Rules at Foreplay (She Thinks, Part Two)

As she set the brightly colored Fiestaware on the kitchen counter, the drilling sound startled her, causing her to squeal and jump. Before she could move her feet to see what was going on, his face appeared through the kitchen doorway.

“What was that?,” she asked.

 “Don’t you worry about it, you just finish dinner,” he said, holding up two shiny, metal hooks in front of his wicked grin.

Coyly wiggling his eyebrows, his face disappeared, and he went back to drilling on the other side of the shared wall.

She went back to stirring the soup,  but all she could do was grin. He never ceased to surprise her, and these seemingly small surprises meant so much to her. He kept things fresh, exciting, mysterious. Hot. So freaking hot. And the best part was, she was comfortable enough in their power exchange to be in the moment, not develop any expectations, and feel the excitement. To just feel and be, with him. Happy. Insanely turned on. Joyful in her submission.

When the drilling was complete, he pulled her away from the stove, walked her to the dining room wall, and asked her to lift her arms to meet the eye hooks. He gripped her wrists and held them next to the hooks for a moment, then ran his hands down her sides, the silky fabric of her purple nighty slithering against her skin, causing goosebumps to form. She was acutely aware of her nipples becoming taut against the thin cloth, her body beginning to do the begging she was so desperately feeling on the inside. 

“Perfect,” he said, nodding his head, his eyes saying much more. 

Reaching up to grasp her chin in his hand, and he kissed her, a ferocious, unable-to-breath, toe-curling, oh-God-please-more kiss, then abruptly disjointed his lips from hers. Breathless, she bit her lip, shivering, the anticipation electric between them. 

“Now, get me my dinner,” he lovingly commanded, pulling her away from the wall, spinning her, and smacking her squarely on the ass. Hard.

She did just that, still biting her lip, noticing the cool wetness between her legs as she strode to the stove. 

All she could think was, I love that man, and he fucking rules at foreplay. 

-image via Tumblr, source unknown

Ignite Me

I am your wick
Ignited by whispered words
The heat of your gaze taking hold
Radiating, encompassing warmth
By your hand, your instruments
Melting inhibition
Drawing my soul to the surface
Fueling your smoldering need
Defying all external forces
Except you, I burn
And I burn, for you
One surrendered flame
Dancing, free flowing
A fiery, lascivious glow
Of wanton desire
I am your wick

Ignite me

-image found on Tumblr, source unknown 

Placement

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restless,
shifting weight from foot to foot,
as He positions the prickly jute, 
concentrating on the way He winds it ’round,
on the way it comes to rest upon her skin, biting,
and not on He who is doing the winding,
He whose flesh grazes hers,
whose breath is heavy and hot against her neck,
whose soft, yet forceful lips leave a slightly wet, cool trail,
as He works his way ’round, up, through, and around

her loose fingers stray,
following that loud, ass-backward, inside voice she has,
the one who keeps shouting and pushing herself to the forefront,
the unsettled, messy girl who needs

and wants,
and needs

that noxious voice which permeates, 
spreading its unwanted tentacles nimbly
under the surface of her skin,
first taking hold of her thoughts,
then conquering every ribbon of unwilling, aching muscle

she tells those fingers to reach down
and to adjust,
to find and target each tiny imperfection,
to, with her selfish actions,
demand perfection and symmetry,
to fidget and forget about trust,
and patience

she overpowers,
she deceives

she defies, not only Him, but her

she knows what she needs,
but doesn’t want to know

so, she bucks and she pushes against the very binding she knows she truly needs

desperately

His binding,
His will,
His way

one last time, though she’s been warned,
she commands those deceptive fingers
to reach out,
to touch His tie

He slaps her wandering, distrustful, hand,
hard,
an echoing crack, a lingering, itchy, throbbing sting

and she smiles

a smile of defeat,
of humbling,
of placement

and then, she disappears

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-image found on Tumblr, source unknown; shared as part of Masturbation Monday

Lingering…

I ‘m trapped in a lingering haze today,
Spellbound, thoughts in flight, stuck on replay

Your captivating lure, a mist upon my skin,
As achy reminders echo last night’s din

Whispers hovering in fevered clouds,
My inner voice howling, remembering how

Your stringed pins gripped fiery flesh, trapping desire,
And your hands drew salacious wings, stoking the fire

Until your commanding words set my wanton spirit free,
My body your vessel, aching to please

How the air abruptly changed when your flesh merged with mine,
And our breath became one, how there was no time

Then our hearts became fluid, melting from within,
One consumous puddle, an ocean of sin

Sometimes, Always

Sometimes it’s
fuck me like you own me
I’m not going to break
grab me pull me
force me
don’t ask if I’m okay
leave your mark
make me yours
please show me please
harder deeper faster slower
unwind me
I am shudder moan wetness pain pleasure breath catching need

Sometime it’s
pull me closer
I’m so sorry
wrap me tight
I need to believe
don’t stop
keep going through the tears
please possess me please
tighter stronger deeper
make my brain stop spinning
quiet calm I need you
please don’t ever let me go

Always it’s
the deepest connection I’ve ever known
tethered souls
fulfilling bursting desire lust
I love you I love you I love you
whispers in my ear
moaning gasping devouring
white knuckles twisted sheets muscles teeth sweat trembling hold my breath
look me in the eyes
time stopping narrowing focusing shutting out the world
oh god oh god oh god
anchor me I’m floating away
we are meant to be

Whimper

‘stay quiet, love’

his tracing fingers glide downward, knowingly, a well traveled route on the map of her flesh, a living, breathing map he created, he her cartographer, charting and plotting, committing her to memory, creasing and folding in all the right places

mesmerized, his entirety is focused on her responsiveness to him; in an instant, goosebumps rise to meet his touch, a shivering ripple, a wave of eagerness summoned to her surface by the barely contained vibrations from his recent strumming with the canes and floggers, every hiss and buzz, each whack and thwack reverberating, she the oscillation to his thrumming

instinctively, her eyes close and her mouth falls open in a savoring exhale, as she’s reminded of the heavenly hum of the rope, of the way his nimble fingers wound the jute, ‘round and ’round, it’s prickly tightness setting her free

continuing the deliberate strums with his fingers, paired with an airy bass of whispers in her ears, he watches for her body to respond in chorus, reveling in his ability to pluck here or there and illicit the desired response

flooded with a wave after wave of arousal, she’s overwhelmed in him; it’s as if each individual goosebump forming is a silent scream, her body crying out to him, alive in him, begging for him

and all she can do, is whimper

– Shared in response to Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie  Tale Weaver prompt, also shared as part of Masturbation Monday 141

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The Librarian, Part 1

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“Excuse me, Ma’am?”

Fumbling behind the counter, the librarian quickly tried to act like nothing was going on.

Fuck! Can he see the blushing on my cheeks?

“How can I help you?,” she asked a little too quickly.

“I need to pay my fine.”

“Sure. May I see your card?”

Taking his card, she quickly looked up his account. He handed her the money, and without making too much eye contact, she gave him his change.

“Thank you. Have a great day,” she said with a nervous smile as he turned to walk away.

It felt like every patron knew that she had been stealing glances at Tumblr on her iPhone all afternoon long.

Do they notice the impatient squeezing of my thighs, as I try like hell to alleviate some of the throbbing pressure between my legs? 

Momentarily embarrassed, she felt how wet her panties were and realized she could smell her own arousal soaking through.

God, I’m at work, what am I thinking?

Yet, with each step she took, there was that chilly, wet reminder. The worst part was, it was making her even more turned on.

In a desperate attempt to get her mind back on her work, she went to the table area to see if there were any books needing to be re-shelved. It was then that she saw him. Felt him.

Oh, my, he’s beautiful.

His look caught her eye, to be sure, but it was more than that. His energy was heavy hheat in the air, instantly giving her goosebumps. As she walked closer, her chest tightened, her breathing becoming shallow and quick.

What is wrong with me? He’s just a guy!

But this feeling told her he wasn’t just a guy. There was something about him that made her want to feel things – his hands around her waist, his chest pressed against her own, his whiskers against her cheek as he whispered in her ear…..

It felt as if she already knew what he’d say when he whispered to her; as if he already knew her. She had to meet him. She had to hear his voice, see his eyes.

Luckily, there was a loose book on the edge of the table at which he was sitting, so she slowly made her way over, not yet trying to draw any attention. Just as she neared the opposite side of the table, he looked up from his paperwork. Briefly, he looked into her eyes, and her belly began doing backflips, but there was no doubt this man had lowered his eyes and was now staring at her chest.

Oh, shit! Am I disappointed? How could I be disappointed at his looking at my chest if I don’t even know him? 

It was crazy, she new, but she felt like she did know him, needed to know him. She was drawn to him, despite the fact he wasn’t trying to hide that he was admiring her tits. Maybe because of it.

Almost as if he had been hypnotized, his head snapped up, looking her squarely in the eyes, and he smiled, and unashamed smile.

Those eyes, oh God. And that smile – I could look at it all day long. Is that cockiness or confidence?

As her mind wandered, mesmerized, she accidentally knocked the book from the table to the floor. Without hesitation, she bent over just a little too far to pick up that book, knowing he’d have no choice but to look. She wondered if he’d notice how wet her panties were.

Actually, she hoped he’d notice.

-Image by Marcus Ross, found on Pinterest. This is an excerpt reworked from an old story, and shared again as part of Masturbation Monday. I realize the ‘naughty librarian’ thing has totally been overdone, but I couldn’t help it. I think I was a librarian in another life. Subsequent parts will be shared weekly. Hope you enjoy!

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Lost in You

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Waking in a haze, wrapped in your warmth, the dark curtains manage to dampen the sunlight threatening to creep in. There’s no playing hooky today, so I must open my eyes. It takes every ounce of will power I have to peel myself from the mold you’ve made for me.

As I ready for the day, I can’t stop grinning. I didn’t even know the grin was there until I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, a little bit of you reflecting with it. Gliding the clothing over my flesh, stretching and bending to dress, I notice the marks, places that are a little sore and tender, delicious reminders, a map of all the places you’ve bound me to you. And that feeling, that overwhelming, consuming feeling, it lingers and lingers. I still feel you. I still hear you. I want you, even more, if that’s possible.

All day, as I go about my routine, I find myself losing entire chunks of time. I pause, again and again, still grinning, still consumed. I can still feel your body moving mine with a look, a few words, a grab or pull or embrace. My body remembers its hyper-awareness as it obeys, my mind lulled and completely focused on you and how you make me feel.

And that look, oh god – I can’t stop seeing and feeling that look in your eyes. That one that sees right through to my core, to a place no other has been before. I hear those two words roll from your lips, the ones that make me want to give you more and more until there’s nothing left.

My forehead still feels the warmth of yours, the pressure of your hand on the back of my neck pulling me to you, your breath hot on my lips, reminding me to keep my eyes open as I obey your gentle command, over and over again. I feel the pride and pleasure and power behind your smile, each time my body complies.

I feel all of you, owning all of me.

My skin tingles, my cheeks are flush and I’m glowing. I’m glowing inside my haze today, lost in you.

I hope you’re lost, too.


-shared as part of Masturbation Monday 132

Anticipating You

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by the thinnest sliver of light,
a slight crack in the door,
delicate shadow stretches over dark sheet
reaching across the floor,
straining toward you

eyes downcast,
soft light spreads over tanned skin,
silky thighs resting atop the slender arc of calves,
splayed wide open, offering

arching, in a perfect curve,
back lightly tensed,
a muscled lines rippling down the spine,
accentuating, craving

shoulders pulled back, tight,
arms behind draw a line
to fingers resting on bottom,
pushing ample breasts upward,
on display, beckoning

two, small, impeccably taut,
nipples peak, ready

as I still and I anticipate,
no thought to what you’ll do to me,
or wonder about tools you’ll choose
to use

my body is alive,
bursting with an overwhelming hunger
to simply follow,
to fulfill any need,

to be your desire

I kneel, waiting,
anticipating
You