Wednesday, May 25, 2011


(note: I dragged this one out from the annals - not ANALS you filthy people :P - of works in progress and finished it up)

I try to say no.

Honest. Even though my body wants it. Craves it. Is DESPERATE for it. I still try to say no.

Because, what it all comes down to, is the question - are we only about sex?

I'm trying to figure that out. But you're not letting me.

At the beginning of the night, it's a strong slap on the hand and a ferocious "NO." I am strong willed, I am tough, and I am righteous. This isn't happening tonight. We are going to enjoy each others company and just be together. Ok, a little groping OVER the clothing, and a few kisses are acceptable. But that's it.

You seem to accept this, settling for nuzzling that perfect spot on my neck, and running your fingers along my arm. You draw soft circles on the inside of my elbow, and nibble gently on my ear.

I'm getting warm, but I refuse to give in. Warmth is all I'm going to allow. My nipples become erect, almost painfully so, but I ignore them. Instead I lean over and softly kiss your lips. You slip your tongue in briefly, brushing against mine, and withdrawing. No sense in getting all worked up right? I think, this isn't so bad, because you're being very good, and accepting my NO this time.

Yah right.

An hour goes by, where we just watch TV, curled up on the bed. The door is closed. No one will disturb us, save the cat. You hold my hand, tracing a pattern into my palm. I'm blissfully content, desperately ignoring the throbbing between my legs and in my chest. I close my eyes, breathing deeply. I will calm down. I will beat these urges.

My hand is thrust between your legs, trapped against your hardness, and you start to thrust with your hips. I giggle, and try to pull it out, but your thighs are just too strong. I lie back, and just look at you, your eyes staring deeply into mine.

I move to my side to grab a drink from my glass on the side table. You take this as an invitation to spoon. You let my hand go, pulling me closer so that my ass is tight against your crotch. I bite my lip to hold back a moan, as my clit twitches. Your fingers once again trace patterns into my skin, this time at my waist. It turns me on to be this open and able with someone, and my ass moves further into your crotch.

You pull my hair aside, licking my neck, kissing your way from my collarbone up to my ear.

"No..." I whisper. But it's not even close to being strong. I'm not close to being righteous, or even wanting to be. I'm close to shattering all my will, all my strength. I'm close to giving in to my base urges, because, let's face it, we both want it.

I turn to face you, and you kiss me, this time your tongue taking longer in my mouth. My thighs part, and your hand naturally finds its place, palming my wetness through my jeans. My hands clutch at your back, pulling you into me.

"No..." I try to retain some sanity. I sit up and move, lying on my stomach to finish watching...wait, what were we watching again? You lie on top of me, your cock hard against my ass, pinning my arms in front of me. My hair is still to the one side, and you breath heavy against my ear. One word, a single uttered syllable turns me to liquid. "Please?"

I shake my head, not trusting myself to open my mouth at all. My resolve is weakening, as your hand snakes down the back of my pants, pulling my thong aside and thrusting two fingers into my pussy. I squeak, and bite on the sheets to stop myself from making further noise. You've had enough game playing and roughly you probe me, using your other hand to keep me down.

My juices are flowing and my cunt is clenching, riding your fingers. Suddenly I'm yanked onto my knees, and my jeans are being torn down. They make it halfway down my thighs when I feel you enter me. I push backwards, trying to take all of you in on each thrust. Trapped by my pants, my legs can't spread any further, and the imposed limit is causing friction in areas that I've never felt before. It causes me to come quicker, and I'm close to tearing a hole in the mattress with my teeth.

I want to scream, I want to cry out. But all I can do is collapse after you pull out, and picture you fisting your cock, milking yourself.

As I lie here, I attempt to comfort myself with this solitary thought...

Well, at least I tried.


Tuesday, May 24, 2011


We all have it. Deep down inside, whether we choose to acknowledge it or not. And it doesn't always have to be about sex.

Secretly, we all wonder what it would be like to pick up and go - leave our normal lives behind for an adventure on the open road. Head to the airport and buy a ticket on the first plane heading anywhere but here.

And yes, we wonder what it would be like to kiss the lips of the stranger across the grocery aisle from us. Or to strip off the uniform of the cop that just pulled us over, and see if he looks as good out of uniform as in it.

The lovely, talented and always scrumptious Sommer Marsden decided to embark on her own little journey. On March 15, she asked "Would you follow me..."

Her destination? I believe it was unknown at the time. But her desire? To write a live serial, and post it every day for us readers to enjoy.

Well, after 67 amazing installments, Wanderlust has finally come to an end.

It was a hell of a journey of self-discovery, not just for her characters Johnny and Aurelia, but for her readers as well. She tugged on a part of us that lies dormant, or unexplored, and left us longing to explore it ourselves.

So, in case you missed the first time I pimped it out - here it is - the link to her brilliant tale of sex, discovery, and fulfillment. (This will take you to the first page of it - post 1 is at the bottom of the page - you can figure out how to navigate it from there).

Pour a glass or two of wine (cuz you're not driving), grab a comfortable chair, and get yourself lost. 

For it's only in losing ourselves that we are truly found.



I'm so tired of silence.
It surrounds me.
It's in the words coming from the television, the voices coming through the radio. It's in the chatter around us, in the laughter from others.
It's deafening.
It's in every word we say.
Every word we don't.

I need words.
Big words, small words. Ten dollar ones and ten cent ones.
Loud ones, quiet ones.
Honest ones.

I need jacked up, lust filled, cum soaked fuck me words.
Tell me what you want to do to me. Tell me what you want me to do - what I have to do.
Tell me how you want your cock to fill my cunt, letting the hard c's soften and melt me.

Order me, like I’m paid for.
Tell me what to do to you. What to do for you.
To open wide, to suck your balls, to spread my legs.
To cum.

Hear my moans, my whimpers.
My cries, my sighs as you take what you own,
what you’ve demanded from my body.
What’s owed to yours.

Whisper endearments to me.
Call me baby. Call me honey. Call me whore.
Quote to me Shakespeare, or Dylan, or even Rage.
Anything to let me know where I stand in your world,
in your life.
In your bed.

Stop living in silence.

Edited ©2018

"One of the hardest things in life is having words in your heart that you can't utter."
-James Earl Jones

Monday, May 2, 2011

Closing Time

It was two a.m. Everyone had staggered out of the building, hailing cabs, stumbling down the street to the hot dog carts to satisfy their post-alcohol hunger, and leaving the place in a state of disgrace.

The state you were ready to leave me in. The lock clicked into place as my fingers deftly twisted the lever, and I stalked you, approaching my prey, grinning because I knew, tonight, you didn’t stand a chance.

And then we were dancing, completely alone. I wore a short flared skirt, with knee high boots and a strapless pink shirt. You were in jeans, and a black shirt. All the overhead lights were out, and the few that remained were the bar signs and the dim bulbs encased in stained glass covers over top the pool tables. We were standing in the middle of the dance floor, locked in each others arms, Chris Issak’s Wicked Games playing on the jukebox.

You were holding me close. Your lips brushed my neck, leaving impressions and lingering promises. Your hands explored my back, trailing up and down my spine, drifting across my collarbone, and down my bare shoulders. The song ended, and we stopped moving. We just stood there, hesitant to pull away, to break contact. Moving slower than I ever thought possible, you took my face in your hands, your lips claiming mine. You kissed me gently, then more intently, pulling me into you, your hands grasping my ass, your hard-on pressing against me.

You led me to pool table in the corner, laying me down on the green felt, the lights casting an eerie glow on us. Your hands traveled up my thighs, spreading them to position yourself between. My legs locked around your waist, pulling you closer.

You lowered my shirt over my breasts slowly, leaving me in just the strapless bra. You kissed the tops of my breasts, running your tongue along the curve and down between them. My hands tangled in your hair, clutching it in my fists as sensations I hadn’t felt in a long time spiraled through my body.

You took off my bra - thank goodness for front closures - and began licking my nipples, sucking them slowly, taking your time. My moans echoed through the empty bar, turning to yelps when your teeth came into play.

I begged. “I need you.” You stood up, giving me an evil grin, and lifted my skirt, removing my thong in one swift movement. Your fingers grazed my clit, playing around my lips, before sliding one finger through my wetness into my pussy.

I gasped at the welcome invasion, my eyes closing. Slowly, taking your time, you fingered me, adding a second and then third one. Your other hand was playing with my right nipple - the super sensitive one; the one that has caused orgasms just because someone sucked on it the right way. A secret you knew from weeks of fooling around. A weakness you took advantage of, using and gauging my little gasps as an indication that I was close to coming.

You pulled away, leaving me wanting. I glared up at you accusingly, my eyes bright and my chest heaving. “Well that wasn’t nice.”

You knelt in front of me, nuzzling your nose against my clit, flicking your tongue around it. “Mmmm, ok, you’re forgiven.” I could barely speak the words as you licked at me, the tip of your tongue tracing random patterns in my juices, against my skin. I could hear the rasp of your zipper as you lowered it, and felt you shift as you tried to pull out your hard on without losing contact.

My calves were resting on your shoulders, and I could tell from the shaking movements that you were playing with yourself, and I almost drooled as I pictured your hard cock, calling from my memory how it felt in my hand, and against my tongue. How it was hard, almost to the point of granite. How it was hot and heavy, full of come waiting for somewhere to go.

I groaned. “I want…” I gasped as your tongue found its way into my hot hole. “I want to suck your cock. Please.” I was begging again, in gutteral tones, prepared to get really filthy to get what I wanted.

But it was what you wanted too. With one last, long lick, and a suck on my clit, you stood up. You took my hands, and helped me off the table like a gentleman. I stood before you, my hands going to the buttons on your shirt, my lips finding your neck. I kissed a trail down your chest, my lips claiming every inch of skin that appeared. After it was all unbuttoned, you went to take it off. I stopped you, just shaking my head silently.

I slowly sank to my knees on the hard wood floor, my juices sliding down my thighs. With the black material framing your body, looking down at me, you looked majestic. I took you in my hand, feeling the weight again and marveling at how smooth you were. I licked at the shiny tip, the glistening drop of fluid leaving a sparkling string between your cock and my lips.

I moved forward, just taking the head into my mouth, sucking on it lightly. Your knees buckled a little, and I smiled. Then I opened my throat and took you in all the way. I used my left hand to stroke your balls, while my right reached under my skirt to play with my wetness. Both hands moved in time with my mouth. I gazed up at you, looking you in the eye, urged on by lust I saw there.

I wanted to keep going. I twisted, turned, sucked and licked - firmly, gently, faster, slower. I wanted to coax every last drop of cum out of you, swallow everything you could give me.

But you stopped me, placing your hand on my head. “Get up.” Your voice was strangled, like it was an effort to breathe, let alone speak. I stood, staring at you eye to eye, thanks to the heels on my boots. Grabbing the back of my neck, you pulled me in for a kiss that left me breathless. I tasted myself on your lips, my sweetness on your tongue.

“Let me … “ you took a deep breath. “Let me make love to you.” There was no crudeness, none of the gutter, four letter fuck words that littered our previous nights. I was speechless. I could only nod, my eyes wide, my lower lip caught between my teeth.

You took our coats, laying them on the floor, before helping me to lie down on top of them. Positioning yourself above me, you kissed me again, and I closed my eyes.

“Open those baby browns for me. I want to look into your eyes.” I took your face in my hands, and stared into the depths of you, as you slid into me, slowly. I gasped at the invasion, biting back a moan as I felt the entire length of you come home. You took your time, making sure I felt every thrust, every nudge, every inch of you. I arched my back, wanting more, tilting my hips to pull you deeper into me.

Your pace increased, moving faster, thrusting harder. My hands clutched at the material at my sides, my moans no longer held back, but echoing across the emptiness. You stopped, encased in my warmth, and just held there, allowing me to enjoy your hardness, allowing you to feel me as I flexed my muscles around you, causing you to twitch in pleasure.

I almost groaned. This night seemed to have me begging for everything. But to feel you inside me, to be with you that way was worth it all. You took pity on me, and smiled. You withdrew, and just waited, your head at the entrance to me. I moved my hand to my clit, caressing it with my middle finger, smiling as your eyes caught the movement, stopping you once again in your tracks. I dipped lower, stroking through the moisture, catching the top of your cock with my nail.

“You’re so sexy.” Your voice was low and husky, a tone I hadn’t heard before. I just writhed, moaning as my finger continued to play.

“I’m going to come.” I warned you, whining, breathless. That was enough to start you moving again. “Come with me.” You went faster, harder, fucking me now, not caring about simple words like making love, wanting to be with me when I went over that edge.

“Please.” This time the word came from your lips. You swallowed hard, beads of sweat appearing on your brow. You leaned in to nip at my lip. “Say my name, and open those eyes. I want to see your eyes, hear my name on those beautiful lips when you come.”

I nodded, locking my legs around your waist, bucking underneath you. I could feel your restraint, waiting for me. “Just…one…more…time….” I gasped. As I felt myself fall I cried your name, looking deep into your eyes. “Brent…oh…my…Goddd…” And felt your cock explode inside me as I kept falling, spiraling out of control.

I lay there trembling as my eyes tried to focus on my watch. Three-thirty in the morning; and as Garth Brooks sang, not a soul in sight. Except for you, and me. You helped me to my feet, handing me my apron.

“So I guess you’ll be closing next week too?” Your tone was playful, and I grinned.

“Whatever you say boss.”