"I want more of you. On me. Inside me. Your scent invading my nostrils. I want it all. I don't want it to stop. I want to drown in you. I crave you.
Even now I can feel your hands on me, pressing firm against my skin. I remember your nails dragging down my back; down my legs. I can feel the slickness of your tongue as you run it between my cunt lips, before plunging it inside, tasting me as deeply as possible.
The feel of your hand with my hair wrapped around it, pulling my hair as you fuck me from behind. It only makes me hungrier for more. Remember how I melted as you growled before biting me? I want more."
The little beast growls, pacing the confines of her cage, waiting until she can be unleashed once more.
December 8, 2014
December 1, 2014
Different Relationship Energies
There is something to say for NRE (new relationship energy). It has a euphoria that is difficult to be found anywhere else. It leads to blood whistling through one's veins and a heady feeling of being light on your feet. Humming tunes and smiling for absolutely no reason. There isn't much that can match it.
Then there's the trust and passion that comes with a well established relationship. After a time, all the other person has to do is look at you, make a specific movement, or give you a certain touch and you can tell exactly what they want or are thinking. That kind of thing only comes with knowing each other over time. Trust like that can only be established through different situations and being shown that you WILL be ok with that person, no matter what.
And there are those who are past relationships but still present a temptation that tugs at you. You know it is best not to turn down that road again, but the call still wanders in and grips you with a strength you had forgotten about. The remembrance is often better than what is and that is what draws one down the path no longer available. Even so, sometimes that tug and pain associated with is a good door for one's muse to step through. Did I mention my muse is a bitch?
NRE for me is much like obsession or addiction. I can't think about anything other than that person without much effort on my part. It does increase my energy levels but I crave that person like crazy and in a way that type of feeling frightens me and I fight it like mad. I also look for it behind every crook and cranny, whether I realize it or not. I can't seem to help myself sometimes. Then, when I realize what I'm doing, I force myself to pull back, take stock of what is going on, and settle myself back into my corner, until next my mind wanders in that direction. Right now I'm stretched so thin between work, school, and home life that I have little time for much else. That helps keep me in check too.
ERE (established relationship energy) as I will call it for the sake of ease, is comfortable. It's like taking a soft, warm blanket and wrapping it around you on a cold night. I have a few of these and I can only hope that I hold them with the greatest care possible for they are difficult to find and hold. It is difficult for me to trust anyone with the amount of trust I give to these people. I hope they understand how much that means. When I have been with someone in this position, leaving is so difficult. My heart aches for their touch, the sound of their voice in my ears, the feel of their body against mine. That exchange of energy is so very special. I just hate that distance pulls us apart as it does.
I can't really say much more about PRE (past relationship energy) than I said above aside to say that time really does change one's perspective. Goals advance and other things take precedence. Hindsight really is 20/20.
What I can say is that I am thankful for those trusted relationships I do have. And that I miss you.
Then there's the trust and passion that comes with a well established relationship. After a time, all the other person has to do is look at you, make a specific movement, or give you a certain touch and you can tell exactly what they want or are thinking. That kind of thing only comes with knowing each other over time. Trust like that can only be established through different situations and being shown that you WILL be ok with that person, no matter what.
And there are those who are past relationships but still present a temptation that tugs at you. You know it is best not to turn down that road again, but the call still wanders in and grips you with a strength you had forgotten about. The remembrance is often better than what is and that is what draws one down the path no longer available. Even so, sometimes that tug and pain associated with is a good door for one's muse to step through. Did I mention my muse is a bitch?
NRE for me is much like obsession or addiction. I can't think about anything other than that person without much effort on my part. It does increase my energy levels but I crave that person like crazy and in a way that type of feeling frightens me and I fight it like mad. I also look for it behind every crook and cranny, whether I realize it or not. I can't seem to help myself sometimes. Then, when I realize what I'm doing, I force myself to pull back, take stock of what is going on, and settle myself back into my corner, until next my mind wanders in that direction. Right now I'm stretched so thin between work, school, and home life that I have little time for much else. That helps keep me in check too.
ERE (established relationship energy) as I will call it for the sake of ease, is comfortable. It's like taking a soft, warm blanket and wrapping it around you on a cold night. I have a few of these and I can only hope that I hold them with the greatest care possible for they are difficult to find and hold. It is difficult for me to trust anyone with the amount of trust I give to these people. I hope they understand how much that means. When I have been with someone in this position, leaving is so difficult. My heart aches for their touch, the sound of their voice in my ears, the feel of their body against mine. That exchange of energy is so very special. I just hate that distance pulls us apart as it does.
I can't really say much more about PRE (past relationship energy) than I said above aside to say that time really does change one's perspective. Goals advance and other things take precedence. Hindsight really is 20/20.
What I can say is that I am thankful for those trusted relationships I do have. And that I miss you.
October 8, 2014
Feminism
I've seen the word "feminism" thrown around recently. I've seen it used in various ways that are either negatively fashioned towards the subject or overly ecstatic towards the concept. Every time I dig into the idea, it seems I find shades of grey, so to speak. *snerks* Since I can't quite seem to grasp what it is meant to be a "feminist", I can only only say the way I see things and what I feel towards them.
Growing up, I had very few people that held significant positive impact on me. In fat, I can count on one hand with fingers left over the number of them. Out of those people, I cannot remember ever being told I was the weaker sex. If anything, I was told without being told that in some ways, we were stronger. It was in the attitudes and the way situations were handled. It was in the way I was taught how to do and make things. We weren't stronger because of physical strength. It was... other things. Being able to cry when that outlet was needed. Being able to comfort others in various ways. By being ourselves. I can't really explain it beyond that.
As I've grown older, I've determined that I DO like for a man to hold the door for me. More often than not, when I get close to a door, if a man is standing anywhere close to it, they will open it for me. I know it's polite but it makes me feel good inside. It makes smile. And I don't mind standing in front so long as I have that strong profile standing behind me. I walk more confidently. I don't know that I really understand it beyond that.
In looking at times when I've walked close to a male figure, I want their hand at the small of my back. I realize that it's a symbol of "ownership" to other males but it makes me feel... safe. Claimed. I belong. It also means I'm being shown off to others, as if it's a symbol of pride as well. The man I'm with at that moment WANTS it to be seen that I'm claimed, if that makes sense?
I don't say this to say that I can be totally run over and that I shouldn't have any say in what goes on. In fact, anyone that knows me can tell you just how stubborn and hard-headed I can be when I have a certain idea about something. I believe that women SHOULD have voting rights and get paid just as much as men. I believe that women can be and often are just as smart as men at any number of things and we should be treated as such. Our thoughts and opinions should count for an equal amount. Some of us are vapid, bore-some creatures. But so are some men. shrugs
I adore the delicacies and intricacies of politeness as well as ownership. I have absolutely zero issues of being talked of as if I'm not in the room, when the situation is appropriate. I have the need to be treated as a submissive, when I submit to someone. I don't submit halfway. That is a very difficult thing for me to do and I don't fully enjoy it when that has to be done. I submit wholly. Which is why I am EXTREMELY specific with those that I play with. Because I know how I can be hurt if I'm not. Been there, done that. Don't want the t-shirt.
Anyway, back on topic. I positively adore having a door opened for me, a chair pulled out for me, and to be treated as a trophy when the situation calls for it. I love subtle flirting that gets the heart flying and juices flowing, both mentally and physically. There is very little better than a heated conversation that ends up in playtime. Sometimes, especially, when it's several conversations and the anticipation is built up before playtime actually occurs.
As I've stated recently in one of my other writings, I love being shown I'm not the stronger person, that I can be held down by my wrists and fucked within inches of my sanity. But only when it's done by someone that also has brains. I've figured out since a friend pointed it out to me, that I am definitely attracted to someone with lots of yummy brains (or a high level of intelligence for those uncomprehending folks out there). Physical fitness is merely icing on the cake, but it certainly does enhance the flavor when it's added to the intelligence.
What I don't like, is being treated like I AM one of those vapid creatures that can't tell their asshole from a hole in the ground. I want to be able to have a say in a choice that involves me and my possible well-being. There are those that you might not see that happen with, but you can be damned sure guaranteed I have been with them long enough to trust them implicitly and know that if they believed there was even the slightest hint of anything untoward that might happen, I would be fully included in the decision first.
I am strong enough to stand on my own. I am also strong enough to let someone else make decisions for me sometimes. It is so nice to be able to relax, knowing it's not just me looking out for me. That I am safe and can let my hair down, roll over, show my belly and be a pile of girly goo for a while. Men deserve to be applauded for being able to do that. It requires a certain amount of sacrifice on their part, at least in my mind.
Perhaps I'm wrong about the way I feel about all this, but I don't care. It feels right to me and I'm not planning on changing for anyone else or changing anyone else's mind. I like being a puddle of girly goo. I think I'll stick with it for a while. ;-)
Growing up, I had very few people that held significant positive impact on me. In fat, I can count on one hand with fingers left over the number of them. Out of those people, I cannot remember ever being told I was the weaker sex. If anything, I was told without being told that in some ways, we were stronger. It was in the attitudes and the way situations were handled. It was in the way I was taught how to do and make things. We weren't stronger because of physical strength. It was... other things. Being able to cry when that outlet was needed. Being able to comfort others in various ways. By being ourselves. I can't really explain it beyond that.
As I've grown older, I've determined that I DO like for a man to hold the door for me. More often than not, when I get close to a door, if a man is standing anywhere close to it, they will open it for me. I know it's polite but it makes me feel good inside. It makes smile. And I don't mind standing in front so long as I have that strong profile standing behind me. I walk more confidently. I don't know that I really understand it beyond that.
In looking at times when I've walked close to a male figure, I want their hand at the small of my back. I realize that it's a symbol of "ownership" to other males but it makes me feel... safe. Claimed. I belong. It also means I'm being shown off to others, as if it's a symbol of pride as well. The man I'm with at that moment WANTS it to be seen that I'm claimed, if that makes sense?
I don't say this to say that I can be totally run over and that I shouldn't have any say in what goes on. In fact, anyone that knows me can tell you just how stubborn and hard-headed I can be when I have a certain idea about something. I believe that women SHOULD have voting rights and get paid just as much as men. I believe that women can be and often are just as smart as men at any number of things and we should be treated as such. Our thoughts and opinions should count for an equal amount. Some of us are vapid, bore-some creatures. But so are some men. shrugs
I adore the delicacies and intricacies of politeness as well as ownership. I have absolutely zero issues of being talked of as if I'm not in the room, when the situation is appropriate. I have the need to be treated as a submissive, when I submit to someone. I don't submit halfway. That is a very difficult thing for me to do and I don't fully enjoy it when that has to be done. I submit wholly. Which is why I am EXTREMELY specific with those that I play with. Because I know how I can be hurt if I'm not. Been there, done that. Don't want the t-shirt.
Anyway, back on topic. I positively adore having a door opened for me, a chair pulled out for me, and to be treated as a trophy when the situation calls for it. I love subtle flirting that gets the heart flying and juices flowing, both mentally and physically. There is very little better than a heated conversation that ends up in playtime. Sometimes, especially, when it's several conversations and the anticipation is built up before playtime actually occurs.
As I've stated recently in one of my other writings, I love being shown I'm not the stronger person, that I can be held down by my wrists and fucked within inches of my sanity. But only when it's done by someone that also has brains. I've figured out since a friend pointed it out to me, that I am definitely attracted to someone with lots of yummy brains (or a high level of intelligence for those uncomprehending folks out there). Physical fitness is merely icing on the cake, but it certainly does enhance the flavor when it's added to the intelligence.
What I don't like, is being treated like I AM one of those vapid creatures that can't tell their asshole from a hole in the ground. I want to be able to have a say in a choice that involves me and my possible well-being. There are those that you might not see that happen with, but you can be damned sure guaranteed I have been with them long enough to trust them implicitly and know that if they believed there was even the slightest hint of anything untoward that might happen, I would be fully included in the decision first.
I am strong enough to stand on my own. I am also strong enough to let someone else make decisions for me sometimes. It is so nice to be able to relax, knowing it's not just me looking out for me. That I am safe and can let my hair down, roll over, show my belly and be a pile of girly goo for a while. Men deserve to be applauded for being able to do that. It requires a certain amount of sacrifice on their part, at least in my mind.
Perhaps I'm wrong about the way I feel about all this, but I don't care. It feels right to me and I'm not planning on changing for anyone else or changing anyone else's mind. I like being a puddle of girly goo. I think I'll stick with it for a while. ;-)
Internal Arguments Suck
Roughness. It has it's place. I love love LOVE it when someone gets rough with me. Let me clarify- I'm not talking about mean rough but... dominant rough. That's the only way I can really describe it. When he grabs you and throws you on the bed, forcing your legs open before you can catch your breath and then he thrusts into you, taking you for all you're worth. It's fucking hot.
I have a (possibly) little known desire for a take-down scene. The problem I see with this actually happening is that I don't fight back. I mean I do have the desire, generally when I get close to my cycle where I long for the fight, but I can't make a move to be the one to start the fight. I get a bit pissy and angsty but no one responds, probably because it's not something I really talk about. If someone pushes me into it, I possibly could fight back. I think. It's always possible I could surprise myself and fight back for all I'm worth but I have no idea what would happen. I doubt it though.
I can tell you from past experience that when I get into a situation where violence is possible, I tend to melt and then slink my way out. I can't explain it. There has only been one time in my life that I have raised a hand to another person and I blacked out when it happened so I don't even remember it.
I say all of this to say that even though I'm meek in action, there's a lion inside that does want out occasionally. I just haven't figured out how to bring her out yet, I suppose. But I crave the roughness. It takes away my breath and makes my eyes roll back in my head. It makes me wet. Being pushed against a wall and kissed like there won't be a tomorrow. Wet. Melty puddle of girl wet. Just like being bitten. It's a heady feeling when it's done right. Enough to make me dizzy from arousal.
Therein lies my argument with myself. I feel like I'm less because I don't fight back. The desire to do so is there. For some reason, I just can't bring myself to do it. Is having the girl get melty when a guy gets rough with her a turn on for him? Or is it a turn off? I'm sure there are as many answers out there to that question as there are revolutions around the sun but it's still there for me. How do I communicate that yes, rough can be good, even if the reaction received is me melting into a puddle? That I want and in fact sometimes even need it?
One time in my Taiji class, we were doing take-downs. When it was my turn to get taken down, as I was flying through the air, I literally giggled and went, "WEEEE!" as I was falling. Then wanted to do it again. So the fight continues within me, the wolf and the panther circling inside wanting to rip through and join the fight but the fox slinking back and the kitten rolling over to show her belly outweighing them 9 times out of 10.
*sighs*
I have a (possibly) little known desire for a take-down scene. The problem I see with this actually happening is that I don't fight back. I mean I do have the desire, generally when I get close to my cycle where I long for the fight, but I can't make a move to be the one to start the fight. I get a bit pissy and angsty but no one responds, probably because it's not something I really talk about. If someone pushes me into it, I possibly could fight back. I think. It's always possible I could surprise myself and fight back for all I'm worth but I have no idea what would happen. I doubt it though.
I can tell you from past experience that when I get into a situation where violence is possible, I tend to melt and then slink my way out. I can't explain it. There has only been one time in my life that I have raised a hand to another person and I blacked out when it happened so I don't even remember it.
I say all of this to say that even though I'm meek in action, there's a lion inside that does want out occasionally. I just haven't figured out how to bring her out yet, I suppose. But I crave the roughness. It takes away my breath and makes my eyes roll back in my head. It makes me wet. Being pushed against a wall and kissed like there won't be a tomorrow. Wet. Melty puddle of girl wet. Just like being bitten. It's a heady feeling when it's done right. Enough to make me dizzy from arousal.
Therein lies my argument with myself. I feel like I'm less because I don't fight back. The desire to do so is there. For some reason, I just can't bring myself to do it. Is having the girl get melty when a guy gets rough with her a turn on for him? Or is it a turn off? I'm sure there are as many answers out there to that question as there are revolutions around the sun but it's still there for me. How do I communicate that yes, rough can be good, even if the reaction received is me melting into a puddle? That I want and in fact sometimes even need it?
One time in my Taiji class, we were doing take-downs. When it was my turn to get taken down, as I was flying through the air, I literally giggled and went, "WEEEE!" as I was falling. Then wanted to do it again. So the fight continues within me, the wolf and the panther circling inside wanting to rip through and join the fight but the fox slinking back and the kitten rolling over to show her belly outweighing them 9 times out of 10.
*sighs*
Unknowingly I Missed Something...
I've been trying since DragonCon to figure out how to write about this. There was one event especially that stuck with me above almost all else. A moment when three of us (including me) were lying together on a bed, contented to just be with each other for that piece of time.
Then a hand drifted down softly along my side, until it found that sensitive spot; the spot that takes my breath away, literally, and almost tickles but doesn't quite, but mostly feels oh so good. That spot that makes me squeak and stop talking because my stomach muscles involuntarily clench because it's so sensitive. I was asked if it tickled. I responded it didn't, but that it felt good and that I also couldn't talk while I was being touched there.
The touch to make this happen also has to be done in a certain way. It has to be very light, just enough barely feel. And when it's done right, it's a delightful agony that I don't wish to be spared. ;-)
So the caresses and touches continued, leading to a very much unexpected but oh so needed subspace. I think I continued making little noises for I am not sure how long. Eventually I said something, which caused my companions to realize I was thinking again. And then the touching started once more and for a second time, my brain took another siesta.
Other fun things took place after that, but those things are not what this particular post is about. This one is about that touch, and my realization that it is something I have missed, without knowing it. The sensation I haven't felt in so long that when given, completely enraptured me and sent me reeling among the stars for a short time. Oh how I had missed it.
Over the years, I believe I had unknowingly transferred into that realm of pain tolerance, of seeing how much I could take before I cried red, just because. I can certainly take more than I used to but that's not what it's always all about. Sometime there should be time for the soft as well as the hard. And sometimes time for both. Variety IS the spice of life after all, right?
I can only say thank you to my wonderful companions for that moment because without them, it wouldn't have happened. Even now it brings warm fuzzies and a smile to my face to think of it.
More, pretty please?
Then a hand drifted down softly along my side, until it found that sensitive spot; the spot that takes my breath away, literally, and almost tickles but doesn't quite, but mostly feels oh so good. That spot that makes me squeak and stop talking because my stomach muscles involuntarily clench because it's so sensitive. I was asked if it tickled. I responded it didn't, but that it felt good and that I also couldn't talk while I was being touched there.
The touch to make this happen also has to be done in a certain way. It has to be very light, just enough barely feel. And when it's done right, it's a delightful agony that I don't wish to be spared. ;-)
So the caresses and touches continued, leading to a very much unexpected but oh so needed subspace. I think I continued making little noises for I am not sure how long. Eventually I said something, which caused my companions to realize I was thinking again. And then the touching started once more and for a second time, my brain took another siesta.
Other fun things took place after that, but those things are not what this particular post is about. This one is about that touch, and my realization that it is something I have missed, without knowing it. The sensation I haven't felt in so long that when given, completely enraptured me and sent me reeling among the stars for a short time. Oh how I had missed it.
Over the years, I believe I had unknowingly transferred into that realm of pain tolerance, of seeing how much I could take before I cried red, just because. I can certainly take more than I used to but that's not what it's always all about. Sometime there should be time for the soft as well as the hard. And sometimes time for both. Variety IS the spice of life after all, right?
I can only say thank you to my wonderful companions for that moment because without them, it wouldn't have happened. Even now it brings warm fuzzies and a smile to my face to think of it.
More, pretty please?
DragonCon Recap
It's time for me to recap this year's DragonCon. It was so much better than last year. Last year had it's moments but it was not a normal con. Therefore, no more speaking about it. This year one of my wonderful bestest female buddies stayed in my room and it was even more awesome than I had pictured.
I was very careful about my stress levels and only had one instance where my brain shut down on me. It was just after we'd gotten into the room and had retrieved our badges. The sudden letdown of "everything is actually working out" that my brain decided to go foggy. I remember sitting on the bed vegging on my kindle for a bit while chatting with my con roomies, but I couldn't tell you anything about what was said. It finally cleared up and I was able to carry on as normal. I am incredibly happy it only happened that once.
Later that evening, we met up with our other friends and from then on, the rest of the con was a complete festival of awesome. I did not make it to the walk of fame but somehow, I don't care. I made several rounds of the dealer rooms and ended up bringing home 3 corsets, that I absolutely adore. I have a feeling this is just the beginning of that... giggles
I dressed up as Glinda on Friday and had a ball with that. I went in costume to the FL meet and greet. Someone started blowing bubbles, which completely distracted me, mid-sentence. I think a few people found some humor surrounding that. Then on Saturday I ended up being an unintentional Daphne.
I tried to avoid terribly loud places because of my hearing issues, but for the most part, I was able to cope much better than I had expected. There were times during the con that I was very unsure of myself (which happens at times), but by the time Sunday night got here, that was well taken care of thanks to some of the most wonderful people I know. I think I had the worst of my con drop after getting back to my room Sunday night but I was still not quite ready to come home on Monday until after my friends had left and I had gotten one last taste of the crowds in the dealer rooms.
Then it was time. Time to trek back to the car. Time to make the trip home to be met at the door by hubs, mini, and the cat, all at the same time. sighs
Over all, it was a huge success. I am still suffering from missing my dear ones but I will be ok. Eventually. Another con past us, and a year to go for the next one. I have a room and I have pre-ordered my badge. Now to plan costumes!
I was very careful about my stress levels and only had one instance where my brain shut down on me. It was just after we'd gotten into the room and had retrieved our badges. The sudden letdown of "everything is actually working out" that my brain decided to go foggy. I remember sitting on the bed vegging on my kindle for a bit while chatting with my con roomies, but I couldn't tell you anything about what was said. It finally cleared up and I was able to carry on as normal. I am incredibly happy it only happened that once.
Later that evening, we met up with our other friends and from then on, the rest of the con was a complete festival of awesome. I did not make it to the walk of fame but somehow, I don't care. I made several rounds of the dealer rooms and ended up bringing home 3 corsets, that I absolutely adore. I have a feeling this is just the beginning of that... giggles
I dressed up as Glinda on Friday and had a ball with that. I went in costume to the FL meet and greet. Someone started blowing bubbles, which completely distracted me, mid-sentence. I think a few people found some humor surrounding that. Then on Saturday I ended up being an unintentional Daphne.
I tried to avoid terribly loud places because of my hearing issues, but for the most part, I was able to cope much better than I had expected. There were times during the con that I was very unsure of myself (which happens at times), but by the time Sunday night got here, that was well taken care of thanks to some of the most wonderful people I know. I think I had the worst of my con drop after getting back to my room Sunday night but I was still not quite ready to come home on Monday until after my friends had left and I had gotten one last taste of the crowds in the dealer rooms.
Then it was time. Time to trek back to the car. Time to make the trip home to be met at the door by hubs, mini, and the cat, all at the same time. sighs
Over all, it was a huge success. I am still suffering from missing my dear ones but I will be ok. Eventually. Another con past us, and a year to go for the next one. I have a room and I have pre-ordered my badge. Now to plan costumes!
Early Morning Snack
She wakes up slowly, shaking her head to clear the remaining cobwebs of sleep. Her wrists jingle as she moves which reminds her that she is still wearing cuffs from the playtime the night before. This causes her to smile, remembering the hands on her body and the look in his eyes as he fucked her, making her cum over and over again.
Momentarily absorbed in the memory, she doesn't have time to react as he rolls over onto her, placing her hands above her head and holding them down as he kisses her deeply. "Good morning, love," he breathes out softly against her ear before nibbling it slightly.
His knees spread her legs and he pushes his cock into her already soaked cunt, causing her to cry out from the pleasure. He keeps his thrusts slow and gentle, teasing her and making her even more hungry to be taken hard by him.
"Please, Sir? Please fuck me?" she begs, trying to thrust her hips against his. He chuckles and tells her he will, in good time. Her moans show her frustration as he continues to tease, nipping at her neck and growling before finally pulling almost all the way out then thrusting hard and fast deeply into her.
She cries out, almost instantly cumming, her body trembling with the force of it. He continues thrusting, hard and fast, enjoying every twitch and spasm her cunt muscles make. He doesn't stop, knowing she will cum as long as he keeps fucking her. Her cries echo out across the room until he reaches down and kisses her.
Eventually he stops, allowing her body to still so that she can catch her breath which takes several minutes. His cock, still inside her cunt, can feel every spasm of every aftershock that waves through her. He enjoys feeling her continued orgasms milking his cock for everything it's worth.
Feeling that she's had enough of a break, he lifts up slightly while bending his head to her neck. He bites her neck and growls, thrusting into her again. He lifts up his head and captures her eyes with his before saying, "CUM!" Her eyes roll back as her body spasms under his once more.
He keeps thrusting until she is covered with sweat from cumming. He starts slowing down until he is no longer moving inside her before pulling out and laying beside her. He holds her against him as she shudders with each aftershock until she settles down, cooing with contentment. He looks down at her and tells her he loves her. She looks back at him and smiles softly responding in kind.
Settling in, the jingling of her cuffs cause him to smile as they both drift back to sleep.
Momentarily absorbed in the memory, she doesn't have time to react as he rolls over onto her, placing her hands above her head and holding them down as he kisses her deeply. "Good morning, love," he breathes out softly against her ear before nibbling it slightly.
His knees spread her legs and he pushes his cock into her already soaked cunt, causing her to cry out from the pleasure. He keeps his thrusts slow and gentle, teasing her and making her even more hungry to be taken hard by him.
"Please, Sir? Please fuck me?" she begs, trying to thrust her hips against his. He chuckles and tells her he will, in good time. Her moans show her frustration as he continues to tease, nipping at her neck and growling before finally pulling almost all the way out then thrusting hard and fast deeply into her.
She cries out, almost instantly cumming, her body trembling with the force of it. He continues thrusting, hard and fast, enjoying every twitch and spasm her cunt muscles make. He doesn't stop, knowing she will cum as long as he keeps fucking her. Her cries echo out across the room until he reaches down and kisses her.
Eventually he stops, allowing her body to still so that she can catch her breath which takes several minutes. His cock, still inside her cunt, can feel every spasm of every aftershock that waves through her. He enjoys feeling her continued orgasms milking his cock for everything it's worth.
Feeling that she's had enough of a break, he lifts up slightly while bending his head to her neck. He bites her neck and growls, thrusting into her again. He lifts up his head and captures her eyes with his before saying, "CUM!" Her eyes roll back as her body spasms under his once more.
He keeps thrusting until she is covered with sweat from cumming. He starts slowing down until he is no longer moving inside her before pulling out and laying beside her. He holds her against him as she shudders with each aftershock until she settles down, cooing with contentment. He looks down at her and tells her he loves her. She looks back at him and smiles softly responding in kind.
Settling in, the jingling of her cuffs cause him to smile as they both drift back to sleep.
MIA
I posted some writings to another account that have not yet made their way here so I figured I should go ahead and add them before I got too far afield from where I was. Starting with this one. :)
I realize I've been MIA for a while. I would like to be able to say I'm sorry, but I've just been too busy to see straight. Within the last 3 months, I've had my vow renewal, 2 family vacations, DragonCon (now), and school starting back. To say it's been hectic is an understatement, but at the same time it was all so worth it.
All that being said, things should be starting to simmer down now which means I can be more active on here. How active that ends up being, I'm not sure, but rest assured that it will be more so than it has been.
I realize I've been MIA for a while. I would like to be able to say I'm sorry, but I've just been too busy to see straight. Within the last 3 months, I've had my vow renewal, 2 family vacations, DragonCon (now), and school starting back. To say it's been hectic is an understatement, but at the same time it was all so worth it.
All that being said, things should be starting to simmer down now which means I can be more active on here. How active that ends up being, I'm not sure, but rest assured that it will be more so than it has been.
May 3, 2014
The Uglies
Tonight's blog is going to be on an edgy subject, so if you're easily squicked, please leave now.
When you speak the word "rape", varying opinions get blurted out regarding what constitutes the act as well as how it should be handled. From one end of the spectrum come those who think everyone should be treated like porcelain dolls. The other end are those who state that either rape "simply doesn't exist" or that the person who was raped brought it upon themselves in some manner.
Where do I stand on this subject? What is my belief? I generally keep quiet about it because in some respects, I'm conflicted. Have I been taken against my will and subjected to sexual acts that I would not have agreed to beforehand with men I didn't know before, during, or after the fact? Yes. Has it happened with men I knew? Yes. Did I do something to exact such an act upon myself? Yes. Did I say no when the act happened? No. Both times the situation occurred, I placed myself into them, against my better judgment and intuition. During both acts, I wilted. I did not fight but as soon as I was able to, I removed myself from the situation. I rarely speak of them though they happened years ago and I am fairly certain that there may be some of my closely held loved ones that may not know about it even now. I say "it" instead of "them" because while it was two different situations, it is the same subject for both.
I did not apply the word "rape" to either situation either during or after the fact and when someone mentioned it the first time I did bring it up, I was disgusted that the word would have been used to describe what had happened. Such a horrible thing could not and would not happen to me, right? I would not be subjected to such a filthy act of violence upon myself, would I? Certainly for it to be considered "rape", the unwilling person has to say no, doesn't he/she? These were some of the questions that rolled through my mind. Even now, I find my lips curling in disgust at the thought and it makes me feel sick to my stomach. I never sought counseling, instead choosing to put those situations into their own box inside my own very organized yet chaotic brain. Occasionally I peek into the box and rummage through it, trying to make sense of it, only to put it back on the shelf for a while longer. Hey, it's worked with everything else. Why not this too?
With that being said, whenever there is a rape scene in a movie, I have a difficult time with it. Not just because of my unease with it, but also because it turns me on. Makes me wet. It is a conflict of interest inside my head. On one hand, this is an act against an unwilling person, brought on by nothing that person did to the person committing it. On the other hand, the person doing this to the other person is showing they are stronger than the one person. That sense of strength and being overpowered is a heady concoction to me. The simplicity of it is that I HAVE to know the other person can handle my strength. If they can't, then they can't protect me. To be overpowered in that way is a sign to me that they can. And it disgusts me that I need that. I want to fight and be taken down, fucked and shown I'm not the boss. I crave it. Yet I know if such a situation were to occur, I'd melt once again. I don't know that I could be violent against someone else.
To have to be strong in every area of one's life is taxing. I need that one space where I can be little and vulnerable, but know that I'm safe. That's what it boils down to, I think. Take me, fuck me. Mind-fuck me if you want. Do what you will, but when you're done, hold me. Let me know that I'm ok. That I'm safe, cherished, cared about/for. Don't throw me away...
When you speak the word "rape", varying opinions get blurted out regarding what constitutes the act as well as how it should be handled. From one end of the spectrum come those who think everyone should be treated like porcelain dolls. The other end are those who state that either rape "simply doesn't exist" or that the person who was raped brought it upon themselves in some manner.
Where do I stand on this subject? What is my belief? I generally keep quiet about it because in some respects, I'm conflicted. Have I been taken against my will and subjected to sexual acts that I would not have agreed to beforehand with men I didn't know before, during, or after the fact? Yes. Has it happened with men I knew? Yes. Did I do something to exact such an act upon myself? Yes. Did I say no when the act happened? No. Both times the situation occurred, I placed myself into them, against my better judgment and intuition. During both acts, I wilted. I did not fight but as soon as I was able to, I removed myself from the situation. I rarely speak of them though they happened years ago and I am fairly certain that there may be some of my closely held loved ones that may not know about it even now. I say "it" instead of "them" because while it was two different situations, it is the same subject for both.
I did not apply the word "rape" to either situation either during or after the fact and when someone mentioned it the first time I did bring it up, I was disgusted that the word would have been used to describe what had happened. Such a horrible thing could not and would not happen to me, right? I would not be subjected to such a filthy act of violence upon myself, would I? Certainly for it to be considered "rape", the unwilling person has to say no, doesn't he/she? These were some of the questions that rolled through my mind. Even now, I find my lips curling in disgust at the thought and it makes me feel sick to my stomach. I never sought counseling, instead choosing to put those situations into their own box inside my own very organized yet chaotic brain. Occasionally I peek into the box and rummage through it, trying to make sense of it, only to put it back on the shelf for a while longer. Hey, it's worked with everything else. Why not this too?
With that being said, whenever there is a rape scene in a movie, I have a difficult time with it. Not just because of my unease with it, but also because it turns me on. Makes me wet. It is a conflict of interest inside my head. On one hand, this is an act against an unwilling person, brought on by nothing that person did to the person committing it. On the other hand, the person doing this to the other person is showing they are stronger than the one person. That sense of strength and being overpowered is a heady concoction to me. The simplicity of it is that I HAVE to know the other person can handle my strength. If they can't, then they can't protect me. To be overpowered in that way is a sign to me that they can. And it disgusts me that I need that. I want to fight and be taken down, fucked and shown I'm not the boss. I crave it. Yet I know if such a situation were to occur, I'd melt once again. I don't know that I could be violent against someone else.
To have to be strong in every area of one's life is taxing. I need that one space where I can be little and vulnerable, but know that I'm safe. That's what it boils down to, I think. Take me, fuck me. Mind-fuck me if you want. Do what you will, but when you're done, hold me. Let me know that I'm ok. That I'm safe, cherished, cared about/for. Don't throw me away...
April 12, 2014
The "IT" Factor
I watched the movie Something's gotta Give tonight (with Jack Nicholson, Diane Keaton, & Keanu Reeves). Before you read anything more, there are spoilers involved so if you continue reading, don't blame me. :-P
There's a scene (actually more than one, happily enough) in the movie where Jack and Diane's character's find themselves in a romantic situation and kissing ensues. The way he moves in and.. for lack of a better term, well.. takes her. THAT moment. That is what gets my blood stirring (amongst other things). He has "IT". That instinctive animal magnetism/presence that just... grrrrr. *shivers* So damn yummy!
Yet when Diane and Keanu kiss, that same something isn't there. He just doesn't have that "IT." It's so much softer and while watching it, I realized I could finally show people exactly what I'm talking about. The complete difference in those two scenes and even how she reacts. That's so very me.
Now dammit, someone kiss me! *grumps*
April 5, 2014
In Memorial of a Loved One
Tonight my heart hurts. It's a deep throbbing ache that I have not felt in literally years. It interrupts my studying with a grip that leaves me breathless. Let me explain. When I was growing up, I had one person that I never doubted was there for me. She always made sure I knew that I was important to her and that I mattered. That I was loved by someone. She was in a wheelchair and couldn't walk but she made the world seem so much bigger, so much better. We had a crazy plan that when I got my driver's license, I would run the roads with her, taking her anywhere and everywhere. Then she died. Almost two months after my 15th birthday I got the call and my world shattered. I had lost the one person that I knew for a fact was actually in my corner. She was my rock in a time when kids are so unsure of themselves and the world around them. And she was gone. My grandmother was gone forever.
I went to her house once after she died, and selected which of her books I wanted, as well as which paintings I would keep. Then I left and never went back. I couldn't face going there and knowing she would never be there again. That was HER place. Not even my grandfathers. Just hers. It was the place where she and I picked strawberries in the backyard patch she had. It was where we had picked polk together for polk salad. It was where she made the best meatballs and mashed potatoes ever. It was where we planted flowers together, picked their seeds together, and handled wild animals together. It was where we played gin rummy together. She was who I had run to whenever I needed a hug or food or clothing (long story) or advice. It held too many memories for me to go back.
Over the years since then, I have never gone back. My grandfather still lives there, with the woman he married after my grandmother died. My grandfather has not tried to contact me once. I have seen him at various family functions but I never tried to get close to him again because I felt that if he wanted some sort of relationship, he would have reached out to me. I did try to invite him and his wife to my baby shower when I was pregnant with Little. I never got a response from either of them so I assumed he didn't want anything to do with me. Plus his wife strikes a chord within me that there is something not right about her. I can't place my finger on it but it's there in the pit of my stomach. And usually when I have that feeling, there is a reason. I may never know what it is, but I know it's there.
A few weeks ago, I started feeling like I needed to see my grandfather, to have him meet Little. Then I started dreaming about him. The urge grew stronger. I voiced it to hubs and he mentioned wanting to go visit too. We made tentative plans. As the time grew closer, I became more anxious about it. Last night I cried about it. Not about going to see him, but about going to THAT house. On the way there this morning I teared up several times. It's a good thing I keep a box of tissues in the car because I needed them. I can't believe that after 18 years, it still hurts this badly.
The town itself has changed. Immensely so, but that doesn't bother me. All towns change. I've gotten over that part of life. We pulled into the drive and the yard looked so much smaller than my memory. The flower bed at the end of where the cars get parked is gone, overgrown with weeds and sundry junk. The tiny yard contains a few concrete statues of various animals and the porch contains junk. Not that there's room for a lot of it, but it's enough. The outside of the house is in disrepair, boards visibly detached from one another and dirt on the windowsill that has been there for a long time. The chrysanthemums no longer line the drive, the roses no longer line the house and the crab apple tree is long gone. It was exactly what I had feared.
We knocked on the door and waited. Finally a hand pulled the curtain to the side. I smiled and waived. She finally smiled and closed the curtain. Then we waited again. We waited long enough that I began to wonder if the door was going to be opened at all. Eventually the door opened and his wife came out to greet us. She didn't invite us inside but stated my grandfather was inside resting. She said they sleep in the living room and really only use that room, the bathroom, and the kitchen now, that they don't use the rest of the rooms in the house. So we stood on the porch and talked. She told us about things that had happened with them (mostly not good) and we told about things that had gone on with us. I asked her about my grandmother's things. She said the only thing left when she moved in was the furniture and that they had gotten rid of that. She claimed no knowledge of what had happened to her trinkets, stating she had never asked. And the look on her face said she could care less. That bothered me but I didn't remark on it. This wasn't the time or the place.
After a time, my grandfather came out. He smiled when he saw me and it was a real smile. He was happy to see me. That was a relief. He gave me the awkward hug he had always given me and we talked more. Little asked (multiple times) about going inside and the excuse was given that the house was a mess. I had feared that too. So we stayed outside and continued chatting, my grandfather gazing at Little with an instant fondness. Of course you can't not be fond of her. She's seriously adorable. He immediately went over to her and hugged her, taking an interest in everything she was doing and had to say. I can't even begin to say how happy that makes me. She already has one great-grandparent that could care less about her, for reasons unbeknownst to me.
The visit continued and went well. We talked about my car and I showed it to him, then we talked about his cars. We talked about his wife's grandkids and what they were doing. She even made sure to mention that they did think of us (my dad's kids). My grandfather made sure to mention that his birthday is coming up soon and how old he'll be (I think that's a hint that he wants us around for it, lol). I invited them to Little's birthday party. And finally, it came time to leave. Pollen aside, the weather had been perfect for an outdoor visit. Hugs went around and they made sure I had their new number and that they now have mine too. Lack of means to communicate isn't a good excuse now.
I managed not to cry the entire time we were there. I think I was too busy absorbing everything. I am stunned by how small everything was and felt. It's like everything shrank down after my grandmother's death. Thankfully I have my memories and the pictures. Hubs and I discussed it as I drove us back towards home and we decided we will do something for his birthday. I decided that I will take little for visits every so often so that he can see her. I still have this over hanging feeling that my grandfather won't be here much longer and that I need to make as much of the time he has left as I can, especially where Little is concerned. And so I will.
Then, tonight as I was studying and the house was quiet, my heart began to feel heavy and hurt. 18 years later, and I feel like I'm mourning my grandmother's loss again. At her funeral, I couldn't even bear to walk up to the casket. I couldn't handle seeing her lying there, cold and unmoving. Something I have always felt is a disbelief in the fact that the body lying in the casket is a person I once knew. It's an empty shell. The person I knew is gone. That THING is not them. Even so, I couldn't bear it with her. And tonight, I mourn the loss of her again. The house I went to today is not her house. Every trace of her has been removed. And the woman my grandfather married speaks of her with vinegar in her voice.
Tonight I mourn the loss of a woman who made the world around her a better place to live. A woman that made everything around her seem bigger, more grandiose. A woman that loved a little girl and made her feel wanted, cherished and loved. I love you and miss you so much.
I went to her house once after she died, and selected which of her books I wanted, as well as which paintings I would keep. Then I left and never went back. I couldn't face going there and knowing she would never be there again. That was HER place. Not even my grandfathers. Just hers. It was the place where she and I picked strawberries in the backyard patch she had. It was where we had picked polk together for polk salad. It was where she made the best meatballs and mashed potatoes ever. It was where we planted flowers together, picked their seeds together, and handled wild animals together. It was where we played gin rummy together. She was who I had run to whenever I needed a hug or food or clothing (long story) or advice. It held too many memories for me to go back.
Over the years since then, I have never gone back. My grandfather still lives there, with the woman he married after my grandmother died. My grandfather has not tried to contact me once. I have seen him at various family functions but I never tried to get close to him again because I felt that if he wanted some sort of relationship, he would have reached out to me. I did try to invite him and his wife to my baby shower when I was pregnant with Little. I never got a response from either of them so I assumed he didn't want anything to do with me. Plus his wife strikes a chord within me that there is something not right about her. I can't place my finger on it but it's there in the pit of my stomach. And usually when I have that feeling, there is a reason. I may never know what it is, but I know it's there.
A few weeks ago, I started feeling like I needed to see my grandfather, to have him meet Little. Then I started dreaming about him. The urge grew stronger. I voiced it to hubs and he mentioned wanting to go visit too. We made tentative plans. As the time grew closer, I became more anxious about it. Last night I cried about it. Not about going to see him, but about going to THAT house. On the way there this morning I teared up several times. It's a good thing I keep a box of tissues in the car because I needed them. I can't believe that after 18 years, it still hurts this badly.
The town itself has changed. Immensely so, but that doesn't bother me. All towns change. I've gotten over that part of life. We pulled into the drive and the yard looked so much smaller than my memory. The flower bed at the end of where the cars get parked is gone, overgrown with weeds and sundry junk. The tiny yard contains a few concrete statues of various animals and the porch contains junk. Not that there's room for a lot of it, but it's enough. The outside of the house is in disrepair, boards visibly detached from one another and dirt on the windowsill that has been there for a long time. The chrysanthemums no longer line the drive, the roses no longer line the house and the crab apple tree is long gone. It was exactly what I had feared.
We knocked on the door and waited. Finally a hand pulled the curtain to the side. I smiled and waived. She finally smiled and closed the curtain. Then we waited again. We waited long enough that I began to wonder if the door was going to be opened at all. Eventually the door opened and his wife came out to greet us. She didn't invite us inside but stated my grandfather was inside resting. She said they sleep in the living room and really only use that room, the bathroom, and the kitchen now, that they don't use the rest of the rooms in the house. So we stood on the porch and talked. She told us about things that had happened with them (mostly not good) and we told about things that had gone on with us. I asked her about my grandmother's things. She said the only thing left when she moved in was the furniture and that they had gotten rid of that. She claimed no knowledge of what had happened to her trinkets, stating she had never asked. And the look on her face said she could care less. That bothered me but I didn't remark on it. This wasn't the time or the place.
After a time, my grandfather came out. He smiled when he saw me and it was a real smile. He was happy to see me. That was a relief. He gave me the awkward hug he had always given me and we talked more. Little asked (multiple times) about going inside and the excuse was given that the house was a mess. I had feared that too. So we stayed outside and continued chatting, my grandfather gazing at Little with an instant fondness. Of course you can't not be fond of her. She's seriously adorable. He immediately went over to her and hugged her, taking an interest in everything she was doing and had to say. I can't even begin to say how happy that makes me. She already has one great-grandparent that could care less about her, for reasons unbeknownst to me.
The visit continued and went well. We talked about my car and I showed it to him, then we talked about his cars. We talked about his wife's grandkids and what they were doing. She even made sure to mention that they did think of us (my dad's kids). My grandfather made sure to mention that his birthday is coming up soon and how old he'll be (I think that's a hint that he wants us around for it, lol). I invited them to Little's birthday party. And finally, it came time to leave. Pollen aside, the weather had been perfect for an outdoor visit. Hugs went around and they made sure I had their new number and that they now have mine too. Lack of means to communicate isn't a good excuse now.
I managed not to cry the entire time we were there. I think I was too busy absorbing everything. I am stunned by how small everything was and felt. It's like everything shrank down after my grandmother's death. Thankfully I have my memories and the pictures. Hubs and I discussed it as I drove us back towards home and we decided we will do something for his birthday. I decided that I will take little for visits every so often so that he can see her. I still have this over hanging feeling that my grandfather won't be here much longer and that I need to make as much of the time he has left as I can, especially where Little is concerned. And so I will.
Then, tonight as I was studying and the house was quiet, my heart began to feel heavy and hurt. 18 years later, and I feel like I'm mourning my grandmother's loss again. At her funeral, I couldn't even bear to walk up to the casket. I couldn't handle seeing her lying there, cold and unmoving. Something I have always felt is a disbelief in the fact that the body lying in the casket is a person I once knew. It's an empty shell. The person I knew is gone. That THING is not them. Even so, I couldn't bear it with her. And tonight, I mourn the loss of her again. The house I went to today is not her house. Every trace of her has been removed. And the woman my grandfather married speaks of her with vinegar in her voice.
Tonight I mourn the loss of a woman who made the world around her a better place to live. A woman that made everything around her seem bigger, more grandiose. A woman that loved a little girl and made her feel wanted, cherished and loved. I love you and miss you so much.
February 17, 2014
Needy
Today was a rough day. It wasn't extraordinarily bad. It was just very taxing. I haven't had sex in goodness knows how long. That's a major part of the problem, I'm sure. But I don't really feel as if I can control that aspect as much as I'd like of late. Lack of partners close enough to me and a busy schedule with no time off available from work until June 1st puts me in a very bad position to be taking any trips. I've had plenty of teasing but that is just making the issue worse.
A friend tried to help by giving me a few texted "commands" but I've reached the point that without physical contact, it's just not having any effect. I don't know if this is because I'm not letting it or what the deal is but I almost feel like I'm becoming numb, in a sense. What I want right now, right at this very moment is to be touched. Everywhere. To be kissed and held and fucked senseless. That is what I truly yearn for right now. I want to be worn the fuck out. Until I can't see straight and that pleasant tingliness takes over that means you're just floating in your own mind and that the world could burn up and you could care less. Because you are loved.
Each person has something different that shows them they are cared for, wanted, needed, whatever. For me, it's physical contact. Little gifts here and there don't hurt, but the thing that really talks to me is for someone to touch me. I need a caress. A kiss. Real intimacy. Without it I stagnate. My energy levels plummet and I become so very unhappy. I need. And if I were to try to tell anyone this, to actually say the words, I would hesitate. The words would draw back and I wouldn't be able to say them. To say it makes me vulnerable. I've been rejected too many times.
I'm starving for physical contact and I can't seem to find a way to get it at this time. That certainly doesn't help. I.... need.
A friend tried to help by giving me a few texted "commands" but I've reached the point that without physical contact, it's just not having any effect. I don't know if this is because I'm not letting it or what the deal is but I almost feel like I'm becoming numb, in a sense. What I want right now, right at this very moment is to be touched. Everywhere. To be kissed and held and fucked senseless. That is what I truly yearn for right now. I want to be worn the fuck out. Until I can't see straight and that pleasant tingliness takes over that means you're just floating in your own mind and that the world could burn up and you could care less. Because you are loved.
Each person has something different that shows them they are cared for, wanted, needed, whatever. For me, it's physical contact. Little gifts here and there don't hurt, but the thing that really talks to me is for someone to touch me. I need a caress. A kiss. Real intimacy. Without it I stagnate. My energy levels plummet and I become so very unhappy. I need. And if I were to try to tell anyone this, to actually say the words, I would hesitate. The words would draw back and I wouldn't be able to say them. To say it makes me vulnerable. I've been rejected too many times.
I'm starving for physical contact and I can't seem to find a way to get it at this time. That certainly doesn't help. I.... need.
February 10, 2014
The Winner Takes All
She tosses and turns, her sheets twining around her body and her sleek, sweat moistened skin shining between the folds. Her desire burns through her turning her mind to cinders, the ash of her thoughts trailing along the breeze. She feels him coming for her.
Teeth bite into flesh as a wolf howls in the distance. Her gasp turns into a moan as her body writhes beneath his grasp. Seeking but finding no release, her juices soak the sheets between her thighs as her desire grows ever higher.
She is the key to his arousal. He brings her hand to his cock, so swollen it is rigid. Her hand works its way unconsciously up and down his shaft, her hips undulating, calling to him to take her. He reaches down and moves his hand between the sheets and her skin raking a path along her flesh to her pussy. His fingers push between the folds of her lips brushing her clit and causing moans mixed with squeaks and gasps as her works her ever higher until finally she cums, jerking under him. Her cries are lost within his lips as he kisses her forcefully.
His lips are replaced with his cock and she opens up, taking all of it in, sucking and licking eagerly as he fucks her mouth. Growling, he pulls free and climbs on top of her and pushing her legs apart, thrusts into her fucking her hard and fierce. Her head turns to the side and he bites her neck again as he continues thrusting, taking her until she cums again, squirting all over his cock.
He pulls out, turning her over onto her hands and knees before pushing his cock inside of her again. He grabs her hips, thrusting harder and harder. She cums over and over almost not seeming to stop as he fucks her and her cries ring out through the room.
Giving her a break, he pulls out and rolls her back over onto her back. His hands carve trails against her flesh from her thighs all the way up to her breasts. Grabbing them and twisting the nipples he grins as she arches against him. He lets go and sucks on each one, thrusting his cock back into her slowly, teasingly. He can feel her pussy muscles spasming around his cock. He pulls almost all the way back out then slams into her, fucking her as hard and fast as he wants, taking himself over the edge and cumming inside her.
He curls around her and pets her so that she knows he is there and is not going anywhere. She is safe and comforted by this and falls into a deep, peaceful sleep.
Teeth bite into flesh as a wolf howls in the distance. Her gasp turns into a moan as her body writhes beneath his grasp. Seeking but finding no release, her juices soak the sheets between her thighs as her desire grows ever higher.
She is the key to his arousal. He brings her hand to his cock, so swollen it is rigid. Her hand works its way unconsciously up and down his shaft, her hips undulating, calling to him to take her. He reaches down and moves his hand between the sheets and her skin raking a path along her flesh to her pussy. His fingers push between the folds of her lips brushing her clit and causing moans mixed with squeaks and gasps as her works her ever higher until finally she cums, jerking under him. Her cries are lost within his lips as he kisses her forcefully.
His lips are replaced with his cock and she opens up, taking all of it in, sucking and licking eagerly as he fucks her mouth. Growling, he pulls free and climbs on top of her and pushing her legs apart, thrusts into her fucking her hard and fierce. Her head turns to the side and he bites her neck again as he continues thrusting, taking her until she cums again, squirting all over his cock.
He pulls out, turning her over onto her hands and knees before pushing his cock inside of her again. He grabs her hips, thrusting harder and harder. She cums over and over almost not seeming to stop as he fucks her and her cries ring out through the room.
Giving her a break, he pulls out and rolls her back over onto her back. His hands carve trails against her flesh from her thighs all the way up to her breasts. Grabbing them and twisting the nipples he grins as she arches against him. He lets go and sucks on each one, thrusting his cock back into her slowly, teasingly. He can feel her pussy muscles spasming around his cock. He pulls almost all the way back out then slams into her, fucking her as hard and fast as he wants, taking himself over the edge and cumming inside her.
He curls around her and pets her so that she knows he is there and is not going anywhere. She is safe and comforted by this and falls into a deep, peaceful sleep.
January 14, 2014
Playing Catch Up
Wow. I just realized I haven't blogged since August. There is a reason for that. My world kind of blew up. I had a month-long episode of dizziness (including icky nausea) that lasted until I got diagnosed with labyrinthitis. What that means basically is that I had gotten sick either with the flu or a cold or some sort of virus that caused my inner ear to become inflamed which thereby caused damage to my vestibular nerve (the nerve that deals with balance). This caused my brain to fire all wacky and made it think I was moving even when I wasn't. I missed a month of work as well as 2 weeks of classes. A month and a half of rehabilitation to teach my brain to compensate for the permanent damage later and I was able to get back to work normally.. well as normal as I'll be from hereon in.
The doctor also stated some underlying issues possibly of migraines. The non-painful kind. Essentially, if I overtax my system, I bypass the pain and head straight to the exhaustion portion of the process. And I'm talking 14 hours of sleeping after an 8 hour night before kind of exhaustion. No fun at all. I have learned how to cope with stress better because of it but am still working on this. As a result, I am a bit more laid back (but not much), although I'm still learning how to say no to more work at work... >.>
School has started again for this semester and I have a much brighter outlook this time around. I didn't realize how much my illness at the start of last semester had colored the whole thing until this week of the start of the new semester. I'm glad last semester is done and behind me. Now I can look forward to this one.
The doctor also stated some underlying issues possibly of migraines. The non-painful kind. Essentially, if I overtax my system, I bypass the pain and head straight to the exhaustion portion of the process. And I'm talking 14 hours of sleeping after an 8 hour night before kind of exhaustion. No fun at all. I have learned how to cope with stress better because of it but am still working on this. As a result, I am a bit more laid back (but not much), although I'm still learning how to say no to more work at work... >.>
School has started again for this semester and I have a much brighter outlook this time around. I didn't realize how much my illness at the start of last semester had colored the whole thing until this week of the start of the new semester. I'm glad last semester is done and behind me. Now I can look forward to this one.
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