Tuesday, November 24, 2009


I've been fantasizing about fucking standing up a la Henry and June ; the scene where Anais and Henry are under a bridge, or a short tunnel, and she's up against the stone wall. A shot from that scene is on the cover of a volume of Anais's diary that I have, and it conjurs up daydreams everytime I see it.

When I picture it in my head, I'm wearing a skirt. Recently, it's been a pencil skirt, with a white blouse and black lace bra. But the most important part of the outfit is the lack of panties and the garter belt with stockings. All the clothing stays on, so the skin that peeks out from the top of the stockings is like a dirty secret whispered into someone's ear.

I imagine M's hands running up my leg and gripping my thighs tightly. I twist my legs around his waist and his teeth clamp down on my neck. His pants are opened only enough to get his cock free, and he fucks me with deep hurried thrusts. He's not terribly concerned with my comfort, he's more interested in stuffing me with every inch of his cock and filling me with cum.

The passion and inability to control it is what turns me on about this fantasy. I'm not interested in "getting caught", public sex itself isn't the aspect of the fantasy I'm drawn to. It's the hunger and desire I'm after. The loss of resistance, caution, propriety...

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