carnal pleasure

The Connoisseur

lollipop

For the last three decades, I have managed to tangle myself in some precarious predicaments.  Most of these sordid scenarios involved a man, or men (note the shift to plural) and sex was always on tap.  Quite honestly I stopped keeping a numeric record of my conquests many years ago.  It was too taxing to place a number on each of them.  So instead, I began keeping a mental “top ten” list.

Today, I would like to dish on my top cocks.  Yes, you read that correctly.  I know…how crude.  But let me just cut to the chase…I love cock.  I worship cock.  Over the years I have had them in all shapes and sizes.  You could say that I have become a bit of a connoisseur (or “cockisseur”) from my vast experience.  I study them.  I learn from them.  To this day, every time I pleasure my One, I learn something new.  A new trick.  A new sensation.  A new way to please Him more.  And believe me, I am always hungry and thirsty for knowledge.

Let’s start this countdown of my most memorable members, with those who packed some serious heat.  It’s often said that “size doesn’t matter” and I couldn’t agree more.  However…there is something to be experienced when you are stretched and filled to capacity.  When every movement is a reminder of their impressive stature.  And let me clarify before I go any further…these are not my top ten lovers.  I am only talking about cock.  A person could be hung like a Derby winner, but have the sex skills of Sheldon.

Which brings me to…the doctor.  Not a medical doctor, but rather a PhD (note, the D stands for DICK).  I met him online.  He lived on the coast about 2 hours from me.  He coaxed me to visit him one weekend.  Prior to that we talked for weeks and exchanged photos.  He was average looking, but seemed like a nice guy.  As our conversations progressed, he sent me a picture of his impressive cock.  And I honestly thought he had photo-shopped it, or copied a pic online.  So I wasn’t expecting much.  He was more average looking than his pic and quite short…but DAMN.  His dick was huge.  And he had a piercing.  I’d never experienced anything like that.  He fucked me on his balcony in broad open daylight and I am sure anyone in a two mile radius heard me.  Every thrust made me gasp in ecstasy.  But he couldn’t hold a conversation.  He had very peculiar eating habits, and acted like Rain Man in the restaurant.  He was just a bit weird and socially awkward.  I realized quickly that we would never go any further than the weekend.  All I wanted was the sex…so we stopped trying to talk, we stopped trying to connect and we fucked until we both passed out, woke up and then, we fucked again.

There were a few others that fall into “The Heat Packers” category.  There was the older gentleman, who was into BDSM and introduced me to caning. (Such fond memories) He was quite a bit older than he professed, and I was initially put off by it.  I don’t like deception.  I almost backed out of our encounter, until I saw what he was packing.  This senior had a cock the size of my forearm and he was quite savvy with using it.  He was an expert in Tantric sex and he taught this little girl a thing or two…or ten.  I felt like I gushed every time he pushed himself inside me.

There was the retired NFL player.  I had never seen anything like Mr. Johnson’s Johnson.  I salivated from both sets of lips.  I didn’t know if I wanted to mount him or suck him first.  I just knew…I wanted him inside me.  And I left his place that night with TMJ from having to open my mouth so wide…and I could barely walk.  For DAYS.  Moral of the story…you can have too much of a good thing.

Enough of the big stuff…let’s dish on the others.  There was “Captain Hook” whose cock had an actual curve to it, to the left.  I was disappointed when I first saw it thinking it wouldn’t hit the right spots.  Boy…was I wrong.  The “hook” hooked me.  He understood how to use the curve to his advantage.  And I had another one whose member curved upwards.  That was another fun time.  And was especially hot when we did anal. It was the perfect blend of pleasure and pain.

There are the “pretty boys” whose cocks were a work of art.  If I possessed artistic flair, these are the ones I would have sketched, framed and put in my living room on display…on a fucking gallery wall.  The one that comes to mind is the drill instructor whose face and physique were a work of art…and when he dropped trou, I saw the clouds part and heard angels sing.  His cock was perfection.  Smooth.  Nice girth.  Perfect length.  The head was well-defined and fit snugly in my throat.  I loved to worship him.  I loved looking at his perfect member.  I loved how he fucked me.

There was my college boyfriend.  He had a beautiful dick.  He was ahead of the times and was clean shaven before it became popular and his cock was long and smooth.  It was very long.  He was 6’4 and his member was a representation of his long stature.  I remember how he would wake me up in the morning, already inside me.  I have never enjoyed a wake-up call as much I did then.

There are the “don’t judge the book by the cover” ones.  As I mentioned earlier in the post, I was surprised by how some of the most unassuming ones, were packing heat.  There were those who were absolutely incognito.  There was the detective.  He was a client of mine, when I worked for the escort service.  I was a bit worried when I realized he was in law enforcement…and thought…well, here goes, I’ll be in jail by midnight.  But he truly just wanted to fuck someone who was not as inhibited as his dowdy little wife.  He wore glasses and looked the part of a nerd.  Not judging ( I love a nerd) and I thought…okay, let’s get this over with.  I was surprised, he had a very nice dick.  Well-proportioned.  And once clothes were off, he lost his nerd-like demeanor and handled his business.  He paid for an extra hour and even fucked me in the ass. He was confident because he was aware of his manhood.  And on the flip side…there was the triathlete who had some serious swagger.  I was anticipating a wild romp in the hay…but not the case.  His endurance was limited to athletics and I wondered if he had used steroids.  We will just leave it at that.

So to recap…I have had my share of surprises, disappointments and more than my fair share of learning along the way.  One thing is I am and always will be enamored with the male anatomy.  It’s certainly not penis-envy, but rather pure adoration and appreciation of cock.  And on that note, I will close.

Think it’s time to “adore and appreciate” someone…

the goods

(Photo credits, Pinterest)

Wonderland

elevator

My descent into the downward spiral of the rabbit hole was exhilarating.  I peeled off the mask I’d been wearing for seven years, finally recognizing my reflection in the looking glass.  It was me.  I had returned.  The darkness around me was a familiar place of refuge and I felt alive.

Greg continued his massage of my shoulders, slowly easing his hands towards my soft breasts.  He was gentle in his touch and I longed to kiss him again  Time was passing quickly and we couldn’t stay behind closed doors alone for much longer.  Someone was bound to notice and there would be talk.

Greg turned me around to face him.  “We should continue this later.  We don’t want to create any suspicion around here.”

I nodded in agreement.  He quietly unlocked the door and placed a chair under the vent he’d inspected.  “When you open the door, I will be on the chair pretending to diagnose your issue with the vent.  That should ward off any talk.”

He stood on the chair and as I moved towards the door. I noticed the bulge of his crisp khaki pants.  I paused as I walked by him, taking a moment to look up in his eyes seductively.  I casually opened the door and slid out of the office unnoticed by anyone.  He pretended to work with the vent for a few more minutes before leaving.

When I returned to my office, there was a note in my desk:

You name the time, and I will make time. Come see me in my office before you leave.  

Hmmm…Instructions.  I liked the tone of this note.  Around 4:50, I visited his office.  He was busy working on several projects, but welcomed me in.

“What are your plans for Friday night?’ he asked.

“I don’t really have any.  He is working nights and my son is staying over at a friend’s house.”

“Okay.  Could you stay out for a few hours?” he asked.

My face felt flushed.  It just dawned on me that I was about to dive in this pool.  I was about to plan this tryst with him.  I felt nervous at the thought of being intimate with someone new.  I’d brainwashed myself into monogamy and I began feel a slight moral dilemma.

“Is this too much, too soon Tess?” he asked.  I guess he could read my face.  He could see that I was struggling with making definite plans.

“No, it’s not.  I want this.  It’s not too soon…in fact it’s a bit late.  And yes, I can safely stay out until midnight”

He pondered his next comment.  “I am thinking we should meet at the Sheraton around 8:00.  I will get the room.  Just promise me this, if you change your mind, you will tell me and I will promise to do the same for you.”

I nodded in approval, “I don’t think I will back out, Greg. I don’t think Friday can get here fast enough for me.”

He grinned.  My LAWD the man was sexy.  It was only Tuesday.  How could I hold out until Friday?

The week moved on at its normal pace.  I was super-busy and so was he.  We would exchange niceties in the halls and spoke in morning meeting.  We both understood that we needed to WAIT for Friday.  We understood the intense heat between us and knew if we found ourselves alone for any amount of time that we would go too far.  That couldn’t happen at work.

Friday arrived and I felt like backing out.  I didn’t have a change of heart, but I was nervous about our encounter.  I somehow pushed through the day.  When the evening arrived, I took my time getting ready.  My son was with friends.  My husband at work.  And I had the house to myself.  I took a long, hot shower.  I made sure my skin was perfectly smooth.  I prepared myself as if I were going out on a first date.

I had just received a cell phone for work a few days prior.  Greg already had one and that’s how we communicated.  He called me around 7:30 to give me the room number.My heart jumped when the phone rang.  I knew it was him calling with the location.  His voice was deep and sexy, “Hello, Tess.  I am here.  The room is perfect, come on when you’re ready.  It’s room 719”

I did some last minute preparations and headed out. It took about 10 minutes to get to the hotel.  I arrived and the door to the room was ajar.  I knocked lightly as I opened it.  The lights were out and there were candles lit.  I looked down and noticed a trail of clothes on the floor.  Shoes. Socks. Pants. Shirt.  I followed the trail and saw him standing at the end.  He had on nothing but black boxers and that devilish smile.

I walked towards him and he pulled me close.  My face rested on his warm, toned chest.  He smelled divine. His skin was smooth and I rested my head on his heart as he stroked my hair. He pulled my face to face his.  His eyes smiled as he looked into mine. He planted a kiss on me that made me swoon.  I literally felt weak in the knees.

He pulled me close again, as he began removing my clothes.  Piece by piece.  He turned me around, with my back to him, as he unzipped my little black dress.  He carefully slid it over my head, leaving me there in my (matching) ivory and black lace bra and panties. He ran his hands over my back and carefully unfastened my bra.  He slowly pulled it away from my body as my breasts spilled out. He turned me to face him again as he looked at my body.  He kissed me as he guided me towards the crisp white bed.

“Lay down and get comfortable.” he instructed.  He sat next to me and massaged my body, circling my breasts, softly rubbing my legs, tickling my abdomen as he stroked it like a feather.  He kissed me as he touched the place between my legs.  I was still wearing my panties and he teased me by tracing the edges of the elastic with his fingertips.  I wanted him to rip them off and fuck me sore.  I wanted him to unleash what I’d held onto for seven years.  I wanted him badly.

He stood up and pulled my panties off.  They were moist from my arousal.  He dropped to his knees and buried his face in my thighs, exploring my slit with his tongue.  I whimpered and moaned in delight.  He slid a finger into my slippery place as he probed for the sweet spot.  Once he found it, I came immediately.  He stood up and I sat up, dropping to my knees on the floor, taking in all of his length in one movement.  He almost lost his balance as he felt for the bed under him.

I worshipped his ample cock.  I licked the shaft slowly, deliberately circling the head with my tongue before taking it deep.  I sucked softly and then aggressively, like the greedy slut I was.  I teased him by only taking in the tip and then taking it as far as it would go down my throat.  I don’t think he’d ever received anything like that.  He was so hard.  As much as I wanted to swallow his load, I also wanted to feel him deep within me.

I stood up and he pulled me on top of him.  His cock was slick with my saliva and it easily slid inside me.  I moved my body down onto his, feeling how he filled me.  I started to grind and buck, taking his cock deeper with each stroke.  I found myself going faster and faster, overcome with pleasure as we headed to orgasm.  We came together and I fell onto the bed beside him.  We both just lay there…in awe of what had just transpired.

“You okay, Tess?” he asked.  He was slightly out of breath.  I replied, “I am better than I have been in forever.”

He pulled me onto his chest and brushed the hair out of my face.  Looking at me, he said, “That was amazing.  I want more of you.  I want to have you as many times as I can tonight, you feel so good.”  I was speechless, as I was still recovering from the high.  But I found myself morphing back into the naughty girl from years past.

We took a candlelit bubble bath together and fucked again.  He took me from behind that time.  He filled every space inside me.  As he was about to unload, he pulled my shoulders back to edge in as far as he could.  He let out a primal growl as he filled me.  I loved it.  I wanted him rough.  I wanted him to use my body for his pleasure.  I wanted to give him something he didn’t get at home.  I wanted to be slut he needed me to be.

We carried on throughout the night.  Around midnight, we both got ready to leave.  He helped me put on my dress, but refused to let me put on my panties.  He said I should keep them off, as he found it sexy.  I was happy to oblige.  He walked me to the elevator and pushed the button for the penthouse.  I was confused.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Just taking a ride, that’s all.  Gives us a few more minutes together” And with that comment, he walked over to me, slipped his hand up my dress.  Pushing two fingers in my hole, he fingered me on the elevator for a couple of floors.  He slipped them out and put them in my mouth, running them around my lips.  I could taste my sex and his seed.  He then pinned me to the wall and kissed me.  “Now we have tasted each other together.  Until next time, baby.”  He kissed my cheek and walked off the elevator as it we had just reached the ground floor.  He walked to the left.  I walked out to the right.

And as I made my way to the car I thought about the evening and once again, I felt weak in the knees...

 

(photo credits, Pinterest)

Desire

Today is just one of those days…

Nothing spectacular happened.  Nothing horrible happened.  Work is work.  It was filled with a nice blend of meaningless drama and monotony.  The most exciting part of the day was when someone’s popcorn caught fire in the microwave.  But that was fleeting…however, the smell lingered.

Today, I swam in the quagmire…treading water in a bottomless pool of menial tasks and my thoughts drifted to a very dark, very decadent place.  All I could think about was hot, dirty, rough, consuming sex.  The kind of sex where you feel it in your bones the next day…with every step.

I want it.  I need it.  I need my One to fuck me senseless.  I need to be taken.  Have him use my body for his pleasure.  I want to cum so much that out sheets are saturated.  I want to be so parched from the intensity that I can barely swallow and the only thing to quench my thirst is his sweet seed.  And after he fills my void, he will kiss me on the forehead and tell me I am his “good girl.”

I am such a naughty girl to crave such lust, but I can’t help it. My desire is overwhelming. I will kneel before him and beg for it. I will look up to him from my place below with wanton eyes.  And if I am lucky…he will give it to me.

And then I will write about every delicious detail, so I can relive it and share it with you.

knelt

Photo credit Pinterest

Prince Made Me Do It

I have a delayed response to grief.  It takes me a while to wrap me head around loss.  While those around me are openly grieving, I maintain a lovely state of blissful denial until I am ready to deal with it.  Maybe it is my defiant nature…maybe it’s my coping mechanism.  Who knows?

It’s been almost two weeks since Prince died.  If anyone should have taken bereavement leave, booked a plane ticket to Minnesota and sought counseling over his death…it should have been me.  I have been a fan for most of my life.  Let me correct that…I am more of a fanatic.  His words spoke to me.  I recall buying a copy of the album “1999” in 1983, at the tender age of eleven…which was before those PMRC bastards labeled everything.  I was hooked to his sound.  I was entranced by his lyrics.  I saved my babysitting allowance and bought every album he’d recorded before.  I immersed myself in Prince.  But I was careful not to let my parents hear the bad stuff…you know…those explicit lyrics that hypnotized me and led me down a path of enlightenment and tawdry deeds.

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Here are a few times in my life, where Prince was there with me.

I lost my virginity while a Prince song played in the background.  July 1985.  On a dirt road, in the backseat of a Monte Carlo.  The song was, “DMSR” (Dance Music Sex Romance) and it was like an aural premonition of my escapades to come. Prince sang of the things I wanted to try.  He fed my imagination…he inspired my carnal wanderlust.  I tapped into the primal side of my being as The Purple One had explicitly given me permission to be the beast I wanted to be. And I am forever grateful.

I channeled my inner stripper with Prince’s music.  After my stellar Superbowl party debut, I gained major confidence.  If I were performing for a current flame, or for him and a group of his closest friends, Prince was a go-to.  I loved dancing to “Erotic City” and closing the set out with “Scandalous.”  No one compared to him.  His words put me in a head space that allowed me to express myself in a most uninhibited way.  To let go of societal restrictions and be the naughty girl I wanted to be.

I got engaged to a Prince song.  I was in a relationship with a police officer for a couple of years. We enjoyed listening to Prince together (when we weren’t fighting) and when he decided to pop the question, he chose Prince’s “Diamond and Pearls” my least favorite song on that album.  He was so nervous when he asked me.  I think he would have been more content to just sing along with the song.  But the ring was lovely. Needless to say, the relationship didn’t last.  We went our separate ways and when he said I could keep the ring…I sold it and went on a shopping spree, treating myself to a few fabulous outfits in hopes of snagging the next unsuspecting gent.

Looking back, Prince was there for it all.  The good.  The bad.  The naughty.  He was like a little purple devil on my left shoulder, egging me on, whispering breathy lustful desires into my ear.  Prince inspired my hedonistic side.  In many ways, he is directly responsible for who I became.  Prince gave me confidence. Prince gave me permission.  Prince dismissed any of my insecurities, and summoned the vixen within.

I am often asked which song I like most.  Which album?  This is an impossible question for such an obsessed fan..but here is my answer.  I was introduced to Prince with the album, “1999” and that will always be my favorite for that reason.  As for my favorite song?  That’s a story in itself.  I first heard the song “Adore” while working (and playing) at the radio station.  The song is a raw profession of adoration for his One.  I recall hoping that one day, if I was lucky, I would find the One…the person who made me feel the lyrics of that song.  And it took a long time, but finally…I have my One.  The One worthy of all I am.  The One who owns my heart…who owns my mind.  I truly adore him.

And Prince is right, “Love is too weak to define just what (he) means to me”

Until the end of time, Prince.  RIP, you sexy motherfucker.  

prince

 

The Good Girl’s Guide to Getting What You Want

faster pussycat

You know, the Rolling Stones will tell you that ‘You Can’t Always Get What You Want’….and they are mistaken.

As much as I love Mick and the boys…they got this one wrong.  You can get what you want.  You just need to know how to ask for it.  And I am here to help you…

There are those types who are able to learn things the easy way.  They read instruction manuals.  They change their air filters every 30 days.  They even check the batteries in their smoke detectors on a regular basis.  They tend to make well-informed decisions.  They color in the lines.  This type of person usually understands what they want and they take the well-traveled, well-lit, path of least resistance towards their goal.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with this type of persona.  I admire them.  I wish I could be more like them.  But I fall into a completely different category.

I have to figure out what I don’t want to understand what I do want.  I must take the long route to my destination. I need to sample everything on the menu to figure out what tastes good.  And I have certainly done that in my love life.  Did it and loved it.  Did and it and liked it.  Did it and thought…what the hell was I thinking???

It has taken me quite a while to embrace who I am.  Over the years I have kissed many princes, a few princesses and a ton of frogs…but I emerged from the disheveled beds of lovers past to find my true self.  I share this with you to illustrate that it may take you time and trial and error to figure out what you like.  It is not always an easy path, but the destination is well worth the journey.

There are few scenarios that led me to this place of self-discovery (which spiraled me into self-indulgence…but we will save that for another post). From an early age, I knew I was different than my friends, with a different perspective on life and a much more liberal but grounded view of sex.  I knew I wanted to try everything.  I wanted to know what felt good.  How to make my partner feel good.  And in this quest, I longed to take risks.  Whether it was sex in a public place.  Sex with more than one.  Sex for hire.  I knew I wanted to live on the edge.  I guess you could say that I am my own version of an adrenaline junkie.   The lesson here for me, the underlying theme…I like the thrill of the risk.  I like to teeter on the edge of danger.

How do you ask your lover for danger?  How do you translate this need into your ‘day-to-day romp in the hay’?  How do you verbalize that you want to be choked to the brink of unconsciousness, without them looking at you like you are an alien life form?  Without them worrying they could hurt you?  How do you ask him to carve his initials in your flesh, without him stealing a side glance to look for his getaway car?  The answer is simple.

knives

Choose a partner whose demons play well with your demons.  For all of us kinky motherfuckers out there…this means, make sure their kinks align with your kinks.  It is likely that two sadists won’t play well together.  Not to say they couldn’t…it’s just that one person may walk away hungry, while the other is full…when both should be sated.  Do you feel me?  Not saying you should dump your mate if they’re not into what you’re in to…but look for the compromise.  What’s the common ground?  Maybe he is not comfortable with breath play that involves his hands around your throat…but he is turned on by gagging you with his cock deep in your throat.  For those of us who like breath play, this may work as a great compromise.  He likes.  You like.  Everyone is happy.

Communicate openly and honestly with your partner.  This can be difficult.  What if you want something that you are afraid to verbalize to anyone…even your lover?  And that risk of rejection and humiliation keeps you from uttering the words…Take for example, my fascination with knives, needles and sharp objects.  I am not a cutter.  I have never tried self-mutilation or anything of that nature, however, I find it erotic to have my lover “puncture” my skin.  It’s about giving up the control to another..the manifestation of release as the point breaks my skin.  And I enjoy watching the wound heal.  (For any shrinks reading this…I may need to privately message you).  This is something I like, but rarely engage in with my One.  He is not comfortable cutting me, as we have tried it, however, he is adept at inflicting just enough pain and puncture with the Wartenberg wheel, for me to be satisfied.  It works out.  And I am happy.

Stay present and in the moment.  This can be challenging for some..myself included.  There are usually about ten random thoughts buzzing about in my brain at any given time.  When I am being fucked, my head isn’t always in the game.  Not that it’s not good…it could be that it is very good and I am trying to figure out what is making it so good, so it can be repeated. But get out of your own way…relax and enjoy the moment.  Relish in the pleasure.  Don’t try to over-analyze.  Just learn what feels good.  And then tell your partner.  (You could even take it to another level and add in some dirty talk)   When they know you like something, they are more apt to do it.

Let go.  Let go of all of the bullshit.  Let go of your doubts.  Embrace your beauty.  Embrace your body.  The softness of your skin, the warmth of your breath, the wetness of your sex.  Let go of your hang-ups.  Evict the negativity from your brain, and indulge in the pleasure.  Let go of your fears. If there’s something you want, ASK FOR IT.  You will know when the time is right.  Tell your lover your fantasies.  Lose the fear of rejection or judgement.  You may need to learn how to translate your desires in a way they can understand.  I often talk about my fantasies as a lead in to foreplay.  As he kisses my neck and I know where we are headed, I may whisper in his ear, “I want to feel your warm load all over my face tonight.  I’ve been thinking about it.  How I would look.  I want you to take a picture so I can enjoy it too.” Yes…that is a little risque for some.  And it may not be your cup of tea…but this was something I wanted.  And guess what?  I got it.  (I really got it.  And on a side note, be careful and don’t get it in your eyes.  It burns.)

It Is a Two-Way Street.  The best way to get what you want is to give.  Give your partner what he wants.  Learn what he likes and give it freely.  And before you over-think this concept, remember the art of compromise.  He may whisper in your ear that he has always wanted to see you with another woman.  And this may be something you are not willing to do.  It may not appeal to you at all.  Now what?  I am pretty open to this idea, but would be hesitant to act on it.  I mean where does one randomly find another woman willing to play with you and your mate for an evening…that doesn’t cost you a fortune?  With that being said…if I were in this situation, I would ask him to open up about what he wants to see and take it from there.  “I want to watch another woman make you cum.  I want to see her face buried in your sweet pussy.  I want to watch you lose control.”  Even if the fantasy was not possible, I would respond with something like this…”I can feel her soft lips on my nipples (as I fondled my breasts) moving down to my sweet spot.  Her long hair tickles my legs and her mouth is wet and warm on my skin. (I would begin touching myself for him to see).  Tell me what you want to happen next.”  Acting out this scenario (without the other woman) helps to give him the fantasy without making you uncomfortable.  It may or may not be enough for him.  Regardless of what happens next, you have responded to his needs.  You have listened to his desires without judgement.  He feels comfortable sharing what he wants with you…which opens the door for you to share what you desire.  It’s a win-win.  Not all fantasies come to fruition.  And that’s okay.  

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Just remember this…there are very few mind readers out there.  It’s probable that neither you nor your lover have this superpower.  Simplify.  Just say what you want.  Listen to what they are saying to you.  Be responsive.  Go all in, or find the compromise that satisfies you both.

Now go forth, kinky motherfuckers.  Go get what you want.

mick

 

Wicked Wednesdays with Tess, Presents…Diabolically Yours

(Due to some unforeseen technical issues, I am wrapping up the Wicked Wednesday Series, a little late.  But I hope you find this worth the wait. Presenting a tale from my own darkside…the devil is in the details.  Hope you enjoy!)

The Halloween season always brought him to mind. It had been years since they’d been together. Regardless of space and time, he left an indelible mark on her psyche. This man, stirred her to the core unlike anyone else. And on this dark and desolate evening, she pined for him.

He was an enigma and almost seemed as if he was not of this world. Larger than life. There was a darkness within him that drew her in. It engulfed her like the flames and embers from hell itself. The burn….the wonderful slow burn.

I wonder where he is now, she thought to herself. And in the same breath, she dismissed the thought as a lost cause. He had moved far away and reconnecting would be difficult. For all she knew…he was married with kids and a lovely wife, living in the suburbs…blending in with the rest of society.

But again…this was him. He wasn’t the type to “blend in” anywhere. He was a different breed of man and not the type to settle down. She knew that type of personality well….as she found herself still single. She could never find anyone who understood and embraced her restless spirit.

After reliving their tumultuous affair in her mind, she decided to look him up online. It only took a few minutes and she found him. He was not married with kids. And he was not halfway across the country. He was less than an hour away. Her stomach stirred….her heart raced. What to do? Do I contact him…she thought. Do I leave it alone?

And before she knew it, her phone rang. There was no number, it simply read “unknown” and she surmised it was likely a telemarketer, as she had been bombarded with them since changing her number. After a few seconds, she noticed the caller left a voicemail message. And she also noticed it was after 10:00 pm…not a typical time for such calls.

She played the voicemail and immediately recognized the voice. It was dark and brooding. It was HIM! It had been less than fifteen minutes since she’d looked him up. Her cell number was new. How could he have found her so quickly? How did he know? Was he thinking of her too? It just seemed weird and predestined.

His message was short, “It’s me. You know who I am. I was just thinking of you and would love to talk. Call me.” Just hearing his voice gave her butterflies. She composed herself and dialed his number.

“Hello, Elise. I am happy you called.”

“Hello, Jude. How are you?” she asked

“Better now. I’ve been thinking of you a lot lately. I would love to see you. When can we meet?” he was direct and to-the-point, as always.

Taken aback and burning with excitement, she managed to stutter her response, “I am free tomorrow, if you are?”

He paused for a few seconds, “That works, but I was thinking about now.”

She looked around at the disarray in her house. She had been working long hours all week and hadn’t tidied up at all. There’s no way she could have him over, but she found herself saying, “Okay. Good”

“Great. I’ll pick you up in an hour.” And before she could respond, he hung up the call. Does he even know where she lives? She attempted to call him back and the number he gave her was not valid. What the hell?

She got herself ready. She recalled what he liked her to wear…corsets. She fumbled through her lingere chest and found the perfect one. It was black lace with silver accents. It laced up in the back. She shimmied herself into it, tying it as tightly as she could. She looked at herself in the mirrot. “wow…i’ve still got it” she muttered. She drew closer to her reflection. Her eyes looked funny. The hazel/green color looked darker. Before she could look any longer, her phone rang.

“Is this Elise?” it was a woman’s voice on the line.

“Yes, it is. Who is this?” she asked. After all it was almost 11:00 pm.

“I am Jude’s driver. I am in route to pick you up. Are you ready?”

“Yes, well almost. I will be in a few minutes.” and the phone went silent.

Moments later, she heard a knock at the door. Standing there was a tall blond woman wearing a tight black turtleneck sweater, black skirt and boots. She was gorgeous. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail and her skin was as white as porcelain. Her eyes were dark and her lips were red.

She grabbed her keys, purse and phone and followed his driver.

The driver ushered her into a large black SUV. She felt the tightness of the corset through her black dress. Her stilettos looked amazing with the dress. She felt sexy in her clothes. She wondered if he would approve.

And just then, her phone rang. It was him.

“Did Tasha pick you up?” he asked.

“Yes. You must be very important to have your own driver.” she jeered.

He laughed and said, “I will see you soon, Elise.”

Elise had no idea where she was going. The driver mentioned the location, but it was not anywhere that Elise recognized. They crossed over a river on a old rickety bridge. It rattled and swayed as they made their way to the other side.

“That’s it up ahead.” Tasha said.

There was a stone wall around the property and the wrought iron gate squeaked as it opened for them to pass through. The house was enormous. It looked like a medieval castle, or a royal estate. She was puzzled. She didn’t recall him being wealthy. The last time they saw each other, he lived in a loft apartment on the river.

“What kind of work does Jude do?” she asked the driver.

Tasha replied, “He’s into a lot of different things. He’s very good at what he does.”

And just like that, she pulled into the side garage. He was standing there to greet her.

“Hello, Elise.” he held out his hand and helped her out of the vehicle. He was still as handsome as before.  He was wearing all black also.  His physique was perfect.  She could tell by the way he looked at her that he liked what he saw. “It’s been a long time. You look great. Just as I remembered. Come with me, I’ll show you in.”

They entered the large dining room. The table was huge and could easily seat 40 or more. There was a place set for the two of them. He guided her over to her place and pushed her chair to the table.

“I thought we would have a light meal as we catch up.”

She was speechless. It was almost too much. The house…no the mansion was gorgeous…the stuff of celebrities. The meal before them looked to be gourmet. And he was as striking as always. Tall. Dark. Brooding. He hadn’t changed at all. In fact, he looked like he had aged in reverse.

They ate as they caught up on the last 10 years. He spoke of his new business and how he been very fortunate to land a couple of profitable deals that lead to his success. She told him about finishing her Masters degree and opening up a counseling center to help troubled children. They chatted on an on, picking right up where they left off. The chemistry between them felt more intense than before.

“Were you surprised to hear from me tonight?”

She smiled shyly, “Yes and no. I was actually looking you up online when you called me. How did you get my number?”

He grinned, “I have my ways.”

“How did you know where I live? You’re not a stalker are you?” she joked.

“No I am not a stalker.” His tone was a bit different. He moved in closer to her. He moved her hair back from her neck and whispered, “No, Elise. I am not a stalker. I conjured you”

She snickered, “You conjured me? Ha! Maybe I conjured you! I have been thinking of you a lot lately.”

He was very serious, “Yes I know. That’s how I was able to find you. Your thoughts led me to you.”

She was beginning to get a bit creeped out. Had he gone mad since she last saw him. What the hell was he talking about???

“You don’t remember, do you?” he asked.

“Remember what?” she asked.

“Your promise to me. What you promised to give me?” he said.

Her mind was racing. What had she promised him so many years ago? What was it he wanted from her? They were never really a couple. They were more of a physical thing. He was a sadist who found pleasure in pushing her limits. There was no real relationship. They fed off of each other. Their sex was ethereal and molten hot. But she began a serious relationship with another and they soon went their separate ways. She tried to piece together their last encounter.

“I don’t remember. I am sorry. What did I promise you?” she nervously asked.

He laughed and took her face into his hands. He kissed her and she was transformed back to their last tryst. She was tied to his bed, legs spread wide as he poured hot wax all over her form. The sting was painful and sweet and he tormented her for what felt like hours. He asked her, “who do you belong to?”

She could hear herself…from 10 years ago, say, “I belong to you.”

“Do I have your mind? Your body? Your soul?” he asked.

In a breathless whisper, she said, “Yes. You have all of me.”

He pulled away from kissing her and looked deep into her eyes. “Now do you recall? You promised me your soul. Now I am here to collect, Elise. I want you. All of you. Give yourself to me.”

She felt an ominous sense of fear and trepidation as she asked, “Who are you, Jude? Who are your really? Tell me.”

He chuckled, “Oh Elise, you know who I am. You’ve always known.”

She felt his hand around her throat as she blacked out.  When she awoke she was bound to his bed, as like ten years before.  He was staring at her naked body.  There was a look in his eyes.  He wanted her.  And as terrified as she was, she wanted him.

“What are you going to do to me?” she asked.  Her voice was trembling in fear.

“I am going to fuck you, Elise.  I’ve never stopped thinking of you.  I want you to be here.  With me.  Will you be mine forever?”

Before she took another breath, she said, “Yes”

He entered her in one movement and she felt ecstasy unlike anything before.  She had an orgasm, instantly. Followed by another and another.  He ravaged her and she welcomed him into her body with each thrust.  And as he unloaded inside her, her entire life played before her eyes.  She saw her entire existence.  From birth on.  He could see it too, after all he had been there the entire time.  Lurking in the shadows.  Waiting to take her.

And now he had her.  She was his.  Mind.  Body.

And Soul.

For eternity.

devil

 

The Little Death

The French refer to orgasm as “la petite mort” or the little death.  I have always been a Francophile and obviously I am also a fan of orgasms, so it seems fitting to write of this phenomenon.

The orgasm.  The mere mention of the word in mixed company can elicit smiles, sighs, daydreams, anxiety, erections and a host of other emotions.  It is quite the buzzword (no pun intended).  Is it merely a physical response or it there something more to it? Why is it so easy for some to have an orgasm, while it is elusive for others?

I am no expert, but I can share with you my journey; my love-hate-love-infatuation-adoration relationship with knowing how to arrive at the big O.  It’s a path of discovery, trial and error, failed debacles and self-acceptance. First things first…Is orgasm merely a physical response to stimuli that builds up and then ends in release?  Or is there a mental component to “cumming”?

For me, I have to be in the right head-space to let go and have an O.  If my mind is not stimulated, my body will stage a coup and refuse me a proper ending…almost like a cliffhanger episode on a soap opera.  I have to feel connected and present in the moment.  I need to feel connected with my partner.  And most importantly, I have to feel comfortable in my own skin.  Free to say and do what comes naturally.  If I feel confined or inhibited in any way, I can see the next exit labeled, “orgasm ahead’ I just cannot get there.  And it doesn’t matter who is driving…how fast or slow…it doesn’t matter the route, it’s not happening unless I am mentally there.  It may not be this way for everyone.  But again…this is just my story of O.

From a purely physical place, I am blessed that I am one of those lucky souls who is able to have multiple orgasms.  And for long periods of time.  Eventually, the well of bliss will run dry, but I have been known to soak through towels, sheets and mattress protectors.  It used to bother me that I “released” so much during my climax, but I’ve learned to embrace it as the gift it is.

Being a submissive who has certain appetite for pain, I have experienced orgasms through powerful scenes.  I recall one instance where I was flogged for a long period of time and it caused me to gush everywhere. Afterwards, I felt like I was floating.  I was told by my fellow subbies out there, that this is “subspace” a place of euphoria that follows a particularly intense session of play.  For me, there is nothing else that compares to this feeling.  Which brings me to…

The crying orgasm.  Not trying to bring the mood down, but I have experienced orgasms that make me weep.  It’s a rare occurrence, but it is beautiful and profound when it happens.  I have encountered these white whales when there is a deep emotional bond with my partner.  It’s a place of openness and vulnerability that is hard to replicate.  It is as real as it gets for me.  To experience such pleasure, such release, such emotion and such love.

Moving on….

What do you do when you have an orgasm?  Everyone is different…trust me, I have been with my fair share and I’ve seen and heard it all.  Some are silent throughout.  Some are so loud, you worry about the neighbors calling in a SWAT team.  Others are in between.

I’ve been with the newscasters…those who broadcast each and every detail of the scenario, from start to finish.  Often it’s not even dirty talk…it’s more like:  “my dick is so hard.  this is my favorite way to fuck.  oh yeah…oh yeah. my dick is about to explode.  here it is…here it is…”  And not that these types bother me, I rather enjoy hearing what they are experiencing, but if you’re on round two or three, it can get a bit monotonous.

I have vast experience with the “call of the wild” ones.  They usually let you know how much they are enjoying you, but trade in the descriptive banter for grunts, growls and feral-sounding screams when they orgasm and unload.  I find this type hot as hell.  Primal.  Earthly. Authentic.

There are the drill instructors.  “faster…slower…deeper…ride my cock…take that cock…fuck me…slow it down…give it to me now.”  And that’s just the first 30 seconds of the encounter.  They are bossy and demanding.  And in the right head-space, I love a drill instructor…but I could never enjoy that on a daily basis.  Just me, but I think that could become confusing!  And when they come, they announce it…every part of it…much like the newscasters.

As for myself…I am a bit loud.  I don’t even realize it.  I sound a lot like my “call of the wild” counterparts.  And on a handful of occasions, I have laughed hysterically during an orgasm.  Looking back, that laughter was a close relative to crying.  I was so overcome with emotion, that I laughed my cock-filled ass off.  But that is a rare happening.

To the women who are reading this…do you experience clitoral orgasms, G-spot orgasms, anal orgasms, or D…all of the above?  I have had them all.  And the G-spot orgasm is hands-down (no pun there) my favorite.  It is unlike any other feeling of pleasure for me.  A real bonus is when I have all 3 of these at the same time.  That has only happened one time in my life.  It was so profound, I had to take a day off of work to process it.  It was mind-blowing and life-changing.  And I am always ready to relive the experience….Really ready.  It’s got me daydreaming.

You know what?  I could use that day off.

the o

Into the Woods (Wicked Wednesday Series)

Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest.

Her senses were attuned to everything around her.  The air smelled of pine mixed with the scent of rain.  She could hear faint raindrops as they hit the forest floor.  It was a soft, gentle rain.  In different circumstances she would have found this sound soothing.  But not tonight.  There was a bit of a chill in the air around her.  It was the first cool autumn night of the season.   Her hair was damp from the mist as it clung to her face.  The dusk quickly approached, she strained to see what was around her.

She was in the middle of the woods.  Alone.  Her wrists bound with rope, between two small trees.

The evening had begun innocently enough.  She and her boyfriend were visiting some friends, Justin and Marley, at their lake house for the weekend.  They arrived early Saturday afternoon and spent most of the day cooking, drinking cocktails and playing board games.  The drink she enjoyed the most was a spiked apple cider, served warm.  It tasted so good, she had not realized how potent it was.  She found herself buzzed when she recommended they play a game of truth or dare.  Everyone was eager for some fun.  Over a warm fire they shared some of their deepest, darkest “truths” but no one had accepted a dare.  Feeling a bit uninhibited from the cider, she wanted to stir things up.  On her next turn, she chose the dare.  Her boyfriend Jamie instructed her to finish her drink and walk outside towards the woods.

Little did she know the dare would land her in the middle of the woods, helpless, tied and frightened by what would come next.

You see, that’s what happens when you play truth and dare with the wrong people.

As she stood there, she couldn’t remember just how she got into the position she was in.  She recalled drinking a lot…she remembered walking along the path in the woods.  She remembered Jamie lagging behind her.  But she had no recollection of being tied to the trees.  It was as if she passed out or something.

Trying to piece it all together, she was startled to hear footsteps behind her.  She tried to turn her head to see who was there, but the darkness around her made it impossible to discern.  She tried to move her wrists, but the rope was secure and didn’t budge.

Her voice was shaky as she tried to sound confident, “Who’s there?  Jamie, is that you? This isn’t funny, you know!”

There was no response.  The footsteps stopped and she could feel someone standing close to her.  She desperately tried to see who was there.  She could feel them watching her.

Suddenly she felt someone touch her face.  “Shhh…don’t worry.  You are fine.  We are just having some fun, remember?”

She recognized the voice as Marley, Justin’s girlfriend.  What was she doing out there?  What was going on?

Marley stood behind her and pulled her hair back from her face.  She whispered in her ear.  “You’re really going to enjoy this.”  And she walked away.

Amanda was terrified.  She called to her, “Marley, wait!  What is happening?  Please untie me.”

In all the commotion, she didn’t hear Jamie walk up.  He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.  “You look so sexy like this.”  He was holding a lantern and the flame provided enough light for their eyes to meet.

“What is going on, Jamie?  I don’t like this.  Untie me!” she demanded.

Jamie smiled and said, “I wish I could, but the dare is not over.”  He began to unbutton her shirt slowly as she protested, “What are you doing?  Not here!  Someone could see me.”

“Why are you worried, it’s just us out here.  Relax.  It’s dark.”

“I don’t like this.  Untie me, please.  I just want to go back to the lake house.” she begged.

“Not yet.” his tone was dark and ominous.  Just then, she felt his hands on her breasts, moving down between her legs.  With one hand on her sex he held her by the chin and said, “I am going to fuck you here, in the woods.  And here’s the dare…they are going to watch us.”

As scared and panicked as she was, she was immensely turned on at the thought.  She looked him deep in his eyes and said, “Then get on with it…if you dare.”

He loosened the rope from the trees and told her to put her arms around him.  He then pinned her to the large oak tree as he rammed himself into her wetness.  She let out a scream and threw her head back against the tree as he pushed himself further into her.  The bark scratched her back through her open shirt, but she didn’t care.  She could feel the others watch them by the light of the lanterns around.  Now there were three couples there.  A few of them completely nude.  Watching him take her on that tree.

He let out a growl that sounded like a wild animal as he unloaded inside her.  She could see her warm breath in the cool mist as she came with him.  It was so hot.  So primal.  So taboo.  They both fell to the ground and found themselves covered in the wet leaves and cold earth.

A hand reached out to her to help her up to her feet.  It was Justin.  Half naked and ravaged, she shyly stood up and as their eyes met, she found herself wanting him.  Wanting him to take her as Jamie did.  Wanting Jamie and Marley to watch them.

It was as if he could read her thoughts as he laid his robe on the ground and pushed her to her knees, filling her mouth with his large, hard cock.  She sucked him furiously, on fire with lust.  He joined her on the ground as Marley greeted her with a wet kiss. Marley began to feel her breasts as Justin moved behind her, pushing himself into her slick cunt.  Amanda began to scream in ecstasy as another couple approached them, wanting to watch more closely.

It was a wicked scene.  Justin fucking her from behind while she and Marley explored each other.  Both of them hungry to taste of the other.  Amanda writhed with pleasure as they continued to have their way with her, in front of Jamie and the others.  She heard Justin say to Marley, “Now.  Do it now.”  Marley was sucking her nipples and Amanda felt her soft lips move up to her neck.  It was heavenly, and then…the pain.  Excruciating, wonderful pain.

She wailed as Marley’s teeth penetrated her neck.

The light from the window awoke her.  She found herself in their guest room snuggled in the bed, under a white down comforter.  She heard someone walk in.  It was Jamie.  He was fresh out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist.  He kissed her on the forehead and said, “It’s about time you woke up!  Bet you are hung-over after all the drinks.  How are you feeling, you lush?” He snickered as he walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

She was dazed.  Was it all a dream?  It felt so real.  She rubbed her neck to feel for the bite.  But there was nothing. She looked in the mirror and there was nothing.  She looked at her wrists and there were no marks from the rope.  Her body didn’t feel sore.  Her nails weren’t dirty.  Her body was clean and she was wearing the pink cotton gown she’d packed for the weekend.  She looked for her clothes from the night before.  They were in a heap on the floor by her suitcase.  Nothing was unusual.  They weren’t dirty or stained from being in the woods.

She thought to herself, “I guess it was a dream.”

She readied herself for a shower, pulling her hair back to put it in a ponytail, when she felt a small twig tangled in her mane….

Just then, outside her bedroom door she heard Marley say to Justin, “Hey baby, breakfast was good, but I’m still hungry.”  They both laughed a sinister laugh, as they continued down the hall towards the deck.

darkness

Sex and the Married Man

Fall, 1992.

His name was Tony.  We met at the local gym.  I was 19 and he was 32.  He was a bodybuilder who worked security at the nearby top-secret nuclear weapons site.  He had such an attitude about himself.  I was immediately drawn to him.

“You’re not doing that right,” he said.

I looked up from the machine I was using and our eyes met.  There was a long stare and uncomfortable silence.  Then I remembered…I needed to respond.

“Really?  I am new here and I have never worked on this machine.  Could you show me how to do it properly?”  I smiled as I batted my eyes at him.

He looked into my eyes and with his sexy smirk said, “Oh yeah, I will show you how to do it right.”

Before I knew it, he was standing behind me, not an inch separated his body from mine.  He guided me in the proper form and use of the machine I was using.  We did several reps together before he stepped away.

“I am Tony.  I’m a regular here.  Let me know if you need any help.”  And just like that, he was gone to the free-weight section to lift with his friends.

I was smitten.  He was very good looking with an amazing body.  He was confident and sexy.  And I had to have him. From that day forward, I paid closer attention to what I wore to the gym.  I dabbed on a little makeup and ensured I smelled wonderful, despite how badly I was sweating.  I was disappointed…I didn’t see him again for a couple of weeks.  Just when I’d given up and ditched the pre-gym beauty regimen, I heard his voice behind me.

“Good to see you again.”

I turned to look at him and caught him checking me out from behind.  I smiled and said, “Caught you looking!”

“Of course I am looking.  Who wouldn’t notice you?”

We talked for a bit and he asked me to have lunch with him after our workout.  I agreed and we ventured to a local Applebees.  Over lunch he looked at me and said, “You know I’m married.”

Shit. Crap. Damn.  Motherfuck.  I always have luck like this…the good ones are always taken.  But this time, I decided to dig deeper.  “Why are we here then?” I asked.

“To eat lunch.” he smirked.

What a smart ass!  I could tell he enjoyed playing with me, so I gave it back to him.

“You are right, Tony.  We are having lunch.  But my question is…what is for dessert, lover?  I know what I am hungry for.” I was rather pleased with myself as I relaxed back in my chair and awaited his response.

“Finish up.  We are leaving.” he said.

I didn’t know if I’d offended him?  Misread his cues?   Overstepped?  I took a quick bite as he paid for the check.  We walked out as he said, “you are riding with me.”

I got into his black Mercedes convertible as he peeled out of the parking lot.  Nothing was said on the drive to his place.  I was nervous and confused by his demeanor and really didn’t know what to do.

We arrived at his condo about 10 minutes later.  He instructed me to wait in the car for five minutes before joining him.  I did as I was told.  I knocked on the door and he answered it in his boxers.  He pulled me into the house with a bit of force as he laid me out on the sofa and kissed me.

Before I knew it I was completely undressed.  And before I knew it my feet were on his large strong shoulders and his enormous cock was stretching my pussy as he entered me.  He pushed so deeply inside me that I gasped from the sensation.  I’d never felt anything quite like that.  He pushed deeper again and again.  The rhythm of how he fucked me was pure ecstasy.

“Do you like that, baby?  Do you like my big dick inside your tight little pussy?  Tell me you like it.”  His thrusts were harder and deeper and I was about to cum when he said, “Say it.  Do you like how I fuck you?”

I couldn’t hold back any longer and I screamed, “Yes…don’t stop fucking me” as I had an amazing orgasm.  He came at the same time and we both just sat there in silence for a few minutes.  We got dressed and as he drove me back to the gym he said, “She is on night shift this weekend.  I want to fuck you every night she works, got it?”

So forceful.  So demanding.  I freaking loved it.  I said, “Yes I’ve got it.  I want as much of you as I can get.”

And so it began….my first real affair.  Although I was blissfully single, he was not.  And I learned the rules of engagement quickly and effortlessly…like a good girl should.

More to come…and come….and come.

couch