June 2008
33 posts
oh, to have these words, which trip tumultuously from the tip of my tongue, form a trail as my lips meet your skin on a meandering path from the nape of your neck to the top of your thighs…
to caress a collarbone
the soft skin of your shoulder
to dance over decolletage
to press my mouth to your breast
to kiss each nipple until it stands to kiss me back
to run the tip of my tongue...
fuck my prosaic paeans to pleasure - what i want is to fuck you - i want it to hurt you, i want it to be deep, i want to fill you - but most of all, i want to feel the warm wet muscles of your cunt wrapped around my cock, providing that exquisite desperate rush to the cusp and then tipping over to the blinding crest before descending, slowly, to a shared denouement….
you are the canvas on which i want to paint my passion - the imprint of my teeth on your breast will be red and ragged, the welt on your ass will be sharp, defined by the pinpricks of blood rising to the surface, the usually private entrances to your body - your cunt, your anus - will be ravaged and agape, and you will know by the joy with which i hold you that you have been used
i feel tense
and it would soothe me to rain steady swats on the naked skin of your upturned ass. i want to feel the slap of my hand meeting your flesh, i want to see the gradual glow generated by each blow. i want to feel the heat as the blood rises to the surface. i want to see the grimace on your face turn to resigned acceptance then beatific joy. i want to feel the weight of your body across my lap, and...
there are times
when i can appreciate the seductive glance, the feminine line of a naked waist, the swell of a breast…
but right now i have a single minded lust for pussy. the word which comes to mind, which feels right, is to possess, but that is obviously ridiculous - i dont possess a pussy - i want to have it open before me, i want to spread it with fingers, i want to caress it with my tongue, i want to...
i walked back into the room...
and I was, ironically, surprised to see her there, tied to the bed, a wary, though not scared, look in her eye, cum creating a smudged white trail amongst the black hair
negotiation
even while he held her as they lay, his arms wrapped around her, pulling her back toward him as close as love would permit, there was a subtle negotiation occurring. her hips pushed back trying to find him, he slowly moving the hard, probing phallus until it found another orifice against which he pushed, and she, with a sense of giving herself, acceded to him…
paying for sex
I would pay snippets of ideas and half formed fantasies where you are the star of the evolving show.
i watched her as i lay...
and wondered why she played this coy role … she turned to slowly bend and push the last vestige of her clothing, the thong which clung to places she wished it didnt, even as she kept her knees close, making her task more difficult… not meeting my gaze as if this would make the moment private, as if she was hiding, despite the fact that i would soon have my tongue in that place she...
just putting it out there...
i like period sex. I’m not saying i prefer it, just that i’m definitely not opposed to it. Not only is everything warm and slippery and wet from the very beginning, but it seems that period sex creates the leap to base, primal, fun from the start, and gets raunchier, harder, more intense from there.
of course i can tell the difference
between “don’t stop” and “Don’t. Stop.” It’s the occasions I choose not to that worry me.
let me start by saying
she was beautiful, not cute or pretty, but rather she was tall, statuesque. She stood with her shoulders back, erect, quietly observing, strong but with the inherent weariness of strength, projecting the challenge that to be considered her equal i would have to be stronger, shoulder her burden, subdue her … i walked toward her and began to laugh, inwardly, at my cliched conjecture - this was...
my lover was chatting to a guy
and as I watched her she seemed interested in the conversation yet i felt that she was thinking of me, that we shared this sense of being constantly conscious of each other, where the other was, the state of happiness of the other person
… as i walked past, my hand snaked over that cute ass clad so snugly in denim, caressing the curve, my fingers moving briefly between her legs, claiming...
i was transfixed
and i would love to be able to ascribe my interest to prosaic ideals - sinuous sensuality, suggestive swagger, lithe languorous limber lubriciousness - but the reality is that I wanted her sex. The ironic faux pas of a black thong under a white skirt had its intended effect of riveting me, and I could do nothing but think of possessing the pudenda that led me…
her body was molded to the stool
her legs tied to its legs, a long spiral of rope keeping them as straight as the wooden struts, her arms creating an unbalanced arc, extending further down the other side of the seat, her fingers wrapped around the staves, her wrists secured at the places where vertical wood met horizontal, her hair the only thing not affixed, swaying gently with her diminishing attempts to capture freedom…...
"slut" i said, as I looked down at her...
“only for you,” she replied, returning my gaze with a smile.
I had one hand over her mouth
as two fingers of my other hand slowly made their way inside her, despite the fact that the only sound she made was the deep gutteral moan of pleasure.
the thin fabric of her swimsuit
on the back of my neck, doing little to stop the sense of what was covered, made the carefree game of volleyball in the lake a veneer for the increasingly desperate need to feel her under me, rather than astride my shoulders
she had been tense
as i tied the knot securing her wrist to the bedpost, as i pulled her foot to the corner of the mattress, as i tightened the rope around her ankle, but then, as i wrapped the blindfold over her eyes, the resistance dissipated and she absolutely relaxed.
i absolutely understand
the sense of release, the climax and denouement after coming inside her, but i don’t get the need to stop if she hasn’t come - surely it still feels good, surely sex is a joy shared, surely you stay hard, keep going… who says women are the only ones who get to come twice ?
It was a warm and hazy Sunday at about 3, when we settled on the couch, having been out to brunch with friends. she picked up the crossword from the table and lay her head on my lap. I picked up Joseph O’Neill’s “Netherland” and started where I had left off that morning, but almost absently flicked the television on at the same time, to see the yankees playing the royals,...
she drew the long, sheer, black dress over her...
slowly revealing her naked form, and there was a moment when her body was exposed, but her head was covered, her arms tangled in sleeves, and she seemed a little lost, a little disoriented, slightly trapped, and i said “stop, i want you like this”
no, like this, she said
as she drew a breath, steeled herself and flung the lash over her shoulder in what seemed a well practiced motion and then released a sigh of relief as the tendrils made a sickening slapping sound and left their imprint on her tail.
ebb and flow
it’s funny how The Need can ebb and flow, how lust can seem like an absolute imperative at times and then an odd curiosity which should be indulged at others. It would seem that over the past week, The Need has been strong, yet today work has created an ebb. Soon, I am sure, the work will subside and lust will flow again… actually, just thinking about it, I can feel the stirring of...
as i watched her open her mouth
to accede to the gentle pressure of his hands on the back of her head, to allow his cock past her lips, i both hated her and wanted to protect her, i wanted to defile her and sanctify her, i felt the pang of jealousy and the disgust of revulsion. The result was that my grip on her hips tightened, I dug my nails into her flesh, as i pulled her back onto my phallus, and she became the pawn in our...
now
damn but I need to feel it….now…. the curve of your jaw, the nape of your neck under my light touch, the soft, firm malleability of your breast, the surprisingly hard nipple between my thumb and forefinger, the feigned resistance as one of my hands grips two of yours above your head, the rise of your stomach and arc of your waist as you writhe and sprawl, the sight of you tied to the...
I do not understand this dichotomy -
In reality, I find it hard to be filled with lust for someone who I treat with a lack of respect, a lack of humanity. I need to envisage tenderness, compassion, to be attracted to another person. I recognize that my happiest moments have been spent in a state of simpatico with a woman, a person I love, desire and respect. yet I spent yesterday walking the city seeing nothing but flesh - breasts...
ode to a summer storm
I’d like to feel with you the absolute abandon I do when running through a summer storm. your body as close to mine as the warm wet tshirt clinging to my skin; your legs entwined with mine like the raggedy shorts around my crotch - not stricture, but playful tug and pull. i’d like to feel the juice of summer running down my face, falling into my mouth, into my wide open smile....
