet on the way. Sigh. Unhooking them, I instead attached them to my intended target. I grabbed them by the chain and hoicked his arms above his head, scratching at his chest and back and eyeing him fiercely.
Letting go, I made him scoot up the bed and knelt between his legs, bringing my beloved Tango vibe with me. I placed it between my labia, cushioned by them and kept in place by my thong and thighs. I turned it on and felt it throb. I kissed my way up Crush’s body, crawling seductively, reaching his cock and…
…running my tongue playfully a centimetre above his shaft as if licking, but not. A tease. A torture.
The kisses marched up his chest and neck before I turned and swooped back down on his cock, licking for real this time, making love to him with tongue and lips. I was feral, enthusiastic, I moaned when he leaked pre-come and writhed back and forth, managing to rock against the vibrator nestled in my folds. I came once, twice as I licked fervently and then collapsed on his cock.
I offered to let him fuck me, right then and there. But Crush was on task. He knew I had a goal to reach and figured one more towards it before moving on couldn’t hurt. He asked me to carry on licking and sucking and coming on my bullet vibe, but this time he wanted some dirty talk. And, narcissist that he is, heh, dirty talk about him.
So I told him as I licked him about how hot he makes me, how sexy he looks, his gorgeous body, his thick cock and I licked and sucked. I wriggled and turned up the rumble on my vibrator until I came again, moaning on his cock, gagging myself with his erection.
The finest part of the evening was still to come though. And I’m not even talking about the penetration. No, while that was fantastic, I think I liked the next part better. Remember I said sometimes I love the red paddle?
He wanted to use it on me again, this time while I continued to use the vibrator on myself. I was only too quick to oblige.
It was interesting how through the whole thing, I was still in charge. Even when I asked him what he wanted, even when I shuddered under his hand as he spanked me. It was strange, although it shouldn’t be, and wonderful. I was his superior officer, he a lowly subordinate and I was using him for my kicks. Simple as. Whether he spanked me or not, it was my will and I could easily have him court marshalled in a snap, naturally.
I discarded the ridiculously-named “bra belt” and the thong and leant forward on the bed. He spanked me as I toyed with my clit using the vibrator and for a while it was much the same as the first spanking. Then the rumbling on my clit began to kick in and, as I worked myself towards another orgasm, I found myself wanting more and more and MORE.
“Harder,” I begged and Crush obliged. “Harder,” I cried and he hit harder still. With each gain in arousal I wanted more force, more pain. Soon I was coming hard and Crush was pounding on me as hard as he could. I had never taken this much force for this long before and I kept it up as I rolled into another fantastic climax. I was out of breath, sweating, shaking, I was full of the most wonderful feelings and sensations. I collapsed forward and turned onto my back, gazing at my beautiful lad with wide eyes.
“I love you,” I said, breaking character momentarily.
“I love you too,” he replied.
The sex that followed was frantic and amazing. Once I’d warmed to the large cock inside me, I told him he could go as hard or soft as he liked. I think he tried to teach me a lesson and soon I was bouncing, shrieking, revelling in the wonderful pleasure/pain of his rough thrusts. He came inside me after a time and we flopped next to each other, spent… ♦
♦ It’s been a long time since I wrote a post showing you some of the more unusual search terms that people are using when they find (and click on) my blog. Heck, the post I wrote about it last was years ago now. It’s fun and I should do this more often and, let’s be honest, this writing is taking up a lot of my spare time so I need something less taxing to post here that isn’t another blimmin’ picture. My writing deadline is Monday, however, so things should pick up a bit here then.
Anyway, without further ado, here are the good, bad and downright weird ways people have found me over the last month or so… ♦
bacon dildo – This person has had truly the world’s greatest idea. To the fridge! Until then, Baconlube will just have to do.
a good spanking is given hard with the hand – Damn straight.
angel demon lesbians – Perhaps this sort of thing is why this is the most popular post OF ALL TIME on my blog.
women wearing fedoras naked – I’ll get behind that!
alabaster buttocks – Teehee
fat bottomed submissive – Hi. Nice to meet you.
gorgeous tomboy fuck – I’ll be in my bunk.
so many tits – THE GOGGLES, THEY DO NOTHING!
victoria coren – Rrowr! Perhaps naked in a fedora with bacon?
dice in vagina – They never actually made it quite that far.
jelly dong sex pics – Fuck no. About the worst thing you can do to me is show me incredibly hot porn that happens to use a disgusting jelly toy. So right with so much wrongness!
wonderfull erotic child sex – Eww. Go straight to the police, do not pass Go.
sex badly – How dare you!
rohypnol – Consent is sexy, people
runny pussy – Ick!
the durex slipped off his huge black cock just as he came inside me – That is not a good thing.
stimulus package – I do not think my blog was what you were after here.
barbie with genuine tits – I don’t… even.
anally inserted tumblr – Question: Does a website have a flared base?
honest cocks – None of your deceitful dicks here.
fetish, being thrown into ocean – Really? Huh. That is a new one!
tease him with your vagina scent – Do eeet!
bdsm in discworld – I am intrigued where you were going with this.
is patchouli pussy – Probably not.
slipping my cock into a warm jar of honey – Better idea: slipping a warm jar of honey into my face.
accessorize for cruel self bondage – Perhaps a shawl or bracelet of some kind. With spikes maybe.
my newly waxed penis – WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?
♦ 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. ♦
♦ 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.