What I Like About You

-You tickle me until I'm breathless and panting.

-When you say "Hey, can I tell you something?" it's always something good.

-You still tell me, apropos of nothing, that I'm beautiful, or gorgeous, or sexy, etc.

-Every once in a while you reach out to hold my hand when we walk down the street.

-You're always up for some cuddling.

-You love when I cook for you, and ALWAYS eat seconds.

-You share a tub of Ben and Jerry's well. ;)

-You show interest in my work, don't denigrate me, and support me whenever I need it.

-You trust me with your secrets.

-You truly care if I orgasm or not.

-You've been keeping your promises.

-You'll run to the store for me.

-When I broke my foot you carried me up the stairs and put up with me not wanting to be helped. Heh heh

I Hate Goodbyes

I hate saying goodbye to M. Even when it's only for a few days. I get inexplicably sad when I'm watching him walk away, or when I finally turn around and head to the train station or in the direction of my apartment, alone. It's particularly difficult when we have no plans to see each other in the near future. At least when I know I'll see him in the next few days, I can have something to look forward to.

M doesn't seem to be as effected by parting as I am. I suppose that's normal. I think he has confidence that we'll be seeing each other again soon. And I don't believe he feels the same urgency that I do. I also think our definitions of "soon" are vastly different. And that's probably to be expected, too.

M leaves to visit his mom for xmas every year. He's gone for a week, and I know his mom looks forward to his visits. It's sweet, actually. And I don't begrudge these visits, but I do miss him. It's even worse than a normal goodbye, because it'll be even longer before I get to see him. And the distance makes the feeling of separation all that more acute.

Also, and this is going to sound so puerile, M was sick the night before he left, and it was the first night we ever spent together and didn't have sex. Poor guy had chills and a fever; his whole body ached. I tried to take care of him as best I could. He was very sweet, and thanked me over and over for being there to tend to him. He held me tight and told me he loved me, and I teased him that he was delirious with fever, but it still made me smile to hear it. Guys can be so adorably pathetic when they're sick.

A few things that have been taking the sting out of his being away are that I actually have xmas plans this year, I've been shopping for his gifts online, and he and I have chatted online a few times since he's left. Last year I didn't spend any holidays with my family, and it got me very depressed. Searching for M's gifts has been a lot of fun. And seeing him on webcam has softened the blow of being so far apart.

I still hate saying "Goodbye", but saying "Welcome back!" is going to be exciting. ;)

To Meet With An External Force

I think a type of orgasm that may have been overlooked in Project Orgasm, tho lg did make passing mention of it in one of her original posts, is multiple orgasms. And just to make it a bit more specific; forced multiple orgasms. I've written about how if I get an O in during foreplay all my other orgasms can come much, much easier, but the forced ones are different.

The first time I was forced to orgasm was with "Daddy". He bound my ankles together with rope and looped the rope all the way up my legs, encasing them. He bound my wrists behind my back and tied up my breasts and upper arms. I felt like a caterpillar cocooned in rope lying on the floor of his playspace.

I thought that would be the extent of it. At the time he was doing alot of practicing rope bondage on me, and he'd tie me to the bed, to the medical chair, to myself, and just admire his handiwork or adjust something, or take pictures. This time he grabbed the hitachi and nestled the handle in the gap between my thighs and the rope with the bulb pressed up against my pussy lips and clit. He flipped the switch and walked out of the room, down the stairs, and back to his work, leaving me there to twist and writhe on the floor.

I came over and over, unable and unwilling, to dislodge the tormenting vibrator. I had no specific instructions to cum or not, no directives of how to endure the delicious torture. I just went with it, allowed myself to give in to the building waves of flaming pleasure. I was sweating and I could feel the hair at my neck and forehead sticking to me. My hips weren't bound so I was able to slide my cunt back and forth over the smooth shivering head of the vibe. The crease of my thighs was slick with the combination of my sweat and overflowing cunt.

I wasn't aware of it, but I was told later I was being checked on periodically by "Daddy". And after I don't know how long, or how many orgasms, he came in and switched off the hitachi. I laid there panting and blushing under his smirking gaze, my chest straining against the rope as I tried to regain normal breathing. He left me again, but this time informed me that I was to get myself unbound, tend to the rope, and then come downstairs. My legs were still unsteady as I made my way down the flight of stairs to the first floor.

M does forced orgasms a bit differently, as you may imagine. He doesn't use implements on me often, and I don't think he's inclined to be absent for my orgasms. Instead he uses a combination of his voice and body to force me to orgasm over and over. It's not as "simple" as persephone's "countdown" orgasms. Not that I mean to imply those are easy, I know it took a long time of intense training for her to be able to produce them. I only mean to say I require penetration and touch in addition to M's voice to achieve this. M's forced orgasms are more subtle than what "Daddy" did.

It begins with an embrace, his body pressed along the left side of my body. He'll wedge his leg between mine and slide his left hand across my hip towards my cunt. The leg he has hooked around mine pulls back taking my legs along with it, spreading me open for him to explore me more easily.

While he positions me more advantageously, he murmurs into my ear. He'll talk about the sex we'd just had, how my cunt feels under his fingers, what he enjoys doing to me, how pretty he thinks I am, how slutty I am for him, and on and on. A steady stream of flattery and dirty talk pouring into my ears and running thru my body, pooling into a puddle between my thighs. The words and the physical attention feeding each other to increase the hunger building in my pussy. The effect of his whispers and his touch on my body gives him more fodder to tease me about my wantonness.

Sometimes M will just continue to manually stimulate me until I cum so many times I involuntarily push his hand away. Other times, and most recently, it's led to him creeping down my body to force my legs open and latch his mouth onto my cunt. This is my favorite time to receive oral from him; once I've already been aroused.

I'm not entirely sure of what he's doing with his mouth, but I'll attempt to describe what it feels like. At first he closes his lips around my clit, using his top lip to keep the hood back further exposing my already bursting clit. His tongue feels wide, as opposed to pointed, and velvety. I can't take ferocious licking, it feels painful, so he uses these long luxurious licks beginning at the base of my clit, over the round tip, along the top, and then back underneath again.

Every so often it feels as though he puckers his mouth into a kiss gathering the skin of my hood to cover my clit, and then spreads his mouth open, working my lips apart and pulling my hood back again with his tongue gliding along everything at once. That's seems to be when he reintroduces his hand; sliding 2 fingers into my, by now, sopping cunt, hooking them in that familiar "hook" shape all the gals love.

Usually, by that point I've already cum a bunch of times. The lower half of his face is glistening with my juices, and there's a wet spot under my ass. My hips are lifting up off the bed, my head is thrashing around, my fingers are buried in the curls of his hair, my hand cups his cheek and chin, my chest expands and contracts rapidly with my heavy breathing, and I'm making whimpering, mewling little noises in between begging him not to stop until I collapse into a shuddering pile beneath him.

Another way he forces orgasms out of me is when I'm on top of him. My favorite way being when he reaches up and clamps both of his hands around my throat as he thrusts up into me. His brows are knitted together, furrowed in intense concentration, and he'll growl at me to cum as I grind my cunt down on him. He'll allow me a second of reprieve after I've had one, nudge back into an upright position, and growl to, "Do it again." I've had squirting, as well as multiple, orgasms like this with M. When he's gotten as many as he wants, he pushes me onto my back and slams into me until he reaches his own orgasm.

Once, and I masturbate to this experience all the time, M had me on my back while he sat up. He used one hand to hold the hood of my clit back, rolling a finger over my clit as if it were a marble, while he slowly slid his cock in and out of my pussy. The rhythm of his finger was slightly faster than the leisurely stroking of his cock, and I could feel every inch of him filling me. It was an exhilarating juxtaposition, having him easing in deeply, while my clit was plucked and caressed into an electric burning. I could feel my cunt gripping down on him, pulsing uncontrollably as he forced orgasm after orgasm out of me.

From some folks perspective "Daddy's" forced orgasms were more classically administered than M's. M is in direct physical contact with me, and "Daddy" let the rope, hitachi, and the "mind fuck" of it do it's work. But the way I define the forced orgasms is a sort of detachment that all the experiences have in common. It's not a complete withdrawal, both were "with" me on some level, but they were "sitting back", observing me, coaxing the orgasms out of me over and over, and I am toyed with and used.

Which isn't to say that I want a cold distant lover, that doesn't turn me on at all. A musician cherishes his instrument, cares for it, practices it, it's an instrument to be played for the enjoyment of the maestro. I become a conduit of pleasure for my player, strummed and plucked and manipulated to elicit a response. I sing, I hum, I vibrate.

It's not up to me, I was forced to.

Talking Head

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Fuck Doll

The other night when M and I were together, he said something in the few seconds between me getting completely naked and him entering me, that surprised me. It didn't seem to fit into the the theme of the post I was writing, so I left it out. As most bloggers will no doubt admit, some things are omitted in the interest of continuity. But what M said got me thinking, and I thought it might be worth an entire post. Also, I'm going to try to see if I can do a post a day this week since I'm already on a roll. We'll see....

When M and I were freshly naked in the moonlight, right after I kissed him, with his cock in his hand, he looked me up and down as I leaned back on my hands. It was dark in his room, but his bed is alongside a window and the moon shone thru lighting our features in relief. I was more fully lit than he was, and my face, breasts, stomach, and legs glowed pale blue. My nipples were erect and my legs were relaxed in a figure 4 shape, slightly parted. In those few moments of him looking across and along my body, reaching out to my breast and pressing me down onto my back, we had the following exchange.

"Sometimes I want to use you as 'target practice'."
>laughter< "Huh?"
"Use you to jerk off to."
"But you have all those pictures of me, every shoot I've ever done."
"Yeah, but it would be hotter to with you right in front of me."
"Well then, why don't you?"
"Because I always end up wanting to fuck you."

And that's when he entered me. And fucked me, as I said, twice.

And it got me thinking about being used like that. As a living piece of porn. In my various incarnations as a sex worker who doesn't fuck her clients, I've had many instances of being jerked off to, but I can't recall any times where a lover has done this. Maybe it seemed a wasted opportunity? Or maybe I've attempted it, but either one of us became overcome with the desire to fuck rather than taking the jacking/jilling off to completion?

I'm really not sure. I seem to recall writing about something along the lines of an extreme mummification along the lines of the play that Deity does, but I think it was in the private blog I used to keep for just "Daddy" and I. And I don't think that's what M meant when he said he wanted to use me as "target practice" anyway. I think M would prefer to have my body completely visible and completely articulated when he jerked off to me. And I'm fine with that, tho being bound and used like this would be super fucking hot.

Even tho I find it extremely flattering, and it does wonders for my ego to turn my boy on just from him looking at me, I don't know that I could withstand that type of scrutiny. I can imagine how red my face would be to have to endure the position changes, the exposure, the intense focused attention that it would involve. I'm certain I wouldn't be able to make, nevermind maintain, eye contact with him.

And I can also imagine that that is precisely why I want it.

Even the denial of intercourse is turning me on, at least in my head. Heh heh I'm more of an "instant gratification" kind of gal, so I'd probably find it so frustrating to be objectified and then not pounded. Still, my mind fill with images of just being used for my appearance, and maybe my mouth, too. I'm not so sure M would be able to resist fucking me; he empathizes with my arousal to the point that he ends up fucking me more often than not when I go down on him. It would take none too little restraint on his part to keep from satisfying me, especially considering how much pleasure he derives from making me orgasm, ejaculation or regular.

Still, if M was using me as his fuck doll, having me pose for him, spread for him, bound me open, or wanted to use my mouth to bring himself to orgasm, I'd be an enthusiastic little fuck doll for sure. I do feel satisfaction in satisfying M, and I love to play new games with him. As frustrating as it would be for me to be denied the filling of my cunt, and for as embarrassing I find inspection to be, I would love every minute of it.

Lg's Project Orgasm

I was graciously invited by lg to participate in her Project Orgasm Series, and I would first like to thank her for her confidence and flattering invitation. She, along with persephone, have been very friendly and encouraging of my writing from the very beginning of the venture. Thank you both for your comments and reflections.

I was asked to write about my experience with my female ejaculation, or "squirting", and while I was pleased, it did give me pause. It's a controversial subject, some people don't think it exists, some people think it's just pee, and science still has nothing definitive to say about it. Regardless of all that, it's happened to me. I'm here to try to explain what it's like for me, and maybe even help a few gals to have one. ;)

"It's kind of awesome."

~M~

I remember the first time it happened, I was horrified. Like most women, I thought I had pissed all over my partner. I was on top, riding a very large cock, grinding away, slamming him so deep inside of me I could feel him in my stomach. This particular lover would spend a long time playing with me before the actual fucking began, and this time was no exception. As I impaled myself on his cock I began to feel my face and chest flush. There was probably pain involved, something I had yet to fully explore, due to his size and my enthusiastic bouncing, but I'm certain that only added to my pleasure. As the intensity of the orgasm built, I felt an irritation, not unlike the tingling I feel when I have to pee. I became concerned that if I came I would end up pissing all over my partner, but it was feeling way too good to stop.

And then the sloshing sound...Beneath me was a puddle of fluid. It was more like water, thinner, than my pussy lubrication. And it was all over; covering him from navel to mi-thigh and soaking the bed. I collapsed on top of him, trying to catch my breath and completely humiliated. That's when my, more experienced, partner informed me of what I had just experienced. I'd had orgasms before, at that time mostly with myself, but had never ejaculated before. I had heard of it, but had never experienced it. I was relieved that it wasn't piss, and and fell asleep happy with my new discovery.

My squirting is infrequent enough, tho not exactly rare, that I have had to piece together over time what it is that creates the phenomenon in me. Prolonged clitoral stimulation until orgasm during foreplay helps to get me over the initial orgasm "hump", I orgasm much easier after that first one. Being on top is the position I squirt most frequently, tho I have had them while on my back. Also, for me, "squirting" is a bit of a misnomer because it's more of a "deluge" than discernible "spurts". The next piece of the puzzle is a bit of a personal controversy for me, because I seem to be more likely to cum like this if I've had a few drinks. Now, I'm not sure if this helps with any inhibitions I may harbor, or if the alcohol contributes to the stimulation of my urethra, but there's some correlation there. Most importantly, I need that spot way in the back, on the anterior wall of my cunt stimulated relentlessly, even painfully.

I asked M, my current boyfriend and for whom I'm the first girl to do this, what his thoughts were about my "squirting" in preparation for this post. I've had more ejaculating orgasms with M than any other partners I've had, and the partner I've discussed it with most, so he's had more opportunities to form an opinion. He informs me his first reaction was to think that I had pissed, in his bed no less, but that he quickly realized, "Oh wait, that's not pee pee." He was dismayed that he hadn't seen it happen.

Now that he's become accustomed to it, M looks forward to them. They're still unique enough that he considers them "a pleasant surprise. [a] hot surprise." He called them, in a recent conversation, "a flashing marquee that says, 'NEXT LEVEL' is going off" and "more specifically, it's really hot". When I asked him to describe them from his point of view, he replied, "You're really grinding me at that point, and because of logistics, its not immediately apparent. You keep getting wetter and wetter, you can hear the squishing, and my balls are covered in warm fluid. Then, 10 seconds later it starts spraying EVERYWHERE. And you don't stop, you don't even notice. You just keep fucking me into oblivion. I get covered in a warm wetness, and it is pleasurable because your cunt is also constricting. And lady cum is going everywhere. " I thought "lady cum" was a cute way to describe it. ;)

It fills him with pride to be able to make me orgasm like this, and I'm happy that I make him feel good with what, for me, is an earth shattering orgasm. Some guys don't "believe" in the female ejaculating orgasm, and they can be kinda shitty about it, but I think those are just guys that haven't experienced it. But I think most guys would enjoy having something so rare happen to them. One of M's friends even expressed jealousy because he had never had a girl cum with him like that.

I feel pride in it, too. It was a source of some embarrassment and anxiety, at first, but now I realize how special and unique it is. Feeling that much pleasure is nothing to be ashamed of, and to give that much pleasure to someone who can appreciate it for the amazing experience it is, makes it that much hotter.

In My Head

I was curled up under the blanket on M's couch last night watching TV when he slid up along my body with his face an inch away from mine. He dipped down to kiss me softly and said, " You know, I still want to fuck every time I see you. From the moment I'm with you, I can't wait to get you in bed."

When we got into bed M pulled me under him again, and seduced me with whispers in my ear. It's become the surest way for him to not only get me wet, but to make me subdued. It's so difficult to remember what his exact words are, he coaxes, teases, and flatters. He barely touched me, just his warm breathe, the briefest of kisses on my neck and earlobe, a few flickering licks across my skin.

I wriggle and squirm under his body pressed down onto me, and my head swims from the attentive murmurs. I blushed and couldn't meet his eyes. I was crawling out of my skin at the same time I was curling deep into myself. I gasped at his more explicit whispers, and groaned when his words caused my clit to twitch with anticipation.

He told me to reach inside my panties to test if I was wet, and my fingertips brushed against my humming clit and between the folds of my pussy. My fingers slip easily across the slick flesh, and M tells me to bring my hand up to his lips. My lubed fingers glide across his mouth and his tongue peeks out to lick at them.

M asked me if I missed being owned, and I told him I did. I miss the rules, and belonging to someone. That's not to say I'm unhappy with the level of play we have, or that I will push for M to become my 24/7 Dominant. I'm willing to wait and see what amount of play we're comfortable with, I'm happy with what we do now.

He told me to remove my bra and panties, and he pulled off his underwear. I sat up to kiss his face, and the moonlight thru the window illuminated our bodies. He looked down on me as I leaned back on my palms. Cupping my breast in his left hand, and gripping his stiff cock in right, he pressed me down onto my back and entered me smoothly. My breathe caught as he sunk into me deeply, and my cunt shuddered around him involuntarily.

And he kisses me. And he fucks me. Twice. And we talk after as we lay there; his head on my shoulder. We talk about how our sex has never been bad, it's never even been average. I tell him that the odds, just due to sheer volume, should have worked out to us having had a blip here and there. But no. He says that even if it did ever happen, it would be an anomaly, and would no doubt go back to being good. And we laughed at the implausibility of it.

He says we're always pushing our limits, that it makes our sex interesting for him. Then I think he became concerned that maybe my limits weren't really being pushed. He asked me if he did indeed push my limits, and I said yes. He wanted an example, so I told him that when he beat me with the belt that my tolerance is so low that it had really hurt. But I had endured it, and it had added to the experience of following his instructions. The consequences, and his willingness to enforce them, excited me.

Before we drifted off to sleep we noticed that the kitten had been curled up on the corner of the bed all throughout our fucking. M often jokes that the cats think we're "fighting" when we fuck. I said the kitten must have been thinking, disgustedly, "Gawd, they're fighting again!" M cracked that he always wins. When I said that since he thinks I look hot when I cum that even when I win, he wins. His reply was, "Get out of my head."

I gathered his face up in my hands and covered it with kisses, even kissing Stanley, the freckle on M's left eyelid. And I sunk into the pillows, nestled against M's body, sharing our warmth under the covers. And I thought how good this is, how amazing this feels. And I fell asleep smiling.

Streak

I may have been wrong about M being sadistic. I woke up with a deliciously swollen upper lip yesterday. It's been a while since I've had a memento of the previous night's play aside from the inner aches resulting from rough pounding in my cunt or ass, or a scratchy throat from my mouth being fucked raw.

It started out sweetly enough. M slid his fingers between my thighs and played with my clit. He whispered in my ear about how slutty I am, and how quickly I get wet. He kept up a litany of hot and filthy talk so close to my ear I could feel his hot breath breeze by my ear and tickle my neck. I was faced away from him with my back pressed along the length of his body, our legs entwined, so he didn't see the effect his words had on my cheeks that burned with pleasurable shame.

My pussy wasn't the only thing that melted as he continued, my brain became goo. My mouth was roughly used, and my throat was completely stuffed. He cut off my air with his cock and held my face in place not allowing me to pull away for much longer than he has before. I struggled to breathe, barely audible desperate squeaks trapped in my throat. When I was released I pulled away sputtering and coughing for a moment before I was pulled back by my face and erotically suffocated once again. I could feel my cunt leaking onto my thighs.

I was smacked across my face, I can't recall why, choked, and taken with little concern for my insides. I begged to be called a whore. My mouth was filled with his tongue. I rode him with a soaking cunt and a clit so on fire every stroke sent a shock down my legs and crackling up to my nipples. I grunted and groaned not caring if his roommates could hear. I have no idea how many times I came in all.

He flipped me onto my back with my knees pressed into my forehead, and he slammed away at my already battered cunt. M alternated between closing his hand around my throat, his face nudged between my calves, his eyes glaring fire under knitted brows, and gathering me up in his arms so I became a tucked ball of easily fucked flesh beneath him.

I protested futilely when I felt him empty me and press against my asshole. I was summarily ignored and forcefully entered and treated to the full length and breadth of his cock from the initial thrust. I gasped with pain and screamed with pleasure. I gripped at his ass urging him deeper and harder, feeling pride as I endured his final spasming when he emptied his balls deep in my ass.

Afterwards he told me he really enjoys my wriggling when he cuts my air off with his cock. He wants to be rougher with me, I think. But I think it also frightens him. I don't believe he's ever tapped into this possibly sadistic side, I don't think he's ever had the opportunity to. He chokes me regularly, slaps me occasionally, and gives me spanks even while we walk down the street (which makes me giggle and smirk), but how rough he wants to take it fluctuates with his mood, it seems. Regardless, I'm enjoying the streak. :)