July 2008
19 posts
this parade of perfect pixels is endlessly distracting, truly things of beauty, works of art, but after a while each back lit breast and dimpled butt just becomes a tease and makes me yearn for something a little more tangible, something i can sink my teeth into.
"show me, use it"
she took the phallus with both hands, touched the tip of it to her, and started to pull it, or push it, into her, whichever is the correct verb. The thing was a piece of immutable plastic which was larger than most men, and yet this seemed to make her happy. Her head fell back, slowly, and she closed her eyes and sighed, or gasped, and said, as its considerable length and girth disappeared,
...
Her look conveyed such want, such lust, I felt intimidated. Her want placed her in the position of aggressor, and made me passive, which felt strange and inhibited my ability to perform. Then the reality of what that lust was dawned as we became hands grasping, holes and wetness, tongues and flesh, and she demanded/begged “fuck me” and desire once again became the dominant motivation
his palm met her skin and she flinched involuntarily and suddenly the ropes and blindfold stopped being an affectation
it was almost the sound of a petulant child, not that a child could be contained in this body of a woman, but the timbre of the words “i want another glass of wine, could you get me a good sauvignon blanc” galvanized a reaction. you sat slowly in the bed, the late afternoon light falling across your breasts, your hair still mussed from the Sunday spent lolling naked in the apartment,...
I always thought the phrase “I love waking up next to you.” was a euphemism for starting the day as part of a couple, the joy of companionship intended to last a lifetime. Now, though, as i wake with the usual hard on, and turn to rest my hand on her hip, to gently kiss her back, my hand over her breast, my cock resting between her cheeks, I realize that the phrase is a celebration of this moment;...
she resisted at first, and I simply made it an administrative necessity, the hairdressers tug to reposition, as i pulled her arm to the frame and carefully, assiduously, wrapped the rope around limb and wood, moving her to keep skeleton and strut consistent, then the left, and the resistance started to dissipate, then ankles, firm but not tight, such that even before the first blow fell, she was...
the metal looked cold, hard, covered with rust and the filth of age. It created a beautiful ugly outsize contrast to the clean soft warm beauty of her slender wrist as the chain bit into her skin.
i love the way you hold it, ten digits, a mix of reverence, want and awe,
i love its rough veined hardness as you caress it in those delicate slender fingers,
i love looking down along the length of my body, along the length of me, at your mouth, the instrument of my hands
i love the way that even as i push you, in a guiltless quest for more, you move, stretch and gasp to accommodate me
i...
“Its riding a wave of pleasure until it crests and washes over me leaving me exhausted…” I said, feeling good about the definition
“It’s pulling you into me until my nails draw blood and your hips leave bruises” she said, making it all sound painful
“it’s two bodies being as joined as is possible” thinking that sounded lovely, an amelioration...
they arrived late and wandered, aptly playing the part of nervous voyeurs… i asked them if they would like a drink, and when i returned the three of us chatted. i made sure to include both of them equally in the conversation…. i asked her about her ring, and she smiled and put her hand in mine, then i complimented her blouse and she did a slow pirouette, at the end of which, as she...
I dont know where, for me, the line in fantasy between the erotic and the repugnant lies. The necessity for consent, in fantasy, is irrelevant, and often a detractor. Taking her against her will has its appeal. The sense that, as a compassionate man, I would not want to cause unwanted pain is forgotten. In fact, if that which I inflict accords with her desire, i can feel the image become unerotic....
the dress she wore was beautiful - formal yet simple, a long elegant sheath of black fabric which clung to her hips, her waist, her breasts as she walked toward me. After she had passed i turned to see what I always think of as a dressless back - the gentle sway of her spine as she walked and three unmistakable stripes of welts caused by a cane at a place not far above her buttocks.
she stood next to my desk and bent to talk, which, counterintuitively, feels authoritative. Her skirt was short, and the t-shirt pressing her breasts together under the thin cardigan was tight. Her self self-assuredness, her comfort with her body, her confidence with her own sexuality made her blinding - almost impossible to look at and almost impossible to look away from.
i knew, as i held her hands against the wall above her head, as i pulled her thighs around my leg with a hand on her butt, as i kissed her until her head was pushed against the brick, that such violent constraint was absolutely unecessary and what felt absolutely right.
images from a plane
i sat there for an hour, genuinely enjoying the conversation, wondering whether the blanket which she had placed over herself and which covered part of my leg also was a sign. It was.
she looked conflicted, for an instant, as she saw that the strangers wedding ring was the only part of his 3rd finger not inside her
we exchanged glances across the aisle in which it was implicitly shared that the...
i’d like to see bondage with a minimum of rope - spare, simple, elegant availability…
a breast in a bow, tied tight, while hands are reaching for the ceiling
ankles tied to wrists, kept splayed with a single strand around the waist
straight arms, hands clasped behind the back, body bent by a loop from toe to neck
wrists lashed together, secured to headboard, a body which can writhe...
there are times when i realize that I own you
One is when we dance, and the twist of my hip, the touch of my hand, the fingers on your waist move you to my will. Another is when I climb into bed behind you, and the tip of my cock touches the skin of your backside and you snuggle back to me, an almost subconscious reaction, as my arms reach around you and make you small in their embrace. The most divine such instance, though, is as my fingers...
