Monday, February 9, 2009

Asking for Directions

I lay on my back, legs crossed. M is curled around my side; his favorite position, the one he falls into the moment he gets his coat off. He kisses along my cheekbone, murmuring , his breath running along my cheek.

"How do you want me to fuck you?" he asks me.

I want you to slide your fingers down between my legs, and let your fingertips slip over my clit. Draw the hood back and send the flames licking down my thighs. I want you to whisper into my ear that I drive you crazy, that I'm so beautiful you can't stand it. Tell me you want me, that you dream of being inside me when we're apart. Slither on top of me and part my legs with your knees. Settle between my thighs and nudge my lips open with the head of your cock. Slowly enter me, pulling back once I'm pierced, then pushing back into me a little more. Make me catch my breathe while my body adjusts to your cock. Fill me all the way, easing up into me. Lick my mouth, and moan when your all the way in. Gather my face into your large hands, telling me how good I feel. Tell me how tight I am, tell me how wet I am. Kiss my neck, my collarbone, my breasts, my fingertips.

Cherish me. Make me feel beautiful.


He lays on his back, legs side by side. My leg is laying across his thigh, my lips trailing along his cheek to his neck. I nip at his ear and my hand is slowly stroking his cock.

"How do you want me to fuck you?" he asks me.

I want you to get on your knees, so your cock points towards me, thick and throbbing. Pull my face to you by my jaw and wedge your cock into my mouth. Let me get it slick with my spit and then fuck my face . Let your cock pop past the back of my throat and slam it all the way down. Smash my nose into your abdomen so my head is filled with your flesh and your scent. Don't hold back, I want to be used for your pleasure. When you tire of my mouth flip me onto my hands and knees, and smack my ass upright. Fill my cunt in one thrust, pay no attention to my whimpering. Grab my hair by the nape of my neck, and pull me back so I arch painfully. Growl in my ear that I'm a slut. Tell me I'm yours, you'll take me in whatever way pleases you. Toss me onto my back, holding both my wrists above my head in a single strong hand. Bury your cock into my soaked ass, and then enclose my throat with your other hand. Call me a whore, make me say I'm a whore. Tell me to say I'm your whore. Cum in me, marking me as your property.

Cherish me. Make me feel beautiful.

Thursday, February 5, 2009

Don't Call It A Comeback...

Okay, it's been a while. I haven't had too much to write about lately, so this is really just to let you all know I'm alive, and I have been trying to rack my brain for an interesting topic to discuss here.

I've begun to Pro Domme/switch again. I'm enjoying it alot. It seems to be the only real play, and service, I get to do. I still see M weekly, but that's about it. We get a few hours on Friday night, a few hours on Saturday morning, and then the rest of the week he's pretty much absent. I don't call him or text him anymore cause he's not very good about answering the phone or texting back. I've just given up on it. I just try to tell myself it's not because he doesn't like me, or want to be with me, he's just...busy.

I fantasize about M alot. Mostly when I lay down for a nap and when I go to sleep. Many times it's about our sex, of course, but just as often it's me conjuring up his image in my mind. Just his face, what his body looks like. I really enjoy looking at him when he's with me. Possibly because our time together is brief and infrequent, and I like to imagine what it would be like to have him around during mundane everyday type times. The last time we saw each other he told me that the good thing about not seeing me much is he forgets how hot I am, and he gets to be surprised by it all over again when I open the door. Sweet. I'd still like to see him more often, tho.

Last Friday I wasn't feeling well, I had an upset stomach. I told him that I still wanted to have sex, but that we'd have to be not as "energetic" as we normally are. He was accommodating about it, and didn't seem put out at all. It felt really good, actually. He got just as deep, filling me up as he always does, and just as stretching, maybe even a bit more than usual, just slower and not as jostled. He kissed me alot, on my neck, slowly, and across my lips tenderly. I held him close to me, running my hands down his back, resting on his hips, squeezing his adorable bum. M held my face in his hands and curled his fingers over my cheek, and looked into my eyes. I felt completely caressed, and I think he told me I was beautiful. And I felt beautiful, I felt so warm, and desired and desirable. He peppered my collarbone and breasts with kisses, ran his fingertips down my side and across my belly...

I hooked one leg around his waist, and the other I wrapped around his leg. I slid my hands to the back of his neck and buried my fingers into his curls. I kissed his mouth over and over, and fought the urge to close my eyes, because he was so beautiful I didn't want to lose any moment or expression. Burying my face into the crook of his neck, I had the smell of his body flood my head, and I licked at the iridescent almond saltiness of his skin. All the while he kept up a hypnotic rhythm of deep, even paced thrusting. He pulled me tighter as he built to his orgasm, quickening and pushing harder into me. And when he pulled out, I cupped his balls, soaked in my wetness, and looked into his fierce, furrowed browed eyes as he shot come from my hip to my chest.

He always kisses me after he comes. Always. Even before he catches his breathe, he leans down, huffing, and pecks me tenderly a few times, before collapsing to catch his breathe. Even when he comes on my face, he dips his fingers in feeding it to me, and when it's all swallowed, kisses me. Even when I blow him, as soon as he's come, his first action is to draw me up to him by my underarms for a kiss. I'm the one who has to pull away for a second to ensure I've wiped the extraneous saliva away first, and the moment I'm dried, he kisses me, smiles a delightfully satisfied smile, and pulls me into a deep cuddle.

I can't wait to be in that snuggle spot again. He likes the way I feel against him, and he's happy that I enjoy his cuddling. I had become unused to it, having either not been with a "cuddler", and been with an "over-cuddler" in a manner that felt suffocating, for years. I ache to be in M's arms again, and have not grown even remotely bored with it. I want it. I want it right now.