Heartbreak Nymphomania » Friends & Lovers

Fantasies

Wilhelmina Wang — Sun, 24 Jul 2011 17:19:26 +0000

A random list of scenarios I’ve been fantasizing about lately.

Eiffel-towering a guy with another guy. Specifically: me and L co-topping another guy. Most likely I’d be pegging him while he’d be blowing L.
Being fucked by somebody else while on the phone with L, describing what’s going on & letting him listen in. This is all thanks to a Watchmen fanfic I read where Dan fucks Laurie while she’s on the phone with Rorschach.
Fisting someone. Thanks to the Watchmen kinkmeme, yet again.
Footfucking someone. After a conversation with M where I was talking about how much I wanted to feel what it is like to penetrate someone with a penis. I posited that maybe footfucking would be the closest I could get since I have very sensitive feet. Probably not true, but the idea continues to pique my interest.
Shoe/boot worship. C’mon, we all know I already have an excessive love of shoes as it is.
Bathing & dressing someone else.
Helping a guy cross-dress, e.g. putting makeup on him or brushing/combing his hair.
Wearing a spandex head-mask while masturbating. Possibly pushing it up above my nose, and then taking it off altogether towards the end. I can’t really picture myself doing this with another person, both because I’d be too self-conscious, and because another person’s involvement isn’t really necessary. I think this idea sprang into my head due to my recent obsession with Deadpool, but I remember wearing a face-mask once and feeling oddly safe and comforted by having a large part of my face covered. And there’s this piquant sense of mystery about someone engaging in a sexual act while having a part of their face covered, or having their face covered, period.
Getting fucked while dressed up in full dandy guydrag. For quite a while, I’ve been wanting to fuck with my gender presentation a little bit and purchase a tomboy/masculine wardrobe to go alongside my feminine one. Apparently I tend towards dressy masculine clothing just like I tend towards dressy feminine clothing, because I find myself wanting to dress in suits and ties and waistcoasts and pointy-toed loafers. Obviously, soon afterwards I began wondering about what it would be like to get fucked while dressed like this.¹
Doing vanilla things while I’m tied up. Specifically while in a chest harness, with my arms tied behind my back. I generally like having my upper body tied more than my lower body, probably because I can do more with my hands than with my legs, or because I value being able to manipulate things with my hands more than I value being able to move around from place to place with my legs. I had a little adventure with this at the last play party I went to, where M did some suspension work with me, then left me in the chest harness for a bit. I managed to turn on one of the bathroom taps and take a drink of water; pick up my wine cup, which was on the floor; scale a set of stairs to the upper floor² where everyone else was socializing; and find someone to help me pour some wine into my cup and put the cup to my lips so I could have a drink. I like being able to see how much I can do on my own without the use of my hands, but I also really like being helped by others. Which brings me to…
Someone messily feeding me or giving me a drink while I’m tied up. I have this very specific scenario of me in the chest harness, at a play party, and L feeding me a spoonful of a creamy-textured dessert, or giving me a drink of wine/champagne, and “accidentally” smearing some on my cheek or spilling some down my chin. I really dislike messy eating, and I frequently wipe my mouth and hands with my napkin when I eat. But with my hands tied, I’d obviously have to ask L to wipe my face for me. Meanwhile, I would be a little embarrassed at appearing “messy” in front of other people. And then I picture L picking up a napkin, smirking, and then setting the napkin on the table so that I’d have to walk over and awkwardly rub my face against it in order to get clean again.
Getting fucked/fondled while asleep or getting fucked/fondled awake.

Reading this over… it’s funny to see how many of my fantasies stem from either fandoms I’m following, or from my neuroses.

Coupled with the mask thing above, I’m a hop, skip and a jump away from wanting to get fucked while dressed like Rorschach. And I… don’t really want to mentally go there right now, because… what the fuck, self.
This was a terrible idea, and I advise against doing this. I could have seriously hurt myself if I had fallen over.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Rope marks

Wilhelmina Wang — Thu, 07 Jul 2011 13:04:39 +0000

I’ve been doing quite a bit of rope stuff over the last few months. A new friend of mine has been giving me some rope pointers, and has also been practicing his tying and suspension skills on me.

I’ve decided that my skin gets marked up fairly easily. The marks may be a little troublesome – my mother saw them and instantly guessed what they were, though she feigned ignorance for a while – but I like them a lot. They remind me of the good feelings that come from being tied, so every time I catch a glimpse of them I get a little happier.

Being tied and being suspended are very different beasts indeed. Often, being tied sends me right into bottomspace. And if combined with a few other factors, e.g. a little roughness, it makes me melt. I modeled for a rope class that Esinem lead last week, and while it was not “orgasmic”, I experienced the floatiness that usually happens to me post-orgasm, where all I want to do is lay there, totally immobile; perhaps doze off for a while. And I’m not sure if it’s because my bottomspace often manifests as feeling like an inanimate object, but directly after the demos I very much desired to not-speak. Unfortunately, after the demos ended, everyone would try out what they had just seen, which meant people came and spoke to me, and I had to gather myself back together and respond to them.

After the second demo, I took a break and lay down on one of the couches, eyes closed and body curled up tight.

Being suspended is a little similar – I begin to float away and lose the desire to speak¹ – but it’s tempered by the stress that the suspension puts on my body. Getting suspended hurts. But because of this hurt an interesting thing happens – I know that I can’t escape what is happening to me² so I end up finding a very narrow space in my mind where the hurt becomes… alright. It’s a very meditative, very powerful place; and being able to find that place – dig my fingers into it – when I am suspended, makes me think that I am a step closer to finding it during every day life as well.

…Which can be bothersome when my tier is checking up on me
Well, I mean physically nothing I can do. I could call off the scene, but I don’t want to or need to since I know there’s nothing damaging going on.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

How to deal with annoying Fetlifers

Wilhelmina Wang — Sun, 26 Jun 2011 17:34:34 +0000

Trigger warning: racist & sexist slurs

A chatlog? Haven’t done one of these in a while. Anyway, here is a chatlog between me and one of my (white, straight, cisgendered, male, top) friends.

—

Wilhelmina: i wish random fetlifers i don’t know would stop trying to come on to me via messages

Wilhelmina: this one older guy messaged me once asking if i was “oriental” and wondering if i was a switch “because i was a woman” (???)

Friend: hahaha, oh man- and then I think of all the least appropriate responses ever

Friend: but he probably wouldn’t have understood the sarcasm in the response I would have sent

Friend: Dear Sir, Actually, I prefer the term “chink,” or if you really must generalize- “slanty-eyed whore.” You are right of course on the matter of my being a switch because I am a woman- I would like to be dominant, but no matter how hard I try, I cannot overcome the fact that by being a member of the weaker sex, I can never truly hope to dominate a man. The very idea of standing up to a man, much less a white man such as yourself, who is so much better than me… I shudder to think. No, I can only hope that some day I might, with the proper guidance from a gentleman such as yourself – whose wisdom and skills no man of lesser experience and seniority could ever hope to rival - and towards the furthering of said gentleman’s pleasure, have the skills and confidence to assert my authority over other members of my same gender, assuming they were not of a superior race.

Wilhelmina: hahahahahhahahaha

—

Seriously though, I keep getting propositioned even though I’ve specified on my profile that I’m, um, not looking. I’m toying with the idea of simply responding to all unwanted messages with a link to something really gross.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

10 reasons why I shouldn’t have had sex, but did anyway

Wilhelmina Wang — Tue, 21 Jun 2011 19:40:00 +0000

As a preface, I just want to say that I expect you to realize that, obviously, I’m not trying to say that (promiscuous) sex is inherently “bad.” You can have sex for good reasons and bad reasons; you can have sex safely, or you can do it in ways that hurt yourself and others. I also want to say that this post isn’t meant as a guide of sorts – though if you do come away with some new insights, then great. Basically, though, it’s exactly what the title indicates it is. You guys probably have lists of your own. Or maybe you don’t have a list at all!

If this blog is “about” anything (besides sexuality, that is), it’s about my vulnerabilities. I’ve written extensively about happy-sex; so now here are some of the more unpleasant reasons why I’ve had sex.

Because I was in love with the other person. – And I either thought sex would help make them fall in love with me (worst idea ever)¹, or that it would help forge a romantic relationship (sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t) or because the other person didn’t love me back, but I wanted to get as close to them as possible. And if a close friendship + fuck buddies was “as close as I could get”, well…
Because I wanted to become friends with someone, or because I thought they were interesting and I wanted to get to know them better. – This has actually worked a few times, I’m became friends with a handful of my friends after hooking up with them first. At one point, I was more confident with flirting and with my sexuality than I was with simply approaching someone and trying to strike up a conversation with them. Sex came to me more easily so I… used it as an “icebreaker”.² Not to say that I wasn’t attracted to those people – I was, in a way – but I probably would have preferred keeping things platonic. I don’t think my social skills have really improved all that much, but I am at least making a conscious effort to not shove things into a sexual context just because it’s the easiest thing to do.
Because I liked that people knew me as “that freaky sexual guru who slept with everyone.” - This was only true at my fraternity. Until that point in my life I had only ever been known as “that creepy, awkward girl who doesn’t talk to anyone” or “that nerdy pushover who will help me with my homework if I annoy her enough.” Being known as “that promiscuous kinkster” was… a nice change of pace. Through osmosis, I sort of subconsciously believed that having a lot of sex is “cool” – at least cooler than being a big ol’ nerd – which I consciously think is just silly, because no type of sexual behavior makes you “better” or “cooler”, it’s simply a matter of preference. Eventually, being known for being promiscuous/sexual was just as irritating as being known for the other two things. All three of them are true – they are parts of who I am – but considered by themselves, they are all incredibly one-dimensional. It’s like people saw me as a parody or a caricature of myself.
Because I missed one of my other lovers. - This happened a couple of times – the first time, I was fucking person X but thinking about person Y and missed them so much that I burst into tears, and then hurriedly left. Obviously, person X was very worried about me the next day. The second time, I was fucking person X but imagining person Y in their place and felt so guilty about it that I – that’s right – left. Do I even need to explain why this was terribly unfair to everyone involved?
Because I was lonely. - I think everyone has done this at some point.
Because I was horny and the other person was “just there.” - See above.
Because I was attracted to person X, but person X would only have sex with me as a two-for-one deal with person Y. - This only happened to me once, with two guy friends who I was on a foreign trip with. I was horribly attracted to person X, but was not attracted to person Y, like… at all. But they only seemed interested in having sex with me if they could sandwich me. It wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t unpleasant per se, just… strange.
Because I was feeling insecure and needed a self-esteem boost; I needed to feel “valuable.” - The control; knowing that someone’s attention is riveted on you at least for a few minutes… However, after it’s over I was more or less back to square one, and it didn’t solve the underlying problem that I, well, had low self-esteem. Seeking validation through sex… just… no.
Because I couldn’t be bothered to say that I wasn’t really all that into it.
Because I thought that once I started touching the other person’s genitals, I had entered into some sort of binding contract that meant I had to then have oral/penetrative sex with them. - I have no idea why I thought this for so long. I was never even coerced/persuaded by any of my partners, I just… believed it. It seems so ridiculous now. As to how/why I realized that it wasn’t true – I have no idea about that, either. It just hit me one day – while I was making out with someone and knowing that I didn’t want to do anything besides just make out – that wow, I don’t actually have to do anything that I don’t really feel like doing!

I say this because you can’t “make” anyone fall in love with you – either they will or they won’t. The most you can do is spend time with them and then let them know you’re interested. The focus isn’t on the sex itself, here, I think trying to make someone fall in love with you in any way is doomed to fail. It’s also kind of disrespectful, to say the least.
While typing this I’m aware of how messed up that sounds but… well, it’s the truth.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Correspondence

Wilhelmina Wang — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 23:39:45 +0000

L sends some of the best emails. His words can make me swoon. Here’s one of the awesomest ones for your reading pleasure; on fucking in public at our college, among other things.

Let’s… make this legendary. There shall be a new challenge. Nous nous baiserons to an unprecedented echelon of debauchery. We will set the boundary for all collegiate libertines to set foot in those hallowed halls; a milestone for those Bacchus-led, lustful revelers. We shall make palpable those words spat forth from Hell’s own cartographer, speaking of our model, Egypt’s Semiramis, broken by the carnal: “A vizio di lussuria fu sì rotta/ che libito fé licito in sua legge,/ per tòrre il biasmo in che era condotta.” It is no coincidence that “carnal” and “carnage” derive from the same root; those Latinists fish from a pool of sexual ardor and fleshly anger, their script merely approximations of the fury that trembles around the core of their passions. Our words are reflections of this Greco-Roman obsession; our actions their seductive manifestations. We are art personified. Each thrust an Impressionist stroke melded into a maelstrom of feeling, twisted into a hurricane of fingers and hair and fleeting glances of serious eyes. Through less solemn eyes (which we have always worn), the description rends our hearts asunder, razes the comfort in our bosom, but thrusts us into a crystalline, fiery realm of pure, ecstatic release; a garden, neither Heaven nor Hell, where flora and fauna flaunt broken limbs with fervor, where Venetian fevers whisper themselves into being, giving tremors that were never told…

“La bufera infernal, che mai non resta,/ mena li spirti con la sua rapina;/ voltando e percotendo li molesta.”

And yet it is still said that Jesus wept. He is a sailor, yes, but when we walk on the waves, we sink. How he wishes he could.

Note: Quotes from Dante’s Inferno

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Review: Bend-Over Beginner Kit

Wilhelmina Wang — Fri, 20 Aug 2010 19:54:19 +0000

As you well know, I’m quite the strap-on aficionado, so I was really interested in trying out the Bend Over Beginner kit. It comes with (almost) everything you need for strap-on sex, and the pieces are quality, too:

- Sportsheets Vibrating Velvet Harness
- Tantus Silk Small
- Tantus Silk Medium
- 2 O-rings of differing sizes

The only possible addition, or improvement, I could suggest, would be to include a good anal sex book, or DVD. And maybe a small bottle of water-based lube. Still, this is a pretty comprehensive collection of items to have if, as the name of the product suggests, you’re a strap-on sex beginner.

I’m going to go through the parts of the kit one by one. Also, since the name of this product is the “Bend Over” kit, and the dildos are on the smaller side, I’m assuming this product is intended for anal sex, though I’m sure you could use it vaginally as well:

Tantus Silk Small

Upon looking at this dildo, I knew it wasn’t going to do much for me. In both my pussy and my ass, it just felt like a finger. I don’t really see the point in spending money on a Silk Small when using my own fingers would have a similar effect. The one male partner I tried this with wasn’t impressed, and said he could take more, even though I was one of the first people he’d tried anal play with.

On the plus side? The Silk Small is perfect for people who haven’t had much anal experience, but crave the intimacy and intensity of being fucked by a strapped-on partner as opposed to being fingered. I could have seen myself using this on the Optimist, who loved having his butt played with, but was already overwhelmed even when I was only using two of my fingers on him. The Silk Small is, obviously, harness-compatible, is longer than my fingers and has a nice curve, so is probably perfect for seeking out a G-spot/prostate.

Tantus Silk Medium

The Silk Medium was more satisfactory. As it’s thicker, I liked it in my ass a lot better, and actually liked using it in my pussy quite a bit, which was surprising due to it’s small size. Again, the curve was key.

Overall, these two dildos are probably an excellent choice for someone with little to no experience with anal play. The dildos are smooth, simple, uncomplicated, and small. When I first experimented with anal sex, I was very interested and excited, but also pretty nervous. I don’t see either of these dildos being intimidating to someone who might be a little nervous and insecure about trying something new.

To sterilize the Silks, you can wash them with 10% bleach solution, put them in the top shelf of the dishwasher with no soap, or boil them for at least 5 minutes. Also, silicone toys are not compatible with silicone lubes.

Here are the Silks next to my go-to anal dildo, the Tantus Acute:

Sportsheets Vibrating Velvet Harness

The harness, like the dildos, is also very straightforward and easy to use. It has double-straps (that go under your butt as opposed to being worn like underwear) made of nylon, and remind me of backpack straps. You also adjust them the same way you would backpack straps. Very easy. You can also wash the entire thing by throwing it in the laundry. The first harness I ever owned was the Aslan Jaguar, and while it’s gorgeous, I wasn’t quite sure how to take care of the leather. The Velvet Harness is definitely lower maintenance.

In addition to being easy to use, the harness is pretty versatile. It has a pocket where you can insert a bullet vibe (I opted to insert the Lelo Mia, which fit pretty well, except for the base protruding out of it). You can swap out different sized O-rings with four snap closures on the front of the harness. The harness can also fit people whose hips are up to 50″. If you’re a smaller person, like me, and don’t like the straps trailing behind you, you can always trim them and use a lighter to melt the edges and prevent them from fraying.

Personally, I don’t really like the harness that much because it’s a little bulky, and doesn’t fit my body as seamlessly as the other harnesses I own. Ideally, when I wear a harness, I want to feel like it #1 isn’t there, or #2 is an extension of my body. I don’t feel like that when I wear the Velvet harness; this harness feels like I’m strapping on a piece of material, that is sitting conspicuously on top of my cunt, and acting as the base for a dildo. I also don’t feel very connected to my cock anymore, since the triangular piece of velvety material is quite thick. Finally, I don’t find the fuzzy material particularly sensual. I got the purple set, but I think the kit also comes in black. I would’ve liked that color better than the bright purple, too.

So that’s the Bend Over Beginner kit. I ended up giving all the pieces of this kit away, since none of them really worked for me. However, I’m glad this kit exists and I see it being a good purchase for someone who’s just beginning to explore the awesome spectrum of anal play.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Temple

Wilhelmina Wang — Thu, 05 Aug 2010 15:40:32 +0000

I’m bracing my hand on your chest, using you for leverage in all reasonable respects. Now and again my fingers ghost towards your neck; my nails dig into the muscle that slopes down from your neck to your shoulder. I’m pulling you into me; quick and shallow and then lingeringly, so slow that you can feel all of me. As I stare openly at you, it occurs to me that your cock only makes sense when it’s inside me. When you enter me I feel as if my cunt is a temple; a sacred place of transformative power; a place that can change your genitalia from something absurd and nonsensical into something… focused. Directed. Pleasurable. Dangling between your legs, your cock is soft and out of place and silly and only causes you irritation. Does it not? But trapped between my legs, it becomes instrumental to your gasps, to the convulsions that sweep through your body.

—

You tell me that once you pass a certain threshold of your arousal, you cease to think; you fuck me with abandon, thinking nothing of me and only of your own pleasure.

That’s the way it should be.

I want you to pin me down, grab my hips, spread my legs and sink yourself into me. I want you to hold my shoulders and pull me hard and jarringly back against you. I want to say, “this is your ass, your cunt, so take it, take them.”

Fuck me until you’ve had your fill.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Devour

Wilhelmina Wang — Tue, 27 Jul 2010 15:22:25 +0000

Your body is so small and soft and smooth and milky. Like a sweet, cool dessert melting in the summer heat. I want to swallow you whole; lap and bite you all over; lick the remains off my lips, from the corner of my mouth, and slide every bit of you down my gullet.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Jitters

Wilhelmina Wang — Thu, 22 Jul 2010 04:57:44 +0000

L is coming to visit tomorrow, and I’m a little scared.

I’m also immensely excited and happy, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be scared as well, right?

L & I have explored so many things together – in every respect, but I’m focusing on sexuality, here – and the more we explore, the more I feel as if a certain momentum is building. Also, it seems the further we go, the more likely a D/s aspect is going to come into play. L is in no way or form a submissive, and neither am I with him, not all the time. And in terms of our personalities and our relationship, there isn’t a clear person who is “in charge.” I quite like it that way. Nevertheless, sooner or later, in the bedroom, I’m going to end up bossing him around.

Upon pondering his visit, I find possibilities & imaginings flitting through my mind, hence a sneaking insistence that I can’t not try them now that I know that I can. I mean, presumably. It’s much easier to simply fantasize about things without attempting to enact them. Without becoming a reality, they’re infinitely filmreel pristine perfect. Also, being the one who wants to do nasty things to the other, well, not to state the obvious, but you kind of have to be the one to come up with the plan. I have a good idea of what he likes; of what he wants me to do with him. But even so, I’m preoccupied with silly little grievances like: I don’t have a cane, where can I get a cheap cane? And will that particular one work? I want to bend him over the end of the bed and tie his ankles to the bed’s feet, but my bed is lame and doesn’t have feet, it only has wheels located closer to the center, how will I get around that? And, most importantly: what if he ends up not liking what I’m doing? What if I fuck up?

Being a switch (and yes I’ve finally decided to claim switch) can be really irritating. I know that he wants me to hurt him, that he wants me to control him… That he’s taken audio files of himself jacking off because he wants me to listen to him & know what thinking about me does to him. I know all this. But I still haven’t quite managed to tap into that raw energy that I know is there; to tap into the desire to see him marked up and prone and open and willing to do whatever (within reason) I tell him to. My conflicting desire to have him do those things to me sometimes interferes. See: my last post. He’s not the kind of person to lay there and take whatever I dish out; he reacts, he grabs me, makes me hurt. And instead of fighting, like half of me wants to, I typically give in to what the other half wants, which is… to give in.

The thought “maybe I’m not really dominant” enters my mind, even though I know that that’s just silly. There is no right way to do something… as much as I know that, I’m intuitively inclined to think that there is, and that I’m not fitting it.

Even though I’m worrying about this, I know at the end of everything, I’ll simply listen to me and to him and to what we want; and that even if my plans don’t work out, we’ll have copious amounts of rough sex anyway and it will all be fine and dandy.

Edit: As always, after writing about something that preoccupied me, I find that I’m not thinking about it as much and not even sure why I was so worried about it in the first place. Ah, the therapeutic powers of writing.

Edit again: After the initial psychological nail-biting… exercising my creativity on this is quite… satisfying and amusing. I was envisioning possible things I could do with my room, and with items I could easily get from pharmacies and hardware stores and laying out situations in my head. Weighing what action would cause what effect. It was like composing an outfit or a writing piece, only better.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Subspace

Wilhelmina Wang — Tue, 20 Jul 2010 15:13:09 +0000

I have him naked, with his ass up and his face in the pillows, red stripes down his pale back where I’d scratched him, and his wrists and ankles cuffed, each wrist connected to the corresponding ankle. I’m rummaging around in my backpack for lube and a plug. When I find what I was looking for, and turn back around to face the bed, I see that he had twisted himself around so that he could look at me. The sight of him exposed, with his face terribly lustful and hungry, was, cliche as it sounds, breathtaking.

I return to my spot behind him, lubing up my fingers and pressing one into his ass, then two, using my other hand to squeeze and pinch his hip. He is making the most wonderful, breathy noises, jerking forwards slightly every time my fingers move inside him, searching, feeling the plush press of warm flesh. His entire body quakes. I am kneeling between his spread legs. One of his hands inches towards my left knee, he finds and squeezes the flesh just above the joint, squeezes every time I push in, hard enough to make me gasp. Every pump of my fingers equals one jolt of pain for me. He has told me that being penetrated is intense, so intense that he has to hold my body in his hands, take handfuls of me and crush me as hard as he can.

Eventually I lube up the plug and slide it in. I ask him to turn over, and he maneuvers himself so that he’s on his back. His skin is pale and his lips, nipples and cock are a soft pink. I suck on his cock for a moment before rolling on a condom and unfastening the cuffs so that his hands are free. He doesn’t miss a beat. His hands find my hips as I slide him into me, both of us gasping.

I want to fuck him quickly and erratically, like two teenagers in the back of a car whose orgasms are clumsily reached, and over way too suddenly. I want to move on his cock until I come, but he’s making me go slow, tantalizingly, letting himself be very nearly engulfed before distancing himself again. He is subtle in all the ways that I am crude.

Sometimes, while I’m above him and making him feel, he does things that completely derail me and make me want to go limp. Things like: put his hand on my neck, bite me, push his fingernails into my skin. He does this now: he digs his fingers into my waist, and pulls me down hard on his cock before lifting me up again. I feel my face contorting into this strange combination of wincing, being about to cry, and desperation. It hurts. It hurts and I feel controlled and the two sensations transform into pleasure almost instantaneously. A switch goes off in my head. Just a while ago he was restrained and I was in control, but it takes only one gesture to make me need him to control me, instead.

We switch positions so that I’m on my back. He tells me to spread my legs, and I hold them open for him. He enters me again, fucking me slowly and exquisitely. I want to watch his face, but at the moment I need to keep my eyes closed. The feeling of being possessed and fucked is too much. I need to focus fully on the tactile and let it sink in.

“I want you to imagine,” he says, “that there’s a person standing to your right, watching us. Every so often I want you to imagine yourself catching his eye.”

As he thrusts into me, I do: “I’m thinking of them touching themselves…”

“Yes; getting so turned on by watching us…”

The person watching is dark and has serious eyes. I sigh and let my head roll back, and I let myself fall into that comfortable space deep in my mind that rocks and lulls me into a calm containment. The space that he has taken me to. I want to ask him to slap me, but I’m losing my ability to speak. All I can do is feel him fuck me, feel him close his fingers around my throat. All I can do is savor.

“I want you to look at me when I come,” he says.

I open my eyes. He’s fucking me harder, now, more earnestly. As the urgency of his actions builds, then releases, I feel him tense as it rolls over him, his eyes wide almost in shock. His cock twitches in my cunt.

For the next ten minutes after he pulls out of me, I lay there. I want to open my eyes. I can feel him hovering over me, watching my face and the pulse in my jugular that’s fluttering like a bird. I want to see him, speak to him, but all I can do is lay limply, sprawled out and utterly useless. I understand why they call it flying. I am soaring. I am no longer a person, but a rag doll, a thing that does not speak or move or take, but is used purely for the sake of my loved one’s pleasure.

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.