Tag Archives: sex
The last time I talked about a kink conference was the first KinkForAll back in March. I wrote then how I hadn’t been to many events of this nature. Well, having one kinky unconference under my belt I headed out to our nation’s capital to see what Sex 2.0 was all about.
A story influenced by Alice in Wonderland. A young girl slips into a daydream world and is thrown into a frightening adventure. WARNING! Don’t read this if you are offended by fairy tale type characters of indeterminate age, very questionable consent, attempted cannibalism(?!), obscene cutlery, mammoth root vegetables and/or the misuse of butter.
I came home to find the apartment in disarray. A lamp, which was still on, was laying on the floor, shining a spotlight on the half empty bookshelf. The books were strewn about floor and one was soaking up the water that a vase once held, the violets having been trampled.
My Betty was a bruiser, a broad shouldered girl, too tall to ever be comfortable in her own skin. She’d been beaten into shape as a kid by her step-father, that was until she was old enough to kick his ass.
She sat on the kitchen floor with the last of my good bourbon. Unlaced roller-skates, a black skirt, and one of my old white t-shirts. Her tattoos were nothing but shadows under the white cotton, thick black and red lines peeking out.
“We lost,” she slurred and gave me a particularly petulant glare.
I poured myself a glass of water and leaned on the counter of the small kitchen, looking down at her as she rocked the bottle of amber liquid on the black and white tiled floor.
I looked over to the living room and then back at her.
“I couldn’t find a book,” she shrugged.
She took one roller-skate and tried to push off the other with it, failing miserably.
“I couldn’t find a book and I can’t get these stupid things off,” she said, and kicked at the floor with her skate.
At 25, with a messy black bob, a cut lip, and the beginnings of a black eye, she did her best to pout like a little girl. Roller derby was good for her because she needed a healthy outlet for her violent nature. Plus I was there to pick up the pieces after a match.
“Help me get ‘em off?”
Kneeling, I took one of the black leathery boots by the thick front wheel and pulled. She winced as the skate slipped off her sore foot. Her shin looked purple and yellow, she had a scrape on her knee. My eyes lingered up higher to the edge of her skirt, then abruptly back to her other skate. I pulled the second one off and I stood up, holding out my hand to help her up.
She groaned as her sore and swollen joints creaked and then she was holding on to me with both hands on my shoulders, her cheeks red, her eyes glazed by the bourbon, but still shining. Our eyes met and there she was, smelling like whiskey and sweat, the Betty I fell in love with. We were about to kiss, but her knees gave out and she almost pulled me down to the floor with her.
“I’ll put you in bed,” I groaned as I lifted her back up.
“Tuck me in, too?” she teased, smiling and limping with one arm around my shoulder, “you can be the big spoon.”
“I’m sleeping on the couch, Bette.”
“Pshh, I bet you ten bucks you’ll be in bed in ten minutes. And don’t fucking call me Bette, you know I hate that.”
I sighed. I was too old for this.
I was sleeping on the couch because this whole thing just wasn’t working and we knew it. She was all rough and tumble, late night at rock clubs and drunk five nights a week. I was in a PhD program, I had a full time job. My punk youth was long over, though not forgotten. That’s not to say I grew up and became boring, but I just wasn’t in the same world she was in.
That’s one of the many things that can happen when you date a girl who’s ten years younger than you. Even if she is taller than you.
It was more than that, though, and we knew it. We just didn’t click anymore. I was a city boy, through and through and deep down she was a Midwestern farm girl.
She put her weight on my shoulder as I led her to the bedroom. The only light was street lamps coming in from the window. It illuminated tangled sheets and books all over the floor and nightstand.
I sat her down on the bed and she put her arms around my neck.
“I miss you,” she whispered. It made my throat tighten and my heart ache.
“Just get some sleep, Bette, we can talk tomorrow.”
She kissed my chin.
“Don’t you think I’m pretty anymore?” she said kissing my cheek, catching just the edge of my lip.
“I think you’re drunk and sweaty and you have a black eye and probably a sprained ankle,” I said trying to untangle myself from her arms, but she was already pulling me in for another kiss.
“You used to give me black and blues, remember?” her voice was rough, she gave a throaty chuckle, sad and dirty.
“You always end up getting bruised, one way or another,” I started, but she kissed me.
It had been a while, probably three months. She was depressed and her sex drive disappeared. The roller derby brought it back a little, but this was something else. This was goodbye.
I eased her onto the bed, hovering over her. I kissed her bruised face. I kissed her chapped lips. She rubbed her cheek against my stubble. She pulled her shirt off.
It’s superficial, but I’d miss her tattoos most of all. It was the main physical trait that would define her in my mind. As I kissed her shoulders, my lips traces the minute raised skin of the thick black letters and all the little symbols and secrets. I remembered every story, every detail. I still remember the why and where of all of them.
Her kisses grew wilder and so I held her down. Given time every action turns cliche, but just then it seemed more like nostalgia. That was until she started to fight. This wasn’t a little wilting flower, this was a tough girl who could take most people I know in fight. This wasn’t submission, this was making me earning it. I held her down by the wrists with all my strength and all my weight.
I pushed her legs open with my own and pressed against her. She writhed, she bit my lip when I tried to kiss her again. I let go of one of her wrists and she immediately pushed at my chest with her free hand. I pulled the cups of her bra down and sucked at her thick brown nipples, I bit down just enough to make her yelp. Her hand was in my hair, pulling me to her and pushing me away at the same time.
The haze of a long day at work and the sadness of the whole situation were gone for a moment. I was strong and she was hungry. I reached down, pushing away her skirt. I found her panties and pulled hard, ripping them, but not enough. She raised her ass, trying to push me away and trying to get more of her clothes off. I pulled again and came away with most of the fabric.
She was gasping and moaning. This wasn’t playful roughness, this was the death throws of our love. This was the only thing keeping us from crying. I pulled at my belt, I pilled at my zipper, I pulled out my cock. I had to concentrate on her, I had to bury my face in her tits and kiss her copper tasting lips just to get hard. I had to do anything but think.
Still reality was there, in the background, and as I held her down, my fingers moved to the bedside table. There was a little ceremony in that motion, in the creak of the drawer. Familiar squares of foil right where I left them. I remembered these same motions a hundred other times, in the salad days, in the laughing midnights.
She eyed me, ceasing the fight long enough to let me me slip the condom on. Then she smiled as she arched her back in my moan and my cock pressed against the coarse hairs of her sex.
She was wet, I could smell it, strong and tart. It smelled like Betty. She was fighting again, but her hips were bucking up, her legs open, her moans turning into needy whimpers. I rubbed against her, I slipped against her, and then I pushing into her.
Sex with Betty was always a quick affair for some reason. Maybe that was one of reasons it was going to end. I liked to draw things out. I liked to tease and play. She was impatient and deep down very ashamed of it all. All that wanting went to waste with her.
She needed to be hit and be needed to be held down, but she could never talk about it. Those secret moments of violence, when she pulled my hands to her neck. Electric and forbidden and lost once they ended.
All I ever wanted to do was remember and record it all, but that was me. I over-thought it, or so she said. If I tried to make her beg she would grow cold, and really, for me, the begging was the best part.
All that fluttered through my mind as I fucked her. Looking down, her eyes were closed and she bit her lip. She was wet to the point that I could feel it on my thighs. The muscles of her sex were tight; her powerful legs were wrapping around me and pulling me in.
She didn’t want foreplay and she didn’t like her clit played with. It all bored her, she would slap my fingers away. Going down on her was occasional and for my benefit. She just wanted to fuck and she wanted it to hurt.
As I fucked her I remembered that first time in a motel. She was strong and wild, so different from other women I’d been with. It was awkward, because I didn’t know how to top her the way she needed to be topped, I didn’t know if I was strong enough physically or emotionally, at least not in that moment, in that motel room, both of us drunk and high from a concert.
As I fucked her that last time, I felt myself grow more and more detached. She was lost in it, though, and I watched as her body went through the motions and cycles. Her blush spreading down her chest, her breath growing faster. When she came she came hard and punched and then clawing at my shoulder, needed something to hold on to as I fucked her through it.
After the waves of her pleasure broke, I lost my drive. The moment had passed and I grew soft. I just pulled myself off of her and she didn’t seem to notice that I hadn’t come. She rolled onto her side, our bodies no longer touching. I couldn’t tell if she was asleep or crying. I crawled off the bed and pulled the blanket onto of her.
I cleaned up the mess in the living room and wrote through the night, knowing the next day she would leave, and knowing I had to get the memories down before they were tainted or gone.
After that it was all packing and crying and the long days of uncertainty. I came out better in the end. She moved back west and found another boy to hurt her, one way or another.
Part of being a decadent hedonist with no spiritual beliefs or moral compass is that I feel no compunction about self promotion. This is, after all, my blog.
My first piece of commercially published erotica is now available in ebook format!
BUT THAT’S NOT ALL! Oh wait. Yes it is.
Our favorite music inspires us to move, dance and, yes, get busy in more intimate ways. Love Notes celebrates dancing queens, rock stars, groupies, anthems and more as the characters stroke each other to the sounds that make them soar. One woman masturbates to her favorite song while a stripper slinks her way into a man’s life. From Madonna to Shania Twain to Led Zeppelin and beyond, they channel their favorite music to make love to.
Love Notes celebrates the erotic power of music to move us, whether it’s listening to a lover rock out, fantasizing about your rock star crush, or making the sweetest and sexiest of music together. Singers, sirens and dancing queens get busy to a sex soundtrack ranging from heavy metal to classical and beyond. Get ready to get serenaded, seduced, and smitten with Love Notes.
- Jocelyn Bringas
- Eve Carpenter
- Heidi Champa
- Jeremy Edwards
- Mark Farley
- Delilah T. Jones
- Shanna Katz
- Janne Lewis
- Zach Lindley
- Jincey Lumpkin, Esg.
- Madlyn March
- J. M. Snyder
- Craig Sorensen
- Jack Stratton
- Elizabeth St John
- Mariana Tolentino
- Brandi Woodlawn
- Rachel Kramer Bussel
I’m going to be published in an upcoming anthology called “Love Notes” which is about sex and music for Ravenous Romance. My story is a previously unpublished kind of angsty story about a band.
More details as I get them!
There are a lot of things in my life that can use improvement, I freely admit this. One thing, dare I say the only thing, in my life that I thought I had perfected it was masturbation.
Unlike many women I know most men have it down pat. Sure the female sex blogging community are usually able to get themselves off easily, but a lot of girls I know have trouble. Every guy I know can make themselves come in a good minute and a half. Why would we need to masturbatory toy?
Well, there is the prostate, given, but that is a whole different catagory. There are a variety of new sensation that a dude can explore, but we surely don’t need help with the actual jerking off part, do we?
I’m a “masturbator” n00b, obviously. I’ve never used a sleeve of any kind. No fleshlight for me. What do I need with that?
Enter, The Maven. No seriously, enter one, they rock.
I’d never heard of elastomer, but apparently is it this silky cushy soft polymer that is phthalate-free and hypoallergenic. It’s porous, so it’s pretty much just a toy for one… though I’m not sure why you would want to share it unless you were putting on a show for someone.
I like the material, but it sort of never gets totally dry once you use lube and wash it off. It is very easy to clean, though. You just use it and then flip it inside out and wash it with soap and water. I keep it wrapped in paper towels between uses.
I use a little Astroglide, but any water based lube will do.
Ok, so how does it feel? Well, it certainly isn’t as good as sex, but it is better than your hand. The softness is interesting, like a blow job from someone with soft lips. That sounded a lot creepier than I wanted it to.
We are men, we don’t need pretty adjectives. The thing is affordable as sex toys go and it lasts a long time and it feel really good and it also reduces cleanup. You use it and then you take it to the bathroom and turn it inside out and wash it out. Fun!
I put a little dress on mine and I am planning on introducing it to my mom soon.
The Maven is not going to change your life, but it may change the way you masturbate or at least give you an interesting change of pace.
Three and a half stars!
I feel like I need to talk about something I found a month ago that has changed my sex life more than anything in the last ten years.
The right condom.
I never really had a big problem with condoms. They were just a thing I had to used unless I was in a serious monogamous relationship and my partner was on some form of birth control. I thought I was buying good ones. I got various Trojans, usually just the lubricated ones in the blue package. I never really thought about it, which come to think of it was odd since I think about everything else having to do with sex far too much.
In the past I had a few experiences where I tried to put on a condom and it just didn’t work. It got stuck half way on and wouldn’t roll anymore. Then I try and pull at it, hold the tip, roll it back a little and then try again. By then my hands are covered in lube and my erection is withering.
I curse. I makeout a little, fool around and get out of my head. I try a new one, but now the pressure is on.
For some reason in the last few months this started happening a lot more. Also a few times I noticed that the condom felt way tighter on my cock, especially around the middle. It got a little painful sometimes.
Now, I have a average sized cock. It is normal and I am happy with it. I have been told it is a little thick but I don’t think it is girthy enough to need some kind of extra large condom. Still these problems were getting annoying so I decided to try a few new ones.
I tried the Trojan Extra Sensitive and liked that one even less than the regular kind. I tried a regular lubricated Lifestyle, which felt very similarly to the Trojan and I even tried a non latex condom when I was with a girl who was allergic to latex and didn’t like that one at all.
So I did a little research. I went on a few sites that had condom reviews. I found that Durex seemed to test very well, especially the Extra Sensitive and the Love varieties.
I couldn’t find the Love so I settled on the Extra Sensitive. From the first go I found they slipped on far more easily that any other I have used. The sex was way better, smoother, it felt more like bareback sex. Also my partners seemed to get less sore and these condoms didn’t smell like latex.
I am so excited I ordered a hundred of the Durex Love condoms.
These new condoms combined with the bottle of Sliquid I got at the calendar party have made for a new world of sex. I swear the sex has been so good I haven’t even had any time to tie anyone up!
To be frank, I really seem to have bad luck with fucking girls in the ass. A couple have said it has to do with my girth, but really I don’t think my cock is that thick. I’ve always heard the keys are getting the girl (or boy) to relax, taking it slow, and lube lube lube.
Enter Climax Bursts Anal Lube. It is a slippery watery lube that is distinctly not oily. The little bubbles of vitamin E give it a slightly gritty feel, but only for a second until the bubbles burst.
I still haven’t had that much anal sex, but it certainly has helped paying around back there. More so than other lubes I have seen with the possible exception of Sliquid.
I give it four out of five stars.
A story inspired by a Halloween costume one friend wore and a fantasy another friend told me about.
The Titus, The Toy I Don’t Get
I am an anal toy novice, admittedly. I have had some success with the Sensual Bulb (which is not specifically for the bum, but works well there), in fact I sort of like that one. I decided a while back to try the other toy I received for that area and frankly I just don’t get this one.
The Titus is a rather small black hard plastic toy shaped in a sort of Y shape similarly to the Aneros, but with fewer curves and more ridges. First of all I think it is far too small to do anything. It is hard plastic, which is very uncomfortable. The ridges make it difficult and almost painful to insert and pull out. When the world of sex toys is full of such wonderful things like silicone why would you have this hard plastic… thing?
Also I may be missing the point because I have no idea what the little silver ball is for. I know it is supposed to sit on your perineum and sort of massage it, but that did nothing for me.
Looking at the Titus, considering the material and the size, I can’t understand why it is as expensive as it is.
It is certainly possible that I am not using it to its full extent or maybe I just don’t have a particularly sensitive “p-spot” or perhaps it is higher up or lower down or something, but I don’t get this toy.
I gave the Titus a college try. A few college tries. Then again I gave a few colleges a try so perhaps I am not that bright.
One star. So for this has been the only thing I’ve received from vibereview.com that I haven’t really enjoyed, but I think that might be more about me than the toy.
Dear readers, you need to know something: Jack is not my given name. It’s not very far from my given name, but until I started this web page very few people ever called me Jack.
But that’s what people do, isn’t it? When you write pretty words about tying girls up you take on an alias. The alias gets used more and it becomes a character. You write as the character and then you eventually meet people as the character and in a way you become the character, at least a little.
To be honest, though, Jack was really born a year and a half ago when my life fell apart and I had to rebuild myself emotionally. Call it a phoenix-like rebirth or perhaps Bionic Man like reboot, I became someone very different. I have different priorities now and different ways of handling things. I adjusted to being 31 and single and I came out of the whole drama a lot stronger and a lot more interesting.
Jack is decidedly more confident than I am. He can even be a little cocky. Jack doesn’t mind talking too loud about rather shocking things in public places. Jack has really good luck with the ladies. Jack is forward and direct and very honest.
Lately I find myself introducing myself as Jack, even in non-blog/sex-geek/sex+ situations. When I meet new people I just introduce myself as Jack and my friends kind of look at me strangely, but it’s not that far fetched. It’s a couple of letters, but it is amazing how much of an effect it can have.
Lately life seems all about changing and realizing things and finding myself and understanding my desires. I am accepting a lot of things about myself, things that I’ve denied and things that I convinced myself weren’t true. Sometimes it is as easy as just letting go and accepting certain kinks. Sometimes it is deeper and it means admitting that certain feelings are ok to have. It also means allowing myself to get into new kinds of relationships. It’s tricky.
Ever since I started this, though, I have felt like my life has been amplified. Everything is far more intense and I am not just talking about sex and relationships. The world seems more accessible, things seem more vivid, life seems better. I used to feel so restrained by all of these rules that I enforced on myself and now it seems like every time I come to one of these self imposed walls I am able to look at it and judge with new eyes if it is something valid or not. I feel free.
So what does this all mean? I have no idea. I guess I am just taking some time to appreciate Jack. He certainly isn’t perfect, but I certainly like him.
My fingers slick with her, she lays on top of me, turned around. Her legs on each side of my chest and spread wide right in front of my face. Her mouth far away doing the most wonderful things to me. That is the world I am in now, pleasure radiating and unseen while every secret spot on her is exposed right in front of me.
I know her by now, every twist and turn and little button. I work her like a well loved little music box. My fingers slipping in and bending just so, moving and pushing until I find the angle and the rhythm. Then she is unable to continue with my cock because her mouth is too full of moans and whimpers.
When I add a toy into the mix she is gasping and then suddenly struggling because it is too much. I clamp on to her legs in a wrestler’s lock and I continue as she tried to pull away from the intensity of the vibrations and my fingers. Her moans become frantic and then she is tensing and tensing and her struggling suddenly becomes desperate and she is trying to warn me and then…
At first it is a train of clear water down her thigh and then it squirts like a little torrent. Her body is so overcome she is bucking like a animal trying to escape a trap. It goes on and on until it seems like almost too long, like something is wrong but then suddenly she is still except for her trembling legs.
This is the third time in a row and so I relent. I let her go. She is gasping for air, like she was just pulled from the ocean. Long gulps of the Autumn wind coming in through my open window and she sounds like she is sobbing. I can see her wet sex contracting, still.
When she finally gathers her strength she turns and attacks me with kisses. She kisses me all over my face. She kisses my lips and holds my head and it is like I just came back from a war or gave her a birthday present she has been waiting for all year.
So I am sort of addicted to making girls squirt. Especially girls who say things like “I’ve never squirted!” or “I only squirt when I am by myself!”
Before six months ago I had sporadic luck when it came to getting girls to really gush. There were two full on experiences and another that I am fairly certain about. After my last relationship ended I set my mind to the task and now I am becoming a pro.
It’s not for wimps, let me tell you. It takes some hard work, elbow grease if you will, plus a lot of paying attention. Female anatomy, psychology, not to mention the laundry bills. Plus you have to know when it just isn’t going to work. One of the many keys is not telling them what you are trying to do, but making sure they are comfortable enough to know that they can.
I will not get into numbers, but there have been more than a few girls I have gotten there. By finger or cock or Curve or Miracle Massager. Curve or Miracle Massager being the easiest, fingers being almost as good, cock being really hard to master.
I wonder if there is a doctor who will make my cock into the exact shape of the Curve.
The thing is, there is really nothing as satisfying as physical evidence. I can see where the fans of cum are coming from. Something is produced and you can smile and hold up wet hands and say “I did this!” What’s better than that?
I actually know someone, a family friend of all things, who is doing a documentary of sorts on the g-spot. She looked me in the eye and said “Yeah, I’m still not sure female ejaculation is real.” It took all my strength not to say “give me some lube and 10 minutes” It would have made Thanksgiving a little uncomfortable.
It has come to the point where when I think about past relationships I regret not knowing what I know now. Not to say that female ejaculation is the end all be all of sex, it isn’t by any means, but it is just damn fun and it makes me feel damn powerful, for better or worse. There are also all kinds of psychological and D/s things that can happen when a girl squirts. The bed is a mess, she gets embarrassed to some degree (depending on the girl). There is also the fact that I am big into forced orgasm play and making a girl squirt in that scenario and then letting her sort of sit there tied up and stewing in her own juices is just delicious.
This weekend it went to another level. Often I am kissing the girl or fucking her or something and I only see the puddle forming or hear it or feel it. This time I saw it for real. I saw it shoot out like a geyser. It was more than awesome. I get giddy when I think about it and I want to make it happen again. It’s like a trick, a wonderful little trick that makes girls feel good.
One little note about something that unintentionally came in very handy. About a year ago I, like a lot of New Yorkers, was stuck by the plague that is bed bugs. My apartment was eventually completely fumigated, but one of the safety precautions was putting my mattress in a nylon bag. Now, I put sheets over the nylon so I don’t feel it at all, but it is a wonderfully helpful thing when things get a bit wet. For $14 you can’t go wrong.
We went out on the town for the day, but the whole time it was waiting there back at my apartment and in the back of my head.
A few hours before I met Mariella I removed the Under the Bed Restraints from it’s package, lifted up my mattress and set it up. The black restraints against my plain white sheets were stark and imposing. It was a stage set for something very interesting.
Mariella and I went around town. A picnic, some drinks, fun times in the summertime. She knew what was in store, in fact I had told her every detail out my little fantasy days before.
It was interesting having such a dichotomy within one day. The cooing and hand holding, walking through the park, meeting friends and so on. Later that night it would be so very different. Hands not held, but held down. Where she was once wrapped in hugs, she would be soon wrapped in taut nylon. The amazing thing is that we can go into both with the same care and emotion.
But enough of that mushy stuff, let’s get down to the nitty gritty.
Walking into my apartment she didn’t even really look at my bed at first. We were still high on the sweet air of the day. Kissing and pushing against walls, all those things that are familiar but constantly new. The lushness of her body and all the things it does to me.
She wore a lovely dress with no panties and the whole day I had felt the delicious curve of her hip and the unhindered smoothness of her ass through the fabric. Finally after wanting it all day I was able to pull up that skirt and see that perfect tan-lined hairless triangle that haunts my dreams. I touched her and felt hours of built up heat and wetness and it made me wince with pleasure.
She does this thing that drives me crazy. We will kiss and suddenly she will turn away. She gets this little sneaky mischievous little smirk and it turns me into an animal. Suddenly I am on top of her trying to kiss her, but she turns and pushes me away. When I finally pin her down and catch her lips, the kiss is wild and almost overpowering.
After that I stood up, took her hand, and brought her to the bed. I took off what was left of her clothes. I put two pillows on the center of the bed and laid her over them on her belly. She didn’t fight when I stretched her arms up and opened each wrist restraint and closed them on those pretty wrists I’d held so tight and pushed into pillow or mattress.
I kissed her shoulder and moved down to her legs and took each ankle and put them in the restraints. Nothing was that tight, but it kept her legs apart and her arms from moving too much. I was new to this thing, I really wasn’t sure what to do first.
I stood back and looked at my work. The pillow under her lower stomach pushed her ass up perfectly. With her legs spread every part of her was exposed to me.
There is something decadent about having a girl like this, especially this girl. Crossed legs and dim lights, sheets and panties, busy hands and blushing embarrassment, all these things tend to get in the way of getting a lovely full-on look at a girl’s bits. Now that she was mine, tied up perfectly, I got to look. I got to explore.
There are a lot of philosophies and strategies to being dominant. I’ve read about them, I’ve tried a lot of them. A lot of it has to do with self control. Frankly I probably don’t have enough of that. I don’t think I am a particularly good dom, I sort of hate most formality when it comes to names and titles and I even dislike a lot of them.
I my hand moved over her legs and my nails scratched at her back leaving long red marks. As my hand stopped on top of her ass I felt the resilient, fresh skin of it and the desire inside of me started getting wilder and hungrier.
I spanked her hard. Then again. Then three times in a row sharp and fast knowing that the rapid succession gets her every time. She tried to crawl away but couldn’t.
She moaned and squirmed and I wanted her. As she squirmed she pushed back, her hips higher and her sex open to me. I got off the bed, letting her see that I was getting a condom so she would know what I was going to do. I couldn’t help it, I had to just kneel between her open legs and slip into her. She was too perfect there, like a candy on a table. I needed to just taste.
She gasped as I pushing into her slowly and deliberately, sinking into wet tightness. Every cell in my body sighed at once. Then I was pushing in harder, then thrusting again and again. It was a little difficult with her on her belly and her legs spread. The angle wasn’t quite right. I stopped, breathing hard, head buzzing with the pure pleasure of being inside of her.
Then I went to the box.
It nice to have a specific little box for your toys and implements. This one is a big yellow box on the night stand next to my bed. In this box is all of my best toys. They had all been cleaned and readied.
I bent over her, pushed the hair out of her eyes, whispered in her ear and asked her if everything was ok. She said yes, but she wondered if the restraints could be tighter. I let out a dark chuckle.
I pulled her legs apart and tightened the straps. I moved them from the bottom corners of the bed to the sides of the bed and she let out a little “wow” as I really spread her out and tied her down. I moved her arms to the sides of the bed too and tightened them until she couldn’t raise her arms from the mattress.
I was getting that power surge. The smile that won’t come off and the predatory eyes.
My fantasy was to own every part of her. I wanted to fill her up and make her cum and use every inch of her. I fingered her roughly as I poured lube on the Sensual Bulb and on my fingers.
When I touched her ass with one hand as I fingered her with the other she let out a throaty groan. Her body tensed. We are sex positive people, whatever, it’s still dirty, raunchy, forbidden. I rubbed and
flexed my fingers in her, then I brought up the wet glass smoothness and twisted and pushed.
The thing about the Sensual Bulb is that when it is finally in you just see the pretty flared end with the purple butterfly. Perfect.
The sounds are almost the best parts. Whimpers and moans and whispered pleadings.
When I lubed up the Curve and slipped that into her she started gasping and making shaky overwhelmed gasps for air. I watched her hands ball into fists and pull against the restraints in the most lovely way.
When I added the Miracle Massager there wasn’t as much of a change in her attitude as I thought.
I tried to set up the Miracle Massager, but I will have to come up with some kind of way to hold it to her clit.
I left her filled up and went around to the other side of the bed and pushed my cock towards her mouth. This was the real fantasy, having her filled up, tied down and squirming and sucking my cock. Every hole used and abused.
After a while I realized I wanted a better position. I wanted her really bound. I put Mariella on her side right in the middle of the bed, hands behind her back bound with the wrist restraints. I bound her ankles together with he ankle restraints and then I moved the Under the Bed Restraints to the center of the bed and brought the fasteners to their tightest level. I tied her hands to one side and her ankles to the other. I also got some other restraints I had and tied her legs together at the knees.
It was crazy. The vibrations were intense and focused, I was fucking her hard and fast with the Curve and she was in a completely other state. When she started squirting she pushed the Curve completely out of her.
When I took it’s place I barraged her with filthy names and rough words. She was mine and she was used in every way. I fucked her hard and fast like that, spanking her and holding her hips tight.
Later when I gently undid every Velcro latch, laid next to her, soothed her and kissed her as she came down, it was pure bliss.
Catharsis, orgasm, emotional release. The stress of the week gone and only wet skin and the smell of sex and sweet kisses remained.