Arriving at the hotel he confidently strode to the elevator, allowing himself a smile as he pushed the button for his floor. He knew she was waiting. He knew that she couldn’t help herself, she had to be there.

Just knowing that the stirring in his groin began. He had never seen her before, didn’t even know her name, but that was all irrelevant. She would be there.

Stepping out of the elevator he stole a quick glace in the mirror, the tie was straight , the suit perfectly pressed, he knew he was attractive to women, not handsome,  but the inner confidence he had made them have a second look when he passed them on the street.

Making his way to the room he tried to control his growing erection, didn’t want her to know how excited he was, to start with anyway.

Placing the key in the lock he tapped 3 times to let her know he was there.

Stepping through confidently he glanced around the room, making sure it was as he had left it for her. It was, as he expected, exactly as he wanted, the only difference being her, sitting on the end of the bed, legs crossed waiting patiently.

He had to hide the short intake of breath as his eyes took her in. She was perfect.

Dressed as he had instructed, the black knee high boots, the  short plaid skirt halfway up her thighs, the white blouse unbuttoned to between her breasts, her dark nipples showing through and her dark hair flowing over her shoulders.

Glancing over at him he could see her nervousness her breasts rising and falling with her quick breathing, the fine line of sweat on her brow.

“I didn’t give you permission to look at me” he stated quickly, trying to establish control.

She quickly dropped her eyes to the floor in front of her feet. He smiled; this was going to be easy.

Walking around the bed, studying her from all sides his erection refusing to subside he began the game.

“Did you do as instructed?”

“Yes “she stammered

“Show me”  he said. The blush went straight to her cheeks as she hesitated.

“Show me” he stated again, retaining the control now was critical.

Grabbing her skirt with her hands she raised it to allow him to see her exposed.

She had done what he asked, she wore no panties and her pubic hair was neatly trimmed, but her crossed legs denied him the view he desired.

“Spread your legs so I can see if you followed all the instructions”

The heat rising on her cheeks she did as asked and slowly moved her legs apart.

Stepping around in front of her he took in the sight of her.

She had followed his instructions exactly, the trimmed pubic hair stopping just above her slit and the perfect line of her in open view.

While he could tell she was controlling the nerves mentally her body revealed her inner excitement, her juices already flowing around her opening, the musky scent gently reaching his nostrils.

Stepping away from her he said

“lower you skirt and stand..”

She obeyed willingly , the embarrassment of exposing herself to a complete stranger still burning at her cheeks.

Walking to the briefcase he had left there earlier he snapped the locks, seeing her glance at his reflection in the mirror he boldly looked back at her

” seeing you can’t do as your told I will have to punish you’ her eyes dropped quickly away.

Removing the Blindfold from the case he walked slowly up behind her and placed it around her head, tying it firmly he said

 “That solves that little problem now doesn’t it?”

“Yes “she whispered.

“Yes what he asked”

“ yes master” she replied.

“That’s better “he said,  “Remove your blouse” he told her. His excitement nearly uncontrollable.

Nervously she undid the remaining buttons and slipped of the top.

Letting her hands fall to her side she stood there, her slight shaking gently swaying her breasts as he moved around her appreciating her beauty.

“Why are you here? “ 

Nervously replying, “to serve you…… Master?”

“ Excellent” he replied openly smiling now as he knew she was he to do with as he wanted.

“Lay back on the bed” he commanded, she obeyed laying on her back her legs closed.

“Lift your skirt and spread you leg”s he instructed, slowly she followed his instruction the nervousness returning at having herself exposed to him again,

“Prepare yourself for me” he stated.

A confused look crossed her face and she said

“I don’t… “

“quiet” he snapped at her, “play with yourself, masturbate for me. Prepare yourself.”

Had he gone too far, he wasn’t sure… her hesitation worried him.

Slowly she moved her hand towards her pussy , the embarrassment evident in all of her body, the red flush, everywhere.

Slowly starting to rub her clit in small spirals  he gave a sigh of relief, it was ok. He had her totally now. As her excitement of what she was doing overtook her nervousness her fingers started moving in the all too familiar fashion, forgetting he was even there she slipped a finger inside herself finding her Spot easily, rubbing her clit with one hand and stroking her g spot she felt the tension starting to build.

Watching her loose herself in the moment he thought he was going to burst, undressing quickly he grabbed his shaft and began stroking it slowly trying to ease some of the built up pressure as he watched her.

Her fingers moving quicker , the blindfold enhancing the sensation she was startled as he began to play with her nipples, realising where she was and not caring anymore. The release was so close and his slow tweaking of her nipples and the shallow breathing above her was all too much.

As she felt the first waves of her orgasm hit her she moaned in the pure delight of it.

Watching her vigorously frig herself as he rolled her nipples between her fingers the sudden onslaught of her orgasm took him by surprise, the low moan in her throat , the leg spasms as the nerves tried to control them and the panting breath was something to behold.

Leaving her to the slow coming down her returned to the case and collected some more items.

Watching her over his shoulder continue to slowly rub herself he smiled at the thought of what was to come next.

Asking her to stand she did so on unstable legs, the power of her orgasm still affecting her movements.

“Did you enjoy that he asked.”

“Very much so “she replied.

“very much what?” he asked  as came up behind her,

“ very much master.”

‘Place you hands behind you back” he instructed and she complied quickly

Slipping on the handcuffs her sensed her excitement.

“Will you obey he asked.”

“ Anything you want master” she replied, the memory of her orgasm still fresh in her mind.

The new sensation of being watched and controlled was an epiphany for her as she realised she would do anything he wanted. The pleasure of pleasing him was her only thought now.

Moving to the front of her he started tweaking her nipples getting them ready for the clamps.

She not knowing this was just enwrapped with the loss of control…Attaching the clamps she felt a twinge of pain but kept her mouth closed , putting her trust in him completely.

The slightly painful pressure of the clamps was exciting her and for the first time in her life understood the term pleasure and pain.

Reaching behind her he undid the skirt and let it fall to the floor, standing there naked except for her boots, the cuffs, blindfold and the nipple clamps she felt like a complete whore. She loved the sensation .

“Are you ready to please me”  he prompted.

“Yes master   anything” , the ache in her pussy demanding attention.

“Drop to your knees” he commanded and she did so immediately, already licking her lips in anticipation.

Seeing her licking her lips and the opening of her mouth, he sighed a grateful smile, she was perfect, and he would have to look after this one. Guiding his shaft to her lips she opened them wide and took him in her mouth completely . Sucking greedily he had to grab her head to stop her from making him explode in her mouth straight away.

Pulling her off him. She whispered

“Fuck my mouth master please….”

Not believing she had ever wanted to be used like this the sensation of wanting to please him was making her pussy quiver, desperately wanting him to  come in her throat she knew that if he did her orgasm would follow,.

Keeping his hands on her head he guided her mouth back onto his shaft holding her head still he started slowly thrusting into her.

Her moans of pleasure as he used her reverberated up his length intensifying every movement.

Watching this beautiful woman sucking him an s he thrust, her trust complete as she was bound and blinded was pushing him over the edge.

Withdrawing from her a small disappointed sigh escaped he lips, she was so close and desperate for the release.

Lifting her by her arms and laying her on her back on the bed, the cuffs dug into her wrists, the pain so sweet she spoke

” Fuck me master I want to come now fuck me please.’

Letting go of her he stared at her writhing body, desperately wanting to let her find thee release but he knew it would be better not to yet.

“Speak when spoken to… and you will come when I want you too and if I want you too. You are here for my pleasure not yours.”

“Sorry master “she whimpered, desperate to please the man who could make her feel this way.

Attaching a small light chain to the nipple clamps he gave it a small tug to gauge her reaction, the gasp of pain followed by the moan of pleasure was all he needed to know.

Wanting to fuck her so badly he sat and watched her, as he gently tugged at the chain playing with her.

Making the decision he left her for the case again, removing the vibrating dildo he thought, need to savour this and fucking her now will ruin the anticipation for us both.

Applying the lube as he approached the bed, he saw her slowly grinding her hips up and down trying to find some sort of release. Placing his hand on her stomach he said “stop’ and she obeyed.

Moving up the bed he kneeled beside her head “Turn your head” he said and she did so willingly eager to take him back in her mouth. Slowly moving in and out of her mouth her moaning began again in earnest as her hips started moving uncontrolably. Reaching down with his left hand he pushed the dildo against her opening, spreading her legs wider she pushed against it wanting it in her.

Inserting it into her was so easy, her juices flowing freely her sucking intensifying as she was filled flicking the little switch the vibrating begun, bringing her to orgasm instantaneously.

Rather than letting go of him as he expected she rammed him down her throat as she came, holding him there as her pussy and her throat spasamining in time with each other. Barely retaining control he commanded her “Don’t make me come yet I’m not finished with you”.

The throughs of her orgasm were the most intense she had ever felt, all she wanted was to please him now, no more thought for herself, it was all about master.

Switching the vibrator off he let her calm down naturally, bringing her back to reality.

Placing his shaft back on her lips she didn’t hesitate, just took him all the way down her throat and back, continuing to lick and suck between thrusts,

Placing the small chain in his hand he started small tugs on her nipples, as with the other he flicked the little switch the sensation to her was overwhelming, the small sharp painful tugs on her nipples the handcuffs biting into her wrists and her back, being filled with the vibrator and his shaft in her mouth, the extreme pleasure of it unlike she could have ever imagined.

Still tugging on the chain, he found her clit with his other hand and began the small but hard circles he had seen her use earlier., thrusting into her willing mouth, her deep throaty moaning getting stronger and stronger he knew he wouldn’t last long, but he had to hold out till she came again, he wanted then to happen together.

The Rubbing of her clit, the tugging the chain, the muffled hum of the vibrator was too much for her. She lost it. Her hips started bucking wildly, the desperate release was so close, the shaft in her mouth felt so huge the taste of presume right there. She wanted desperately to come but wanted him to fill her mouth, resisting the urge to let the approaching orgasm overwhelm her she bobbed hear head against him  feeling her forehead against her stomach she pushed he tongue out and licked at his scrotom.

Watching her buck wildly underneath him and the sensation of her throat spasms, and the new licking sensation drove him over the edge, rubbing her clit as fast as he could he released himself into her.

As the first spurt hit her throat, the tidal wave she had been holding back burst.

Both of them moaning and bucking the orgasms consumed them, the sweet release clouding all else.

Both had never felt such a powerful coming together

As the sensations subside he withdrew from her mouth and slowly removed the dildo, .tossing it to one side he undid the nipple clamps and as she arched her back, released the cuffs. Leaving the blindfold in place he lay back on the bed beside her noticing the small bruises starting to appear around her nipples.

“Lay here, I will leave and then you may move and go on your way.”

“Yes master.” She contentedly sighed.

“If I may master?”  she asked apprehensively.

 “You may”, he replied.

“When can I serve you again master?”

Smiling to himself he replied. “I will let you know”.

Let the games begin……….

Written by Strangers

I Might

Hi, littlehelen. I have a little something here for you. That’s right; you guessed it. Just relax and close your eyes. That’s it; you won’t need to see a thing.

Breathe slowly and deeply and just lay there, on your back. Relax and lay there, thinking about what I might do and how I might do it. I’ll just sit here a while and watch. I think I’ll talk to you a little, though. I might say that you look very nice, very nice, indeed, laying there on your back. I might say that you look like someone I’d like to look at for a long, long time. I might say that looking at you is making me feel like I want to touch you, not a lot, just enough to let you know that I where I was looking.

I might try to take a deep breath while bending close to where I touch you, just deep enough to get a good sense of how your scent and a hint of what you might taste like. I might rub my face against your belly and I might even play with you a little lower, running my lips through your hair, nibbling at your lower belly. I might even slide my face a little lower, rubbing my lips against you, feeling your soft, downy hair against my lips, my tongue. I might part your soft, downy hair with my tongue. I might linger around your clit and circle my tongue around it, casually tasting you. I might slide my tongue between your lips and back again to your clit. I just might lick deep down inside of you, tasting your sweet, natural stickiness. I might want to use my tongue to dig deeper into the dark, warm, wet, and juicy center of your entire being. I might slide a hand up to your bare nipples and gently but firmly pinch them. I might nibble at the sweetness of your pussy or just continue to flick your clit.

I might notice that you have been a ‘bad girl’ and I might offer to clean you: to lick deep inside you. I might notice that you taste stronger today, a lot stronger than you’ve tasted before. I might realize that your taste is similar to mine and conclude that you have been very recently fucked and not by me. I might continue to lick you, and taste you and I might even raise a hand to your breast. I might play with your nipple and I might tease it until it’s twitching. I might make you come with my tongue buried in your soft, wet pussy and my face pressed deeply between your pretty legs. I might not even let you rest before I slide my tongue from your pussy, past your belly, your navel, your breasts. I might linger for a moment at your nipples but I might not. I might slide to the left of your chin or I might slide to the right. I might stop at your neck and use my lips to nibble there and I might play with your earlobes and nuzzle behind them until you can’t stop squirming.

I might rub my cock against your thighs and I might look directly into your eyes to see just how much teasing you can take. I might run my hands lightly down your sides and back to your neck again. I might turn your head to the side and lick the back of your neck in small, tight circles. I might rub my nose in your hair and a hand on your belly and down to your sweet wet crotch. I might get distracted and need to return there to kiss and lick some more. I might tickle your swollen little clit with little sucks and nibbles until you beg me to let you come. I might pretend to hear you; I might not. I might start humming, low and slow, so that even that subtle vibration in my mouth feels like an earthquake. I might blow a cool, hard stream of air on your clit to chill it suddenly and then touch it with the tip of my tongue to heat you rapidly again. I might use my fingers to hold your pussy open and lick your lips from the inside only.

I might ease my tongue out again and slide it around and around and then down a thigh. I might circle your knee and kiss the back of it, rubbing it against my face. I might kiss your calf and ankle. I might run my lips across the top of your foot and kiss your arch. I might take each toe, separating them with my tongue only, and lick them. I might even suck one for a minute or two; maybe, I’ll suck them all. I might let go of your pussy, slowly pull your legs apart, and slid my whole body over you, on top of you.

I might reach between my legs and grab my stiff, erect penis so that I can rub its head against your still swollen clit. I might slide it down enough to wet it with your juices before I flick your clit until you beg me to stop. I might stop. I might suddenly thrust forward, fast and hard but only with the head of my cock. I might smile when you gasp. I might tease it in and out of you, feeling your pussy’s lips clutch at me, hungrily. I might tell you just how good that feels. I might tell you that I want you, I need you, I have to be inside you. I might wait for you to say yes. I might not. I might slide just a little deeper in you and hold it there for a while. I might pull my cock all the way out of you and play with your clit and smile. I might let you beg me to go in you, deep in you.

I might push my cock lower and slide back into your soaking, steamy cunt, again stopping with just the head in you. I might reach down with both hands and stroke my cock’s shaft as its tip pokes in and out of your tortured lips. I might stroke it, and stroke it, and close my eyes as I get closer and closer to cumming. I might listen to your pleading for me to stop and really do it, do it right.

I might even hesitate and open my eyes just before I thrust every last bit of my self-teased penis in past your lips and completely into your pussy. I might grind slowly, in and out, side to side for a long, long time. I might be able to slowly fuck you until you thrash under me, cumming and moaning, scratching and clawing, drenching us both with every last bit of the sweetness from your pussy. I might let you rest and enjoy the afterglow of your orgasm. I might not, and keep grinding my stiff, erect prick into you. I might try to be gentle and easy. I might ram my cock so deeply into you that you kick and bite and even ask for more.

I might pull completely out of you, and, just before I cum, slide back in through the first cum I’ve splattered all over your sweet, beautiful pussy. I might continue to thrust into you while I keep cumming, smearing the rest of my cum all over inside you. I might kiss you and hold you and relax a moment or I might slide out of you and press my head firmly between your legs to smell and see and taste everything that we shared, covering my face with both of us. I might stop for a while or I might lay down, my face close by your pretty pussy, looking and gently stroking my penis until it’s hard again.

I might let you watch so that you’ll know how much time you have to rest before I pull you to me again. I might have pity on you and let you sleep. I might not. I might massage your aching legs and arms and back and hips. I might kiss you tenderly from time to time.

I might do all of this with you if YOU are lucky.

I might do it all twice if I am…

Written by Lajan

 The Party

We are going to a stuffy party given by my department (they are always throwing these little soirées and requiring my attendance). I am wearing a little black dress, above the knee length, made of a silky material with a wide U-shaped neckline and little fluttery sleeves. Underneath I have a black garter belt and black thigh-high stockings with a lacy pattern on them and a lacy black balconette bra that pushes my cleavage way up high. I also have on a slender white-gold chain with a small diamond studded j that falls into my deep cleavage and disappears and several white gold bangle bracelets on my wrist. My delicate round (bare!) derrière bounces lightly with the gentle breeze tickling it slightly and with every step, I can vividly still feel the hard, almost savage coupling we’d indulged in earlier.

The affair is held in Smith Hall, in a long rectangular room and there a small circles of people throughout it as we arrive. I am approached by a couple of people and you slowly wander off in search of an elusive conversation that might keep you awake for the duration of the evening. After thirty minutes or so, I feel your gaze on me and slowly scan the room to see your blue eyes boring into mine intensely – they have changed from their customary soft hue to a sharper, focused, nearly brilliant brightness – so I immediately excuse myself and make my way to your side where you smile tersely and place something in my hand. I stand there, stupidly staring at it for a long moment, before realizing that it’s a small cocktail napkin with one word written on it in bold black letters – THRUST.

I lick my suddenly dry lips and frantically look around me to try to find you again in the crowd, but you have disappeared. A frumpy woman from Admissions glides up beside me and begins a convoluted conversation that I can’t possibly follow, but I nod a few times at the proper places and continue to unobtrusively scan the faces around me for yours. Abruptly, I see you standing in a knot of men close to the entrance to the wide porch of the building. I walk quickly away from the frumpy woman (she’s in mid-sentence!) and make my way rapidly to you again with pleading, questioning eyes. You just stuff another small napkin into my hand and walk away. Again I look dumbly for a few seconds at the bold word printed on it – MINE.

By this time, I am flushed and rapidly becoming wet and begin again to find you with my eyes. I see you and make my way to you, this time taking you by the hand and leading you to a door at the very far corner of the room and into a very tiny, steep stairwell that goes up five flights ( hardly anyone knows about this stairway, even people who have worked here for years, because there is also an elevator) but we only ascend to the second landing before I turn to you and kiss you hungrily, adamantly, open-mouthed, while frantically undoing your trousers.

Your cock springs out, huge and vibrant, and I hoist my bare ass (cold metal!) up on the narrow ledge of railing leading to the third floor. I encircle your waist with my legs, locking them behind you, as your cock effortlessly is drawn into me, as the tides are drawn by the moon. I begin coming violently at your first long, smooth stroke, throwing my head back as you find a fast, hard rhythm that hammers me against the concrete block wall with every true stroke of that divine cock. I bite my lip to keep silent (that stairwell has an odd echo in it) and you continue to slam into me hard, over and over, the only sound being the rhythm of our guttural breathing and the soft, melodic jangle of my bracelets, until you tense suddenly and I feel you exploding with great force deep inside me.

The still semi-darkness pools around us for a long minute, before we move to straighten our clothes and walk hand in hand back to the boring people at the party.

Written by excitablegirl

                                                             
The Boots

Those boots!

Those great fucking boots!

I first saw those boots from across the store, Macy’s it was, a few months ago. I made my way slowly across the store, from jewelry to the perfume counter, to the display stand where they were standing, calling to me, urging me to pick them up, to smell the fine new leather smell of them, to feel their buttery softness on my fingertips.

There’s just something about a great pair of boots. The way they encase the calf, hugging it gently and lovingly; the way they titillate the sense of the visual, as in envisioning the wearer in the fabulous boots and nothing else. Other shoes may have their charms, as does the naked and pretty foot, but only boots are inescapably dirty hot.

These particular boots had an inherent bit of violence in their design, like maybe the clothing that was being worn with them should be ripped, shredded off, until the wearer was standing in nothing else. All of these thoughts crossed my mind as I stood rooted to the spot, staring at these absolutely gorgeous fucking boots.

Another thing that I thought about as I wound my way through the crowd of shoppers to the fantastic fucking boots was this: the sex I would have with you while wearing them.

I personally love a good pair of boots even though it hasn’t snowed in my part of the world in a score or more, we do get a couple of months where the wind is blustery and as frigid as an icicle straight to the heart. I happen to have a minor addiction to Frye boots and I own more pairs of them than I’d care to admit to here (shades of Imelda Marcos?)

These boots are of the softest slightly textured black leather, with a strap that wraps around the instep several times and then around the ankle once, ending in a small silver buckle. Their heels are high, but start out rather chunky, slimming elegantly, geometrically, until they meet the ground. These boots scream for me to be taken insistently, roughly, up against a brick wall with one leg wrapped around your hips, fucked mercilessly while we stand clandestine and bestial in the chic urban night.

So I buy them, impulsively and extravagantly, that day in the mall. I know then that I’m buying them for the coming.

Then a week or so later, I come home from work wearing the boots and you tell me, tersely, to strip everything but for my boots, and when I have slowly unwound my wrap dress, and when I’ve then stood there before you, dressed in nothing but a bra and panties, and when you’ve removed first the former and then the latter, there is nothing to do but to eventually succumb to the coming.

Sure I might be slightly tired, and I might have made myself come twice the day before with a small battery of toys, once in fact with you on the phone because we do love the phone sex; sure, all this may be true, but it’s not like I had a choice. I knew what I was getting into when I bought the boots. I knew I bought them for the coming.
Because when I’ve been stripped and splayed, my legs forced apart, cranked open like the recalcitrant doors of a mansion, when you have licked and nibbled and sucked my clit, when you have pushed one long finger and then two and then three into my slick – wet pussy, it’s not like I wasn’t aware of the power of the boots.

It wasn’t like I didn’t expect you crawl up the slow white length of my body and feed me your cock, and it wasn’t like I didn’t know I would gratefully and dutifully deepthroat you. It wasn’t like I didn’t know that would happen when I purchased the boots. And it wasn’t like I didn’t know I wouldn’t then ride you, hard and powerfully to the most seismic of orgasms.

It wasn’t like I didn’t see this moment in my mind: me, resplendent on top of your body, your cock so deeply embedded inside me that I’d be embarrassed by the sheer greediness of the position were it captured on x-ray; me, gyrating in those ancient and terrible rhythms that leave me helpless and pleading for more. Your rough sleep-drunk voice urging me to orgasm; me, both in my mind and out of it crying out in neck-snapping violence as the wet-pink-hot-crimson-flash of coming rips through my body from the cunt out and I fall, limp, sweating, on your broad chest.

It wasn’t like I didn’t expect you to bend my knees around my earlobes so that as you drive your epic and fat-bellied cock into my post-coming gushy pussy, so that all I can smell is the scent of sex and leather. I full on expected that when I bought the boots. Hell, I bought them so that this would happen, so that I would find myself bent double and gleefully suffering your pneumatic drilling.

We collapse, you and the boots and I, one glee-spent leather-loving heap.

“Those are some great fucking boots,” you say appreciatively. I do agree.

Written by excitablegirl

THE BLINDFOLD

I kneel down and you put on the blindfold.

Strictly speaking, it isn’t a blindfold; it’s a silk scarf. My brother and his wife gave it to me for Christmas. I’m sure his wife picked it out, a pretty fabric with a floral design in crimson, deep blue and gold. But when I opened the gift, my smile was a bit forced. I’m not a scarf person, and I was thinking: When will I ever wear this?

But I gave it a try. When we got home, I spent a good fifteen minutes in front of the mirror attempting to knot the oblong piece of material into an appealing fashion accessory. You sat on the edge of the bed and watched smugly because they’d gotten you some Charlie Parker CDs.

Then I got the idea to wear the scarf as a hair-band, to keep my bangs off my face. Another failure.

“I can’t do anything with this thing. I’m sure it was expensive, too. Do you think they’d get mad if I took it back?”

You walked over to me.

“How about this way?” You pulled the bottom edge of the scarf down over my eyes.

I could still see you hazily through the single layer of loose silk. You knew that, didn’t you? You looked at me for a moment, your head tilted to one side as if you were deciding what to do. Then you kissed me. Hard.

When we finally came up for air, my lips felt tender, a little swollen.

I said, “Now tie it on so I can’t see.”

That was the beginning. I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve done it since then, but it’s gotten us through this long winter. Sometimes you blindfold me. Sometimes I blindfold you. It all depends on who comes up with a new idea. It’s never the same. That’s our unspoken rule.

Not that it’s entirely unpredictable. You seem to prefer that I wear some sort of clothing: one of your shirts or a teddy, something you can eventually slip off. After more than a year together, it still excites you to uncover my breasts, weigh them in your hands as if you are touching them for the first time. That’s one of the things I like about you.

I prefer you to be completely naked. The first time I blindfolded you, I was the one who was trembling. Although it was my idea that you kneel on the bed wearing nothing but the blindfold, when you actually began to undress with a cool smile, I almost told you to stop. I wasn’t sure I really wanted to see your big body so exposed, a band of flowered silk over your eyes with the long, loose ends falling softly down your back. I thought it might somehow diminish you.

But I was wrong. I’d never realized how beautiful your body was. Not that I hadn’t appreciated it before but I’d always focused my gaze on your eyes, your expressions. The rest of you I knew better by touch. But now, with your eyes hidden, I could see you with a new clarity: the rich, taut curves of your arms and chest, the hint of soft flesh at your waist that I found oddly pleasing. I noticed that the hair on your belly fanned out more luxuriantly to the left, and by contrast, your right thigh was slightly more muscular, a legacy of your college fencing days. It didn’t take long for you to get hard – it never did when we used the blindfold – and I got to watch that, the delicate jerking movements of your penis as it rose and thickened, drawn upward by invisible puppet strings which, I imagined, led straight to my hands.

I felt like a thief.

I stood there and felt my own desire grow within me in a completely new way. This time the familiar ache seemed to originate from behind my eyes, from the very sight of you unseeing. Then it seeped downward, bringing a warm flush to my cheeks and neck, making my nipples grow erect. It finally reached my belly, pooling there as a sharp, shimmering hunger. A hunger I could only appease by feasting on your body, taking you inside of me in every way possible.

So I did.

When you decide the game, you often feed me things. A dish of rice pudding in baby-sized bites from a spoon. Morsels of praline truffle you push through my lips with your tongue. And most often, your cock. I don’t know why, but your semen tastes sweeter when I am wearing the blindfold.

One time you slipped a tiny wedge of soft paper between my lips, struck a match, and instructed me to inhale. It was a joint. Where did you get this? I wanted to ask you, but I knew I wasn’t supposed to talk – you had a way of letting me know such things – so I just lay quietly next to you on the bed and took long drags whenever you held it to my mouth. It must have been good stuff, because soon I was tingling all over just this side of numbness, floating off the bed into the past. It had been years since I’d smoked a joint. I never bought drugs myself. They were always presented to me as an offering from a boy in exchange for what I could offer him in return. So many things had changed since then, but it took me back to a time when I was so dumb about men, I might as well have been wearing a scarf over my eyes.

And yet, when the blindfold goes on, I can see certain things more clearly. That blank screen against my eyelids is alive with images, visions, memories that arouse me in strange and quiet ways. Sometimes I feel as if I am standing at the edge of a precipice looking down over a landscape of rolling hills glowing in the late summer sunset. The doll-sized farms and tiny church steeples remind me that the routines of ordinary life go on, but far away from where I stand.

I’ve always loved panoramic views. With the blindfold on I can almost see the sign for the “scenic overlook” flash past the car window, see my father make the turn off the highway and carefully pull into a marked parking space even when ours was the only car in the lot. It might be any year of my childhood, for we took long driving vacations every summer. While my parents sighed and stretched and gazed at the scenery, my brother broke out of the car running, looking for trouble, hopping up on crumbling walls and pretending to lose his balance, making machine gun noises with those boxy metal binoculars you had to pay to use. They never had to scold me, though. I just watched my brother’s antics, eyes narrowed in pleasure at the touch of the breeze on my skin, and thought: Some day I’ll do dangerous things, too.

It’s been a difficult winter for both of us. I know things aren’t going well for you at work, but I didn’t realize how upset you were until that day when I came home to find you practicing with your sabre.

Once, when we first started going out, you gave me a demonstration of some fencing moves. I liked the way you looked in that white jacket, the single leather glove on your right hand, but I wasn’t so sure about the wire mesh mask. I thought it made you look like a huge insect. Or an executioner.

“Forget The Three Musketeers,” you told me, “what you want to do is keep the blade within an imaginary frame around your body, to move as little as possible and still protect yourself. The most important part, though, is reading your opponent. It’s like a game of chess, move and countermove,” you said. “And when you get it just right, it’s the best feeling in the world.”

But as I watched you, so graceful on your feet as you advanced then retreated, I thought it seemed less like a game than a strange and beautiful dance.

This second time, it was different. You wore no mask and your T-shirt was stained with sweat. There was a fierceness in your concentration, your brow furrowed, your lips pale. I don’t even think you saw me at first. Again and again you lunged at your imaginary opponent: a feint to the chest, then the quick and fatal strike to the head. I could see the metal meet flesh, then the cold satisfaction in your eyes as you watched the body crumple to the floor. Whoever it was died several times over.

Finally you turned to me. You were too far away to touch me with the blade, but you extended your wrist toward me as if you were pointing me out to some unseen stranger.

I frowned. “Hey, watch out, you could hurt someone with that.”

Your mouth curved into a slight smile. “That’s the idea,” you said, tilting the sabre back in salute.

I’ve been having troubles of my own. My father was in the hospital with another heart attack, and there was talk of surgery. The first time I went to visit, you came with me. As we walked through the corridors, the pallid fluorescent light and muted antiseptic smell began to make me feel ill, so I reached for your hand, the only warm real thing in the whole place.

You waited in the hall while I went into the room. My father was sleeping. He looked so old, his body sprouting tubes and wires, his face all creases and shadows. My mother was sitting by the bed staring down at the book on her lap. I glanced back at you, leaning against the wall across from the doorway, arms crossed, gazing straight ahead. Your expression was patient, blank. I knew you didn’t see me then. I wanted to be where you were – far, far away – but my mother pulled me back with her cool lips on my cheek, her anxious reassurances.

When she saw you she stiffened but, ever courteous, walked out to greet you. I watched you come together in a brief, guarded embrace, watched your lips move as you said something to her, watched her nod without really looking at you.

I’d known from the beginning that she didn’t really approve of you. Does he love you? she asked me once, quietly, almost under her breath. I shrugged because that was the only answer I could give.

I wonder if she could have understood the attraction better if I had told her about the blindfold?

Strangely enough, one of my best ideas came from my mother. She was going through her sewing scrap box, when she pulled out a square of deep red velvet and said, “Remember this? It’s from that dress I made you for Christmas when you were – how old – eight or nine?” The fabric was soft with age and I instinctively rubbed it over my hand, up over my wrist. It felt especially nice when I ran a velvet-covered finger along the inside of my arm. I was so lost in my sweet memories of that dress, how grown-up and glamorous I felt when I wore it to church on Christmas morning then over to my aunt’s house for dinner, that I didn’t realize for several moments that I held in my hand the perfect surprise for our next game.

It was a good one. After I blindfolded you, I had you lie face down on the bed and guess what I was rubbing over your skin: the tip of my nose along your spine, the loose end of blindfold across your shoulders, my finger in the valley of your ass, my breasts across the back of your knees. I saved the velvet until last and stroked the length of you with it like I was polishing a precious, breakable object. You usually didn’t make much noise when we made love, but by the time I was done with your back, you were almost mewing. And more than ready to turn over.

As I carefully dusted off your other side, I told you about the dress, about how I wore it with white tights and patent leather shoes and had a bow with holly on it in my hair, and about how thrilled I was when all of the adults told me I looked so pretty.

“I’ll bet you were cute,” you said with a smile as I lowered myself onto you and started my slow ride.

So cute, I told you, that even my oldest cousin – the one I had a crush on, the one who lives in Texas now – gallantly offered me a turn with his train set. Before I’d always had to beg and whine. But that day, I felt like a princess. And in trying to figure out what was different about it, I had my first inkling that the way to get something from boys is to look pretty. Then they’ll do anything for you. Isn’t that true? I asked you.

“Uh huh,” you replied, arching back into the pillow.

Not long after that you asked me to kneel when you put on the blindfold. Then you went on to position my body with your hands, telling me to keep my back straight, my shoulders down, my chin up. You told me not to move, not even to smile. You proceeded to caress me, starting at my cheeks just below the edge of the blindfold. You traced my lips with one fingertip, drew ovals on my chin, brushed my neck and collar bone with feathery strokes. I managed to hold myself still until your hands moved to my breasts. That’s when you had to remind me of the rules and rearrange my body in the proper position. You even reprimanded me for breathing too quickly. “Slow, baby; nice and slow,” you whispered, smoothing the tension from my lips and jaw until I was quiet.

But then you started up again, rolling my nipples between your fingers like you were fine-tuning a radio, rubbing one breast then the other with a spit-moistened palm. You knew my body. I had my proof then, if there was any doubt before. And all I could do was squeeze my eyes shut tighter and tighter under the blindfold as my cheeks began to burn and a fine sweat rose like lubricant on the skin beneath your hands. Soon my chest was throbbing so violently, my ribs ached. By then you’d moved down to my belly, drawing strange shapes that sometimes – just sometimes – extended farther down. Then you’d come back to tease my belly-button with a wet finger, stroking, circling, slipping softly inside.

In the end, there was nothing I could do to stop myself from trembling, but by that time I guess the rules had changed, for you pushed me back on the bed and entered me with an urgency that surprised me, that tiny part of me that was still capable of coherent thought. How could just touching me – a statue – excite you so much? But your breath was coming as fast as your thrusts, and I was not far behind.

The experience of orgasm in general is something I can easily conjure in my mind, but specific ones elude me. Even when I remember the circumstances of the lovemaking, the things we said and did, the climax blurs into a vague sensation of bliss. An ending. But that orgasm is one I still remember in my body, a searing rush of pleasure as my desire finally burst free. And I remember marveling afterwards that we had done it: We had found a way to make each time better than the last.

Of course it couldn’t go on forever.

Earlier tonight I convinced you to watch an episode of an English TV series about a king with too many wives, because it was one of my favorite shows as a child. I had fond memories of sitting before the television with a notebook, sketching the Tudor gowns. But as I watched it again, I realized there was a lot I didn’t remember. I didn’t remember the growing sense of doom as the king’s love waned. I didn’t remember the ugly marital quarrels, the political intrigue, the scene where the queen’s musician was blinded under torture with a knotted rope. It was altogether too gloomy and talky, so I didn’t complain when you started reading something halfway through. I decided to be satisfied you were there with me, idly rubbing my toes with one hand, holding the magazine with the other.

I noticed, however, that you started paying attention again when the queen was imprisoned on trumped up charges of adultery. When it got to the execution scene, you put down the magazine. And so we both watched, transfixed, as the queen glided over to the scaffold, made her poignant farewell speech, knelt down before the block. The lady-in-waiting tied a narrow, snow-white blindfold over the kneeling woman’s eyes. In that one moment, before the sword, the actress looked more beautiful than ever, at least those parts of her set off by the blindfold above and the low-cut dress below: her pouting crimson lips, her fragile neck and the swelling of her breasts that rose and fell with each breath. I remembered something else from long ago, my brother and cousins in the back of the station wagon on a hot summer day, talking about that same television show. The only part of interest to them was when the queen “got her head chopped off.” At the time, I didn’t understand the edge of excitement in their voices.

But suddenly I did.

We turned to each other with the same crooked, tight-lipped smiles.

“Well,” you said. “So, that was your favorite show?”

“Mmm,” I replied. “I’d forgotten about that part.”

We sat in silence.

Then I said to you, “What do you think goes through someone’s head at a time like that?”

You thought, your brow furrowed, then shook your head.

More silence.

“So what do you want to do now?” I asked.

You shook your head again. “I don’t know. I’m in a weird mood.”

I was well aware that interesting things happened when you were in a weird mood.

I gave you a sidelong glance. “Do you want to blindfold me?” I couldn’t remember the last time we’d made love without it.

You looked at me curiously. “Now that would be too weird.”

“But I want you to. I guess I’m in a weird mood, too. How about it?” I poked you.

“No,” you replied sharply.
“How about ‘yes’?” I said, taking up the challenge. I decided I would overcome your reluctance, make you want to do it. Before we had always glided into the game together, willingly, but I discovered that this new element of conflict excited me.

You, on the other hand, seemed uneasy. “What’s with you tonight?”

“What’s with me? Who started this blindfold business anyway?”

“You didn’t take much convincing, if I remember correctly.”

This went on for a while until finally I asked, “Come on, what are you afraid of?”

You drew back, eyes narrowed, lips pressed together. That’s when I knew I’d won, even before you stalked off to the bedroom and returned with the blindfold balled up in your hand.

At that point I was lounging back in the sofa, arms crossed, enjoying my victory.

“Should I get undressed?” I asked with a coy smile. I was still expecting you to smile back, still waiting for that flicker of desire in your eyes. It was always the last thing I saw before the blindfold went on.

But you just stared at me coldly. I’d never seen you quite like this before.

I sat up. “Well, what should I do?”

“Just get down on your fucking knees.”

You didn’t seem to be pretending. I know I wasn’t pretending when I jumped, when my jaw fell open in surprise. I was really afraid of you then. Afraid to meet your eyes. Afraid to breathe.

I stood up and looked around the living room for a place to kneel. The coffee table took up most of the well-worn oval rug, but there was plenty of scarred hardwood floor.

“Can I get a pillow or something?” I attempted another smile.

“Shut up and kneel,” you said.

So, I kneel down and you put on the blindfold.

The floor is hard and cold. I hear the tip-tap of your shoes as you leave the room. I am alone. At first my mind is racing as I wonder what you could be doing. But then, as I wait in the stillness, with the blindfold on, I begin to feel safe. This darkness is familiar, with its memory and promise of pleasure, of yielding myself to you. The very air seems to press against me, heavy and faintly moist, the boundaries of my body softening with each breath.

Suddenly I hear footsteps behind me, a faint metallic clink. My shoulders tense, the air grows thin. Something very cool and smooth settles on the right side of my neck. In the next instant I realize it is your hand. In a glove. A leather glove. It rests there for a moment, the fingers gripping my throat. The leather grows warm, sucking up the heat of my skin. Then it begins to move, stroking my neck, brushing my cheek. I sigh.

“Do you like this?” Your voice sounds far away.

I hesitate, afraid to get the answer wrong. “Yes.”

“Then enjoy it while you can. Because after tonight I’ll never touch you again.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I mean, this is the last time.”

Your hand slips away.

“I don’t understand. You’re leaving me?”

“Don’t worry; when it’s all over, you won’t care.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Come on now.” Your voice is low, mocking as you turn my own words against me, “What are you afraid of?”

I swallow hard. “This is part of the game, right?”

At first you don’t reply. I hear the floorboards creak, another clink of metal. Footsteps circle around to my left and stop somewhere in front of me. Then you snort, a soft hiss of air. “Don’t you see I’m tired of playing your sick games?”

My games?

For a moment I am aware of nothing but a coldness spreading up through my chest, down my arms, settling in my fingers as a dull, distant ache.

But suddenly I do see it, hovering against the blindfold: the image of myself as you see me now, as you must have seen me all along. A body – exposed and vulnerable – but not beautiful, not beloved.

“Why are you doing this to me?” I cry out, half-choking on the words as I collapse to the floor, chest sagging onto my knees. I don’t want to cry, not in front of you, not now, so I press my palms over my eyes, but the tears come anyway, stinging as they rise, spilling over into the silk.

Hands grasp my shoulders. I twist away instinctively, but they hold me fast, and I begin to feel, through the cloth of my shirt, the warmth of skin, a gentleness in your fingers. Then you pull me up, murmuring something I can’t hear through my own sobs. I struggle to my feet and bury my face in your shoulder. You stroke my back, swaying.

As I cling to you, I say less in accusation than wonder, “You were torturing me. Do you see that?”

“Isn’t it what you wanted?” you whisper.

“No. I don’t think so. I don’t know,” I say. In truth, I don’t think I’d ever really been aware of what I was asking you to do.

“Believe me, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never want to hurt you.” Your arms tighten around me, squeezing me with a force just short of actual pain.

It is the blindfold that suddenly seems unbearably tight.

“Take it off now. Please?” I could pull it off myself – it has always been a voluntary bondage – but I want you to do it. I want you to break the spell.

Your hands fumble at the knot. Then you pull the scarf free and let it fall to the floor.

I look up and see that your eyes are wet too, like wounds. I lean toward you. You close your eyes and so do I, an unthinking act that all lovers do. In that simple darkness we find each other’s lips. I want at this moment nothing more than the exquisitely ordinary comfort of your lips against mine.

That is enough.

written by excitablegirl

My sweet bitch,

Never think that I’ll switch,

Never believe I’ll stop bewitch

Your soul, your body…like a boat, they pitch…

Between you and Me, a ditch,

And the difference will enrich

And burn, and bite, like a twitch

Of My whip…on My sweet bitch…

Written for one of my beautiful subdued sexual slaves…………….

by Sarah

]]> http://ourredroom.wordpress.com/2008/05/23/sarah/feed/ 1 littlehelen http://ourredroom.wordpress.com/2008/05/18/ari-way/ http://ourredroom.wordpress.com/2008/05/18/ari-way/#comments Sun, 18 May 2008 11:57:39 +0000 littlehelen http://ourredroom.wordpress.com/?p=25 ]]>

Snake Charmers

You were a sexy fucker.

You were strong and self assured.

You had eyes that were forest green and so incredibly inviting.

I walked around in those eyes whilst I rode for 27 minutes.

Not that I was counting.

It’s just that the clock said 11.11 when we started.

It was 11.38 when we stopped.

Yes, I checked.

I remember looking at the clock radio just as you had entered into me.

We were sliding then.

Tentatively.

I remember my eyes opening and closing slowly, my stomach warming and the sensation was rolling up from the centre of me, into my chest. Prickling and sensual. It made my nipples stand erect, begging you to take them in your mouth and suck them. To tug on them a little with your lips. Grip them in your teeth. Bite down on them just a little bit.

I loved the way you cupped my breasts with both hands.

They fit so perfectly there.

You had beautiful hands.

Big, strong fingers.

Large tradesman hands.

Hands that worked.

They were calloused and stained.

But always clean for me.

I remember the celtic ring you wore on your left hand.

I dared myself to imagine what type of wedding ring you’d wear if we married.

It was then that I took your palm and held it against mine – measuring our connection.

We were always such a perfect fit.

In so many ways.

I felt good next to you.

Strong, yet a little uncertain.

Never knowing our commitment but always sure of our chemistry.

You excited me.

Just sitting beside you made me want you.

Always.

When you stood beside me, I leaned in nearer to you with a subtleness that never intruded.

Gently urging you to wrap your arm around my shoulders protectively.

Claim me.

Own me.

Call me yours.

You had the type of arms that were comforting, although you didn’t put them around me as often as I wanted you to. Except when we were fucking. You always wrapped yourself around me then. Sealing the energy into our beautiful human cocoon.

Our bodies melting together.

Moving together in perfect timing.

At the end of our ride, you would roll over and sigh.

“Fuck!” you’d say in exasperation with a smile on your face.

You would reach over and take the cigarette packet from the side table, allowing me the perfect view of your gorgeous backside. Round, tight buttocks. I always wanted to slap them. I sometimes did. You laughed.

“Fuck off”, you’d say in jist whilst lighting your cigarette and handing me mine.

We’d lie back, smoking and catching our breath. You’d grab your asthma ventolin and have a quick puff. I’d always feel a strange sense of both guilt and pleasure.

I take his breath away.

As we lay, I sometimes wondered what you were thinking.

I’d wait for you to get up and reach for your clothes.

I’d smile in amusement as you searched for them.

You looked tough with a large black ink tribal tattoo around your left arm. I loved the way it traced your muscles, the way it peaked out from underneath your tshirt.

You always dressed in that I-don’t-give-a-shit way.

Dirty jeans, your favourite rock band on a black tshirt and black boots.

You were a sexy fucker.

And I fell in love with you.

I never wanted that.

I only wanted you.

I never wanted to need you.

You were going to be some casual fun.

I never wanted to feel anything much for you at all.

Fresh out of a long relationship, I wasn’t looking for you when I found you.

I saw you standing there, looking a little sorry for yourself. A little too drunk. Vulnerable.

Do you remember me slithering up to you that night?

I was a snake.

Nobody could hurt me.

I needed venom.

I needed to slide away into a hole and get lost for a while.

You became my hole.

My eyes saw you across the room.

You burnt into them a little that night.

Like a scar.

You didn’t see me coming toward you i’m sure. Ironically, you didn’t see me going.

We fucked for 5 years.

Once of twice a week we’d meet up.

Some weekends.

Remaining casual.

Snakes in a jungle.

My mind twisted and turned with possibilities.

I knew you’d fallen for me too.

You were young though and needed to live.

You needed to pretend you didn’t care for me like you did.

You liked to keep your options open.

You were a snake too.

My heart became swollen.

My body parts ached for you and because of you.

I fought myself for you.

You were under my skin.

You were a sexy fucker.

I told you that I had fallen in love with you.

It took you too long to tell me the same and when you finally did, it was too late.

It didn’t have the same impact anymore.

I’d waited too long for you and had seen the things that didn’t make me love you enough.

Or perhaps i’d not seen the things i’d needed to love you enough.

Anti climax.

I found another sexy fucker.

She was just what I needed.

But then the roles were reversed.

She became me and I became you.

She told me that she loved me.

I said it back.

It scared me.

I realised how you felt.

I needed my hole.

I went away.

I broke the chain.

I broke her heart.

She was a sexy fucker too.

But she wasn’t the right hole for me.

And she definately wasn’t a snake.

So here I am, I’m still sliding through the grass.

Searching.

For the right hole.

I’m remembering that morning when you rolled over in bed and said, “So, what’s for breakfast?”

and I said, “Foreplay, you’ve already had it.”

You laughed and asked for a coffee.

“You know I don’t drink coffee.”

“Oh,” you sounded deflated.

“But i’ve got some, for you.”

“You bought coffee for me?” you asked, obviously impressed.

“No, my mother brought it over last week.”

So began the pulling of your heart strings that day.

I tugged a little more, a little stronger, a little tighter. Until I had pulled you in to where I wanted you to be.

I bit down on you, sucking on your skin and adding my venom into you.

You will never forget me.

Written by Ari Way

“Lie down and let me walk all over you”

You want me don’t you?

You want to fuck

like _that_

like _them_

and moan

that

it’s

me

me

me.

You want to roll around

pretend i’m someone else

filthy little fucker

hot and horny strutter

I can walk like _that_

are you watching?

High heels and floorboards

leather seats

and heavy doors

i’ll hang my inhibitions

for you

I will tip toe when it matters

trace the edges

bang

and shatter

all of your illusions

of me.

I won’t leave one dirty little footstep on you either.

I won’t rip one hole in your skin.

But i’ll walk all over you

just the way you like it.

Strutting.

Written by Ari Way

Dipping Honey

“Sit. Here,” he said with a commanding whisper, guiding her delicious flesh down into the gold armless chair with a taut single finger between her expanding breasts. His grin was sincere and wicked. She obeyed and dropped down, eyes locked. He bit his lip as he lifted his finger away from her chest. She pressed her teeth together and forced breath through them as the full spectrum of desire flashed across their flushed faces. Now they were willing prisoners of the raw, animal craving they had fed in each other’s faces earlier that day at the mall. After only one fiery, distant exchange of eye-contact, he purposefully followed her down the escalator, through the merchant stands, into Victoria’s Secret. Her breaths grew shorter and shallower. She ran her trembling fingers lightly over the smooth silks and satins as he watched from a distance. When their eyes met, she would squeeze the fabrics tightly in her hand then leave them in a crumpled heap. She could feel him on her trail through the Food Court as her heart pounded like a jungle drum inside her weakening body. She was willing prey.

Out of instinctual fear, she tried to genuinely elude him. She would weave a quick crooked path to safety only to find him nearby again. She could feel his eyes under her clothes. He was already fucking her by the time they stood in carnal shock inches from each other in some random store. They already knew. They were both being hunted by something stronger than either of them. By the time she followed him home, they were both driving like mad, fueled by an inner emergency. They weaved with reckless hilarity to the high, overextended hum of their whining engines, dipping and soaring against each other. On the empty back roads, they groaned with their vehicles under the load of their lust. Once inside, they circled each other slowly like animals. That’s when he led her to the chair and spoke his first words.
She lingered, impudently, for a moment beneath the weight of his strong intention but then let her body collapse. “Good. Close your eyes.”

He reached towards her, grasping one of two firm breasts punctuated with twin nipples reaching upward towards the sky of his mind. He could feel her thin shirt moving between his flesh and hers. He closed his eyes and lifted his face with them, manipulating the firm, liquid curve in his hand. He was just about to take the other when she pushed his hands away, stood up, turned, and began walking to the stereo. She offering her long, deep back to his eyes one step at a time. Her ripe calves crossed each other in a slow, seductive dance of determination.

He watched her from behind, feeling her waist with his eyes and listening as her high heels neatly clicked across the tile floor. Her hair hung in a curly heap down her back like a lucid waterfall. He noticed how effortlessly her thighs rose up from her knees, into her buttocks and how the twin, intersecting lines then curved up and around, melting into her milky waist. Sexuality dripped from her and left behind a trail of warm, sticky honey. He was in perfect agony and his desire for her clenched his gut. He imagined the feel of her hard, smooth clitoris against his tongue as his mouth watered.
She reached in her purse and put on some strange, unrecognizable music that sounded like it was born straight from the devastating abandonment he felt rising in his own body.

Desire filled the room with sound. His eyes flared with all his senses as he breathed faster and shallower. He couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. He squirmed and tried to relax but eventually wound up sitting still on purpose, his useless arms hanging miserably at his sides. He was erect and his mouth was getting dry. She returned with the same, slow, seductive pace and stood in front of a chair about three feet directly across from him. She returned his wicked grin.

She took his eyes in hers and then began to move. At first, the serpentine dance didn’t seem to match the rhythm of the music surrounding them but after a while they both somehow blended as he watched in amazement. She ran her hands down her neck and across her breasts, cupping them slightly, rolling her hard nipples between her fingers. He wished they were his hands. Soon he was feeling her skin through her hands as his body screamed silently for her.

His gaze was fixed as she ran her hands across her entire body. He could feel himself moving inside her. He was becoming her. He grabbed the sides of his chair. She sat down across from him and crossed her legs as if he was a fire and she was warming herself before him. She blinked her eyes slowly and spoke.

“Now what?”
“Open your legs. Let me see you.”
She uncrossed her legs and the music seemed to move them apart slowly.
“Further.”
“Further.”
“More!”

They were almost straight out now and he could see her moist inner lips looking like crumpled flower petals ready to unfurl.
“Now grab your legs and lift. Close your eyes.”
She lifted her high heels into the air, threw her head back, closed her eyes, and slid down into the chair forming a large V.

At the beginning of the next song, he got up slowly and unzipped his pants, let them fall, stepped out , and then lifted his shirt. He let it fall and moved towards her. When he could smell her aroma he ran up to her quickly, like a large cat and then stopped just as he was about to grab her heels. Then he guided the tip of himself lightly across her knee and then dragged himself up towards her wet pussy. He slid and dipped all around her.

“Fuck me!”
“No.”
“Fuck me. Now!”

He dipped inside her further but then retreated. Finally, he was gone. She was heaving when she opened her eyes and saw him standing above her. He reclaimed his wicked grin and was already putting on his clothes.

“What the hell are you doing?”
“Giving you life.”
“What?”
“Meet me in the mall tomorrow. One o’clock. Outside Victoria’s Secret. When you see me I’ll get up. Follow me.”

She had a tinge of fear but something about his face told her it was the wrong kind.
“You’re not scared, are you? he asked.”
“Did I look scared?”

She closed her eyes once more, threw her had back and laughed but by the time she came back from her brief flight of ecstasy, he was gone.

Written by deliriousgirl

The Elevator

I had this dream about you the other night that was so very vivid that I reached my hand out to feel if you were there. Anyway, you weren’t.
You are in an elevator when the door slides open and I get on. Although I know it’s you, I don’t respond in any way to the sight of you, I just get on the elevator and stand slightly in front of you, close enough so that you can smell the fresh, cottony scent of my hair.
I’m wearing an olive coloured trench coat with shiny silver buttons up the front and a deep walking vent cut up the back and high, stiletto-heeled black boots; nothing else.
We ride a few seconds up in total silence and feel your hand through the slit in the back of my coat. I’m totally naked underneath it and you begin to roughly knead the smooth roundness of my asscheeks. I can feel your hot breath on my neck, hear the faint rustle of cloth. You massage my ass for a few seconds, then I hear the sound of your zipper and almost immediately feel your titanium-hard cock pressing forcefully against my bare round derrière.
You move one hand to the juncture of my shoulder and neck and clench it there as with one thrust you’re in me, causing me to gasp your name softly. I was coming at the third thrust–then the elevator stopped–you calmly took your hand from my shoulder as a couple of people absently entered and stood in front of us. Your hard cock still inside the snugness of my ass, we rode up to the top floor where everyone got off but us.
As soon as the doors slid closed I lean forward and press backward against you (pleasepleasepleaseplease softly whispered) and you comply silently, driving your dick deeply into me again and again. As the elevator reaches the ground floor and once again the doors start to glide open, I feel the intensity of your explosion, hot and powerful pumping into me, filling me.
I straighten, look up and see a man staring at us through the open elevator doors, as slowly, my breathing returns to normal. We hurriedly disconnect, smooth clothing back into place. As we walk off in the direction of the door to the street, I peek over my shoulder and I see the business-suited man staring after us, his mouth a perfectly shaped elongated O.

(Author’s note:This is dedicated to MB, one hot babe.)

Written by deliriousgirl

Waiting

It is late. The bedroom is dark, with only a single light above the computer. I’ve been sitting there looking at the erotic photos that you have collected. What a beautiful assortment you have. There are the most amazing photographs of women’s bodies. I particularly like the close-ups of the vaginas. I like looking at the different clits; the outer and inner lips of the labia. I like the view from the rear even better. It really turns me on to see the ass and the pussy together. I especially like it when the photos include the woman’s hands fingering her swollen pussy and teasing her tight ass.

How I would like the view that you have when you enter me. From the front or the rear, you can look down and watch as your cock pounds into me. I can only imagine what that looks like. The imaginary image is incredibly stimulating. I can only wonder how the reality would turn me on.

My hands have been as busy as my eyes. My pussy is hot and wet. I’ve been waiting a long time for you. As I continue to slowly move through your collection, my fingers alternately stroke and squeeze my clit. I shove my fingers deep into my pussy, but even three fingers does not compare to the girth and strength of your dick. I’m so horny and need something more. I close my eyes and remember the feel of you. As I open my eyes again, my glance catches sight of one of our toys on the edge of the desk. I reach for the plastic sheathed dildo and quickly turn the head to begin the vibration. I move it slowly up and down my hot pussy for only a second before shoving the whole length of it into my wet and waiting hole. There, that feels better. I continue to play with the toy as I scroll through the photos.

I have found a new set; ones that include a man. His cock is big and beautiful. Looking at it only makes me want you more. Your cock is real to me. It is not only big and beautiful, but totally responsive to me. I want to feel it. I am intensely aware of wanting the feel of you inside of me. In these photos, my favorites are the tight in shots of the huge, pulsing dick pushing into the swollen pussy. I can feel the motion, even though these are still photos. The toy begins to move faster in my hand.

I’ve been lost in the photos and the feelings, but now I can feel your presence. You move quietly across the bedroom. I can feel you long before I see you; long before you touch me. You quickly take in the scene and process what is happening. You stand silently behind me. I can feel you there, but you have not touched me. We both are taking in the visuals on the screen. No words are spoken, but the silent language between us is powerful and direct. As the photos appear and disappear, we watch together the magic moments of pussy and cock coming together. I continue to fill my own pussy with the vibrator. I can feel the heat coming off your cock, through the thick fabric of your jeans.

And then another new set appears. The woman has turned around. Her bottom is up high in the air and from this position we can both see her swollen pussy and the tight little hole of her ass. We still have not touched. In the silence I hear our heavy breathing. We continue to watch from this new perspective. Suddenly, I feel your hands reach out and grab me around my shoulders. Silently, but very purposefully, you raise me to my feet. Your big red T-shirt quickly comes over my head. I am naked, standing right in front of you with my back to you, just like in the photos. I can feel your hands slide down the sides of my body, feeling the soft curves that you have come to know so well. Your large hands reach in front of me and grab my breasts. There is the slightest sense of urgency in your touch. Your hands are strong and demanding as they move across the roundness of my belly and find the hot wet mecca of my pussy. I’ve been waiting for you a long time.

As the photos continue to appear and disappear, your hands move from my body for a moment. You quickly move the chair that I have been sitting on around in front of me, lock the wheels in position and unzip your pants. Only a moment has passed, but to my waiting and ready pussy it seems like a lifetime. Your cock springs to attention; always ready to pleasure me. I can feel the heat coming from it as you lean into me and pull me closer to you. The photos continue. We both are still watching. Your hands come at my waiting pussy from the front, even as your hard cock probes my ass from behind. The toy has been put to the side for now and my hands work my breasts with just the amount of pressure and firmness that seems right for this moment. Our coupling is mirroring the images on the computer screen. Even as I watch the cock in the photo probe the woman’s tight little hole, I can feel you urging me to bend over the back of the chair. As I lean forward, I reach behind and spread my soft, fleshy cheeks. But in my eagerness for you to fill me, I am jumpy. My ass bumps and grinds against you, searching for that ultimate pleasure tool – your cock.

The silence is broken as I hear your low murmur, “Hold still”. Your strong hands grab me firmly by the hips and hold my bottom still. I am watching the cock on the screen push its way into the tight hole of her ass. I feel your cock pushing against my tight little hole. And then, in a moment of exquisite pleasure/pain, you break through. I can feel the head of your cock inside my ass. I moan in pleasure. You stop for only a moment to allow my muscles to relax and expand to allow you in and then continue to push deeper. Oh you feel so good! Hot and hard and strong and filling up every inch of my ass. You have found your way into this special part of me and we begin to move together in the in and out dance of pure passion. The fluids of my body, the images on the screen and the simple fact of my constant desire for you have come together to allow you to penetrate me. I watch the screen, wishing for a way to see what you can see; not an image on a screen, but you and me; your cock in my ass. I am so turned on.

Each hole, my pussy and my ass are streaming with fluids. I am wet and slippery. You pound your cock easily, but intensely into my ass. Your thrusting is wonderfully steady and fast. I am so ready to come. I reach for the toy and shove it into my now empty pussy. Can you feel the vibrations through the thin wall of flesh? You know that there is only one more thing that could make this coming orgasm more perfect, more powerful. Now that my bottom is firmly locked to you, your hand reaches around and begins to finger my clit. One touch is all I can take. I’m over the edge in one of the most intense and mind blowing orgasms I have ever experienced.

But even as the stirrings and tinglings in my body calm, I can feel them beginning in your body. Your cock seems even harder and bigger than before and I can feel the come shooting through your dick and into my ass. Your hands grab my hips again and pull me tight against you.

We stand silent and motionless as the photos continue to fill the screen. We have totally lost sight of that voyeuristic pleasure and are now spent, nearly cataleptic, yet still connected tightly to each other.

Written by deliriousgirl

Who will be first?

It’s winter here
and it’s cold being naked
and yet I’m warm
as I run my hands over my body
and watch myself in the mirror
stroking my soft moist pussy
it smells of musk and coconut
still wet from the shower
and tiny beads of water lay waiting
to be licked off my hard pink nipples
but there is no one here to do that
and I whimper
and bite my lip
in frustration
because it’s you I’m thinking about
and your hands
your forbidden hands
I don’t know them
but I so want them
On me…touching me
Doing whatever the hell
they want with me
And I wonder if…
Oh Fuck me

Literally.

Written by Helen June 2006

 Allegro Moderato

Quartet

Copious amounts of Makers Mark and Spanish Fly had been consumed, when someone produced a pack of cards. As we played, I looked around the table with earnest anticipation. My thoughts were hot and dangerous and so were those of my hosts. We were listening to Beethovens 4th Piano Concerto..a solo and a very sensual one at that. I closed my eyes and let my mind wander back in time to another era…when Baroque was uninhibited and sex was open slather at many a card party.
It dawned on me I was naked when I felt soft hands stroking the inside of my thighs..her hands. I closed my eyes and sighed. I let myself feel her, want her.. as one engorged penis draped itself over my lips…eagerly awaiting my tongue. The other had my hand cupped around it as I masturbated its length.
I felt like a Conductor leading a Quartet I had never led before, yet we played together in timely unison. Fingers worked their way in and out of my vagina. Hot tongues laced with liquor, licked and taunted every inch of my body, penetrating my mouth, my ears and any other available orifice.
I wondered if there were spectators watching this concert and what they thought thus far.
I found myself on all fours..fucking her tongue. One well hung penis penetrating me from behind. The other I sucked greedily in tempo. There was orgasm after orgasm..an explosion of erotic moans, whispers of seduction, crescendos of divine lust, as Beethoven bought our Quartet home.
A one night only performance, the encore itself worth the entrance fee.
A Concerto for another time..maybe.

Written by Helen December 2007

Snow and Fire

He couldn’t sleep. Her image kept returning to him as he lay next to his wife who was sleeping contently.  They had run into each other frequently during the day on the ski slopes, at lunch, and again at dinner. He could not keep his eyes off of her as she frequently glanced at him, flirting openly. His wife, and the woman’s male companion, was oblivious to the eye contact and secret smiles reflecting their mutual attraction. “Damn”, he thought to himself as he silently got out of bed. I wonder what this is all about”. He was happily married, at least he thought so, and yet this diminutive dark haired woman with the bright smile had his heart beating as it had not in many years. He walked to the window overlooking the snowy resort landscape, lit romantically in the gently falling snow. Several hundred yards away he noticed the steam rising from the outdoor hot tubs next to the workout rooms and indoor pool. “Maybe some time in the hot tub will help me relax”, he thought. Glancing at his watch he realized it was 2 am. Thought merged into action as he found himself putting on his bathing suit and fluffy cotton robe. Quietly he left the room and entered the snowy night.

As he shuffled through the accumulating snow on the path to the hot tubs he breathed deeply and opened his robe to feel the cold snow on his body. He felt better already as the exercise and stimulating cold and snow invigorated him. He hoped no one was in the tubs as he was enjoying being alone tonight. As he opened the gate and entered the enclosure where the hot tubs were located he noticed a person faintly visible through the snow and steam rising into the darkness. As he walked silently forward he saw the person more clearly in the smallest tub. It was she, the woman he had fantasized about all afternoon and evening. The realization startled him and froze him in his tracks. The synchronicity of the moment astounded him, excited him, and frightened him at the same time. Again the thought entered his awareness, “what the hell is going on, was it fate or coincidence or just damn blind luck?”

She had her head thrown back on the edge of the tub and her eyes were closed. She had not heard him approach and was in her own world. The noise of the bubbling warm water and rush of the jets had masked the soft footsteps of his approach. He stood at the edge of the tub and watched her silently. She was absolutely beautiful. And, she was naked. Her suit was clumped on the edge of the tub next to her head. Her pert breasts bobbed to the swirling motion of the water. He watched her face, expecting her to open her eyes and see him standing there at any moment. She grimaced and bit her lower lip. It was then that the awareness swept over him and his eyes followed her arms beneath the water. She was masturbating. For a moment he thought about retreating silently into the night. But just as quickly he felt his arousal rising, as did the steam surrounding her small beautiful body less than ten feet away.

He moved silently into the tub with her. She was still not aware of his presence. Now less than eight feet away, he watched her face as his body adjusted to the hot water. Her left hand had moved to her breast as she gently massaged her nipple in small circles. Her right arm was moving visibly beneath the water. He removed his bathing shorts and grasped his how rock hard penis and began to stroke it. His eyes locked on her face as he entered into her erotic rhythm. With each facial change, a twitch or grimace or smile of pleasure, his excitement increased. She stretched suddenly and let out a small moan as her orgasm swept over her. After a few moments he saw her relax and become immobile. She was as if in sleep as she slumped in her ecstasy. He continued to stroke himself as she moved again and slowly opened her eyes. Their eyes locked and she fought to control and disguise her surprise. Smiling at him through her embarrassment she uttered the first words he had heard her speak. Busted! She uttered sheepishly, “It’s you, I knew you would be here tonight”.

“Let me see”, she whispered. “What”, he responded, somewhat confused by the request and situation. “You know what” she teased. “I want to watch you play with yourself. After all, you just watched me didn’t you? “Busted” he responded playfully, and they laughed together. Come on, sit on the edge of the tub and let me watch you. I have always wanted to watch a man do himself,” she said a bit embarrassed, not quite able to bring herself to say masturbate. He stood up slowly, still stroking himself, and sat on the edge of the tub. The snow felt refreshing as it struck his steaming body. He looked at her and again their eyes met. She smiled at him and he saw her eyes move to watch his hand and fully erect penis. “Nice” she again whispered as she watched him. Her voice sounded husky and sensual; obviously she was as aroused by this encounter. “You have a beautiful penis”. She then slouched down into the water and pointed her toes at him. Her hands rested on the bottom of the tub as she stretched toward him. Both breasts were now above the water and her nipples stood rigidly as flakes of snow melted on contact. She moved slowly across the tub until she placed her feet on the seat where he had been sitting. She smiled at him and raised her hips upward as she began to spread her legs apart, opening herself to his eyes. He began to stroke more quickly, responding to this incredibly sexy woman now just a few feet away from him. She opened her legs and raised her buttocks, and her pubic hairs emerged from the water, dark black like the hair on her head. Slowly she continued to raise her hips until he could see her labia emerging above the surface. She spread her legs wider and he could see her pink folds open to him. She moved one hand to her pubic area, the other hand holding her above the water, and began to masturbate with him. “Wait for me”, she said huskily, “I want to cum with you”. She moved to the water jet that had been on the small of his back just a few minutes ago and positioned herself so that as she moved two fingers in and out of her vagina, the water pulsed forcefully against her clitoris. He slid downward into the hot water and sat close to her, his cock brushing against her thigh as he lowered his head and kissed her nipple.

She whimpered as his mouth enclosed her nipple and his tongue lapped gently. Instinctively she grasped his penis and began to stroke it. “Let me do it” she whispered into his ear as she changed position and placed her buttocks on his legs, her legs moving to grasp his hips. She moved forward until her labia brushed his balls as she continued to stroke him with her hand. He found himself barely able to keep up with her aggressiveness. Ever since he had first noticed her on the ski run earlier in the day she had taken control of him somehow. Now in this unlikely encounter in the middle of a snowy night she continued to astound him with her feminine power. She grasped his cock and rose slightly from the water, placing it at her warm wet entrance. Slowly she lowered herself onto him.  He became lost to the sensations of her warmth enveloping his manhood. They kissed deeply as he slid into her slowly, stretching her, she opening to him and grasping his hardness. When he was deep into her she stopped moving and they held one another, continuing to kiss with urgent mouths. She began to squeeze his hardness with her muscles and he began to respond by surging his penis in response. She moved her hips in a slow circle, pushing his penis against her clitoris with each movement. It had begun to snow heavily and they felt it strike their bodies. The contrast of the hot water and the cold snow flakes melting on impact on their skin mirroring this surreal encounter. They rose together to the peak, slowly, lovingly; gently they entered a new awareness together, surrendering to the unfolding reality of this fateful connection. She held him suddenly, grabbing his back with her fingers and biting his neck as she screamed with pleasure. As if she finally gave him permission he began cumming with her, moaning into the night as together they rode the waves of ultimate intimacy.

They sat and held one another for the longest time. No words could capture either the nature of the magical moment they had just shared, or the resolution of how it would ever be repeated. She pulled away from him and stood up and shook the snow from her robe as she placed it around her shoulders. Tears were in her eyes as she placed her two fingers on her lips and then placed them on his lips. “I know”, she whispered to him, “me too”.

Dangerous Game

Michael slept almost the entire red eye flight from New York to San Francisco, arriving just in time to see the sunrise over the bay. “What a beautiful city”, he thought, as the plane swooped over the Golden Gate Bridge and turned to the ocean for the last leg of the descent. He had been away 10 hard years preparing to be a Doctor and had arranged numerous interviews over the next few days at various Hospitals and Clinics in the San Francisco area. He would be staying with an acquaintance of his that he met in Medical School. After retrieving his bags he rented a car and headed for San Jose where he would stay for the week.

As he wove his way through traffic, his thoughts turned to Jim and Diana. He knew how much he had changed in appearance in the last ten years and couldn’t help wonder how the years had treated his friends. Jim was already developing a pouch and thinning hair the last time they had seen each other. He had not seen Dianna since she married Jim and moved to the west coast with him. He had dated Diana for a while in college and it was he who had introduced her to Jim. She had been a knock out when she was in College, a prototype California blond, but with red hair, long legs and beautiful face and body. He never had quite understood why she had fallen for Jim. It must have been his aggressive attitude about developing wealth. All Jim lived for was to make a fortune and had left medical school to follow the dollar via stock brokerage. Diana and he had been lovers for several months and as he recalled their hot lovemaking he found himself driving more quickly to reach his destination. He remembered that she had recently delivered their first child. It was difficult to imagine her with a child.

He found their residence in an upscale exclusive development and parked in the circular driveway in front of the house. It was nearly noon and he wondered if anyone was home as there was no sign of life. He knocked on the door and after several minutes without an answer he rang the doorbell. There still was no answer. Not sure what to do, he walked through the beautifully landscaped lawn toward the back of the house. When he turned the corner he was confronted by a stone wall and a gate. He opened the gate and walked into an enclosed space with swimming pool, patio, hot tub, and mature trees and shrubbery. It was a beautiful private space. Then, he saw her. She was sitting in the shade by the pool and appeared to be holding the baby. As he approached her he realized he was slightly behind her and that she could not see him coming. Not wanting to startle her he spoke softly as he approached. “Hi Diana, hope you don’t mind that I let myself in”. Despite his best intents she was momentarily startled. Turning to face him she smiled broadly as she attempted to cover up her chest with the blanket. She had been breast-feeding the baby. In her moment of confusion he had seen her naked breasts and they were still beautiful, made even fuller by the gift of motherhood.

She stood up as he walked up to her and put out one arm to embrace him. “Hello Michael, it is so good to see you”, she spoke softly in his ear, not wanting to wake the child in her arms. “Sorry I didn’t greet you at the door, you must think I am a terrible host”. “No, not at all”, Michael replied, “it is good to see you too; it has been a long time.” “Jim is working”, she continued, “He asked me to tell you he is sorry he was not here to greet you”. “No problem”, he responded, “that gives us some time to catch up”. She blushed, surprising him, and he noticed how good the years had been to her. She had matured into a beautiful, soft, voluptuous woman, not the skinny angular young woman he had known years before. And the way her eyes sparkled as she spoke, he knew she was indeed happy to see him.

She led him into the house and he followed her to a large master bedroom that had been altered somewhat to accommodate the baby crib and all the stuff necessary to care for the child. “Pardon the mess”, she said apologetically, “we did not plan very well for this young one”. She placed the sleeping child in the crib and turned to him. “Now, let me give you a real hug”. She walked into his arms and they embraced warmly. She held him tightly, longer that Michael had expected. She then pulled away slightly and tilted her face to him, looking into his eyes. She then raised her lips to him and they kissed. Michael was startled by the soft and loving moment. She returned her head to his shoulder and said, “You don’t have any idea how much I have been looking forward to your visit.” Michael did not know what to say. “Enough of this”, she said as she pulled away from him, “let me show you your room and after you get settled in we will have some lunch”.

Jim unpacked his suitcase, putting his clothes away, as he tried to regain his composure. He had not expected this reception, or the feelings that were rushing through him. The attraction between them seemed even more intense than he remembered it to be over ten years ago. Or, was it his imagination? “I am going to have to watch myself”, he thought, “This could get dangerous”. Chains of thought began with the word dangerous and he instantly remembered how Diana had loved erotic play spiced with danger. Like the time she sat on his lap, wrapped in a huge over coat, in the park. She wanted him right then and there and she straddled him and lowered herself on him, as they sat on a park bench with the real possibility that someone could come by at any moment. He remembered her almost immediate orgasm, he following her few seconds later. It all took less than five minutes and she told him how turned on she was to do it with the possibility of being caught. Michael was startled back to the present by her voice. “Lunch is ready, let’s eat on the patio”.

She had prepared a wonderful Californian lunch for them, a nice Anti Pasto plate, fragrant baguette and Brie cheese, a fruit tray and nice chilled Chablis. As they ate she talked incessantly as he ate most of the food. It was evident that she had not had an opportunity to talk to anyone lately. She was taking advantage of her captive audience. As she talked a theme began to evolve almost immediately, she was not very happy. She spoke of how Jim was so very successful in his work but how she did not feel a part of his success. He was gone all the time and their marriage had turned into a convenience for both of them rather than a close partnership. She went on to confess that they had stopped making love the last three months before her pregnancy and had not had sex since the baby had been born. Then, with some hesitancy she continued. “Michael, I am not sure of this and do not want anyone else to know about this, but, I think Jim is involved in some sort of illegal business”. “Why do you think that”, Jim asked with curiosity. “Well, first of all he has hired a body guard who is with him most of the time”. “Have you asked him about it”, Michael queried, “Yes, several times”, she continued, “he says that it is dangerous in his business because of all the money involved”. “Is he still doing stock brokerage”, Michael asked as he leaned forward and grasped her hand across the table. “I think so”, she replied, “but he keeps very strange hours for a stock broker”. Michael sat in silence for a few moments. “I can’t see Jim doing anything illegal Diana, he is just a hard working man”. “You know how important making money is to him”. “I know”, she said as she hung her head a bit and looked somewhat embarrassed. “Maybe you are right, but I still feel something is wrong”. “Maybe he has a girl friend,” she said, lightening the mood with a smile, “god knows he doesn’t seem to be interested in me”. The attempted humor was tinged with regret and anger, thinly disguised. “Well, he is a fool if he is fooling around on you”, Michael said as he squeezed her hand. “You are more beautiful than ever and still have that very special sparkle in your eyes”. Diana blushed and smiled at him. “Thank you Michael, I don’t feel very beautiful with this extra weight since the baby”. “Nonsense”, he retorted, “you look very sexy”. She squeezed his hand and looked him in the eyes. Silence spoke what they could not find the words to say.

She suddenly changed expressions and said, “how about a swim?” “I don’t have a suit”, he responded. “No problem, you can wear one of Jims if you want or”, she hesitated, “you don’t have to wear a suit here, we usually don’t unless we have to”. Jim thought for a moment and then declined. “I will sit this one out and watch you”. “OK”, she said as she began to remove her light silk robe. She left the shade and walked into the bright afternoon sun, dropping the robe to the concrete deck. She was naked. Michael drank in her image as his eyes stroked her body from head to toe. Her red hair sparkled in the sun as she turned to him and smiled. Her breasts were heavy and full from motherhood and her rounded figure was still beautifully proportionate. She looked at him as if seeking his approval. “You are beautiful”, he said to her in a low voice. She smiled and jumped into the pool.

Michael watched her swim through the water as a dolphin, exquisite movement, athletic, powerful and graceful. After several laps she moved to the center of the pool and began swimming on her back. Her breasts against her chest, swaying in the water, as she lay nearly motionless, treading water. Her head was thrown back to face the sun with closed eyes. As she floated in the water, not ten yards away, her movements turned her toward him. Her legs were moving with a slow kicking motion and he noticed the red triangle of pubic hair emerge from the water and disappear again with each kick. He felt his penis begin to swell as he caught glimpses of her exposed labia as she floated nearer to him. Michael reached into his shorts and pulled his now fully erect cock upwards to relieve the pressure. He could not keep his eyes off her stunning body as she swam in a relaxed trance, now nearing the edge of the pool just a few yards away.

Her hand touched the edge of the pool and she moved quickly to stand up in the shallow water. She looked at him and smiled. “God she is beautiful”, Michael thought. He was completely under her spell as she pulled herself out of the pool, picked up her towel and walked toward him, drying herself as she walked. Standing in front of him, close enough to touch, she placed the towel on her head and began drying her hair. Michael looked at her breasts swaying from the movement of her arms and could see droplets of mother’s milk oozing from her nipples and dribbling down her chest, catching in her pubic hair. Diana pulled the towel to her chest and without embarrassment wiped the milk from her nipples.

“Darn things”, she said with a smile,” “they keep leaking”. “Sorry if it embarrasses you. “Not at all”, Michael replied, “I think you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen”. “You mean with milk all over her chest”, she laughed as she wiped it off. “I have never seen a woman’s milk flow like this”, Michael stammered, not sure how to react to her. “Most men don’t, when they are adults”, she replied. “Would you like to see what it tastes like” She placed her hands around her breast and held it upward. The white liquid flowed more freely; Michael did not have time to reply before she stepped forward, straddled his lap, and sat down. “Go ahead”, she whispered with the voice that he remembered from her passion many years ago. “Please Michael”, suck them. They are so full and I need relief”.

Michael bent forward and sucked on a nipple and tasted the fluid. It was sweet with an organic taste that he liked. He knew instinctively what to do, perhaps from infant memory. He moved to the other breast and sucked the nipple into his mouth, feeling the warm liquid on his tongue. He looked at Diana’s face when he heard her moan softly. She was beginning to move her pubic area against his hard cock with a rocking motion as he sucked on her breast. They fell into an erotic dance of acceptance and reaction. She looked at him and lowered her mouth to his and they kissed as she rocked back and forth on his erection beneath his pants. “Please Michael, I need you, please”, she whispered as she looked at him with eyes glazed over with lust.

She found acquiescence in his kiss. She stood up briefly, undid the button on his shorts and pulled both the shorts and under shorts down below his knees. She grasped his cock, placed it at her warm moist entrance, and lowered herself onto him. In one quick plunge he was deep inside of her. Before he could move she held him tightly, pressed her lips against his mouth in an urgent kiss, and moaned in ecstasy as she climaxed. He had never experienced such explosive passion and release. Her vagina contracted as she came and she began to move gently, his cock still deeply embedded in her. She came again, this time with even more intensity, screaming into his ear as wave after wave swept over her body. Milk flowed freely from her breasts with each contraction. Without warning Michael felt his own orgasm sweep over him and his penis contracted, shooting his life passion deep inside her, time and again. Some moments later he opened his eyes. She was laying still with her full weight on him. His penis was still hard inside her as he looked upward to look at her face next to his. In the ceiling of the patio roof, nearly hidden in the shadows, he saw the surveillance camera.

Written by Boyd Miller

Spring Rain

Catherine, known as “Cat” to her friends, descended the trail toward the rushing creek below in the warm afternoon sun. A spring hike on the Appalachian Trail renewed her spirit from a long cold winter in Washington D.C. Though some women would be hesitant to hike alone in this remote area, Cat was not afraid. Since her divorce a year ago she had made a series of choices and decision to live her life more fully, with less fear and more adventure. “I want to live more like a man”, she had determined. The thirty-nine year old attorney had increased her workouts and was now in top physical shape. Like her nickname “Cat”, she was lithe and at nearly 6 feet very athletic. Her short style blond hair, smallish but pert breasts, was all attractive woman. She had purchased new backpacking equipment during the winter, assembling the gear time and again in her new condo living room, dreaming of this trip in the spring. Her divorce had brought another change in the way she lived her life. She had always had a healthy sexual side that yearned to be released. She was tired of not being able to enjoy sex when and how she wanted. Her ex had not met her needs sexually; another story and she had not wanted to have affairs outside of her marriage. As an attorney she knew the heartbreak this usually caused. She had vowed to be the aggressor, when needed, to see that her needs were met. She was surprised, however, how men were often threatened and uncomfortable when they were not the ones in charge. “Fuck them”, she would say to herself when they went running away, “there are lots of other men.” Still, deep inside she longed to find a man who met her needs as an equal, without making her play the traditional subservient role. She heard the faint roar of Fox Run Creek below in the deeply wooded canyon. Descending steeply, the trail wound back and forth across the terrain beneath the thick canopy of eastern hardwoods. The sound of the rushing water was inviting. She had walked nearly 10 miles in the unusually warm spring weather. Her shirt was soaking with perspiration beneath the heavy backpack. She was looking forward to taking a quick dip in the ice-cold stream just a half-mile below. She knew that the wooden lean-to shelter was just up the trail, at the top of the next ridge, where she would spend the night. In the distance, she had heard the rumble of thunder off and on all afternoon. “It will be nice to have the shelter for refuge tonight”, she thought, as another rumble of thunder joined with the increasingly loud roar of the creek just below.The trail broke into a small opening just above the creek, rushing over a series of small waterfalls with a deafening roar. Through an opening in the trees, Cat got her first glimpse of the water. The vista was beautiful. She removed her backpack and placed it on the ground to retrieve her pro-level Nikon camera with a powerful telephoto lens. Cat was an avid amateur photographer and had found many incredible images during her trip so far. She especially enjoyed capturing wildlife and had taken images of deer, other animals, birds, and even a black bear on a distant hillside. She moved to the edge of a cliff above the creek to photograph the beautiful cascading torrent below. On a rock next to a deep crystal clear pool, beneath a waterfall, she spotted him. Her breath caught with excitement as the reality of what she was seeing hit her. He was magnificent, lying there on the rock in the warm afternoon sun, naked. He was tall, well over 6 feet, dark hair, thin and athletic and young, in his mid 20’s she guessed. He was lying on a towel with one arm shielding his eyes. Cat’s breath caught again as she saw his hand move slowly on his impressive rigid cock. She realized that with the roaring creek drowning all sound around him, and from her nearly hidden vantage point through the trees above him, he had no idea she was near. She instinctively brought the camera to her eye. Moving the zoom to its most powerful resolution, she first saw his handsome face. His eyes were closed and she could see he was enjoying himself. Little twitches of pleasure teased the muscles on his forehead and his lips indicated he was emitting some sound. CLICK, the shutter snapped and the whir of the auto advance followed. She moved the view to his cock. His hand and hard cock nearly filled the frame. She watched through the powerful lens as if in a trance for a few minutes before she snapped the next frame, just as his hand was at the base of his cock and it stood rigidly catching the afternoon sun. CLICK. She panned back a bit and framed his whole body in the frame. CLICK, as she captured him in the bright sun, contrasted against the shadows on the other side of the creek. She watched him for several minutes as he moved his hand, pleasuring himself. Cat felt her own excitement building as she snapped frame after frame until she only had two exposures remaining on this roll of film. She saw that his hand was moving more rapidly and he had his head thrown back. She zoomed in on his cock again just in time to see gobs of cum explode into the air, CLICK, highlit by the sun. She knew she had just captured the shot of a lifetime. She saw him relax and fall back on the rock, spent in his ecstasy, CLICK. She reached for some new film in one of the outside pockets of her pack. Keeping one eye on him as he recovered below and sat up, she moved a bit back from the edge to be sure he would not see her if he looked up in her direction. He stood up and wiped the cum off of his stomach and chest with his towel and quickly dressed. “God he is beautiful”, Cat thought, “too bad he is so young”, “I would really like to fuck him”. A part of her was surprised by the thought; another part of her was smiling. “Cat, you are becoming an old lecher,” she thought. Still, she felt the tingle between her legs and knew that this voyeur experience had excited her, as she had not been excited in a long time. She saw him put his backpack on and move up the rocks to the trail. He disappeared beneath the canopy below as he began climbing the trail up the ridge. “I wonder if he will be staying in the shelter tonight”, she wondered, and the thought brought excitement. Her body reacted to her thoughts of spending the night with him in the shelter, and the possibilities, brought a new awareness of the wetness between her legs. “Damn”, she thought, “I am really going to need a bath now”. Cat dropped her heavy pack near the trail, and made her way to the rock where he had been lying. As she began undressing to take a quick bath in the clear stream, raindrops began to fall from a thundercloud passing overhead. Darn, she muttered, as she bent over to retrieve the shirt and put it back on, I had better get to the shelter. As she reached for the shirt she saw a glob of his semen on the rock. Instinctively she touched it with her finger and brought her finger to her nose. She smelled him and the sensation was overwhelmingly sexual. She rubbed the cum on her lips and tasted it. She loved the taste and this experience was especially erotic because of her recent experience of watching him masturbate. She was highly aroused as she licked his sexual essence from her lips and finger. A loud clap of thunder startled her and brought her back to the present. She had better make her way the last mile up the ridge to the shelter. The approaching storm had darkened the sky and she knew that she would probably get caught on the trail in a thunderstorm, not a pleasant thought. The climb was steep. Thankfully, a soft warm mist was falling from the edge of the passing clouds cooling her a bit from the strenuous climb. The afternoon light was fading, exacerbated by the thickening thunderclouds. Catherine was thankful for her conditioning work the past winter. The trail began a long side hill sweep toward the top of the ridge. “Just a little further she thought”, looking up and seeing the skyline against the dark gray sky. Reaching the top of the hill, she rested for a few minutes before continuing the now level trail toward the shelter. “I wonder if he is there she thought”, her mind returning to the stallion of a young man she had observed by the creek. Rounding a bend in the trail she saw the log cabin like lean-to just ahead. There was no sign of him. She felt disappointment. “Darn”, she thought to herself, “oh, well, I have some wonderful photos to relive that moment by the creek”. As she neared the shelter it began to rain harder. “Just in time”, she said to herself as she removed her backpack and sat on the seat of the small wood plank picnic table just under the eve of the open side of the enclosure. It smelled musty with the scent of wood ashes from the small stone fireplace in the corner. But, it was dry and comfy to find a shelter like this in the wilderness. “Sure beats a tent on a stormy night like this, she thought, listening to the rain fall on the wooden shake roof overhead. After she had rested a few minutes and caught her breath, she explored the shelter. Someone had gathered a nice pile of firewood and placed it in the corner next to the fireplace. As she looked at it she noticed there was even some paper to use to start the fire. She noticed some writing on the paper. Curious, she picked up the paper. “To Camera Girl” was written on the folded notepaper. She was astounded and blushed, looking quickly around her to see if he was near. “Was this note for her she thought”, as she unfolded the paper, “how could he have possibly have seen her with her camera? Nervously she read the message written hastily in pencil. How about sharing the photos with me sometime? I enjoyed the encounter with you by Fox Run Creek. My phone number is 202-486-3800. Jonathon. She was incredulous. And, the thought that he had been engaged in her voyeurism with her excited her. She again felt frustrated that he had gone on instead of staying in the shelter for the night. It was getting dark and she felt tired, dirty and getting cold in her wet clothes, now that she was cooling off from the exertion. “First a fire”, she mused, knowing that the cheerful glow would warm both her body and spirit. She folded the note and placed it in her backpack, found some matches and soon had a nice fire glowing brightly. She quickly prepared and ate a meal of dehydrated stew of some kind and warmed a pan of water to wash herself. She dug through her pack and found an ingenious folded plastic container that expanded to a nice washbasin size. When the water was boiling she mixed it with some cold water and placed the washbasin on the edge of the picnic table. She undressed, placing her wet clothes on a clothesline someone had left strung above the fireplace near the rafters. Now completely naked, she reveled in the warmth of the fire and the warm rain beating on the wooded shake roof above her head. “I need to wash my hair”, she thought and stepped out from the eves into the pouring rain. It was a warm rain and she was comforted knowing she had some hot water and fire near by. Once her hair was wet she used some biodegradable, environment safe, soap in a small bottle to work up a nice lather. She washed her hair, poured a small amount of the warm water to help rinse the soap, and stepped again into the rain to complete washing the soap from her hair. She saw him through half closed eyes. He was standing in the shadows beneath a huge pine about 50 feet away down the trail. It was Jonathon. Startled for a moment she pretended not to see him. Her first instincts were to cover up. But she was not a modest woman. She loved her body and was proud of it. She felt a warm glow knowing he was watching her as she had watched him earlier in the day. Instead of retreating with modesty, she decided to put on a show for him. She began washing her face and neck with the soapy washcloth and warm water. Then she stood in the rain to wash off the soap. She threw her head back and let the rain cascade on her face and down her body. She posed so her breasts were fully visible in profile in the fading light. Ducking under the eves again she sat on the edge of the picnic table and washed her breasts, lingering on her nipples until they were rigid.
She then moved the washcloth downward over her stomach. Spreading her legs she turned toward him, as naturally as possible, and washed her pubic area. She moved both hands to her pussy and spread her labia, her eyes appeared closed but she was watching him as he began to masturbate. She was really getting excited and felt her own moisture begin to flow with the warm bath water. “I want to get off for him”, she thought as she relaxed on the edge of the table and spread her legs further, giving him a better view. She snuck a peek at him and was surprised to see him beginning to undress. He had placed his pack on the ground and had removed his shirt. “This is getting interesting”, she thought, as her excitement grew from her gently circling fingers over her hard clit. She watched him, not caring anymore if he noticed. He bent over and removed his hiking boots and socks, then his pants. Finally, he pulled down his under shorts and his semi hard cock swayed in front of him. He grasped it in his hand and began stroking it as he moved through the rain toward her. She held his eyes with her eyes, smiling as he drew near.
“Hello Jonathon”, she said softly as he stood before her. “Hi Camera Girl”, he replied in a wonderful resonant deep voice. She stood up and moved to him. “Would you like a bath she asked sexily” ”Sure”, he replied, stretching his arms to her sky and grinning at her. ”I am all yours”. She moved the soapy washcloth to his face. “Close your eyes until I tell you to open them, she tested. He smiled and closed his eyes. His submissiveness excited her and put her at ease. She washed his face, under his arms, his arms and hands, and then his chest, lingering on his nipples until they were hard. She the knelt down and washed his legs, moving upward she found her face level with his magnificent penis, fully erect, sticking straight out at her. She grasped it with one hand, and began washing it with the other. He let out a sigh of pleasure as she began to move her hands over his penis. “Lets get you rinsed off now”, she said to him.
Standing up, she put her arms around him and they embraced, kissing as they moved into the rain to rinse the soap from their bodies. The warm spring rain poured over them, cascading down their bodies as their kisses inspired their passion. “ My stallion, that is what you are”, she whispered in his ear. “Take me like a stallion. I want you to fuck me.” She moved to the picnic table and bent over it, raising her buttocks to greet him as he stepped forward and nestled behind her. He may have been young but he knew what to do. He held his hard cock to her entrance, moving it back and forth to lubricate it with her wetness and then entered her. He paused with just the head inside her. Impatient, she pushed back against him.
Together they found the fullness of his penetration deep in the innermost part of her wantonness. Lightening flashed just over the ridge, lighting the evening air and a huge clap of thunder shook the air around them. The rain began pouring in torrents as they increased the tempo of their thrusts as if spurred on by the energy of the storm exploding around them. She was lost in his deep thrusts. She began to urge him on. “ Fuck me Stallion Man”, oh god you feel so good.” He was now grunting with each thrust. She recoiled by pushing against him and squeezing in perfect harmony, their sounds of passion providing the melody. She felt him tense and knew he was close. She had been at the edge for several moments and waited until she felt him thrust deeply and begin contracting his huge hardness inside her. She felt his cum gush just as she let go. Wave after wave of pleasure took her breath away as another clap of thunder accompanied their ecstasy. He collapsed against her, holding her as they succumbed to the mist caressing their spent bodies, blown by the winds of the warm spring rain.

Written by Boyd Miller at redbubble

Excerpt from Amazonas

The Inquisitor wanted his pound of flesh. The predatory edge in his voice told her he was going for the jugular.
“We have no recourse but to bring charges against you,” were the final words she heard coming from his lips. But Alicia was already packing her things.
She’d had enough of the Institute. It was everywhere in the walls of this place — the disease of a badly run society. It was in the pallor of their hands and faces… in the palpable odor of disinfectant that had soaked into their lab coats and now clung to them like mold on a bathroom wall.
She grabbed her valise, turned her back on them, and left the room. Their protests faded as she approached the exit to the building. She paused… succumbed to one final liberating impulse… and a faint smile teased at her lips…
She wasn’t going to let these bourgeois values trump the sweet anarchy of life.
She made an abrupt left turn… took the bit in her teeth… and set a course for the cells of the inmates. She had already reached the first ward before the attendant at the front desk realized what she was up to. Wide-eyed, the girl picked up the phone.
The Director snapped an order when he got the news.
“She’s in Ward ‘D’. Get security. Fast!”
Alicia Cavalho kept her eyes fixed straight ahead as she strode down the corridor. Voices burst from both sides of her, smearing the air with graphic descriptions of where they’d like to shove their tongues or quivering organs. One heavy-lidded patient pressed his face against the mesh, his tongue an obscene worm squirming through the opening and gesturing at her. His hands clutched his groin and he panted with a dark rasping sound that urged her to gratify him.
Behind her, in the distance, two orderlies raced down the corridor armed with rubber truncheons. As they ran, they lashed their truncheons against the wire mesh, but the inmates only roared with laughter, deftly danced away each time. Behind them, wielding hypodermics and shouting for someone to stop her, a cluster of white-coated doctors.
She knew how to push it to the very edge… her slightly parted mouth, the frank, daring gaze of her eyes, the erotic thrust of her shoulders that caught the lethal charge between carnality and innocence. She knew she was an attractive woman. Tall. lithe, with the olive skin of her Brazilian heritage. But it was the movement in her walk – a liquid sensuality that lapped like slutty waves on the tropic shore — that always spun heads, put men’s instincts on alert. And she made sure they got the message.
Alicia peeled off her blazer… threw her shoulders back… wearing her nipples like jewelry against the silk fabric of her blouse. She could feel the chaos rippling down the halls of the ward as the cages shook and rattled with animal menace. Boots stomped with pent-up frenzy and she felt a cold, delicious shudder at her power to stir the primal lust in these missing links. Their howls filled the corridor and in the twisted thrill she got from the din, Alicia bit into her lip. Her eyes rolled up with a vision… the tip of a dagger drawing blood across the smooth surface of white flesh. And in the midst of the madness she felt suspended in time… eyes dilated from the rush of adrenaline as her fingertip touched the droplet of bright crimson that rose on the fullness of her lip…
She knew very well why Doyle Keene Reeve had done it. The obliteration of desire in one preemptive strike. He had struck the blow that every man must eventually strike… more decisive, more brutal, perhaps than the average man would do to rid himself of the tyranny of lust, but it had to be more brutal… or still the hissing beast would be inside him.
He had been waiting in vain for the flesh to outgrow its promptings. But it would never let him sleep. In every waking moment and in every fevered dream, they were there… shimmering Botticellis rising from the sea on pearled half-shells to create this aching vortex of desire that swirled inside him… their soft seductive beauty caressing him in his sleep, his mind, his loins… clutching his heart and turning his free will into painful servitude.
He had to annihilate the world which had made him its slave. He had to strike hard… decisively… short-circuit every hard-wired vestige of desire.
The orderlies swept down upon her… grabbed her by the arms. A roar went up from the inmates… their arms lunging through the bars… chanting for them to hand her over. The doctors rushed up… puffing… out of breath.
‘”Ive a good mind to give her to them,” grunted the Director.
“Get her out of here. Fast!”
Gripped firmly by the orderlies, she was escorted to the front door of the institution. Alicia defiantly yanked her arms free.
She slung her coat over her shoulder… pushed open the doors… and descended the steps. She stopped and cast one long last look at this monument to the Dark Ages… an asylum slowly molding on the edge of a jungle… attempting to turn men sane… even as the hungry vines were busy wrenching the pillars from their foundation.
Her tongue whipped wickedly across her lips… and she felt her nipples harden as a delicious quiver coiled down through her flanks.

“Fuck ‘em,” she smiled in triumph.

Written by Brad Viking at Publish America