Friday, November 27, 2009

Counting Coup

I was sitting down in M's computer chair and he's sitting on his bed with his belt in his hand. I'd just arrived at his place and I took my rain boots off. We were talking about what we were going to order to eat while he straightened up his bedroom. He made an impish snap with the belt while I looked at the restaurant's menu online, and I glanced over at him giving me a sly little smile.
"You have to be careful with leather belts," I said returning my attention to the menu. I often give M guidance with implements, having been on both sides of them for longer than he has.
"Why?" he asks.
"Well, they can leave marks and break the skin. It's a pretty painful implement," I replied absentmindedly. M isn't sadistic, and we don't use equipment much when we play, so I wasn't giving it that much attention. I didn't consider too seriously that he would use the belt on me.
We cuddled in the dark waiting for our food to arrive, ate our dinner, and snuggled in front of the TV for a bit before M decided we should go to bed. I followed him upstairs into his bedroom and jumped into bed fully dressed.
"What's the rule?" he said, referring to my clothed state. I know the rule, but I've naughtily "forgotten" it just to be "reminded". No jeans allowed in the bed, so I pull them off and crawl under the covers.
"Take your clothes off," he murmured after turning off the light and kissing me. He removed his at the same time, and got back into bed sitting upright with his back against the wall. He told me to straddle his thigh and his fingers found my clit. I wound my arms around his neck and his mouth opened to my kiss.
He told me to get on my hands and knees, and his fingers continued to play with my now slick cunt. His fingertip slipped wetly over my clit and between my lips, and my skin crackled with electricity at his touch. He hovered over my shoulder and whispered, "You are so wet, you can hear it," and there was an audible squishing between my thighs that he accentuated by tapping his fingers against my hole. I buried my face into the pillow in shame and I sensed him reach for something behind me. That's when he laid the buckleless end of the belt across my back and slid it down my flesh. Now, he had my undivided attention.
His mouth was pressed against my ear when he said," I want you to count how many fingers I put into you." M dipped one finger into me and I didn't respond quickly enough, so SMACK, I received a crack of the belt on my ass. I quickly counted out, "One," before I get another one.
He entered me with another finger, and I quickly answered with "Two!" before the belt can come down on me again. M worked his fingers in and out, and I was lulled by the pleasure. I was too slow to respond when the third finger enters me and the blows are rained down on my ass quickly and harshly, taking my breathe away. "Three!" I gasped, "Three!".
Four, and then five fingers were in me. I could feel on my right cheek where the tip of the belt has bitten into me. It continues to sting even thru the pleasure M's fingers are giving me. I didn't want to be smacked again, and I don't mess up for the rest of his hand. I felt sorry for myself, and I buried my head deeper into the pillows, covering up my ears. Mistake.
M grabbed my left hand and placed it on my left cheek. I was surprised to feel how cold my skin is under my fingers, deep within I'm still burning from the belt. I dropped my hand lower and I touched his hand working between my stretched lips. I can feel myself expanding to accommodate him, and he's up to the widest part of his palm. That's as far as I've been able to take him, his hands are so big. In my mind's eye I pictured how his hand must be glistening with my juices.
But I've missed the reason for him placing my hand behind me. Burying my head into the pillows in embarrassment prevented me hearing his command, and when I didn't perform properly he whipped the belt across my ass. I flattened under the smacks, but his hand never left my cunt. He reached for my hand again, and I heard him clearly say, "Didn't you hear me? I said but your finger in your ass." I quickly complied entering my asshole with one finger while he twisted his hand in my pussy.
I was emptied of his hand and he replaced it with his cock, thrusting deep inside of me. I kept my finger in my ass while he roughly fucked my cunt until he removed my hand to get deeper. I arched my back with him gripping my hips, and I used the wall to brace myself. If I stay still like that I can feel him butting up against my cervix, and I love that deep dull thudding pain.
M dismounted and laid a pillow down at his knees, telling me to lie across on my back with my head towards him. I reach up to his hips and pull his cock into my mouth. I taste myself on his already soaked cock, and he slides down my throat easily. In and out his fucks my mouth like it was my cunt, and I worked my tongue as best I could over the head of his cock and along the shaft. He was curled over the length of my body. I could feel the curls on his head, and his breath from his moans, tickling my thighs. I felt a tear of drool escape from the corner of my mouth running down to my chin.
He gathered me up by my underarms and turned me around, laying me down on my back and filling my cunt with his cock again. I wrapped my legs around his waist, spreading my thighs wide, grinding up against him to meet his thrusts. He curled his arm under me gripping the opposite shoulder, and used his other hand to cup the back of my head, pulling me down onto his cock and stabbing deeper into me. I nibbled at his shoulder pressed against my face, licking at the crook of his neck.
Again I was flipped onto my hands and knees, but it was my ass that was pierced. I grunted and gasped, and I felt that searing pop when he squeezed in the full length of his cock. He rammed into me, not taking his time to ease into me. And that delicious searing burn spread across my body radiating from my asshole. He bounced my on his cock with his hands on my hips, and I felt a thread of juice from my cunt slap against my inner thigh and run down to the mattress. He came grunting and breathless jammed deep inside of me and we both collapsed gulping air hungrily.
After we had cleaned up and I was nestled in his arms, he asked me how he had done with the belt. I told him a couple of those smacks really hurt, but that it hadn't been anything I couldn't handle. The things that boy comes up with all on his own, without researching or prior experience, and so successfully, is pretty impressive. Pulling all this off is quite the coup.

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...

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

To Tell the Truth

I've been being a bit disingenuous on the blog as of late. This is supposed to be a sex blog, and since I've been in relationships with the partners I've written about, by extension it's also a relationship blog. But I never meant for it to be a "relationship" blog, so I have kept out a lot of the relationship related events. Not all, but most. This has lead the blog to take an unsexy turn, in my opinion. It just doesn't seem as hot and steamy on here as I used to be.

It's not because my sexual escapades have deteriorated, or become banal. M and I still play and experiment and it's as thrilling as it's always been. Sex is not my issue; the relationship is my issue.

M continues to see other people, but that's not exactly my problem. My problem is that he sees other people and I feel he's being dishonest about it. Finding out anything about these other girls is like pulling teeth with him, and I can't seem to make him understand that if I'm able to operate in this type of relationship I need him to be open with me. His hiding of things only increases my anxieties.

He has improved a bit, it's just so sloooooooow, and it's trying. And he doesn't seem to understand what I need to feel special and important, and I'm not even sure he cares.

I go back and forth wondering what I mean to him. Sex is such a large part of our relationship, and it's as important to me as it is to him. And the passion and desire we feel for each other is intense, as any of my readers should be familiar with. I wonder if I mean more to him than just that. I have doubts about his feelings for me, and I don't want to have those doubts.

M has told me that he would never leave me for any of these girls. He tells me he loves me. He says our sex is amazing. He tells me I'm beautiful, and that I have a gorgeous body. He says I'm never boring; that I'm fun. He tells me I'm the only one who has a specific day, that is inviolate, that he spends with me.

What I don't know is does he talk with them the way he talks to me? Is he telling them how beautiful they are? Is he introducing them to his friends? How often does he see them? Does he cuddle them, stare into their eyes, caress them, the way he does with me? Is he using condoms every time?

And a million other things...

He doesn't chat online with me, text me, or call me to chat. I feel ignored and not a priority. But mainly I'm just don't feeling like he cares for me. I feel closer to him when he's honest with me. It actually turns me on, not because I think it's hot to hear about the other girls, but because the intimacy that develops as he's telling me fills me with desire for him. I know it's difficult for him to talk about, and when he does I feel trusted and that my feelings matter to him.

All I want is the truth. I can handle it.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Rough Sex

"If I fucked other girls like I fuck you, they'd press charges."
M has gotten more aggressive lately. After last Friday night I continued to feel the effects of our fucking all the next day. My throat was sore from bearing the onslaught of deepthroating his cock. My cervix ached after being pounded relentlessly from behind. My ass smarted from being stretched and stuffed completely with his cock, the only lubrication having come from my dripping cunt. He commented later how easily he had slipped in even without additional lube.
I didn't think he had been holding back before, I guess he had been, tho. He's been inquiring afterwards to make sure I'm okay with what we're doing. Even tho I've told him before that I like the rough stuff I guess it's unusual for him to be allowed to slap, choke, and call someone a whore and have them like it. I reassure him that I do enjoy his passion and his aggression.
I think I need to emphasize how important it is for me to be reassured too, afterwards. I love to be taken in a way that's completely uninhibited, and I am doing what I can to encourage him to continue his treading this path. However, I'm not sure that he is aware that I need aftercare.
With that type of violent fucking I eed to be told how I'm cherished and appreciated after. I'm happy to be objectified and used, I crave and desire it even, and I love the increased frequency and intensity. I only hope I can convey the importance of also feeling that I'm cared for beyond the sexual passion I can incite in him.

Friday, November 6, 2009

Rock Star

Ok, not exactly, but he plays out and does short tours.

M is a bassist, as I mentioned previously, and I've been to a few of his shows. They're not usually very largely attended, but that doesn't matter much to me. My pleasure comes from watching M perform. I think it's hot to watch someone doing something they do very well. I read somewhere once that people find "competence" attractive, regardless of the activity being performed.

I think M feels the same way when we do our cuckolding sessions together. He's said that he can see that I'm good at what i do, tho also admitting that he has little first hand experience. He was impressed with the way I use my body to dominate my clients, and the tone of voice I use along with what I say to them.

We had another cuck session recently, and this one went even better than the last. M is becoming more comfortable, and he comes up with some fantastic ideas for humiliation. He's playful in session and it matches my style very well. He still doesn't have direct contact with the subs, but I think I prefer it that way. As M says, I'm the flag, he's the flag pole, and no one pays attention to the flag pole. Heh heh

We even had a few seconds of play on our own before the session. M and I were waiting for the taxi to arrive, and he led me into a more secluded area to "warm up before session". He had me open my coat to show him what I had decided to wear ( a black tube dress, thigh high stockings and 5 inch heels), and he commented appreciatively, telling me to turn around so he could see me from behind. He told me to lift up my skirt and the hem of my coat so he could look at my ass and legs. I was wearing these cute boy shorts with a keyhole opening that showed my ass crack.

Just as I felt M's fingers slide across my skin, he heard a noise, and told me to pull down my dress. Two cyclists rode by us, the one in front warning the other that there were "hikers ahead". They were almost out of earshot when we heard the second one say to the first, "Those weren't hikers." M and I erupted into giggles, and it soothed my disappointment that we hadn't been able to get further.

Sometimes I get concerned that M will eventually come to find me boring, but it seems that he genuinely enjoys the ...unusual activities that we explore. We press each other's limits, and that can't be boring.