I follow along with the words, my eyes skimming the page. Now and then, I feel a twinge of familiarity, a phrase of singular penetration that strikes at the heart. And I cringe. My own nature twists below the facade of so-called normality. If they only knew who I really am. All of them, yet none of them do. Would they be appalled? Excited? I dare not find out.
Greed, sloth, anger, gluttony, envy, pride. The course of any other of the deadly sins is easier to chart than that of lust. For lust is as a mirror to your soul. Until you know who you are, you cannot know whom you will desire.
-- Poison
Monday, December 15, 2008
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
One ring to rule them all
“What’s this?” He pulled at my waist, drawing me close to scrutinize the round, orange rubber ring resting innocuously on the bench at the end of my bed.
“Why I just don’t know,” I replied with mock amazement. “Calamari?”
He smiled at my joviality. “Have you ever used a cock ring before?”
“No.”
“You’ll love it, I promise. It makes my cock nice and hard for your tight little pussy.”
“Oooh, yummy! You know what a big fan I am of your cock already.”
He laughed and pulled me roughly onto the bed, kissing me deep. We made short work of stripping the layers of clothes and his fingers immediately sought a wet purchase between my thighs.
Later, standing at the side of the bed while I lay with my head off the edge, his rammed his very stiff cock –- as promised -- down my throat, leaning over me to flick my clit with his tongue. I writhed and sucked, tonguing the rubber addition at the base.
On my back, on my knees or my knees behind my ears, his cock drove home his point again and again, much to my ever-growing delight. To the last stroke, when he pulled his dick dripping of me to my lips to taste, he was stiff and proud.
Afterward, lying among the debris of my panties, his tie and all the pillows, I noticed he was still ready.
“Are you still hard?” I sounded a little disbelieving.
“Yeah. The ring keeps it hard for a while.”
“Mmmmmm…” I rolled on top of him, sliding down slow and easy. He gave a little shudder. I rocked onto him, circling around and around. It was not the biggest orgasm I’ve ever had but it was deep and wide, pushing up from my hot, wet center to spread warm, relaxing tendrils into my legs, arms, chest and cheeks.
I rolled off and curled against his side. He pulled off his ring and immediately his cock grew soft and pliable in his hand.
“Oh. No more then?”
“God, woman. How many orgasms do you need?”
“Just one more? Pretty please?” I smiled my most charming smile.
Apparently a girl can still get more of what she wants by fluttering her eye lashes … sometimes even a few more.
“Why I just don’t know,” I replied with mock amazement. “Calamari?”
He smiled at my joviality. “Have you ever used a cock ring before?”
“No.”
“You’ll love it, I promise. It makes my cock nice and hard for your tight little pussy.”
“Oooh, yummy! You know what a big fan I am of your cock already.”
He laughed and pulled me roughly onto the bed, kissing me deep. We made short work of stripping the layers of clothes and his fingers immediately sought a wet purchase between my thighs.
Later, standing at the side of the bed while I lay with my head off the edge, his rammed his very stiff cock –- as promised -- down my throat, leaning over me to flick my clit with his tongue. I writhed and sucked, tonguing the rubber addition at the base.
On my back, on my knees or my knees behind my ears, his cock drove home his point again and again, much to my ever-growing delight. To the last stroke, when he pulled his dick dripping of me to my lips to taste, he was stiff and proud.
Afterward, lying among the debris of my panties, his tie and all the pillows, I noticed he was still ready.
“Are you still hard?” I sounded a little disbelieving.
“Yeah. The ring keeps it hard for a while.”
“Mmmmmm…” I rolled on top of him, sliding down slow and easy. He gave a little shudder. I rocked onto him, circling around and around. It was not the biggest orgasm I’ve ever had but it was deep and wide, pushing up from my hot, wet center to spread warm, relaxing tendrils into my legs, arms, chest and cheeks.
I rolled off and curled against his side. He pulled off his ring and immediately his cock grew soft and pliable in his hand.
“Oh. No more then?”
“God, woman. How many orgasms do you need?”
“Just one more? Pretty please?” I smiled my most charming smile.
Apparently a girl can still get more of what she wants by fluttering her eye lashes … sometimes even a few more.
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
Blip
I periodically try to be good. I give up my favorite boys. I stow away all my sexual overflow or redirect it toward places closer to home. I try and inevitably fail.
The fact is, I am 34-years old. I cannot always have this fuck-filled life. It cannot last forever. Someday, heads will not turn when I walk into a room. I know that day is coming. I try to prepare. And then I have an opportunity that re-sparks my naughty ways and I realize that I should also accept who I am. I am a woman who loves men: naked, hard, ready men. I want to touch, taste and fuck as many of them as possible.
I’d rather not end this saga divorced but I should stop denying who I am because it only makes me crazed. No one is happy with me.
I’m sex addict. Which one of you is my next drug?
The fact is, I am 34-years old. I cannot always have this fuck-filled life. It cannot last forever. Someday, heads will not turn when I walk into a room. I know that day is coming. I try to prepare. And then I have an opportunity that re-sparks my naughty ways and I realize that I should also accept who I am. I am a woman who loves men: naked, hard, ready men. I want to touch, taste and fuck as many of them as possible.
I’d rather not end this saga divorced but I should stop denying who I am because it only makes me crazed. No one is happy with me.
I’m sex addict. Which one of you is my next drug?
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Sensation
I’ve always been entranced by the glide of fingertips on my skin. The tingle of nerve endings as the heat transfers from one body to another is an aphrodisiac for me. Just touching me softly on the arm, the back of my neck or across my legs is enough to blush my cheeks and set a fire burning in my clit.
When I met my favorite lawyer at his place, I was expecting high-energy sex, territorial vying to please the most, twisted sheets and a nice sheen of sweat. What I was not expecting was how much he enjoyed running his fingers over my body.
Round and round from the curve of my shoulder to the jut of a hipbone, his hand trailed a light and steady path as we shared the post-coital chatter of friends who had known each other for a while, but wanted each other from the beginning.
He teased me about my liberal tendencies – I am a writer, after all – while his thumb brushed a lazy staccato over my lower lips. I bit the pad in warning.
We analyzed the history of lending institution bailouts as his palm warmly cupped my breasts, taunting my nipples with a flick. I wrapped my leg around his hip, the warnings were over.
His knuckles grazed my chin and I couldn’t wait any longer. I grabbed his wandering hand and wrapped it firmly around my still-heated and very damp pussy, pushing his fingers inside.
“If you don’t stop touching me, you will have to fuck me again.” I wiggled my bottom against his fingers to prove my threat was not hollow.
“Oh.” He sounded a bit surprised. “I had every intention of fucking you again. I just like the feel your body.”
He smiled and shoved his hand all the way in, rimming my still-bumpy g-spot. I sighed, letting my legs fall open and gave him a hazy, half-lidded expression. He laughed and rubbed hard, arching my back and making me shudder as the ever-ready orgasm ripped through me.
I panted as his hand withdrew, leaving me empty with damp thighs. He rolled on another condom and parted my knees with his own. He was inside me in one sharp thrust.
Through the next 40 minutes he contorted my body for his pleasure as much as my own, but I was acutely aware of his hands. Even with my legs over his shoulders, his cock buried ball deep in my cunt, his fingers glided. His lips kissed the soft skin on the inside of my thighs. He nuzzled the hollow of my throat, the small space between my breasts. He touched me a thousand different ways even during the most intimate moments.
When the evening was over, I knew I wanted him to invite me back. But I also know he probably won’t. Unfortunately, my favorite lawyer is also single and wants very much to have someone that is for him alone. I cannot be that girl and I know he will displace me for her when he finds her, which will probably be very soon.
It’s funny, in hindsight, how I love to be touched, but no one had touched me like that before. I’ve always been so focused on lust, desire and satisfaction that somewhere I lost the simple enjoyment of my skin.
It was nice to find it again.
When I met my favorite lawyer at his place, I was expecting high-energy sex, territorial vying to please the most, twisted sheets and a nice sheen of sweat. What I was not expecting was how much he enjoyed running his fingers over my body.
Round and round from the curve of my shoulder to the jut of a hipbone, his hand trailed a light and steady path as we shared the post-coital chatter of friends who had known each other for a while, but wanted each other from the beginning.
He teased me about my liberal tendencies – I am a writer, after all – while his thumb brushed a lazy staccato over my lower lips. I bit the pad in warning.
We analyzed the history of lending institution bailouts as his palm warmly cupped my breasts, taunting my nipples with a flick. I wrapped my leg around his hip, the warnings were over.
His knuckles grazed my chin and I couldn’t wait any longer. I grabbed his wandering hand and wrapped it firmly around my still-heated and very damp pussy, pushing his fingers inside.
“If you don’t stop touching me, you will have to fuck me again.” I wiggled my bottom against his fingers to prove my threat was not hollow.
“Oh.” He sounded a bit surprised. “I had every intention of fucking you again. I just like the feel your body.”
He smiled and shoved his hand all the way in, rimming my still-bumpy g-spot. I sighed, letting my legs fall open and gave him a hazy, half-lidded expression. He laughed and rubbed hard, arching my back and making me shudder as the ever-ready orgasm ripped through me.
I panted as his hand withdrew, leaving me empty with damp thighs. He rolled on another condom and parted my knees with his own. He was inside me in one sharp thrust.
Through the next 40 minutes he contorted my body for his pleasure as much as my own, but I was acutely aware of his hands. Even with my legs over his shoulders, his cock buried ball deep in my cunt, his fingers glided. His lips kissed the soft skin on the inside of my thighs. He nuzzled the hollow of my throat, the small space between my breasts. He touched me a thousand different ways even during the most intimate moments.
When the evening was over, I knew I wanted him to invite me back. But I also know he probably won’t. Unfortunately, my favorite lawyer is also single and wants very much to have someone that is for him alone. I cannot be that girl and I know he will displace me for her when he finds her, which will probably be very soon.
It’s funny, in hindsight, how I love to be touched, but no one had touched me like that before. I’ve always been so focused on lust, desire and satisfaction that somewhere I lost the simple enjoyment of my skin.
It was nice to find it again.
Saturday, August 09, 2008
Diversion
I have opted out, taken a hiatus, fucking and I were on a break. My job changes and ongoing dissatisfaction had left me uninterested. I gave up.
But my body was yearning for something. All week, I've been battling a level of horniness that was threatening to drive me mad.
I was not just horny for sex, I craved that mindless copulation that you can only get with a lover who is not your own. That tangible desire to rip, pull, bit and cum. I knew I would be satisfied at home, but not completely. I needed someone else.
So I made a call. "I need you," I breathed when he answered the phoned.
He knew exactly what I wanted. We met in the parking garage, I motioned him into my car and drove a little further until we were alone. We climbed into the back seat, where I immediately stripped out of my pants, my pussy was dripping. He smiled, somewhat surprised at my eagerness. I'm not shy, but this was still unusal for me. I didn't kiss him, no warm up, I grabbed his hand and brought it home.
He was already hard by my enthusiasm and dove in with two fingers, making me cum immediately. My body shakes when I cum, quivers from the toes up. I squirted in the palm of his hand with the force of my orgasm. He laughed out loud, "Damn, baby, you are horny!"
In response, I pulled out my right breast and grabbed his head, bringing him close. I whispered in his ear, "When I cum next time, bite down on my nipple." He didn't respond, his mouth full with my soft round flesh. I came again and again, two fingers grew to three.
After multiple orgasms, I ordered him out of his pants. His withdrawn fingers left a trailing string of pussy cum down my thigh.
He pulled out his cock and I slide down onto him. No condom. This is a good, very good friend. A special friend for a long time so I knew I could enjoy the bare, hot pulse of cum in my tender pussy.
I buried my fingers in his hair and ground down against him. He let me fuck him until I was heaving for breath, the count of orgasms lost. When the haze cleared my eyes, he was looking up at me, smiling. "Is it ok if I cum now?" I laughed, "Of course."
I started moving again, but much slower, in circles feeling his cock head running around the inside of my cunt. He relaxed, letting his muscles go and concentrated on the sensation. Instead of the up and down motion, I start to slide forward and backward, taking him all the way in. It didn't take him long. He bounces his leg before he cums, so when his jiggling started, I sped up. He buried his face in my tits, both hands gripping my ass and came with a loud, "aaaahhhhhh!"
After we were both dressed again, I kissed him well, dropped him off at his car and left without a glance, my mind already clear and onto the tasks lined up for the afternoon. It was the perfect diversion.
But my body was yearning for something. All week, I've been battling a level of horniness that was threatening to drive me mad.
I was not just horny for sex, I craved that mindless copulation that you can only get with a lover who is not your own. That tangible desire to rip, pull, bit and cum. I knew I would be satisfied at home, but not completely. I needed someone else.
So I made a call. "I need you," I breathed when he answered the phoned.
He knew exactly what I wanted. We met in the parking garage, I motioned him into my car and drove a little further until we were alone. We climbed into the back seat, where I immediately stripped out of my pants, my pussy was dripping. He smiled, somewhat surprised at my eagerness. I'm not shy, but this was still unusal for me. I didn't kiss him, no warm up, I grabbed his hand and brought it home.
He was already hard by my enthusiasm and dove in with two fingers, making me cum immediately. My body shakes when I cum, quivers from the toes up. I squirted in the palm of his hand with the force of my orgasm. He laughed out loud, "Damn, baby, you are horny!"
In response, I pulled out my right breast and grabbed his head, bringing him close. I whispered in his ear, "When I cum next time, bite down on my nipple." He didn't respond, his mouth full with my soft round flesh. I came again and again, two fingers grew to three.
After multiple orgasms, I ordered him out of his pants. His withdrawn fingers left a trailing string of pussy cum down my thigh.
He pulled out his cock and I slide down onto him. No condom. This is a good, very good friend. A special friend for a long time so I knew I could enjoy the bare, hot pulse of cum in my tender pussy.
I buried my fingers in his hair and ground down against him. He let me fuck him until I was heaving for breath, the count of orgasms lost. When the haze cleared my eyes, he was looking up at me, smiling. "Is it ok if I cum now?" I laughed, "Of course."
I started moving again, but much slower, in circles feeling his cock head running around the inside of my cunt. He relaxed, letting his muscles go and concentrated on the sensation. Instead of the up and down motion, I start to slide forward and backward, taking him all the way in. It didn't take him long. He bounces his leg before he cums, so when his jiggling started, I sped up. He buried his face in my tits, both hands gripping my ass and came with a loud, "aaaahhhhhh!"
After we were both dressed again, I kissed him well, dropped him off at his car and left without a glance, my mind already clear and onto the tasks lined up for the afternoon. It was the perfect diversion.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Blurred lines
As there is no honor among thieves, there is no reality for lovers. This is a fantasy. Even when your fingertips glide across my skin, we are not real. Your cock in my mouth is simply a dream come true. We live for this moment, this sensation, this encounter. Reality is your home, your wife, your kids, your job. I'm suspended from those ties. I am for you alone.
It is still fantasy when you're twisted up between my legs, with your hands in my hair, your tongue in my mouth and your dick in my cunt, I'm not your girl. I'm your lover. And being lovers is about fulfilling your deepest fantasy, answering the most urgent calls of your body. Doing all those things that haunt your dreams and send you to the bathroom alone again and again to spend your lust into nothing.
In our fantastic version of reality, you will say, "Mistress will you ..." and I will say, "Yes." You'll leave imprints of yourself on my skin, but after you're gone, they will fade. I'll burn images onto your brain that you can't share with anyone else but me, but after you leave me sore and exposed in bed, you might not experience them again for a long time.
Then our short reality will turn into simply fantasy again. You'll imagine the next time we're together. You'll relive all the intimate moments we shared. You'll dream about the taste of my skin, the smell of perfume in my hair. You'll smile longingly at girls that resemble me. But you won't have me to yourself -- for yourself -- for a while.
It is still fantasy when you're twisted up between my legs, with your hands in my hair, your tongue in my mouth and your dick in my cunt, I'm not your girl. I'm your lover. And being lovers is about fulfilling your deepest fantasy, answering the most urgent calls of your body. Doing all those things that haunt your dreams and send you to the bathroom alone again and again to spend your lust into nothing.
In our fantastic version of reality, you will say, "Mistress will you ..." and I will say, "Yes." You'll leave imprints of yourself on my skin, but after you're gone, they will fade. I'll burn images onto your brain that you can't share with anyone else but me, but after you leave me sore and exposed in bed, you might not experience them again for a long time.
Then our short reality will turn into simply fantasy again. You'll imagine the next time we're together. You'll relive all the intimate moments we shared. You'll dream about the taste of my skin, the smell of perfume in my hair. You'll smile longingly at girls that resemble me. But you won't have me to yourself -- for yourself -- for a while.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Low
He twisted his hands in my curls, pulling back slightly as he bit down on my lip. "I want you," I whispered through clenched teeth. "I want you soo bad.."
He pushed me down on the bed and began the painstakingly slow process of stripping my clothes. I kicked at my jeans, shimmying them over my hips. I didn't bother with the thong -- he had picked it out after all. The first thrust is always my favorite, the swell of a plump cock gliding into slick heat.
We fucked steady and with speed. I knew his pace, he knows mine. We've done this many times before. Later he pushed me into a hotel chair, crouched backward, arms gripping the back while he took me roughly from behind, my dripping pussy squelching with each thrust.
When he was finished, he folded me in a crook against his side, one finger languidly wrapping and unwrapping the tightly wound curl at my neck, the other hand idly spinning my wedding ring around my finger.
I remember when we picked this out, he said softly.
I do too, I replied, equally sotto voce. For the first time in a long time, guilt coiled low in my belly, wrapping itself around my spine and up to my throat. I said nothing more.
He pushed me down on the bed and began the painstakingly slow process of stripping my clothes. I kicked at my jeans, shimmying them over my hips. I didn't bother with the thong -- he had picked it out after all. The first thrust is always my favorite, the swell of a plump cock gliding into slick heat.
We fucked steady and with speed. I knew his pace, he knows mine. We've done this many times before. Later he pushed me into a hotel chair, crouched backward, arms gripping the back while he took me roughly from behind, my dripping pussy squelching with each thrust.
When he was finished, he folded me in a crook against his side, one finger languidly wrapping and unwrapping the tightly wound curl at my neck, the other hand idly spinning my wedding ring around my finger.
I remember when we picked this out, he said softly.
I do too, I replied, equally sotto voce. For the first time in a long time, guilt coiled low in my belly, wrapping itself around my spine and up to my throat. I said nothing more.
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