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Very Short Stories – Prometheus

♦ You may remember I posted something recently about Very Short Stories, the idea of writing flash fiction that fits on one side of an ordinary Post-It note. I shared my first attempt, too, a bit of a silly-but-sexy piece inspired by coffee (but not written whilst drinking it).

Heck, it’s even caught on a little bit, with bloggers keen to try their own versions and with some, like my friend Innocent Loverboy, having finished their Very Short Stories already. If anyone else has done one, just let me know! I’d love to read it and to let people know about it here.

In any case, I thought it was high time I did another. Again, I’m showing you both the actual Post-It and then giving a transcription for accessibility purposes…

image

“You stumbled into my Friday night a repentant Prometheus, bringing fire back to my belly. You left the bar with my number and a taxi fare. By Monday you could mould me like clay, breathing life into my cock at a whisper from your lips. Thursday evening saw the perfect retribution, as I chained you spread-eagled to my bed. Your liver untouched, I gorged myself on your cunt.”

Again, not a perfect tale, but again un-edited (except a word or two as I was still writing) and teeny-tiny. This one is a mere 55 words compared to the previous 62. My prompt, if you hadn’t already guessed, was the name Prometheus. Although I was inspired by finding the name out of context, I love the myth and soon ideas and analogies came racing to mind.

I’m quite pleased, though I wonder if I might be trying to do too much in too small a space (that may sort of be the concept, I suppose) and it’s certainly good to try some straight-up erotica rather than last time’s playful pretend porn.

What do you think of it? ♦

Intent – a poem about mindsets

Intent is everything
The simple balance between anger and arousal
A slap
The one in the heat of rage, the other the heat of passion
Intent, the decider between reassuring and raunchy
When it comes to a squeeze of the thigh
A moan
Pleasure? Pain? Intent decides
A finger passes over pussy lips
The action has occurred a hundred times
It’s the intent that makes the shiver
Mind over matter, my dear
And matter it does
I flicked the switch
I changed my intent
And, intending now to receive pleasure, pleasure came to me
The light brush became a solvent trail on fire
Nerves sang
Mind raced
From the mundane to the glorious
All with intent

I wrote this short erotic poem in one of the few gaps in my currently very hectic life! It’s about how the mental and the physical interact and how making up your mind one way or another is often the only thing between something meh and something amazing. It’s based on a real experience from recently. With handcuffs. And a blindfold. And it was wonderful. 

I hope you enjoy the poem! Let me know what you think? How important is the mental mindset over how good the physical act feels?

Fleisch – Erotic Body Horror

♦ I’m still here. I’m not going away, don’t worry. Hopefully, this post is a return to more regular posting and normal service. I’ve been busy, then stressed and anxious, then busy again. Geek life and geek me have gotten in the way of blog writing and blog me. It’s a phenomenally busy time of year. But I’m not disappearing. And now for a normal post…

I’ve said before that I think it can be a little too easy sometimes to arouse by a photo. I’ve tried to mix horror and eroticism together before too. It’s easy to be intimate when you’re showing intimate parts of yourself. It’s easy to arouse when all you’re doing is trying to arouse.

This week for Sinful Sunday, I am, of course, trying to arouse you, but I’m not just trying to arouse you…

Fleisch  - erotic body horror

As usual, click the image for a bigger version, if you’d like. In any case, this is what I consider erotic body horror. Hopefully, it’s eerie,creepy and yet still a little sexual and tantalising. Erotic, but not necessarily in a comfortable way. In fact, it should be a bit uncomfortable.

It draws on fetish elements (like the chains and the veiny posture collar and chastity-like device), elements of medical/sickness fetish (the leg brace, the inability to walk) and forniphilia (human furniture) as well as just straight-up weirdness like the flesh coloured eyes, the lack of nipples and the strange formation of her body.

I won’t go as far as to say I hope you like it, but I hope it affects you, at least. I’d love to know your thoughts on it and how it makes you feel. Are you aroused? Are you scared? Does it leave you cold? Is there room for body horror and eroticism to share a space and intermingle? ♦

SinfulSunday

Tools of the Trade

♦ Today, Crush and I had a lot of fun. I’m not going to go into a lot of details, I think I might leave those to your imagination. But what I will show you this Sinful Sunday are the tools of the trade I used to inflict such deliciousness on both him and myself. The black handcuffs (very similar to these) were there to restrain him, the key to set him free. The ceramic dildo, the Lovemoiselle Aveline which you can see covered in my slickness here, was used on myself to great effect. It’s such a fantastic dildo and I’m always impressed at the sheer speed with which it gets me off. I teased Crush by using it on myself while all he could do was lie there tied up and pawing at my nipples.

Tools of the Trade: handcuffs and ceramic dildo

I used the Tantus C-ring cock ring (in gorgeous cherry) over his cock, more to pull him about than to really keep him hard and begging as he was already very good at both of those. The Leather Delights soft ballgag was placed gently in his mouth under my full-face hood (not shown), which was used with a blindfold to keep Crush in the dark while I tormented him. As for my very favourite vibrator, the We-Vibe Tango, well, Crush again got to hear me moan and come, both with and without his hungry, lustful input.

Tools of the Trade: ball gag, vibrator and cock ring

I also used various other, not-pictured sensation tools such as a feather stick, a strip of vintage fur, my seven-pinwheel Wartenberg wheel, the edge of a credit card to give him various sensations all over his filthy, sexy body while he was at my mercy. Not only that, but I even managed to give my new Tantus Cush a trial-run to kickstart my testing of it for an upcoming review, so the session was practical as well as just absolutely orgasmically erotic.

I teased him, tortured him, told him what to do, denied him my body, made him beg, made him plead, made him fuck me until I was done. I ordered him around and we both loved it. The tools of the trade pictured here were all immensely helpful in achieving what I wanted, but I think that what really made it all work is that deep inside this sub, there is a dom waiting to get out. And deep inside Crush’s dom heart there is a sub who likes, if not pain and punishment like I do, then being told what to do and not always getting what he wants. The tools of the trade give me, well, the tools, but it’s me that has the power, not my equipment.

What are your favourite tools of the trade? Which do you love most to use on someone or have used on you? Would you feel complete without them? ♦

Sinful Sunday

Review – Fetish Fantasy Spandex Full-Face Hood

Fetish Fantasy Spandex Full-Face Hood

Disclaimer: I was provided with a free Fetish Fantasy Spandex Full-Face Hood by Temptations Direct in exchange for my honest review. Click any image to embiggen.

♦ The Fetish Fantasy Spandex Full-Face Hood is a bondage accessory in Pipedream’s notorious and oft ridiculous Fetish Fantasy line.  It’ll be another short review for providers Temptations Direct, as there really isn’t much to say about an item this basic.

I’ve been curious about picking up a hood which obscures my face for a while now as I can’t help thinking it’d be easier to take pictures of myself with a covered face. The Spandex Full-Face Hood seemed to fit that bill and, since I like to be blindfolded and restrained, I thought it could be fun in those ways too. Yeah, it wasn’t, but let me get to that.

Spandex Full-Face Hood Packaging

The box is just what you come to expect from Fetish Fantasy, though is probably on the less porny end of their scale, though that doesn’t say a lot.

Inside you find the hood itself and a… Wait, what?

No Free Mask? Hallelujah!

As you might expect, the Spandex Full-Face Hood covers not only the head but the face as well; it’s described as “one size fits most” and fit me and Crush just fine. It stretches nicely and is neither too tight or too loose. It has plenty of room around the neck so it doesn’t feel strangly, but it could perhaps come down a little longer in the neck.

Seam of the Spandex Full-Face HoodCrush found that it wasn’t all that comfortable to wear, but admitted that that may be because it’s a hood as opposed to this hood, though. He’s certainly more fussy than I am, as I found it fairly comfortable in general, but we did both agree on hating one thing. Although, the hood is shaped slightly, with a bulge at the front where the face goes, for extra comfort, this means that the seam runs down the centre of the hood from front to back. And it’s really annoying. It’s either dead centre on your face, which feels quite forced, or it sits slightly to one side, which is still quite irritating and now it also looks irritating too. You can even see it from the inside while you’re wearing it, which makes perfectionists liable to keep fiddling to get it centred.

The Spandex Full-Face Hood is very lightweight and therefore incredibly easy to breathe through and hear through, but sadly also to see through. The box states that it allows “just a hint of light in while impairing vision”, but that’s nonsense. Oh, sure, you’re not 20/20 with the hood on, but you can basically see everything. How many fingers am I holding up? Check. Reading? Check.

Fuck, I could even play Saints Row: The Third (my current fave) with it on. So I did. And it was fine. Here’s your proof:

That’s me driving through da ‘hood in a hood. And getting Near Misses to boost my Respect. And not hitting a single damn thing. I then went on to do a full story mission in while wearing the Spandex Full-Face Hood and then take a video of me precision head-shotting pedestrians, as you do. All, supposedly, with impaired vision and just a hint of light.

Yeah, no, there’s no way I should be able to play a high-speed video game while wearing a bondage hood or anything claiming to impair vision. It’s like you’re wearing slightly shit sunglasses. Weirdly, this is one Fetish Fantasy product that actually could have done with the crappy Free Mask they usually bundle in! Then you might have a chance of actually “impairing vision”.

One plus point is that the Spandex Full-Face Hood at least looks the part. It’s a slightly glossy fabric which does look good on the wearer, smoothing their shape and rendering them anonymous. Want that anonymous hostage look? The gimp aesthetic? It does look the part and it stops you identifying the wearer, it just doesn’t stop them seeing out.

Wearing the Spandex Full-Face Hood

CONCLUSION

The Fetish Fantasy Spandex Full-Face Hood really varies depending on what you want from it. I got it for the anonymising aspect, sure, but I really expected the blindfold aspect too, so I’m disappointed by it. I should not be getting a hood I can play video games through. Especially for nearly twenty quid.

If you want something that obscures a person’s face, it does that whilst being comfy and breathable for the wearer, so go get it. If you want something that restricts the wearer’s vision, look elsewhere, despite what it says on the box. ♦

Collar Me

♦ There’s something about a collar. Restraint and ownership delicately balanced with a fizzing freedom. An intimate act displayed in public. Leather wrapped around your neck can bring feelings of danger and security all at once.

I’d wanted a collar for a long time. Now I own several. A black PVC one, a plain black leather one, a red rubber one, a black rubber one with a blue gem, two black leather ones with poppers that say SLUT and BAD KITTY respectively. But I’ve never really had anything that I consider “my collar”. I don’t want to be literally labelled “slut or “bad kitty” all the time, the plain one is the one I use on the men in my life and the other three are too impractical for most occasions.

I wanted something to be My Collar. Something high-quality, something beautiful.

Monochrome Leather Collar

Then I encountered Leather Delights at a kink fair. I ummed and ahhed over exactly which of their many, many gorgeous collars I wanted. Not too thin, not too thick, not too plain but not too over-the-top. Soon I was holding an incredibly sexy 1.5″ wide collar with a soft black lining and a lovely white outside.

It smelt intoxicatingly of leather. It was comfortable and fit well and, importantly, I loved the way it looked. White is by no means the usual choice for collar colour and it suited me.

But of course it did. Everything about it is searingly beautiful, don’t you think? ♦

Toy with me Tuesday

Why not see more of my erotic, nude and sex toy photography?

“Objectification” by Blacksilk

So, if you’ve read my latest blog post, the first one ever written by my beautiful partner Crush (and if you haven’t, do, this will make slightly more sense), you’ll have realised that I found myself entering a singularly unusual sexy situation just the other evening. I came home and up the stairs to Crush’s room, opening the door to a strange, but undoubtedly erotic, sight. Sprawled on the bed was Crush, strapped by his ankles and wrists to the under-the-bed restraints, wearing his sexy green shirt open to reveal his chest. He was wearing his jeans, but they were pushed down to his knees. He was bare from his knees right up to his neck.

But I didn’t get to see everything. Oh, no. His head was covered by what turned out to be a cider box, it’s side covered in white paper on which was drawn a head with a question mark for a face. Covering his cock was a homemade cardboard “Censored” bar that obscured what I assumed was his erection. A new vase of flowers stood on the chest of drawers and four red ones had been plucked from it and draped across his legs artfully. The computer screen showed a fantastic, and sarcastic, mini-essay about gender and objectification. Crush’s words explain this whole set-up best.

Nonetheless, a picture does speak a thousand words…

Objectified Crush

I was… well, flabbergasted. I’m not often lost for words of any kind. This left me speechless in surprise, shock… I was assailed by both the fact that Crush had planned something elaborate and thoughtful for me but also by the absolute absurdity and weirdness of the situation. I flailed helplessly for a moment before Crush drew my attention to my camera sat on his desk. I knew I had to take advantage of the situation. I stripped off my clothes and spent a few minutes restraining myself from touching him, taking photos of his beautiful body and his strange… art installation? I knew that once we really got started, none of this would go back the way it was.

Putting the camera down, I removed the flowers from Crush’s legs and put all but one of them back in the vase. I sat down next to him on the bed, naked, and began to run the petals of the flower head over his exposed skin. I trailed the flower over his chest, his arms, his thighs, then excruciatingly slowly up the length of his cock from base to tip. He sighed and I took to varying the sensations over his body: the edge of the petals, the face of the flower, the tip of the stalk. Each of them trailed over his flesh and teased his nerve endings. He couldn’t see except for a crack at the base of his head-box, which helped magnify the strange sensations.

I was peppering my exploration of his body with frequent spluttering cries of “You are actually mad, you know that?”, “I love you!” and “What on Earth possessed you?”. He explained a bit more of his thinking behind it all and mentioned in passing that the particular feminist he’d been reading had said something along the lines of that it was possible for women to objectify men but that it meant that they were basically really men and vice versa. My gender-bending kink pricked its ears up at this point.

“So, that means I’m a guy….” I said.

I know that genderfuck doesn’t really do it for Crush and that he still finds the whole idea a bit out of his comfort zone, but I was pleased to hear him reply so positively. Then he said a word that sent an honest-to-God jolt through my pussy and up into my brain.

“Master,” he called me.

I couldn’t even tell you why that did it for me or why that thought still does it for me. It’s something I feel rather than think. I like to analyse my kinks, of course, because it’s interesting; I’m just not very good at it.

Nonetheless, the word “Master” coursed through my body in a way it never has when I’ve said it in submission to a man. It was true arousal, devoid of thought, a direct line to my body. I grinned and he said it again. The rest of the evening, in fact, was spattered with it.

I removed his homemade “Censored” bar and took him in my mouth. I might have been nominally in control, Crush might have been wanting me to take the lead, but I still wanted to give him pleasure. That and the fact that he’d done this all for me, the fact that chemistry was powering my mostly-a-sub body more than intellect or emotion, meant that I was finding it hard to be anything other than pliant and grateful. But I love to suck him. His cock tastes beautiful, feels wonderful in my mouth and smells so good to me. His come, I’ll be honest, I can take or leave. But his cock…

Not too long in, I had a better idea. Sucking Crush’s cock was fun, but I wanted to tease and torture him at the same time. I straddled his chest facing his feet, took my beloved Tango vibrator from the bedside and placed it, buzzing, between my pussy lips. It nestled helpfully between my body and his, pinned by his taut chest and my folds, as I leant forward to suck him again.

It wasn’t the easiest of positions, let me tell you. I was awkwardly placed to keep hold of his cock as I needed my hands to prop my body up on all fours. When I shifted position, the Tango would sometimes move about and once made a beeline up Crush’s chest to rumble by his collarbone. But it was worth it when I moaned hard around his cock and came, shuddering, on top of him, my pussy mere inches from his obscured face.

I wanted him inside me and he readily agreed. He suggested I stay facing his feet and give reverse cowgirl a go, something we’ve never tried before. Again, it turned out not to be the easiest task, but to be worth it. I falteringly guided him inside me as I straddled him around the hips and called him my bitch. My slut. He called me his Master.

Objectification Head Box

He could still peek out of the bottom of his box and I wondered briefly what the view, if really any, was like for him. It was a much more awkward position for me and for the ease of thrusting/riding than the usual girl-on-top, but the novelty (and the vibrator I held to my clit) made up for that. Adventure, after all, is exciting. Trying something new together, whether a resounding success or just a new sensation, is a wonderful experience. Whilst it’s not a position we’ll go back to regularly, the discovery was wonderful.

I dismounted and turned to face him, adding some lube to his cock for an effortless re-entry. This time, I’d go for “normal” cowgirl. It was just too hard to let go and come when I was in the other, more awkward, position. When it suited me, I pulled the cardboard box from his head, leaving him blinking up at me in the bright light of the bedroom. I know he loves to see me anew after being deprived. He started to up the frequency of his dirty comments to me and I lapped them up, asking for more, more, more. I bounced on his cock and he thrust up into me, making himself mine with every one of his utterances, giving himself to me with his body. Before long I was asking from one phrase and one phrase only, on repeat, as I climbed towards my summit.

“Please come, Master.”

He begged, he pleaded with those words. I shook, the Tango still at my clit, the sweat coating my skin, my knees weak with exertion. And I came. I came perhaps as hard as I’ve ever come. I talk big sometimes with metaphors and similes and rhetoric, I write my orgasms as storms and bullies and destruction. This was cataclysm. When it finished, I could barely speak, barely move, barely think. My body could support myself no longer and I let myself tumble sideways from Crush’s body. I fumbled, dumb, a zombie, at his nearest wrist strap, releasing him from his bonds and told him to fuck me again. I demanded that he take me as I recovered on my back.

And he did. His cock slid inside my honestly quite battered pussy, my pleasure-weakened body. This fuck was for him. His time to come. I told him as much and he certainly didn’t hold back. His Master spoke firmly to her little slut, goading him, urging him on until he too came hard, gasping, panting.

He collapsed onto me and we athletes rested our tired, hot, sticky bodies in each others’ arms. And I’ll tell you something: as they say “I don’t know much about art, but I know what I like.”

And Crush’s exhibition was certainly a resounding, earth-shattering, love-tempering success. ♦

“Objectification” by Crush

This post marks the first (but hopefully not last) instance of Crush, my gorgeous boyfriend, writing on my blog! Hooray! He explains the set-up that lead to a noteworthy encounter between us recently. And now, over to him…

♦ So where to start this story, I guess I should start with Monday, where Blacksilk and I were talking. She’d just finished her glass-to-arse session and we’d done all that mundane life stuff, so were getting an early night. Blacksilk, not for the first time, raised the topic of my penis and how the online world was sorely lacking in its finery, having already got the rest of me. Sorry to disappoint all my fans out there, but you’ll have to wait a bit longer. :P

But the conversation had given me an idea, Blacksilk is occasionally keen to take photos, but due to my insistence on cock-less shots they require framing or editing or, I dunno, I’m not a camera-wielder, some magic along those lines. Clearly what is needed is a censor bar, like the one Blacksilk has on her Twitter pic and presumably elsewhere where nipples are frowned upon (weird mental image there1 ). But not just any censor bar, a shadow censor bar, um, I mean, a real-life one.

I’d initially planned to do this for Tuesday, but then remembered that I was supposed to be cooking food for the rest of our house, and that may be hard to do appropriately without clothes on (Alt has declared on many an occasion that he is most definitely not attracted to me, and the rest of our housemates would be similarly unkeen). Plus, a day’s a bit short notice.

Okay, so, I hadn’t really got a plan formed at this point, so Tuesday involved thinking up an idea, by the end of which I’d narrowed it down to: find a box, sellotape some card or use a bin liner somehow… A quick check with Red confirmed my belief that two of these three plans, combined with hair, would be painful, so a box it was. I initially planned to use a kitchen roll tube somehow, but then Wednesday morning I realised a much better plan, using a cling film (that’s plastic wrap for our overseas friends) box. I also thought, hey, while I’m obscuring the photo, why not get a box on my head or some such.

Of course, once you’re putting a box on someone’s head, it’s only a tiny jump to objectification, because that’s a thing. From my devastatingly large sample size I get the feeling that this and many other forms of objectification are, shall we say, a little more called out when it’s women as the victim than men, so I thought I could make some sort of statement about it, because political statements and sex are a good combination. Bah, whatever.

So Wednesday I went and got some black card, cut up some stuff, did a bit of gluing and came up with:

Censored

Truly I am a master of basic craft skills.

I had initially thought of putting something like “objectify this man” on the box, but then decided to go with the classic question mark in a silhouette style thing. Obviously this meant that there was nowhere to put the description of the idea, so I thought “Hey, maybe I could make it like an art piece”. I did some research, well, not really, just a bit of reading on the Internet, but that’s close enough, and came up with the following (warning: the following may contain the view that extreme feminists are mental cases):

Objectified Man?

To complete the plan I also got some really expensive flowers. They were like £3. And they say chivalry is dead. Blacksilk called me after she got out of work (as is the norm, because we’re soppy romantics or something) and I subtly worked out what time she was getting home, by asking her for it (thanks, Equilibrium).

So, how to sort out a good art exhibit, well, firstly, a few clothes, not really covering much, more as a decorative piece, jeans around ankles, shirt fully undone, censored bar in place. Place some flowers for emphasis… Oh, and cuffs of course, ankles are easy, but then I had to fiddle a bit to cuff one wrist and then slip into the cuff of the other wrist, but fortunately I had a bit of time spare. I also had a hole in the side of the box, so I could see what time it was and check my screen-saver didn’t do something stupid.

So Blacksilk got home and came upstairs to say hi, upon entering the room she, well, I guess that’s a story best told by her in another blog post. ;) ♦

A round of applause for Crush, everyone! I hope you’re all excited to see him writing for a sex blog for the first time, do please be gentle with him. And tell him/us what you think! Wasn’t he fantastic? Don’t forget to read the follow-up!

  1. *I’m kinda imagining that bit in Gangnam Style, but with a frown rather than a weird shout and boobs instead of bum. []

Odd Little Snippets – NaPoWriMo

♦ It’s no wonder I never have time for NaBloPoMo or NaNoWriMo, I’ve barely had time to keep up with NaPoWriMo either! It’s now day ten of the month and I’ve written eight poems, which the observant among you will realise is not ten. I’ve been feeling a bit poorly, so I’ve spent the last couple of days playing catch-up on the poetry side of things. Here’s the odd little snippets of poetry I’ve come up with, some more serious than others, since last time

Real Women

Ladies, real women
Don’t ever use phrases like
“Ladies, real women..”

Lapdog

Adorable you
Nestled at my warm hip
Like a naked dog

Tea Fetish

Sometimes I think I’d like to be a sachet of tea leaves
And plunge, head-first, into you
And feel the heat of you surrounding me, infiltrating me
And slowly sink down into your depths
And infuse into you, spreading out, sighing
And mix my essence with yours
So that we are no longer Tea Bag and Hot Water
But one soft and molten brew
Tea, that fawn infusion
Life-giver, bliss-bringer
A cup of us, inseparable

Just Say No

True friends don’t let friends
I say, true friends don’t let friends
Buy furry handcuffs

Let’s Play

Let’s play the tease game
Let’s let my hands run over your rear
Try not to let your erection grow
Let’s let me moan softly into your ear
Try not to let your excitement show
Let’s let me squeeze your rigid cock
Try not to let your desire peak
Let’s let me flirt and let me mock
Try not to take the fun you seek
Here in public, here where people see
Let’s play the tease game: one, two three…

So, the poems. Real Women and Just Say No are designed to be very tongue-in-cheek, if you hadn’t yet guessed, whereas Lapdog is a more serious haiku.

Let’s Play (a lovely, nerdy title) is an erotic poem with elements of some sort of children’s skipping game? The last line is certainly very “Peep behind the curtain: one, two, three”. And finally, Tea Fetish is an odd little poem about wanting to be so close to someone that you’re happy to melt into each other. It’s about bliss, I guess, but what do you expect from a poem about tea?

Anyway, how are your NaPoWriMo efforts going? And what do you think of mine? I’m always keen for feedback. ♦

Wicked Wednesday

Acting on Instructions

Red is a vixen, Red is a flirt
Red told me to go to him and rip off his shirt
Red is a siren, Red is a tease
Red told me to take him and bring him to his knees

♦ He was playing D&D and I was in my bedroom somewhat bored. I say bored, “bored” was really more of an excuse to message her out of the blue and chat. OK, flirt, fine. “Go distract him”, Red told me, “show him your boobs.”1

“He’s playing via webcam,” I pointed out. “So, not a good idea.”

“Stand off-camera and strip,” She said.

It wasn’t a bad idea, actually. It’s not like I need to be encouraged to flash my rack at Crush. So I prowled into his room, whispered a few choice naughtinesses into his ear, stood to one side and pulled up my top. A toothy grin appeared on his face before I dashed back to my computer.

When his game had finished, he came in to see me. His attitude was instantly flirtatious, sexually-charged. Had I done all that with one flash of my goods? Hmm, looks like he’d been talking to Red too. I bet she’d nudged him towards being worked up, just like she’d nudged me.

“Just give me a minute to finish here,” I said, tapping a few bits of a review out.

When I went in, I found him sprawled on the bed. Instead of his usual supremely-lazy attire, he was in the sexy, sexy jeans and green-striped shirt I’d bought him. For a man surgically-attached to his trackie bottoms, that there was bedroom-wear. And he was fucking rocking it, sly smile and all.

As we watched each other, I stripped, making sure to take extra care on the breast-reveal that I know is his favourite part.

Just as my bra hit the floor, my phone buzzed up a message. Red.

“Has he bent to your will yet?”

I looked over to him. His pose was… not quite submissive, but certainly passive. He lay waiting for me to leap on him. Given he’d spent the last few days punishing me for any imagined transgression, I’d say I might be in control here. And he’d dressed up just for me…

“Oh, I think so…” I replied quickly, knowing he probably got a buzz off us talking about him. “Best be off.”

Naked, I crawled onto the bed from his feet, up over his legs until I paused and perched just at his thighs. He looked amazingly sexy. A shirt always says “rip me off” and his eyes shone. The bulge in his jeans was particularly unsubtle. I loved that.

I spent some time just admiring him and exchanging flirtatious talk before I pulled his upper body towards my chest. His mouth lunged at my nipples eagerly and I pushed his head from breast to breast, rubbing his face into me. Now and again I’d push him away, down onto the bed, and then pull him back up by his shirt. I was enjoying my display of dominance over him.

He told me he loved to be pushed about from nipple to nipple, to struggle half-blinded by flesh, to have to work hard to find them with his tongue, to not quite get enough. He told me he could do it for hours, but it was only minutes before we decided to add a new element.

Our under-the-bed restraints may not be the classiest piece of kit, but on a bed with no headboard, it certainly comes in handy to have them always there ready. I secured his arms. The problem before was that he could just lean forward and plant his lips on my nipples at any time unless I held him down. Now I moved backwards, lengthening the distance.

Soon I could control his access to my nipples with just a slight lean forward or back. He strained at his bonds as I darted in and out, pushing his head from tit to tit when I got close. Just long enough to get my fill of pleasure from his mouth on my skin, just short enough that he still felt restricted.

After a while, I pushed him back down on the bed and swiftly unbuttoned his shirt. I peppered his delicately-sculpted chest with kisses and licks before working my way down to the buttons of his fly.

He’d only done two up, which is good, because they’re a bitch.

So I opened them and pressed my face to the base of his cock as it peeped from above the fabric. I kissed his cock and nuzzled the fly of his jeans further open as I did until he was nearly fully exposed. My fingers did the rest.

I licked and sucked as he moaned in his restraints before hopping back over his hips and pressing myself into him.

He wanted me to fuck him. It was late, but I couldn’t say no. I wanted him. I wanted to take him. I could feel the crispness of his jeans under my thighs, the heat of his cock against my pussy lips, the flutter of his heartbeat through his chest.

I grabbed my faithful Tango bullet and began to lower myself down onto his shaft. Handily, I was already quite wet from our foreplay and from testing a lovely glass dildo not long before, so no lube was required before I felt him full inside me. I pumped up and down on his slickened cock and groaned as he hit deep inside my pussy. His face was turned sideways into the pillows, passion twisting him into curled up shapes and ecstatic forms. He drove his hips upwards in time with my own movements, thrusting hard against gravity and my weight.

It wasn’t long before all I could do was hold on and keep my tight grip on the vibrator at my clit. Now he was doing all the work and I sagged into him, my previous energy drawing in, coalescing in my cunt. My orgasm rose up in me like bubbles in a tar pit, bursting suddenly and sending thick black tendrils of pleasure surging to the tips of me. I came gasping on top of him, my moans causing him to sigh with delight.

The climaxes that followed were soon joined by Crush’s own grunting rapture, his brows knitted in effort and expulsion, his cock twitching. I let him lie there, blissful and exhausted in his restraints for a time as I, too, recovered my breath. Then I loosened his bonds and set him free. ♦

Silk is a harlot, Silk is a whore
Silk told her the day was won and cannot wait for more

  1. Who is Red, you ask? All will be revealed in time. For now, just know she is sexy, dirty and mischievous… []