I wanted her inside me

I wanted her inside me. I wanted to suck her cock. I wanted her cock in my ass. I got what I wanted. She’s very good about giving me what I want.

I teased her with my tongue and watched her quiver. I slid my lips up and down around her cock while my fingers played with her clit. Too roughly, she told me, and I eased my ministrations. I became enraptured with sending all my erotic energy, all my desire to her through the cock in my mouth. She began to rub her clit. I asked her if she was going to come in my mouth. She said she might. I told her that’s what I wanted. She came hard just after I felt the head slip back into my throat for the third time. I kept stroking her gently, the smooth silicone wet with my saliva.

She worked her glorious cock into me slowly. The head felt huge going in, even though I know it’s not. My muscles clamped down hard once it was inside. My legs were up in the air. She eased forward. I was impatient. I wrapped my legs around her. I pulled her hard into me.

She rocked gently back and forth. “Harder,” I said. She got more frenzied, bucking up against me. “Fuck me hard, bitch!” I bellowed. Stop. More lube. Start over. Slowly. Faster. Harder. She grabbed my cock with her lube slicked hand and jacked me off while slamming her cock hard and deep into me. I screamed. I came. I kept coming.

I wanted her inside me.

I got what I wanted.

Driving Home

“Are you warm enough?” I asked her. After several days of highs around 80°F it had suddenly dropped into the 30s and we were trying to get home before it got even colder. With the heater blaring in the car she answered in the affirmative.

“Good,” I replied. “Take your pants down to your knee.”

She bit her bottom lip in the cutest way and shuffled herself far enough off the seat to slide her khakis out of the way.

“Underwear too.”

She complied as I took the first two fingers of my right hand into my mouth, keeping the left on the steering wheel. I reached my hand down between her thighs, then told her to move her pants further down. She did and I spread her legs further apart. I slipped the damp fingers between her lips to find them damp as well. I touched her as gently as I could manage at the awkward angle, sliding them up and down, waiting for the familiar breakthrough of wetness. She began rocking so that my fingers were closer to her clit. I’m not the most perceptive lover in the world, but I was pretty sure I knew what that meant. I begin to circle around her clit, not wanting to put too much pressure on it so early. I was surprised at what I found.

“Your clit is already hard!”

She just breathed, “Mmm hmmm” as my fingers zeroed in on it, moving in fast circles.

We pulled up to a traffic light and stopped. She squeaked when she looked around. “All these people right there!” she exclaimed before moaning and pressing harder into me. I joked about needing to find an SUV who could see down into here better and she just moaned.

“Or a semi,” I continued, turning onto a darker side street. “Maybe we should just go find a truck stop and give those guys a show. They’d appreciate it. You feel like sucking some strangers’ cocks tonight?”

She didn’t say anything, just let out another of her adorable squeaks.

“You’re not answering me. You’ve got 5 se…”

“No.” The word came out like a moan. “No, not tonight.”

Her back was pressed into the seat into which she had sunk. My fingers continued making circles around her clit. We pulled up at the next light, this one always seemingly taking forever to change. It was there that her breaths turned to grunts which got faster and higher pitched. She thrashed in her seat, coming about a mile an a half from where we started. I was impressed. I was also thankful, as the strain on my arm was getting considerable.

We pulled through the now green light and my hand rested on her bare thigh while she breathed heavily, recovering from her orgasm. When she sounded calmed I ask her if she had recovered. When she said she had I gave her instructions.

“Good. You are to use at least two fingers to fuck yourself, hard and fast.”

She did as commanded. She was vigorous, hand rocking back and forth, fingers sliding in and out. We were still on dark roads, but as we pulled out onto a major, well lit thoroughfare she started moaning and writhing more. She’s such an exhibitionist. We pulled back into the dark and I kept glancing down to see her hand moving. I asked her how many finger she was using. “Two,” was the reply, so I told her to add another, and gently rock her hand back and forth. She did, using her other hand to help.

“Now, I want you to come for me again before we get home. If you do that then I’ll let you pull your pants back up before you go in the house.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” she said, sounding excited and nervous.

“Well then, you’d better start trying.”

She did. I couldn’t see what she was doing to herself, but within mere minutes she was screaming, climaxing for me as I’d instructed.

A few minutes of silence passed, filled only with her breathing before I muttered, “Damn.”

She let out a soft, breathy, “Hmmmm.”

As we approached the house I said I was going to take her in the house, bend her over the end of the couch and fuck her. She protested, saying she needed the bathroom and we had to put away groceries. We pulled into the driveway and she began covering her flesh again.

“Fine, when I stop the car you go inside to the bathroom. I’ll grab as many bags as I can and bring them in. You’d better be done and ready to fuck by then. If not I’m going to drag you off the toilet and fuck you anyway.”

She ran toward the door, and by the time I had the trunk of the car open she was gone. I set the bags down in the kitchen as she emerged from the bathroom. She leaned over the arm of the couch, pants around her ankles, her bare ass in the air. I unbuttoned and unzipped my fly and plunged my cock inside her. She bent her knees a bit and rested across the arm and I grabbed her hair and fucked her. Before long I pulled out and told her to go to the bed and hang her head off the edge. I was going to fuck her face.

She was still wasting no time, and was in position by the time I got to the bed. Still, I paused to undress, giving her a moment to get comfortable. Her head hung backward off the bed and she licked her lips and opened her mouth wide. I pushed all the way into her throat until I heard her start to choke, then pulled back out. I repeated this several times, and each time she held my cock in her longer. I pulled back and began fucking her mouth with faster, shorter strokes. Still, I didn’t want to come down her throat like I’d told her earlier. I wanted to fuck her.

I walked around to the other side of the bed and knelt between her legs. I slipped my arms under them and pulled her up all the way on to the bed. With her legs held high I slipped easily into her. After checking to make sure she was okay (I can easily bottom out in her in that position, leaving her rather sore) I didn’t hold anything back. I wanted to fuck her. I wanted to come in her. I did both those things.

After catching my breath I pulled myself up and began to get dressed. There were still groceries to bring in, after all. The dry fabric of my clothes only made the wetness of my cock, balls and everything adjacent even more obvious. While some of that certainly came from me, I feel pretty sure that she had enjoyed that thoroughly.

I’m so thankful for all the ways that she trusts me and for all the ways that she follows my instruction. I’m thankful for her inner slut (and its forays into being an outer slut). I’m thankful for the gorgeous flesh that she loves to display as much as I do. And I’m thankful that she’s mine. That every inch of her is mine as I am hers.

A Long Weekend of Sacred Partying for Mardi Gras

After a weekend of debauchery we are thoroughly debauched. Yup, completely out of bauch. We are bauchless. So many truly delightful things.

Saturday Gabe and I pursued some casual sex play with a trusted friend. This occurred very quickly after me learning how to invite said trusted friend into such activity. Go me for broaching the subject! After a lovely day hanging out in New Orleans, visiting Cafe Du Monde and Bourbon St, the three of us headed to Jasmine (a swingers’ club in NOLA) and had a fabulous time. Experiencing that kind of pleasure with somebody outside a relationship was new for me, and intensely enjoyable. He’s a lovely, lovely man, and Gabe watching me go down on him, or having him in my mouth while Gabe fucks me from behind, or getting fucked by both of them in quick succession… all of these things are WIN all around. 🙂

Also, we took Gabe’s girlfriend RedAugust to the sex club Sunday night. It was her first time, so the fact that the place was nearly dead actually came in really handy. We sat in the dungeon with the DM for some time, chatting and having a really interesting conversation. Gabe and I did some very lighthearted sensation exploration with some very intriguing, borrowed faux leather floggers. Then the three of us headed to “the board room” (the big group sex room) and used the mattresses there to our advantage. Gabe got his first tandem blow job, and certainly seemed satisfied with the experience.

It was really neat to have such different enjoyable experiences at the club so close to each other. Saturday, it was Gabe and I with a hot, sweet guy with very male energy, so I was deep in femme mode and a bit wired. Sunday night was with Gabe and RedAugust — we’re all in a committed relationship, so the vibe is more laid back, and we all had various stages of butchness/androgyny in our styles that night. Both were authentic, and both lead to very different physical sensations somehow… or at least a different mental filters for the sensations.

I’m also pleased about the fact that for so much of the weekend, I’ve pushed my envelope in loving ways, and stayed in a very sacred, engaged place. I’ve had new experiences, and immediately connected with the joy involved in them, which can be a very challenging act for me. This makes me happy.

We learned one practical element – we tried our first flavored lube, when I went down on our guy friend. I chose it for being the least expensive type of flavored lube at the Hustler store on Bourbon St that wasn’t pineapple flavored, which sounded like it could get sharp really quickly. Comfort Personal Lubricant is $9.99 for 4 ounces, and ours was Kiwi Strawberry flavored. It’s a pleasant enough flavor and came in handy when using a condom for oral sex – both to improve the flavor of the condom and for extra lube when working with the latex. It also came in handy earlier today when Gabe jacked off and I caught the good stuff in my mouth. The incidental flavor of his kiwi lube was better than Astroglide.

So, we’ve pretty much been resting ever since the weekend! Perhaps some more slutty endurance-building activities are in order. Hey, maybe that will be our Lenten practice. 🙂

I’m Monoromantic, But Still a Slut :-)

I feel as though Gabe and I have entered into another stage of things for us. First, there was a calf-ripping uphill climb of work to do, as we started and built our framework from scratch. Then, there was a long pleasant plateau. Gabe continued dating a sweetheart, and he and I bonded more and got settled in and decided what to do with our furniture.

Now is chapter 3… discovering where our desires and boundaries are around sexual activity with others, together. It involves more work again, and more proximity to old triggers… but it’s much more laid back, less panic-ridden than the previous work. It’s also interwoven with a lot more fun, more of a sense of security, and we stand on a previously built foundation of shared understanding and trust.

We’re exploring a variety of situations… from relational to anonymous, from voyeurism to hands-on threesomes. We have lots of conversations about trying on and guessing and wondering and hypothetical situations; though one can never fully know until a situation arises, these exploratory conversations are important.

I enjoy the idea of sharing specific details here, but one of the things stopping me is that I find it much more difficult to translate these experiences into words. There’s so many new levels of input coming in! I’m progressing on using all my new senses, though, and I know Gabe has some things he’s writing. We’ll probably manage something posted on it soon. I know you’ll be hearing more about the Jasmine Club in NOLA. We visited Friday night, and had a truly fabulous time.

We Heart Pegging

We tried pegging in our house tonight. I donned a strap on and a SPARKLY COCK and fucked Gabe. It would be impossible to fully convey the very awesome awesomeness.

I now understand the appeal of having one’s cock sucked. Completely apart from the sensations, it’s such a beautiful sight! We need to make it a priority that every guy gets his cock sucked. A lot.

Also, laying back and having a beautiful girl bouncing on top of you is wonderful. Especially when that girl is Gabe.

More to follow, I’m certain.




It’s a beautiful, absolutely beautiful night here. There’s an almost-full moon, and the sky is clear and full of stars, except for some little wisps of softness floating by here and there. And the trees near our house have the most gorgeous silhouette against the sky. And the earth feels firm and friendly underneath us.

And… and it’s dreamy and… really dreamy and…



Happy (Half Naked) New Year

Elizabeth and I wish you all the most blessed and sexy of years in 2009. We started ours off with our first visit to a swing club. This one was an off-premises club, and we had a grand time ogling all the sexiness (and maybe being ogled a bit ourselves) and dancing the night away. Turns out after all these years of not dancing at all that I really, really enjoy it with Elizabeth. She does make me fearless at times.

We did get our picture taken by one of the staff members, so here’s us, ringing in the new year.

Of course, we had to take a few pics when we were back by ourselves in the hotel as well. We think you’ll enjoy.

Words and Acts

I just now twittered the following: Kept a secret. Punished for it. 🙂 Brief words for a brief space. Then I turned to the much bigger palette of a Pornocracy post to try and describe the night… and I am at a loss. I can’t find adequate words. All I can do is point.

Gabe and I have been cognizant of just not having as many narrative descriptions of our sex life here as we used to. A lot of that is the shape of living together: all of our intimate time flows more freely and more frequently, interwoven into our daily lives. It takes a new set of skills I’m still learning, to find the sensations I want to lift up and capture here, those moments that lend themselves well to reflection in this medium.

Some of it is also the tone of what we experience now. Who we are and how we play together advances past what I have words for pretty quickly. We’ve known each other for years, and we have books-worth of knowledge of each other to delve into as we explore. And yet, the newness still dazzles. It’s the exploration of new made love best suited to paintings and poetry, and I’m no good at either. It’s both simple and too complex for me. It’s unique to us, and it’s like everybody else’s bodies knotting up together.

This evening, a friend called while we were on the couch watching tv, and asked me about a Christmas present for Gabe. Gabe heard most of the conversation, except what the gift was. This led us into a whole delightful evening of punishment, pain, and exploration, as I kept the secret and he tried to take it. We began with intense emotional domination and submission, and spanking; we then flitted effortlessly into another chapter — this one of a gentle, cooperative first expedition toward vaginal fisting, complete with Hitachi support. We then left that and came full circle back into tears and force.

It was a dance between everything we brought to each other tonight. It spoke to the mundane and the transcendental, the needs and desires of two people, and the unfinished messiness of daily life. It was miraculous in an ordinary way, and was deeply beautiful. And dadgummit, I wish I had more words for you.

Babeland Toy Review – The Cry Baby

So, Gabe and I took a field trip with our latest toy from Babeland.

We’ve wanted a remote control egg for EVAR. Our tradition upon entering any new porn shop has always been to look for one. We found a few, but none that cost less than $120. Not being made of money for sex toys, we hadn’t gotten around to spending that kind of money, and thus have sadly not had any reviews to share with you.

Now, we have the Cry Baby!

It is a delicious toy, in two parts: 1) a cordless remote, and 2) a “bullet” that goes where you want the vibrations to be. This “bullet” is not the small size of any egg or bullet I’ve played with. It is 1.5 inches in girth, and about 3 inches long. We thought at first glance that the bullet had that familiar feel of silicone, but it is, in fact, some silky yet hard plastic in a cute pink shade. The remote offers ten different patterns of vibration(!) and is easy to use, though sometimes requires a firm finger on the buttons. The Cry Baby comes with batteries, though only the ones in the bullet lasted long enough to play with.

Yes, yes. But you want to hear more about the field trip, don’t you? Well, the Cry Baby would certainly be a lovely addition to any bedroom, where it could rub a clit and/or enter a vagina (not recommended for anal use). But Gabe and I decided to drop the remote in his pocket and the bullet in my panties, and have a night out on the town. We learned the following things:

1) Orgasms go well with fajitas.
2) The range of the remote is at least as long as the longest shelves at Barnes and Noble.

I give this one five stares. I mean, stars. And for its style of toy, the Cry Baby has the very modest price of $69.00.

And don’t miss the Cry-Baby themed contest at Babeland! Win a $100 gift card!

Our First Wax Play (with pictures, of course!)

Last night was our first wax play. Oh my God, it was amazing!

After a relaxing day off and a trip to the strip club, we came home, made the bedroom warm, put down a blanket we didn’t mind getting wax on, and broke out our special candles. We got a set of six colored candles from somebody in our local scene that’s experimented with wax play for years. I’m glad we went with an expert for the candles.*

We decided to start on the front half of my body. That gave me more of a sense of control. I also told Gabe when to start dripping and when I needed him to stop (Gabe blew the candle out each time he stopped**). We started on the front of my thighs, then slowly began moving up to my belly, and then my chest and boobs. My mound eventually got in on the action too.*** Gabe experimented with how high to drip from (the greater the height, the cooler the wax when it hits). He also experimented with how quickly or slowly to fill the same spot or move to another one (depending on how loud and/or squirmy he wanted me to be). I also learned some of the subtle and not-so-subtle differences in sensitivity in the areas we played with. Just an inch or two difference in location on my thigh, for example, can make a huge difference in intensity level. Some of the differences I knew, and some didn’t come to light until now.

We started with the blue candle, as you’ll see. We moved on to red, and then to green (which I believe may burn hotter than the others). The sensation is so delightful, and so different than the other kinds of pain we’ve worked with. We typically do impact play. With that, the force of the blow is a major element of the character of the pain. That pain is blunt, vibrational, and it’s raw and specific against my skin. Pain from liquid wax is slithery, writhy, seeping. It starts sharp and seems to soak into me, then slowly fades. It feels like it blossoms just under the skin, setting my nerves ablaze. If the dripping continues unabated, the sharp-soak-fade rhythm multiplies and different drops sing on top of one another. It’s a whole different world of sensation.

The skin that felt wax is highly tender and sensitized afterward, for at least a few hours, though there’s no marks left. This can lead to a prickly, scraping discomfort from the dried wax towards the end of the playing that, while it’s not uncomfortable enough to avoid, I definitely don’t find erotic. This skin tenderness also forced me to don some underwear as I slept, as my trimmed pubic hair kept making contact with a part of my thigh that had felt some wax, and it was literally making my legs jump as I tried to sleep.

Though the wax itself doesn’t leave marks, it’s awfully awfully pretty when it’s still on my skin. Here, we have pictures to prove it!

*There are a lot of elements to a candle that affect sensation and safety concerns, so be very careful when you buy candles for this purpose. This is an issue that really deserves some thoughtful research into your options and purchases. The culmination of our research is as follows: avoid scented candles — perfume raises the temperature of the wax and can easily lead to burns. Your average candles off the shelf at Wal-mart will be unpleasant and dangerous to use. Newbies should find candles made specifically for wax play. 100% soy candles and some seven-day candles may work, once you know what you’re doing.

**The repeated blowing out led to us opening the room so the smoke wouldn’t build up and be bothersome. We found it the best thing to do, however, since our pauses for me to process the pain would have led to an enormous amount of wax pooling in the candle, often directly down the middle of it.

***Any area with significant hair can include some element of discomfort when you’re removing the wax later. Taking the wax off my pussy got downright owie, and I ended up getting in the shower and soaking it in hot water for a while before removing most of the wax. I also learned that the baby fine hair I have most places on my body gets long enough down the midline of my chest to cause some slight discomfort when removing wax (it wasn’t long enough for me to notice before this activity).