Kink Weekly

BDSM articles ideas bondage erotica resource

You are here: Home / Archives for eve

eve

The Slutatic Adventures Of Eve

By 2 Comments

mistress dominating male slave on leash
via stock.adobe.com

It’s essential to have goals. My slut goals vary. For the past six months, geography has been fun. At first, it was a match with places I had been, which extended into areas I wanted to go or know about. Being curious is a neat way to learn and make my way through the male population of my corner of the world. Not every message gets a response, but the profile was packed with details and interests that matched the reality of my luscious curves and sultry desire. Loving good sex is one thing, but knowing someone is into what you have to offer can be motivating.

“Love your pictures” was his opening foray. Hardly something to swoon over, but I don’t fuck for poetry, so I figured what the hell. The banter was intriguing. He was young and anxious to learn about my twisted little world of domination and submission. A weird little world of my knowledge and experience for him and a youthful cock and passion for my orgasm for me was enough to make him a regular. His full lips and generous mouth, athletic body, and desire for a heightened sexual experience solidified our mutual passion. 

“We can meet at my place. I have roommates, but they won’t be an issue. I want you so bad.” That was the message the morning after our first meet. “I would love to see you in heels and stocking.” Quickly followed. 

I was happy to oblige the following Tuesday. I slipped into a barely decent little black dress, low cut in the back and skimming the edge of my thigh, black sheer stay-ups, and black suede heels with shiny metal spike heels. The porch light was a bare light bulb. The starkness was notable was in such stark contrast to the Aladdin’s cave of treasure and pleasure I hoped to find beyond that bare bulb. 

I paid little attention to the terrain as I climbed the stairs and stepped onto the grass. My hell sunk, and I fell forward onto my hands and knees. I looked up as he stepped out of his door. I righted myself and passed him my tote bag, and I brushed off the dead leaf and pulled my dress back in place. In some weird way, it was the perfect ice breaker. He whisked me to his room and fussed my wet, bruised knee. The niceties of a first meet were swamped by the adrenaline pumping through my system. He was talking, and I was watching his mouth, those full pillow lips I longed to suck and nibble. I nibbled my own lower lip as I waited for him to stop talking. My clit twitched, and his hands smoothed and caressed my legs and thighs. His fingers found the edge of the stay-ups, and my breath hitched in my throat, a small moan of pleasure escaped. I checked myself. We made eye contact, I fought the urge to speak, he dropped to his knees in front of me. He brought my face to his and kissed me. “This isn’t very sadistic” my thought was halted by the wakening of my sex, my clit twitched, and I was instantly wet.

His mouth kissed and suckled my inner thigh. His teeth grazed over the stocking, and his hand found my ankles and put them behind his neck. I lay back on the bed, still dressed and enjoying the hunger of his mouth on my thighs. My panties are soaked. The burgundy satin would be dark with my wetness. I stretched and writhed as he pulled the panties to the side and opened me with his strong ample tongue. He was out of my reach, and not a word had passed between us. I fought my desire to create social interaction. Instead, I emptied my mind and stayed in my body. He had found the spot, the holy grail of the squirt spot. He surprised himself and was delighted with himself. 

As I moaned in pleasure, I interjected, “you might want to grab a towel,” ever the practical slut. I broke the spell. He stood in front of me; I sat up facing his cock. It’s stretched against his body-hugging boxers. I trace his cock’s outline with my long, manicured nails. I continue to fondle and careless until his hand instinctually lands on my head. I look into his eyes with my fingers stroking the outside of his boxers. I finally speak. 

“ask for what you want.” My voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s firm. His eyes bulge. My power shift is subtle, and I wait for him. His eyes bulge, and he motions towards his cock, unwilling to say the words. I hold his eyes, occasionally blinking, smiling softly—my hand retreats. 

“Babe,” his tone is pleading and weak. With that. I stand, kiss his mouth, adjust my stockings. And get ready to leave. “Seriously, you’re going to leave me like this?” The pussy is almost whimpering. With that, I picked up my bag. 

“Next time when I tell you to do something, you will do it. Shame really, you have a beautiful cock.” I walked out the door, stayed on my toes, and left.

Saturday Errands

By 2 Comments

sexy male Dominant with wooden paddle
via stock.adobe.com

“Dress and a thong, I love summer” was my flirty status update. One of my followers posted a “love” and sent a DM asking where he could see me in a dress. I flicked up a body selfie of the yellow sundress taken for maximum cleavage exposure. My G cups stretched the cotton bodice, the slightest erect nipple was on show. Gawd, I’m so glad lace bras were back in vogue, was my tag line. Padded bras are too warm in summer. I was horny and in the mood for adventure. Sundresses and wedge heeled sandals made me feel beautiful and sexy. Saturday morning groceries and the wind under my skirt intensified my sexual hunger.  Yes, a man buying fresh veg was a turn on. I was hunting, I wanted to consume, to fuck. 

It was errand day. I brought the groceries home and was putting them away before heading to town for lunch and a little shopping. I heard the screen door bang in the wind. My ex-husband walked in. I was bent over, my head in the cupboard and ass in the air. “Did you need anything done before I take the girls?” he asked.

I thought, “well, me?” but figured I’d prefer something a little less vanilla than sex with the ex. I stood up and flattened the front of my dress. “No, thanks, I appreciate the offer,” I said casually hugging him, “I’m good, I got my running around done, so I am going to do a bit of shopping this afternoon.”

The slow build to summer seemed to mirror my need for sexual satisfaction. Today, I would see if “FORyou71” really was willing to be with me on any terms. I fired him a message. I will be in the department store café at 3:30. You know what I am wearing. Find me and you can have me.

I was pretty ballsy when it came to hooking up, but I did do a double-take before hitting send. He was fun to flirt with, but it seemed like he wanted a dating situation. I did not.  Most guys I meet, do, and forget. I enjoyed the foreplay, he was flirty, but unsure. This was his one and only shot. I am comfortable with my sexuality and confident in my ability. When I started talking to FOR, a few months ago, I made it quite clear that my rules were simple: I used a safety, condoms, and no pictures.

I’m slutty not stupid. My best friend is my safety.  I message Gretta and tell what I am up to. Specifically, I was off to the Department store for coffee and a fuck. I shared the name and profile I was meeting as well as his cell number. I gave her the details of the meet. Standard procedure was a text if he showed, another if we made it through coffee and a check-in during or after depending on how it went. I told Gretta I would message if it was a go and check in around 4. 

I’ll be there. Was all he replied. Straight and to the point. 

I quip back, Excellent.

I reapplied my lipstick and was inspired to accessorize for my outing. I have the cutest anal plug. It’s gold with the prettiest blue stone. I tucked the edge of my dress into my cleavage. I take a moment to massage the lube onto three fingers. I slide my index finger under my thong between my lips and over my asshole. I resist the urge to masturbate, but I do give my vagina a quick inspection, it’s wet already. With my thumb and middle fingers, I cover the plug with the lube. Air from the AC unit is cool on my bare ass. I place my foot on the bathroom counter. I am open and ache to cum. My clit tingles and I flex my muscles in pleasure, bend my knees to spread my cheeks, and place the cool tip to my asshole. My breath is ragged in anticipation. I push it in and my ass sucks in into place. It feels so good I can hardly contain my urge to fuck. I use my muscles to increase my wetness, my breath is shallow, and I slide two fingers in and pump, I am slick as I feel my nipples tighten. I am so ready to fuck. I suck my taste from my fingers and watch myself in the mirror imaging him watching me as I am now. After washing and drying my hands I take my dress from my cleavage straighten my skirt and put my blue sapphire pendant and earring on. I do love when things match.

In final preparation, I moisturize my arms and legs and put my shoes on. I text FOR and ask him if he is in town. His reply is a picture of a sandwich and a beer. I know he likes the pub near the Department store. I keep promising to try the tomato bisque and gourmet grill cheese. 

I hope there aren’t any onions on that, I reply. 

I’ll see you soon, is his response.

I can barely contain myself. The nerves of youth are replaced with the rush of anticipation fused with my desire to consume him. The thrill of new electrified with the fear of getting caught is almost too much to bear as I drive. My window is down, and the wind whips my hair around. I turn up the radio and sing along. I have plenty of time to do some shopping before we meet. 

I take advantage of the fine weather and park on the top floor of the parking garage. No one parks outside on days like today, I have the roof to myself. I throw a blanket over the hood of the car, put my feet on the wall, and lie back for a few minutes, letting my skin bake in the early summer sun. I hike my skirt up to my thighs, skimming my panties. The sun is intense, my skin warms quickly. A message notice requires me to sit up. I put my feet on the ground and rise, my dress falls in place. Gretta is checking in. I confirm where I am and my need to proceed. Her complete support of my sexual exploits is so special to me. She doesn’t judge, she celebrates my sexuality and joy in my conquests. She offers counsel when I ask, and I heed her advice when it is offered.

The elevator is cool as my eyes adjust to the artificial lighting. I attempt to be purposeful in my shopping. New sheets for my bed and new bath towels are the main purpose of the Department store visit. The store is buzzing with shoppers, the displays are cheesy and cheerful, sand pails and bathing suits highlight the hope for the season. I finger and caress the various thread counts and squish the pile of the towel. Thin towels are better in summer, a cotton-blend stays softer when dried outside. But when 100% cotton is line-dried the towels are stiffer and rough on sun-kissed skin. I love how the coarseness softens as the towel wicks the moisture from my body. I am lost in the smells and sensations my imagination provides. I take a half dozen towels and a set of sheets to the cash. Completing the purchase is automatic. I window shop the new sandals, and swimsuits mentally planning a week at the beach. I check the time on my phone as I bring my shopping back to the car. My stomach rumbles as a reminder that I haven’t eaten since six. I make my way to the food-court. I love people watching as I nibble on a scone and sip an iced tea. I flip between reading the news and texting with my kids. Trying to pick a week to book a cottage for us to go away. If we don’t book soon, I will have to be content with camping. That’s a bit more effort than I feel like making this year. I halt our conversation with, I want the 3 of you to decide a date by tomorrow morning, I have told you when I am willing to go.

A brunette catches my eye, she’s late thirties with a French braid, but not just a French braid a flawless, meticulously proportioned French braid. That hair contrast with her cliché Boho suburban mom look. Cut-off jean and layers of tank tops with high heel sandals made her just interesting enough to hold my attention. She is not comfortable in her own skin, she is fidgeting and looking around, trying so hard to be casual. Oh, I would love to have her fidget and twist for me. Twist and moan in pleasure. She looks like a Sally or Sara. I can envision her restrained and blindfolded, wispy pieces of hair stuck to her forehead with sweat from our sexual encounter. Her tiny tits aching for attention, nipples erect from her excitement. Her hips rising and falling with my touch and I awaken her sex, delicate finger fondle and flick her clitoris until she begins to writhe. 

Christ, I’m wet just thinking about her. I check my phone. I have to leave Sally on the bed, I’ll revisit her when I have time. My clit is aching from my fantasy. I go to the ladies’ washroom and freshen up. The plug always feels weird when I have to pee, but the intensity it adds to fucking is worth that moment of awkwardness. As I wash my hands, I wonder if I should retrain my hair in a braid. I opt to leave it down and loose. Flavored lip balm, not lipstick and it’s time to go for coffee. 

The crowds are starting to thin, children who have missed their naps top the chorus of voices and noises that echo through the mall. The Department store is much more civilized. Piped in music is the order of the day. I slowly make my way through the make-up and perfume counters, touching and smelling, but no applying any product. The restaurant is behind the men’s section. I get an ice water and a coffee; as I am digging for change, the cashier places a wrapped set of cookies on my tray. I walk to the back wall near the exit that leads to the washrooms. With my back to the wall, I face out into the room and place my cell on the table. I sit on the edge of the chair pressing my legs together, squeezing and releasing my muscles. I can feel the dampness of my panties against my bare pussy. I text Gretta and tell her where I am and what I am doing. I smell pine and feel warm breath against my neck. 

“Please be Musemeow?” is whispered in my ear. I have to pull away so I can rotate to see his face. He does not disappoint. I’ve seen his cock and even an entire naked body shot, but not his face. He is bookishly handsome. I can’t restrain my approval. I smile so broadly that my cheeks hurt. I make the motion to rise and greet him, he takes my hand and kisses the inside of a wrist. This intimate gesture throws me for a loop, and I freeze momentarily. 

  I want to say, “who the hell are you?” just to watch his reaction, but I am not willing to lose this encounter. My fetish for sex in public is difficult to satisfy. FOR has been enthusiastic about helping me take this off my bucket list. We exchange niceties and I offer to get him a coffee. 

  He sits across from me. “If only to enjoy you walking away.”

I grab some change and get a coffee for him. I survey the clientele attempting to anticipate the challenges we may have. I sit across from him and he moves his chair so he can be closer to me and he’s back on to the restaurant. I cross my leg and position myself; my feet rest next to his, he is able to easily caress and rub my calf as we chat. The world quickly slips away as I become fixated on the tenor of his voice and the heat that rises from his hand. I sit up and slide close. I want him between my legs. His hand slides under my skirt. I hold my water glass to my lips, sipping and eyeing the restaurant, no one has noticed us. I slide forward and part my legs so he can easily feel my panties. His muscular hands are rough on my freshly shave legs.

  “What have you been up to?” he pauses, his expression is playfully quizzical, “To be wet already? I wasn’t even sure you were going to show. I’m now hard as a rock.” His fingers slip behind the fabric of my panties. I continue to sip water, and my eyes widen with the adrenaline rush. I lay my glass down and hold his eyes. I feel the edge of my dress to ensure the skirt has held its place as far as the rest of the world can’t see. I casually brush non-existent crumbs from my chest, his index finger finds my clit and he starts to flick. 

I can’t hide my reaction and I quickly inhale in response. A purr rises from my throat, my eyes flutter and I grab the edge of the table. I ache to let him fill me, to ride him. Another moan escapes I reach for his face. He retreats from me ever so slightly and licks me from his finger. He impishly states, “I have to go wash my hands.” He starts to leave. 

  “Just a second, I have something for you,” I place a condom in his hand. “I have to do a quick check-in. As he gets up to leave, I send Gretta a quick message. 

All is well, msg u when done and in my car.

I silence my ringer, toss everything into my purse, and zip it closed. I survey the men in the room to ensure no one is about to stand. I slip into the men’s washroom it is clean, but there is a mix of cleaner and stale piss. Years of missing must be soaked into the grout of the tile or something. The squeak of the oversized stall door calls for me to enter. I turn to lock the stall and he is behind me. There is a bag on the floor, if anyone comes in, they will see the bag, rather than our feet. Where did the bag come from, how had I not noticed him carrying it before? Both hands hold and fondle my breasts and he pushed me into the stall door. My nipples are confined in their fabric prison. He maneuvers so that I am between the wall and him. I bite down on my lip to avoid making noise. He inspects my dress to figure out if he can access my tits. I know he won’t be able to have me naked, but he is not convinced. I say nothing and try to draw his attention to get to the fucking. I used my nails through his hair and along his neck. He locks his mouth on to mine and kisses me roughly. I offer firm velvety motions from my tongue; his kisses soften and deepen. His hands move from my neck and around to my ass. 

“The tits and dress stay where they are,” I whisper. We can hear people in the hall. He assesses the space. He squats so his face is at my pussy. I lean back against the wall and hold the grab bar. He goes under my skirt and pushes the wet fabric to the side. He discovers my accessory and murmurs approval, not to be distracted from his mission. He lifts my leg over his shoulder as he moves to his knees. He sucks, licks and nibbles my sex, his tongue is strong, and I feel it enter me. His fingers begin to push against my plug as he consumers my pussy juices. My orgasm builds. Discovering my ass plug is a major turn-on- he increases the frequency and intensity of the motion. I tuck my chin and moan as sweat rolls down my back and I fight the urge to buck and ride his face. He takes my squirming motion as a signal. I hold my breath waiting for him. I had visions of straddling him for a quickie while he sat on the toilet, this is so much more than I had expected. When he comes out from under my dress his glasses are slightly squished and steamed up. I reach to suck my wetness from his lips, I can’t contain my gratitude. 

  “Can I take you from behind?” he asks. 

  I reach up and kiss him only to hear the bathroom door open. I freeze and my eyes bulge. My smile of delight illuminates my face. The adrenaline makes my heart race and my breath quicken. We both resist the urge to laugh. This is the real rush. I cup his penis through the fabric. As I drag fingernails across the fabric, he puts a finger to his lips and smiles. We listen and hear a zipper, he clears his throat and releases his cock, his legs are spread to keep his pants at his hips. Silently, he sheaths his cock in the condom I had given him. He motions for me to turn around, he pulls me back onto his cock as our guest flushes the urinal. His departure is punctuated by the thud of the bathroom door. I exhale heavily and he slaps my ass. I hold the grab bar and grind back onto his cock. He reaches forward and holds me by the hair pounding me as squeaks of ecstasy leave me. My orgasm builds quickly, my back arches and I am dripping in sweat. The crescendo is no more than a dozen slow, deep thrusts, my vagina contracts, cum drips down my leg and I am spent. Time starts again, I grab a handful of toilet tissue to wipe myself. He drops the condom in the trash, takes a handful of paper towels, and leaves. I lock the door, raise my skirt, and sit on the toilet. My head is full of cotton and I can’t form a thought. I pee and compose myself. I take a wipe from my purse, wash my face, and drink from my water bottle. As I walk to the car, I keep stroking and flattening my skirt. I start the car, turn on the AC and send Gretta the text.

Stupendous fuck, pleasantly surprised.

Eve D’Pomme is a college professor and erotic writer. The endless possibilities of human connection motivate Eve’s desires to paint images and make possibilities seem tangible through her writing. Eve has been publishing online for the last year or so and teaching for almost 20 years.

Erotica: Lovely Lucy, My Toilet Slut

By 3 Comments

lesbians kissing, Shibari
via stock.adobe.com

***all pieces of erotica are based on safe, sane, and consensual practices. We never condone anything that is NOT consensual.

My skin was tingling, electrified, even before I stood to greet her. I bumped the small table center of the café when I rose to greet her. We greet with a kiss on the check and not an embrace. Polite and maybe a little nervous, there was that awkward silence. 

“There is a booth,” she motioned her head as she spoke. I gathered my things and stuffed them into my messenger bag. Sticking my phone is the pocket of my leggings.  Her oversized coat was perfect for her. Comparatively, I am an unmade bed, dishwater blond curls that are as untameable as my desire is held by a vintage scarf. A bulky man’s sweater hides my ample bust and gives a rather dumpy allusion of my femineity. It has taken me weeks to get u the courage to ask her out. 

Her, is Lucy. We had crossed paths at the pub and then at the dance bar I love to frequent. Just a “hi” at the sink of the girls’ bathroom was the first meet. The next night was a different story. I   was hanging out in the ladies’ room. I was avoiding my date, on my phone, and chatting with a friend in the stall. Lucy is in front of me!

“Oh, hi! You again?” She is too close to shake hands. She leans in, our lips are so close she says, You’re Lil, I asked about you.” She smells of lemons and heat. I kiss her; without thinking, I kiss her. That orange-flavored lipgloss lip needs to be sucked, I draw it in, her bottom lip into my mouth.  She returns the kiss; her fingers wrap around my curls, her tongue is soft against mine, my breath catches in my throat, my pussy twitches, and my nipples rise from her reaction. She pulls me off the counter. 

The thumping of the music permeates the stalls of the toilet.  We are like a ball in a pinball machine moving from one side of the toilet-stall to the other. We fall from side to side, in the dance of hunger. I draw my nails across her the ass of jeans. Her ass is perfect -taut and round, I squeeze and press to her.  Her hands are fondling my breasts and pulling my hair.  A deep moan escapes her throat as I massage her ass and kiss her neck.  We are almost the same height as our shoes. She sits on the toilet as she hikes up my skirt.  Lucy laughs at the picture on my panties. It’s a happy face with pig-tails and braces.  I stand one hand holding the stall wall, the other down her shirt, scratching the lace around her erect nipple. She breaks my focus as two fingers slide inside me. My body responds as I squeeze her tit hard. At that moment, I hear a choir of laughter, my eyes grow large, and I instinctually back way and straighten my clothes. She licks me off her fingers and flushes the toilet like the last 20 minutes never happened. She smiles, kisses me on the cheek, opens the stall, and leaves. I immediately lock the stall and sit on the toilet, unable to process what I have done. I have no idea how to leave the bathroom; everyone will know what I was up to. I pull up my skirt and pee. I feel drunker now than I did before. My head is light, and I am flushed. 

I go back to the dancefloor; my date has a new glass of wine for me. I take it, and we hit the dance floor. Late that night, as he’s fucking me, all I can do is think of Lucy. 

Now she is across from me, and I have no idea what to say. I finger my phone and fight the urge to just start scrolling. “It’s nice to see you,” I feel the heat rise in my cheeks. 

“Glad u found my number, I think I need the toilet, you?

My cunt twitches at the word toilet. I’m up and on the way to the back of the café. She follows. It’s a  small gender-free bathroom.  Her coat is left in the booth. My face lights up, a wrap dress. I lean in and release her breast from its fabric. I take my teeth across the bra and bite her nipple through the material.  I expose her erect nipple and massage her breast. Her nipple is red and alive. The smallest sucking sensation makes her inhale hard. My hands press her against the sink.  Her hands are holding my head, and I nuzzle and soak her bra. I pull back to drop to my knee. Without a sound, I remover panties and open her legs.

 Like a hungry puppy, I bury my face in her sex. My tongue on her clit, she is warm and sweet.  Long licks tasting her until I can feel her clit hardened. I flick my tongue and blow cold air to increase the intensity. I press my middle finger in her cunt. She’s wet and works her muscles as I insert a second finger and suck her clit into my mouth, I suck and milk that hard little nub, and she pressed my head into her. I finger fuck her with all four fingers. As her moans transition into a bucking motion, I will have her orgasm for me. There is it, she holds her breath, then she freezes,   her body anticipates the role of pleasure that is to follow. The freeze just for a moment, but I know it well. 

“Breathe for me, nice and slow.”  I remove my fingers slowly. She is on the edge. I know too well. Her clit is aching and swollen. I barely touch her clit with my tongue, and Lucy jumps. I lick and press this time. She moves her hips forward, and I slide into her. This time I don’t back down three fingers and at a passionate pace, I stand in front of her she grabs my shoulders. Her body follows as she climaxes over my hand. I hold my hand there for a few moments before I step back. I wash my hands, kiss her on the mouth, and place her tit back in her bra.

“Thanks, that was fun, coffee?”

I leave the toilet.

The Lesson

By 2 Comments

dark haired submissive chained to bed
via stock.adobe.com

Dear Diary,

A black shag rug, Heavy velvet drapes, a patterned chaise, and seedy lighting. The key elements to a 1950s homage to boudoir. The pouted red lips on a powder-white face, high heels, and a bathing suit. The classic pin-up girl. Whether she was a blond brunette or redhead, on a calendar or pinned in a locker.  The sexy woman in a black and white movie. She is the epitome of sexy for me. In another time, I was that object of desire, frozen in time and the woman of men’s fantasies.  I know I’m silly, but I like the realness of pin-up girls. I could be a pin-up girl. I’d never know who had seen me or put my picture in their locker. The internet-famous thing scares me. The judgmental and anonymous comments didn’t offend me; they are pathetic attempts to not be invisible. No one puts a picture in their locker of women they judge. I also like the idea of being admired from afar.

    C 

Sir,

There is something weird about writing a journal in longhand, then sending you a picture of it—anyway, crazy busy with the installation for the rest of the week.  I will have limited ability to communicate. 

As requested, I have attached the pictures of my closet and bedroom rearranged to your liking.  I am walking to work in order to ensure I am getting exercise every day. I am wearing what I like to work not things that make me invisible, and yes, I love the feeling of no one knowing that I am wearing lace and satin under jeans and shirts. I touch my bracelet a thousand times a day to remind me of you and how much I love being yours.

I have this weekend marked as you arrive Friday morning.  You have your key. I will be home by seven. I can’t wait to see you. 

       C 

Sweet Caroline,

You have done well. You’re an amazing woman. Thank you for the pictures of your tasks. I rather liked the black lace with the rosebuds under your company polo shirt. Imagine my hand cupping your breasts while you present your latest plan.

This Friday, leave the jeans home, wear your tight pencil skirt- nothing underneath. I want a picture of you at work in your skirt and heels, lace bra and white blouse.  Your nipples display perfectly, your tits look amazing in your lace bra. Wear your hair in a loose braid, lips red. The small ass plug just to top it off.  See you soon.

Sir

 The anticipation of seeing Sir made Friday drag. I used lunchtime to get my paws and claws painted Brazilian red.  In the late afternoon, a quick flurry of text messages inspired the most effective stakeholders meeting in meetings’ history. I manage to get out of the office and home before six.

The surprise of the living room transformation stopped me cold. Sheets of burgundy velvet over the windows made the room darker with a rosy glow. A large umbrella light, like photographers’ use, was across the room. The couch was missing, and a square leather-topped table had impact toys and red ropes.  My chaise was positioned in the middle of the room. It had a shaggy black throw.  I giggled in delight and actually jumped up and down with joy. It was perfect. We were going to play photoshoot. With arms crossed, Sir watched me from the dining-room door. His form-fitting black t-shirt was my favorite thing. I bounded across the room to greet him, “thank you, what a great surprise.”

“I’m glad you like it.” He kissed my forehead. What are your safe words?

“Penguin and lawyer.”

He nodded as he spoke, “you wanted a pin-up girl experience,” He laced his finger through my hair and brought me close, “you will have that; are you prepared to be pushed tonight?

My voice was just above a whisper, “Ok,” as my heart began to pound. The fear of the unknown won over the desire to be lost in time with him. “No feet or breath play?”

“Understood,” he smiled. “your clothes are in on the bed.” A noise came from the kitchen. 

“What the hell? Who’s here?” I stepped back from him. This was something new. Why was there someone here? As I walked around him, he followed me into the kitchen, a man was looking out the kitchen window.

“Bill, this is a beautiful spot, what a great backyard. There is enough room for a basketball key and hoop.”  Hearing Sir’s name struck me. 

“This is your photographer, Pete. Do you still want this?”

I dropped my head and said, “Yes, Sir. Thank you for this. May I go get ready?”

“Good girl, off you go.” He slapped my ass as I walked by.

I was shaking by the time I closed the bedroom door. There was another man in my house. I was vibrating, my throat tightened, and I could taste bile. I didn’t even look at the bed. I went to the bathroom and watched myself in the mirror.

“Ok, girl, calm the fuck down. Safe, sane, and consensual. This is your fantasy. If you don’t want it- say so.” I stared at myself and did some sort of sexual fantasy inventory of the last six months with Sir. I ran the water and brushed my teeth, rinsing the taste from my mouth. “Ok, girl, get present.” Heavy eyeliner with a small wing and mascara made my eyes look bigger, a lip pencil, powder, and deep red lipstick finished the look. I powdered my cheeks and chin. I learned powder on the forehead, just got make-up in my eyes when I began to sweat.  Nancy Sinatra would be proud.  I brushed out my hair and put it in a twist. I secured my hair with bobby pins, and I made my way to the bed. He had been through my drawers, and there was a gift box: the stockings and full garters, a pair of high waisted girdle panties, and a bra. Compared to modern lace lingerie, this stuff was granny wear, but I loved how securely it held me. I felt safe and sexy in it.  The gift box was small. Inside was a small pocketknife, like the ones we got in souvenir shops when we were kids. And a note.

Sweet one, 

 I want to take you there. No cutting of you. Just cutting away the bull.  If you trust me, bring the knife with you.  If you just want your picture take, don’t.  

  Sir 

I opened the knife and ran the backside of the blade along my forearm.  The blade was shiny; I turned it over and dragged it along my arm. I was curious enough to close the blade and bring it with me.

In front of the chaise, Pete had a small table that could adjust the height. I remember seeing one in the Sears photo studio when I was a kid. Black velvet draped over it. He had me stand behind it. He spun it until it was just under my boobs. He locked the table’s wheels and positioned me with my elbows squeezing my tits together. The camera flash filled the room repeatedly as he talked to me. I didn’t realize how wound up I was until I released the knife onto the posing platform in front of me. Pete never broke stride. He just talked me through poses. 

Sir stood behind him, just watching. After a dozen different poses, Sir stepped into the light. He was in his discipline dress, a pair of well-worn jeans.  He stood between me and the camera, kissing me fully on the mouth. A warmth filled me, and I purred as my body responded to his touch. I froze when the heavy flash went off. He pulled me in and spoke softly. “Are we good? You are amazing, I am with you.” The camera flashes continued.

“You’re enjoying yourself?” he asked. 

He moved the posing table, and I stood in the middle of the room, wanting permission to touch him. Permission to drop to my knees and take him in my mouth. Permission to drag my nails over his chest. I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth and nipped at it, waiting. I hated waiting.

I nodded. I was holding my breath, my brain was racing, but not in a bad way.  He took the knife, opened it, and laid it on the leather table. Sir roped and restrained me; it calmed me. Sir was not gentle. I watched as he pulled and adjusted the red ropes. Pete posed me, adjusted the lights, and froze moments. There was music somewhere. On the floor, kneeling with my ankles bound and knees lassoed to my arms tied at 90 degrees, I looked up at Sir. He stood silently – I smiled. He unzipped his jeans. His fully erect cock laid against the zipper.

I opened my mouth.  His glorious smooth cock, warm and tasty. I loved the feel of him in my mouth. He pushed his cock to the back of my throat, I gagged as he held my head, and I used my mouth and tongue, saliva ran down my chin, my eyes watered. He called me his whore, and my enthusiasm to suck increased. The pace of sucking his cock made my pussy ache. I fought the restraint wanting to touch him. I gagged and sucked, trying to keep eye contact- he held my head and pumped his cock until is cum ran down the back of my throat. He was sweet in my mouth. As he separated from me, I became self-aware.  I watched as he left me alone in the middle of the room, my face was wet and uncomfortable. He zipped up his jeans and talked to Pete about what a used up little slut I was. They talk about me like I wasn’t there. I couldn’t move. My head was spinning. I tried to free myself my wiggling, the result was me falling over.

He was at my side, “you are a stupid slut.” He righted me. “Pete, let’s move her up here.” You will be freed when I decide I am done with you and not before.” They each took a side and put me on the chaise. The camera was there and intrusive. I couldn’t contain my frustration. I was crying. Sir stroked my skin and kissed my tears. “Where are we? do you still want this?”

“Yes,” I said without reservation.

He stood behind me, his head close to mine, the knife slide across my skin, under my bra.  He cut the straps and released my breast. He pinched and slapped my breast, sucking and kissing my neck -a mix of humiliation and sexual hunger intensified the experience. He moved methodically, cutting away my clothes. I was exposed. I could feel the heat rise. My entire body was blushing, my façade was cut away. The lingerie hung off me like peeling skin. I was raw. I started to sob, trying to hold back the tears, my body heaved as my breath caught in my chest.” Sir cut the rope that held my thighs, opened my knees, and fingered my sex. My heaves became moans, and he flicked my clit and finger fucked me. While the ropes were pulled away, I opened myself to him.  The pace was frantic. He stripped away the remnants of my lingerie, he tore at the stockings as he flipped me over. His hand across my ass sent shock waves rolled through me and intensified my arousal. A shift to the belt made my clit swell and thumb in excitement. I counted as he had trained me to do. He smoothed and checked my skin after every five strokes.  I ached for his touch. My cries and whimpers were met with a crop to the thighs. I was so aroused my ass popped in anticipation of being brought to climax. I rode his fingers and gripped them with my cunt. 

“May I cum, sir?” He stood and stepped back. I grew cold as the room came back into focus. Pete stood with his camera.  

I rolled over and sat up in confusion. “Oh my god,” I balled up and dropped my head to make myself into a ball and hide from the camera. I had forgotten about Pete. 

A flash filled the room. He was still taking pictures. I raised my head; the tears flowed as I saw what reminded me of my pride lay in shreds on the floor. I was tired, and my body felt heavy. I bent over and picked up a piece of my bra. I wiped my face with it and stood under the harsh light of Pete’s lens. I was utterly exposed. I was frozen. My brain wouldn’t work. The flashed continued. I rose my hands and shielded my face the onslaught of flashes. 

“I’m done,” I said. I was fully back into my body, and my brain was starting to function again.

Sir was at my side, the lights were off; the room was dark, except for a candle, the music was still playing.

“I want you.”

I hesitated and tipped my head towards Pete to suggest, “but he’s here?” He said nothing, but held my gaze. I opened my legs and welcomed him in. 

Sir,

I am still processing this weekend. We had talked about pushing my boundaries. In the moment, letting my body be present erased the raw and exposed sensation, I felt as you cut away my bra and the flash froze the moment in time. Your hands around my neck, your teeth grazing my shoulder as he recorded us, was exhilarating. I hope I expressed my gratitude for constantly keeping me with the sensation and not in my head.    

Scared and struggling with shame. The sexual tension and my body’s response to being exposed and vulnerable scrambled my brain a little. 

Yours.

Erotica: Walk Towards The Ocean

By 2 Comments

good girl on her knees, submissive
via stock.adobe.com

Walk towards the ocean, down the old cow path there is a swimming hole and waterfall was the last line of the instructions he had sent. I reread the message and stuck the phone into my bag. The logistics of this type of outing was challenging. Hike in a bathing suit or change there? My compromise, no panties, and friction rub on my inner thighs. There are no there cars around. Daddy said he’d meet me there, he is hiking from the next cove over. I checked my small knapsack, clipped the car keys inside, and set off down the path. 

It was late afternoon and the sun was at my back. I quickly realized the entire walk was going to be downhill, which meant the walk back would be all uphill. The thought of a mile uphill made me tired. Daddy was a nature nut and I am nuts about Daddy. I’m walking by myself on a Tuesday afternoon, bumbling towards an unknown place because it will make daddy happy. I don’t like this, I don’t feel graceful or elegant. I don’t want to do this, but daddy says I have to expand my horizons. There is freedom in being daddy’s girl. I am released from the responsibilities and daily grind when I am not at work. I get to feel young, lay down my lab coat and reports. As Daddy says he knows best and I should do as I am told.

The sun at my back made the view spectacular. It’s like I am walking into a giant painting. The sound of the waves hitting the rocks is carried up across the bluff. I sit on a large rock and retrieve my water bottle, it is a perfect day for this. It’s not long before I hear rushing water. In my excitement to see Daddy, I skip towards the sound, promptly followed by tripping and tumbling. Landing on my back tits up and breathless. The knapsack stopped me from really hurting myself, I’m just embarrassed. I lie there looking up at the clouds for several minutes frozen in my self-consciousness. No one is laughing there isn’t anyone here. I am filled with a sense of relief. Like the bumbling fool in a B movie I right myself. I look down to see that my boobs are almost out of my shirt, the knapsack strap had pulled up underneath. I am rather disheveled. I drop the bag and reposition my clothing. I thought Daddy would be here by now.  It wasn’t as far as I was expecting, trees and an incline to the left shelter the swimming hole.

Sitting cross-legged at the edge of the swimming hole I dip my hands and arms in. The water is cool. It’s a good time to change. I look up and down the trail before I pull my swim bottom out. I make sure the ground is dry, take off my shoes, and leave on my socks. They are really cute. There are hiking mice across the toes. I try the trick of putting one leg in the bottoms and feeding it through my shorts to put on the other leg. Growls of exasperation and anger as well as a reprimand to the clothes for being uncooperative fills the air. My face feels flushed and in my frustration, my clothes now feel like they are strangling me. I am not having fun and I want to go home or even back to work. This is so stupid. 

I dig out my phone from its compartment and text Daddy. This is not fun. It is pretty, but thereis nowhere to get changed and I am by myself. Where are ou?

His reply is a picture of trees. No words.

“Agghhhh” I squeal in frustration. I may have even stomped my feet, a little. I pull on the swimsuit bottom that is still around one thigh and almost fall over. I plop on the ground and continue to text. AS soon as I get myself organized I am going home.

“Oh, baby don’t be like that” He is across from me on the rise.

“What are you doing over there?” I spit, mortified at the thought that he has been spying on me.

He tossed his knapsack over and walks across the rocks at the far end of the swimming hole. The man is a freaking gazelle. He is beside me and kisses me on the forehead. I feel silly and found out. I want to go.

“Oh, Babygirl, I’m here.” He speaks melodically. He wraps his arms around me drawing me in. I want to run and hide. He releases me as my body relaxes and I stopped sobbing. I was sobbing, what the fuck is wrong with me.

“Why did you make me come here alone?” He doesn’t respond. 

“I’m here now.” He kisses me softly and smoothes my hair. He holds me by the shoulders. I know a lesson is coming. A finger raises my chin until I look him in the eyes.

“What?” I spit at him. “This is not my idea of fun, tripping my way to the ocean at the end of the earth, for what?” I flick myself away from him and plop down to remove the swimming bottoms that I still have around one leg. I exhale hard and center myself focusing on the task of leaving. He kneels next to me and takes the bottoms off my leg.

“Let me help you.” As he is removing the menacing bathing bottoms he hooks a finger into my sock and takes that too.

“I don’t need your help” I protest, I’m angry at him, he has made me look like a fool.

“You may not want my help, but I want to help. You are frustrated, why?”

I stick out my hand, palm up, “my sock please” my tone is severe.

“Now, are you being reasonable? You had a rough time, but now you are being a brat, unnecessarily stubborn. What will you accomplish storming off in a huff, how far up that path will you get before you will regret this behaviour.” I know he’s right. lower my hand and head in shame.

A whispered, “I’m sorry,” is all I can manage.

“Enough of that, stand up for me,” I comply. He undoes the button of my shorts. Instinctively, I clap my hand over his. He removes it and continues, I draw my hips away challenging his action wordlessly.

“I’m not going to stop. You are free to express your feelings, you are beautiful and have nothing to hide.”

“People might see.” My eyes bulge and my voice squeaks. “I have a professional reputation to protect.”

“Ok, who do you see that is going to report you for not wearing your lab coat? Anyone?” He looks around, up the trail and down. “Who did you run past on your way here? How many cars were at the top of the clearing. I’m not saying that there is no chance of anyone coming near us, but really we are 30 minutes from the city, with cell reception in this amazing spot. Breathe baby.”

He opens the zipper and kisses me gently. “You keep looking up and down the trail, I’m going to see what I can find here.” I did as he suggested, I let him play away as I surveyed the area. I was almost oblivious to what he was doing. Both of his hands slide around my hips and worked my shorts down to my hips. His mouth kisses the small mound of hair, groomed to his preference. I was unable to process the attention and affection. The sense of having my ass exposed makes my face redden. I am mortified. I’d almost rather just be pantsless, the waistband resting at the edge of my bottom brings back a knot in my stomach and throat from childhood. I don’t like it.

“Daddy, pencil.” Tears roll down my face. “I don’t like this.”

He stops immediately. He does not let me pull my pants up, rather he helps me sit on his lap.

“Can you tell me what happened?” His voice is engaging and genuine.

“I don’t like having my pants pulled down.” He is wiping my tears as I speak. 

“I pull your pants down all the time, It’s not that, try again.”

“I don’t know, someone might see my bum.”

He smiles, “I have my mouth on your pussy and you are afraid someone might get mooned by you? Take a second and think about that.” As he waits for my response his hands move over me, fingering the hair at the back of my neck, stroking and listening intently, slowly awakening my desire for him.

“It’s embarrassing.” Is all I offer. 

“Ok, Babygirl, you are holding onto something that you don’t need to. Be here! now, how does it feel to be here with me? How does this place feel?”

“Well you’re wonderful and it is pretty” Why can’t I think? I try to maneuver the t-shirt over my ass.

“Ok, over my knee. Get that ass in the air. Count for me.” He rubs my ass until I respond to his touch. The first slap is firm and I choke down my protest.

“Count!,” he says and delivers the next one more firmly. A series follows, a hard dozen, I count. My ass stings and my tits start to ache.

“Are you still embarrassed?” he asks without anger.

I look at him and my face is crimson with mortification. As we make eye contact his hand slips between my thigs and he slides his fingers through the dampness to my clitoris. He continues to speak as he explores my swollen clit. I gasp in pleasure.

“We are all alone in the world, nothing else matters. Not an open field, not some long worn childhood humiliation, this is all we have right now.” He gestures towards the waterfall as he slides a finger into my vagina. “Next to a fabulous waterfall and swimming hole.” His thumb presses on my anus and I can no longer hold eye contact. He pulled back just enough to remind me I have to keep looking at him. He is watching me. “Are you ok?”

“Is your embarrassment helping you enjoy yourself?” he asks as he thrust two fingers in my cunt. I curl around his leg and open mine to allow him full access. Once my vaginal muscles start to contract he puts a hand under my tummy, a sign I am to let him up. Yoga helps with this. I move to downward dog with his hand occupying my holes. The balls of my feet press into the ground and I am back in my body. I wish he had taken off the other sock.

“Can we find somewhere more private?” I ask.

He withdraws his hand and slaps me hard. “Get the brush from my bag.” I drop my ass and retrieve the brush from his bag. My shorts are gone, my single sock is muddy and a little damp. I kneel in front of him holding the brush up. 

“Did you agree to meet me here?”

“Yes, I’m sorry”

“Did you agree to play on my terms?”

“Yes, but…”

“No, there is no argument here. You called pencil, we talked through it and started again. You didn’t call carnival, so why are you asking questions that stop play?”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not sorry, you don’t like it when I call you on your shit. Now, listen to daddy, I will never harm you. I will push you. I am going to fuck you hard, right here and you will not die of embarrassment. Get that top off and in a position like a good girl.”

I stood in front of him with my hand interlaced behind my head. I swear even my knees were blushing at this point. He slapped my tit and sucked the erect nipple gently. I stood looking at the ocean with my back to the world.

His hand holding the hairbrush as he nipped and licked my tits and spoke; “I am going to spank you before I make you cum. Daddy knows what is best for you. Now, on all fours face the other way, head up, if you drop your head I will spank you again.”

I waited on all fours looking ahead terrified someone would come down the path. This time the impact of the hairbrush was no offset b the building of an orgasm. It was punishment and I humiliated by my behavior. When he stopped and rubbed his hand over my ass it felt hot. He kissed it and slide his fingers deep inside of me. I watched the path almost unaware of his touch, I was so afraid of someone finding us.

His cock slide in and my body reacted. The path towards me seemed to fade away as I closed my eyes and the light of the setting sun created kaleidoscopes on my eyelids, the warmth of the sun-dried my salty tears as waves of ecstasy moved through me. His hands-on my hips slapped my ass and intensified my experience, I craved the discomfort that came with each slap. It was like the chocolate sauce on a cheesecake. The smack on my ass intensified the experience. His pace had to be intentional, When he slowed my mind started to look to the path, but as he worked to edge me deeper towards the orgasm my senses were drawn to the pleasure he brought me. The sun was hanging lower in the sky now. My body was electric with sensation. He withdrew as he wrapped himself around me and squeezed my nipples.

“Baby girl is going to ride Daddy.” He spread out the blanket I had taken from his bag. He lays on his back, his condom wrapped cock completely erect and waiting. I positioned myself between his legs, slide onto my stomach where I could suck on his balls. I licked and sucked until a moan escaped him. I stopped and immediately positioned myself above him. Just the tip while I reached around and held his balls. I then began to move up and down, stopping to rotate my hips. I could feel him come to full size and fill me I leaned forward, placing my hands on his shoulders I rode and bucked letting untold noises of pleasure erupt in the air. The orgasm was intense and I didn’t want it to stop, I slowed my movement so his cock was stroking my G spot, whimpers seeped from me as I rode the wave of pleasure.

My eyes were squeezed so tight from the pleasure I was seeing stars. I chased the frenzy to the crescendo where his hips press him up, and I ground until he came. I wrapped myself around him and thanked him. Eventually, I rolled off and he came to his side facing me. We laid there for several minutes before I fell back into my body and felt the earth under me.

 He kissed my forehead, “Are you still embarrassed?

“Not really.” I smiled. 

“Good. Let’s head back.”

“Why? I said I WAS NOT embarrassed.”

“Well, I can have you walk back naked if you want?” he said as he pulled his jeans on and did up his belt. “It will be dark soon. No one will see you, but it might be cold.”

I threw my shoe at him. “Very funny.” I slide into my shorts and t-shirt, took off my other sock, and put on my shoe. He passed me my other shoe. 

Let’s go, maybe next time we can get into the water. He carried both of our packs as we walked back to the car. The first stars were just visible as we arrived. Still no one in sight.

Erotica: The Hunted

By 2 Comments

dominant man and beautiful submissive in car
via stock.adobe.com

I had plans with the girls, my girls. Dinner and some dancing. I know you wanted me to stay and play, but these plans were made ages ago. Begrudgingly, you accepted that I wouldn’t drink at the club and you can pick me up. Myself and my four work friends always have a fantastic time. They are my freedom. We talk and support each other about the important stuff and dance our problems away a couple of times a year. I’m just one of the girls.

You once said I was a lot of woman. I’m pretty much an Amazonian. In the day to day, I’m a fixer, I coordinate and manage my corner of the universe. My work makes a difference. I’m five-foot-nine, red hair and hazel eyes and I like shoes. Moreover, I love high heel shoes. I feel sexy and powerful in them.  It is the only public intersection of my kink and the vanilla world.  

It’s just after 11 when I notice you at the bar. You’re kinda’ hard to miss, your six- four muscle defined frame with swarthy features is rather imposing. Your position at the end of the bar gives you a view of the entire dance floor. Like a puppy seeing her owner I make my way over and come to you. My hair is pulled into a ponytail, my sheer black blouse is fantastic for dancing, I don’t get too warm. It helps that my boobs look amazing and if I am dancing, boobs are bouncing. You do not look impressed. I suck in my bottom lip instinctually as I read your expression. I’m trying to suppress my smile and giggle of satisfaction. I like you this way.  It makes our play more intense. 

“Thanks for coming to get me. I want to stay a little longer, ok?” Your right hand is at my waist. I reach up and kiss your cheek. Dramatically, I bat my eyelashes and pout a little. I know it annoys you, but I’m feeling brave. 

“Really?” you reply flatly. 

I am effervescent and bubbly. You’re less than amused. My response brings out the brat in me, I kiss you on the cheek and return to the dance floor. The girls are where I left them, we have a yelling conversation about your arrival, I point you out and they all wave. You are stoic and tip your head towards us. When will I have pushed your patience to the limit? You are used to weekends being all yours. I hug the girls farewell and join you. I’m still giddy, playful, and fearless. You put your hand in the small of my back and maneuver through the crowd. This softens me; there is a shift in the dynamic between us. As we get to the car, I start to take my hair down. I know you like to down and free flowing. 

“No! leave it, I like it.” Your growl is low but undeniable. 

This gives me pause. This is new.

As I get in the car, my thin leather collar is waiting on the seat. I retrieve it and slip it on as I sit. The side and back windows are tinted, so very little can be seen by the world around us. As I turn to put on my seat belt you take my ponytail and wrap in around your hand. The yank catches me off guard and breaks my composure.

“Ahgh, What the fuck?” I have no choice but to go where you pull. 

You pull me to you and growl as you squeeze my breast, it hurts, I grit my teeth and flinch, refusing to give you the squeal you want. The buttons of my blouse strain against my breasts as you cup and squeeze my breast, holding my eyes, watching and waiting for a sign of surrender. The thought of never getting the wrinkles out flicks through my mind. I am not as present as you would like. I taste blood. I am biting under my bottom lip to deprive you of what you want. You slowly pinch my nipple, tears fill my eyes, the pain is excruciatingly sweet. I can’t fight it. I know there will be a set of bruises tomorrow as you release me. You start the car, I put on my seat belt, you drive me back to the cabin where we will continue, you the hunter, me the prey. 

Three Perfect Freckles In The Center Of Her Foot

By 2 Comments

Three perfect freckles in the center of her foot, just above the strap which held her toes into the strappy sandal. Two leather straps held her foot in place. One around the ankle acting as a choker for her exquisitely narrow ankles, the other across her toes. Brazilian red polish accented her straight toes, each one was the smallest bit shorter than its neighbor, the pinky toe was a shy little school girl barely tucked in behind her bigger sister.  The four-inch heel was the ideal height to display the curve of her arch. Just high enough to imagine is fingers or member finding its way between the shoe and her foot. The soft warm flesh of his cock growing as he fondled her shoe and foot. 

With tenderness he restrained his passion, kneeling in front of her. He blushed as she planted the heel between his thighs and her sandal-clad toe rested on his crotch. His dress pants and boxers did very little to contain the now throbbing cock. It pressed against the fabric as she tic-tocked the bottom of her shoe there.  His knuckles whitened as he pressed his fists into the rug, embracing the pleasure this simple movement brought him. His head bowed he watched as she dragged her foot back, arching her foot so only the inside of her foot drew along his thigh before gliding back up his thigh. He drew a deep breath and exhaled a moan of ecstasy as the full pressure of her foot pressed and rubbed his cock in its fabric cage. He held his tongue fearing she would withdraw her attention. This was more than he could have hoped for. She had agreed he could massage and hold her feet. This gift of attention was exhilarating. 

She slides forward in her chair, extending her leg and dragging her toe up his chest. The tip of her shoe barely touching his chin. He raised his eyes to meet hers. She smiled and her eyes twinkled with mischief and seduction. “Yes, you may” was all she said.

He rose to a full kneeling position and held her foot like a priest holds a challis. He held her arch against his cheek inhaling her scent. Treasuring this intimacy. He supported her calf and felt the weight of her leg as she relaxed in his hand. She trusted him. He made eye contact, she held his gaze and he maneuvers her foot for his pleasure. She licked her lips and grinned as she bit her lower lip.  He kissed the top before rotating it and tracing the arch with his tongue. The ankle strap required deft fingers not clumsy teeth to be undone. 

Charles adored her body and her feet were the most erotic part of her. The softness of the arch, the tone of the muscles from pointed toes. The red toe polish shimmering against her alabaster skin all connecting to a flawlessly toned and defined calf. Today, wrapped in a sheer nude stocking. He cradled and caressed her foot against his body, fingering the taut toned leg made his cock thump. As her held one leg, she slide her toes back and forth across his crotch, he rocked and rose slightly to increase the pressure.

“Oh, baby.” Charles laid her foot next to the other on his lap, sliding both hands under her skirt  and bringing her ass to the edge of the chair. The top of her stocking visible he  kissed his way from her knees to her sex. Her knees hooked the arms of the chair and he slid her panties to the side, holding his mouth against her cunt he inhaled her scent. The heat from his mouth made her ache, she raised her pelvis to him aching for his touch. His tongue was electrifying. His hands cradles and massaged her ass. Her toes curled. He nuzzled and licked her wetness. He longed to slide his cock deep inside and satisfy her, for now tasting the nectar of her honey pot was enough, he thought. 

“That will be all.” She said as she pushed his head away and paced her stocking feet together on the floor. She stood, straightened her skirt and tucked her hair behind her left ear. 

“Yes, ma’am, “ He adjust the bulge in his crotch tucked his shirt in and stood at the door. “You have court at 4:00 and a dinner reservation at 8:30, will there be anything else?”

She was already back at her desk with her reading glasses perched on her nose. “Pass me the paten leather ones for court.” She didn’t look up as she spoke, just pointed to the corner of her desk.  The strappy sandals would be returned to their place in the cupboard. He collected the paten and replaced them with the sandals, lingering over them as he shut them away until the next time she needed him. 

 “That will be all, I’m done with you today.” He silently turned the lock and left, not lookback, he closed the door behind him and went back to his office. Amelia was there sorting papers. 

“Sir, I thought you were in a meeting until 3:00?” she said somewhat confused. 

“No Amelia, it turns out I wasn’t as needed as I thought. I can meet with the other partners after all, thank you.”

They Found Me

By 2 Comments

I have exceptional tits. The kink website had provided them a constant stream of adulation and praise. New virtual friends and discussion boards had helped me explore and accept my sexual self. My pragmatic nature has kept me safe and no I haven’t had any regretful experiences. Once, I had forgotten my own rules and things got rough, not bad, just surprising. So I meet people virtually  then in person before play is negotiated.  The message showed up on a Tuesday. 

“Your stunning, I’m the female in a couple. Can we chat?” I cringed at the wrong you’re, but this was only the second woman I had been approached by. The couple’s bio was brief but vivid. Admittedly, I will chat online with almost anyone, but she was like me, a lover of sex, masochist,  and living a vanilla life with a pension for pain. The chat room conversation was flurry of chat messages until the Saturday when she would be able to meet.  Basically, he had the fantasy, she found me attractive. I was amused. Yes, I will fuck someone just because they amuse me. 

When we met- it clicked. I was drawn to her as a person. Sexually, I wanted to devour her. She looked like a well-aged rocker chick, untamed waves draped her shoulders and framed her face. Dark eyes and full lips with a creamy complexion. If I wasn’t attracted to women before; her confidence and complementary nature were intoxicating.

I like meeting in coffee shops, they’re safe. I wished I had met her in a club. Where words are lost to pounding base and restraint is dampened by alcohol. As she spoke she explained that she hoped I was the right combination for them.  Her man wanted the threesome, she liked a bit more intensity than he was comfortable providing and I’m a bisexual masochist with a peppering of sadist. I envisioned my hand sliding up from her tits to the base of her neck, sucking and biting those plump deep red lips. Grabbing a hand full of hair until she surrendered her mouth to mine. He could watch, play, sleep, I didn’t care. I was going to make her cum like never before.  Over coffee and conversation, a definite connection was formed. She told me about the session she had just had and how her new partner was a gentle giant with fantastic skills. She assured me I would not be disappointed. Phone numbers were exchanged and the foreplay began. Within a few days of our meet, I heard from Jason. The text chat became a regular thing. About 7:30 I would get a greeting from one of their phones. We would chat about what we had tried and what was a “no thank you”.  The attraction built as the weeks went by. 

I had a free Saturday and offered my place for a night of whatever.  No matter how horny you are the first meet is awkward. When they showed up, we hugged, the awkward was settled almost immediately. My Gypsy and I sat close on the sofa, like two kittens petting and poking. He sat in a chair in the far corner of the room. He and I spoke easily and freely,  Gypsy chimed in and stroked my face or caressed my neck.  The desire to move to the bedroom was mutual.

I was so drawn to her that I tread cautiously when we went to the bedroom. I became the monkey in the middle. He was tall and strong, his kisses were deep and warm. I felt myself getting wet and caught up in the rhythm of this sexual dance. Naked bodies were revealed as pairs of hands undid buttons and lifted breasts. Gypsy and I kissed,  drawing my nails down her back and squeezing her bottom. Nothing could pass between us.  He stood close by watching  us and wanking off. When her breath began to heavy just a little I released her, he stood behind her as support as I backed away to admire her splendor. She oozed sexual hunger. I increased the intensity and pressure of my touch.  He moves towards me and kisses the back of my neck, I purr in approval as I guide gypsy to sit on the bed.  I use, my mouth and and hands to taunt and tease.  My licking and blowing erect her nipples as his broad hands opened me and searched for my clit. 

He whispered, “nice,” in my ear when he felt the wetness of my swollen cunt. Gypsy felt my full arousal as my mouth encircle her erect nipples and I began to suckle her deeply. Pressing her nipple with my tongue until she let out the whimper of pain. I stopped and asked, “Red, Yellow, Green?” We had skipped that discussion. 

“Green!” she replied and I resumed massaging and tweaking her ample breasts. As he started to make me orgasm I was keenly aware of how much I was enjoying these two.  I halted my attention to Gyspy as my orgasm grew, dropping my head and holding onto the bed I began to bend forward, my hair caressing its way down her stomach, she moved back on the bed as though to give me access to her sex, my head followed until I was bent over the bed, legs open and wanting to be pounded. They both stopped and I was taken aback as to why we were stopping.  They meet at the end of the bed. He is fully erect, his cock is purple and engorged. I don’t move I just watch. He holds her gaze and passes her a condom.  My gypsy drops to her knees and licks the precum from his cock before she takes him in completely, holds for a moment and releases him. His had is on the top of her head as she rolls the condom onto his magnificent member. It is such a simple act, but their unity is ever-present. I am the entertainment for the evening, and I’m ok with that. I am still bent forward on the bed and they both approach. This time he was monkey in the middle. 

He enters me slowly so I can feel his girth and length. My only comment is “green.” I draw up on my toes and tip my pelvis so I can take him deep. I begin to grind against him as he moves slowly, varying the depth and intensity of stuffing my wet and wanting pussy.

“Is that what you want? I ask.

He firmly hold my hips and pumps to the rhythm I have been keeping. My orgasm picks up where we left off and the sensations fill my body. I fight the urge to buck. I hold the orgasm until his pounding is frenzied. We ride the climax together, I gush and feel the liquid run down my legs as he finished with a half dozen intense drives. My legs are shaking and I have been well services. He finishes with a playful smack on the ass. 

“He’s learning to like it?” I asked. Gyspy swats him as well when she joins me on the bed. We kiss and dissolve into laughter. I am satisfied that I have met my obligation to him, now I want her. The conversation and caressing continued. She is my focus, I want to make her cum. She is shaved clean and I trace the triangle between her legs licking my fingers to slide them between her legs.  I won’t ask for It I will caress and play until she opens herself to me. He is stretched out on the bed, playing with my right tit as I explore Gyspy’s face, neck, and breast. I can’t get enough of her breasts. I hold her nipple between my teeth and flick my tongue until her body responds to me. As I move closer she drops her leg to the floor and slides her cunt towards me. I cup her pussy and use my middle finger to test her wetness. Freud was right, I do want a penis. I want to fill her cunt and make her scream in pleasure. I don’t want to be restrained. I check my thought and kiss my way down her body, her freshly shaved pussy is mine for the taking. I look up and her eyes are closed. He is close and whispering sweet nothings to her as he restrains her. The restraint by him plays to her kinky side and I’m delighted. I can make her cum quickly, but what it is the fun in that. I lick and suck her clit. Sucking her entire clit while two fingers gingerly explore her cunt, I suck in rhythm to fingering her two fingers flat against the front of her vagina get me the desired response, she moans in pleasure. He is nothing more than a restraint at this point. She is mine to tempt and tease. I edge her well after she is wet, her labia is swollen and she jumps when I blow on her clit. The gentlest lick is met with a whimper I have slowed the pace so she is on the edge. As her body starts to relax I build the intensity again. I didn’t ask her for permission. As I finger her she begins to buck. I suck the inside of her thigh and leave a childish hickey. I want her to have a reminder of my visit to her honey pot. I finger fuck her as she gyrates. I suck her clit as she squirts sweet nectar into my mouth. I am satisfied and I continue until her hips bear down into the bed and she stops. Gypsy has ridden her orgasm to the end. I lean over her kiss her with my cum stain mouth and say we’re not done. I rest my face on her thigh and continue to stroke her body.

This time I use her clit to arouse her, being more subtle in awaking her sexual hunger. I nip, bite and suck drawing my nails over her body, holding handfuls of hair and we kiss intensely. Her nipples are erect and alive, my swollen lips purse and blow cool air over them until they are taut. I graze my teeth on them the pain for pleasure made her moan. 

“I want to make you cum again, red, yellow, green?”

Green is all she moans. I go down so I can raise her up.

 

Knight In White Panties

By 3 Comments

This was the best part — the first session. Mark was a 30 something once upon a time hockey guy with a love for satin and lace. I wore a green velvet wrap dress and patent leather heels. He had picked the dress out one our first outing. It hugged my tits and offered way too much cleavage when I was seated. I rather enjoyed the once over and grins from the concierge and bellboy as I checked in. The shoes were from my collection. You know the ones, with the ankle clasps and little heart-shaped locks — a subtle nod to the kinkster in all of us.

The clicking of the stilettos drew the notice of a couple waiting near the front doors. The three white-haired suits, previously deep in conversation, looked up in unison. One was ballsy enough to tip his glass to me. I smiled broadly and winked, never breaking stride – the elevator opened with perfect timing. I vanished through the looking glass as the mirrored doors closed. A swipe of the room key accesses the concierge floor, a pleasant surprise from Mark. 

A bowl of white flowers was luminescent in the late afternoon sun. I repositioned them and laid my case on the table. I pulled my worn jeans and white tank top from my oversized bag and hung them on the bathroom hook. A girl needs to be comfortable when she is educating a sissy boy.

I went about setting things up. A plain t-shirt, a collar with a pink ribbon as a leash on the bed, and a silicone cock ring. A subtle but effective start in setting the mood. That would be after he set up my case and showed appropriate gratitude for my presence. An enema bulb and baby wipes in the bathroom. A long blond wig, a pretty dress with ruffles and bows, and a pair of white ruffled panties were hanging in the closet. He would earn those.

The view from this height was outstanding, yet as I skated my fingertips across the glass, I envisioned his hard cock arching as I pegged him spread eagle against it. The thrill of his naked body pressed against the unyielding coldness, the humiliation of his nakedness on display for the end of day commuters, gave me such a rush. I retrieved my crop from the case, leaving it open for him to unpack as instructed.

My phone buzzed. He was texting from the parking garage. 

I texted, “the door will be open. I am going for ice. Come in, undress, your collar is on the bed, put it on. Kneel, facing the window, and wait for me.” 

I grabbed the ice bucket and room key and trotted down the hall. I took my time returning to the room about ten minutes later. Mark was on his knees, his clothes neatly folded on the dresser. He was holding the ribbon leash in his hand. 

“Give” I commanded. His hand came above his head until I possessed the ribbon. “What a good sissy, you listened so well.” I stroked his hair and moved in front of him, making sure my skirt brushed his naked arm. The velvet was dragging against his skin, awaking his sense of touch.

“Rise” He did as instructed and forgot himself meeting my eye for a moment. My raised eyebrows were enough for him to flush and blurt out, “Sorry, Mistress,” and he lowered his eyes. 

“That’s three hairbrush smacks, keep count for later.” I traced down his side and under his balls, ensuring my cleavage was in his eye-line. I stroked his semi-erect cock watching it grow with every stroke of the soft leather. 

“How sad you are, men are the weaker sex. Your cock is delicate and unprotected, and your sex organs are like accessories. Do you wish you could hide your weakness?”

“Yes, mistress,” he blushed and went to cover his hard cock. 

I stepped closer to caress his head, “good sissy,” pressing my velvet wrapped tits against his bare waxed chest. “Are you ready to begin?

“Yes, Mistress,” Mark blushed and smiled.

“What are your safety words, Sissy?”

“Hamilton for stop, no more. Evita for a check-in.”

“Good sissy. I had given you a few tasks, time for an inspection. Pull out the chair and stand on it.” I sat on the couch, watched, and waited. I took a nail file from my bag, inspected my nails, and ignored him. I drank my water and sucked on a piece of ice, taunting him, allowing my skirt to stay hiked up as I maneuver to dig aimlessly in my bag. I began his inspection. He adjusted his stance. 

“Is my little slut getting tired?” I lifted his balls to ensure they were hair-free, I cupped and caresses, his cock began to twitch.

“Almost,” I pulled a stray hair, and he fought the yelp. “Three for the hair, five for whimpering. Women wax without a word. How many is that?” 

I stepped back and held my hand to help him down. He hopped down without a word.

“Oh, no! No manners, that’s five with my hand. You are going to have a very pink ass. On your knees, get the brush from my bag, carry it in your mouth to the couch. Place the pink vibrator and lube on the window ledge, let’s put the ball gag over there too. The crop, flogger, and paddle on the end of the bed.” I held his lead. Encouraging him to move quickly, ensuring he was thrown off, mocking the mistakes. Every so often tapping his ass with or balls with the crop. He was completely erect. 

“You fucking little pansy. You should be ashamed of yourself, a sad little man, not worthy to touch my belongings. Just touching them excites you. Tuck your shame between your legs. I don’t want to see it.”

He dropped his head and kissed my shoe. He held the position waiting for further instruction. I didn’t move my foot. “Don’t stop.” He kissed and licked my shoe. Nuzzling his head gingerly against my calf. “Good sissy, now over to the couch to take your punishment.” I went to the closest and brought out the panties. “I think you should wear these while you take your punishment before you clean out your ass, and I take you against the window.”

His face turned crimson, and his breath drew hard. He was surprised. Every detail of our conversations was creating this session. As promised, the pain was subtle. What he had not expected was how his humiliation promoted his submission and complacency. The bikini briefs were satin and soft, increasing his sense of arousal. His cock pushing over the top. He struggled to tuck it, but it was so hard all he could do was push is to the side. He fumbled to hide his excitement. I would not acknowledge his effort. I wanted him to own his shame. He knelt next to me, waiting for instructions. I pointed to the table.

“Pass me the brush.”

He extended his reach as he placed himself across my velvet lap. As I slide my hand under the edge of his panties to pull them down, his cock pressed into my thigh, weeping onto the fabric. I could feel his humiliation as I brought his panties down and exposed his bare bottom. Rubbing his lily-white ass, letting my nails brush his balls until he whimpered. 

“How many?”

“Eleven with the brush and five with your hand, Mistress.”

“And how many for soiling my dress?”

“But I,” without thinking, he kneeled up. He instantly realized he had not been given permission to move. His mouth was on my shoe again. 

“You’re learning, but soiling my dress, your dirty little piss ant. Velvet, do you know how to clean velvet?” Before he could speak, I cut him off. “If you can’t answer, I will discipline your stupidity. Five more! Now, you are wasting my time. Tuck the cock and get across my knee. Count for me.”

I rubbed his ass, letting my fingers hesitate on his asshole, pressing and rotating my finger until an involuntary moan. “That’s it slut show me your weakness.” With my hand, I slapped his ass in quick succession, each smack harder than the one before. He whimpered a little. I cooed his name and rubbed the pinked ass cheek. Without prompting, he checked his cock, was tucked, and reached for the hairbrush and put it in my open hand. 

“Why am I spanking you?

“Because I’m a slutty sissy who keeps messing up…Mistress.”

He counted each smack. His ass was red, and he was silent. 

I checked in, “need to talk to about Musicals?”

“No Mistress,” he fumbled the panties back up, he was flustered and attempted to cover up. His humiliation was palpable, he knelt at my side, fingering the fabric of my dress.

“You did well, my little sissy, now we can start. Into the bathroom and bend over.” 

“How do you want me?” he asked. I removed the collar and place it on the counter.

“Turn on the water and pass me the showerhead.” I retrieved a pair of rubber gloves and opened a bar of soap. “Remove your panties, I’m going to wash your ass.”

Mark got in the tub. “Lean forward and spread your cheeks.” He looked back towards me but did not speak. I soaped his ass and used the showerhead. The humiliation and stimulation engorged his cock. “That will do, dry off, and wait here for me.” He stood in the tub, drying off. I retrieved the lube from the windowsill. The sun was setting. A dusk pegging would have to be next time. Nighttime would have to do. I flicked on a light and returned to the bathroom. 

“Are you ready?” he nodded and went to kneel again. I stopped him. I filled the bulb with warm water and a drop of shower gel. I lubed the top of the oversized bulb. “Spread your checks.” He did as he was told. As I inserted the bulb, he drew breath. “I washed you and now I am cleaning out your pathetic ass, and you don’t thank me. Ingratitude is an insult. Ten more smacks with the brush.” My voice was the sternest it had been all session. I left the bulb in his ass. “Hold that there.” I removed my panties, balled them up and stuck them in his mouth.

I emptied the contents of the bulb into his ass and waited. He was fully erect with a mouth full of worn panties. As he stood in front of me, I began to stroke his cock until he was utterly engorged, and he was unable to stay still. I caressed his ass; he was holding it tight. At least 30 minutes had passed since I had filled him with warm soapy water. “You can sit on the toilet, but I will be very disappointed if you use the toilet without permission.” He sat, and his ass began to leak. His eyes widened in acknowledgment that he had failed. I kept going with my plan. I pulled perfectly pink nail polish from my bag on the counter. 

“My sissy must look her best before we continue. Give me your hand.”

His ass continued to leak, and he continued to blush. As I finished painting his pinky, I told him to release it. Mark was mortified, but out of options, his bowels evacuated as I continued to paint his nails. He had no control over his body. His cock had been torturously edged, his gut gurgled and squirted. He had a mouth full of dirty underwear, all the while I painted his nails, made ugly faces every time he passed gas. I explained how lucky he was that I was willing to raise him up from being a dirty pig to a pretty little sissy who I was going to peg for the whole world to see. When I finished his nails, I removed the underwear from his mouth and left him sitting there, unable to do anything except wait for his nails to dry. I put a piece of gum in his mouth, turned off the bathroom light, and closed the door. 

I put on my harness and dildo, under my jeans and pulled the tank top over my braless tits. I grabbed the dress and wig and brought them to the bathroom. Time to turn things up a notch.

Let’s Talk About Your Journal

By 2 Comments

The adrenaline made her heart pound in her ears. Aroused and scared, she fought the urge to call red, she closed her eyes and worked to control her breath. It was so quiet, she chewed on her bottom lip, listening. It was weird. She found herself listening for the clock in the kitchen. It was not physically possible to hear it. Her husband’s heat against her back warranted her attention. She opened her eyes. A purple satin blindfold was in front of her. Cal’s mouth was warm on the back of her neck. He didn’t speak as  he traced along her shoulders, making her cunt ache. The arousal worked its way through her body. Her nipples pulled taught and hurt. The smallest murmur of pleasure escaped her parted lips as she licked them and pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, biting down as the blindfold was tightened around her head.

Karen was thrilled with the attention. Her body was alive and electrified with waves of pleasure. Cal’s hands were everywhere, and she had never been more aware of how responsive her body was to his touch. He was on his knees behind her, drawing his prickly, unshaven face across her ass. His right hand slid between her legs. His fingers opened her lips as his middle fingers entered, his thumb on her clit and pinky on her asshole. As he pumped his hand, Karen’s body responded hungrily. She gyrated and called for more.

Cal encouraged her as she became more vocal. She was so wet. He removed his fingered and swatted her ass. He licked her off his fingers as he maneuvered to stand in front of her. He was going to need to rethink this setup.  He massaged, squeezed and pinched her breasts while she sucked his fingers, her mouth open like a baby bird hungry for the worm. “Don’t you dare cum without permission, or I’ll stop?” he said as he squeezed her nipples. She whimpered in protest, “please?” He stopped moving and removed his hands.

He could feel her eyes get big and stare through the blindfold.  She drew breath to speak but suddenly chose not to. Her shoulders dropped the restraints held her body weight, and she mumbled, “yes sir. ” So quietly it was clear she had learned it was useless to argue.

“Good slut, such a good girl.” He left her alone for several minutes. He was examining the selection of toys, canes, a hairbrush, and a couple of floggers. Karen stood in her restraints, moving her neck and shoulders. She had to be aching. Cal returned and kissed her roughly until her body responded. “What do you want?” he asked.

“You,” she stated. He smacked her thigh with the hairbrush.

She winced in surprise but said nothing. Cal wet his fingers in her mouth and began to flick her clit. Bringing her to the edge and backing off. He teased her by occasionally sliding his fingers deep inside, leaving them only long enough to feel the muscles contract. Impact play mixed with the edging was making Karen’s head spin. Sweat glistened and dropped from her. Cal’s traced a rivulet of sweat from her sex to her breast as he brought her close. She relaxed into his body; she was exhausted and sexually electrified. Every touch drew a deep breath and anticipation. 

“Ok, baby, you did so well. I’m going to let you cum now.” She had expected to be let out of the restraints. Her body instantly cooled as Cal backed away. He was on his knees, released her legs. Before she could draw her legs together, his hands were cupping her ass, and he had positioned her legs over his shoulders. She struggles to pull herself up, acutely aware of her size and weight. She was in her head again, just like that.

He gently maneuvered himself away and let her stand on her own feet. He removed the blindfold and released her arms.  He had pushed her far enough tonight. He wrapped a large soft blanket around her as he leads her to the bed. He cradled her in the pillows. He removed the hair elastic, freeing her hair and laying it across the pillow.  She was too tired to protest. He walked to the other side of the bed, “My darling, you were magnificent this evening. You are so beautiful”. Karen’s head was empty. She was raw and unable to respond verbally. Her arms were heavy; she flicked the blanket away, inviting him to join her. 

He was playing with his cock as he stood, admiring her.  He was mostly done giving orders. When Cal crawled onto the bed, something softened in his body language. He stroked her face and kissed her forehead. “Are we still green?” he asked.

“It’s all good, but my body is” She struggled to lift her arm, “kinda’ tired. I enjoyed this evening, but I can’t explain how I feel. My head is so empty.” 

“Will you let me make love to you, cum when you want, be as loud or silent as you want. Let me love you.” He didn’t wait for her response. He kissed her hard and maneuvered himself to between her legs. He planked himself above he cradling her head in his hands. His cock pressed on the outside of her sex. He came to his knees and continued to kiss her neck and face until she relaxed and opened herself to him as he entered her body wrapped around him. Karen’s head fell back as a moan of ecstasy left her. Cal moved slowly bring her to the edge quickly. He kept the pace, feeling her pussy contract. “Relax, your pussy for me.” She obeyed immediately, as soon as he felt her relax, he increased the speed and intensity. Karen’s body reacted; she felt like she was outside herself yet wholly presented. The first wave of her orgasm came as her hips raised and bucked. She dragged her nails across her back as her body responded to Cal’s attention. Words of praise and adoration stumbled from her mouth, trying to articulate the pleasure. “Shhhh, I know. Just enjoy the ride, baby.” She grabbed the sheets, locked her ankles around his ass, and rode the orgasm to the very end. As she finished, he slowed the pace feeling her relax. 

“Finish me.” She felt his cock twitch inside her as his words hung in the air between them for a moment.

She smiled coyly, “yes sir, of course, sir.  On your back, sir.” He rolled off and onto his back. Karen’s aches and pains were gone; she had forgotten all about them. She licked him from his balls to the tip, taking special care with the head. She sucked just the tip increasing the pressure until his hand was on her head. He took him to the back of her throat and sucked softly as she moved up and down his shaft. His balls were in her hand being pulled every so tenderly the way he like it. She mixed the speed and pressure as his cock grew hot. She took him in hand and stroked him as she maneuvered herself forward, letting her breast sit either side of his engorged cock. “If it pleases you, Sir, I would like to drink,” she said as she squeezed her tits around him and put the tip in her mouth again. Within moments he exploded into her mouth, hot cum hitting the back of her throat. She continues to milk every drop until he pulled her head away.  She didn’t move from between his legs. Instead, she placed her head on his stomach and said nothing. She twined her fingers through his chest hair lazily as he stroked her hair. Drifting on calm seas, they were both soon asleep.