A Guiding Hand
Hey, so, Merry Christmas (if you celebrate it) and happy holidays and such.
I've been spending a lot of time hanging out with family and friends and such and oddly haven't been in the mood for blogging, until now. Being apart for a month can do that to you, I guess.
I'm quite aware that this post is about topping from the bottom. But you can't exactly get a person to start hitting you. You have to start somewhere. I wonder when I'll work up the nerve to ask that first question? We've both very sexual people, but I have a feeling that sex means so many more things to me than it ever will to him.
[via jkrabbit]
Would you like to try pulling my hair?
No, don't pull the tips; everyone does that, and it doesn't feel good. Put your hand here, close to my scalp, and grab a big handful. Feel free to yank; it's okay. Yes, just like that. Hold me against the wall; bite my neck, my shoulders. Can you feel them - my muscles, my pulse - under your teeth? You could be gentle, or bite down hard enough to draw blood - neat, red pinpricks - like this. Don't worry, I'll tell you if it hurts too much.
Hold me up against the wall. Kiss down my body; hold, grab, squeeze my tits; pinch and twist my nipples between your fingers, until I can't keep quiet. My arms are folded behind my back. You didn't ask me to put them there; but it feels right. I'll keep still if you want me to. You're so good to me, so patient with my nonsense; I want to do something for you now; I want to make you feel good. You never ask for much, but that doesn't mean you don't want. I'm learning you more and more as time passes; I notice the hitches in your breathing and the way your voice gets soft and husky with desire, even if the words you say are few.
What would you like me to do for you? Please, tell me. Tell me how you want me. I'll suck your cock, lave you all over with my tongue, soft and slow and not leaving a single part of you untouched. I'll bend over, good and obedient, ass high in the air for you to use; a warm hole for you to come into. I won't move. I won't touch myself. Not unless you want me to. Or you could shove my face into my pillows; hold me down and leisurely touch and tease and explore me until my entire body is thrumming like a wire highly charged with electricity.
We could do all of these things, and more. But, for now, we'll begin with you yanking my hair.
Thing

She is tied to the bed. Arms over her head; legs pushed up and back, naked. She's almost folded in half.
No, not 'she.' 'It.' He is calling her 'it.' Or 'this.'
Her eyelids flicker open and shut, eyelashes brushing against the blindfold. Tongue curling against the bit between her teeth.
Her senses tell her: darkness. Breath. Hands brushing leisurely over her thighs. A deep voice chuckling. Her cunt beginning to drip... drip... drip...
His hands are hard and rough; feeling, squeezing and touching as if she were literally a piece of meat; simply nothing; an object whose quality he is currently evaluating.
All of a sudden she feels his thumb rub over her folds, her clit. She squeals. Her heart thumps. The man ignores her. Pushes one, then two, fingers brusquely into her, fucking her casually for a couple of seconds. She hears: schlick-schlick sounds.
The man says: Hey, you should come try this pussy. Feels amazing.
She gulps - the saliva pooling at the back of her throat and rolling down it.
Another voice answers, clearer and higher than his, but undoubtedly male. Younger, perhaps. And more nervous.
Her body is shaking. Who is this person? The man's hands leave her, to be replaced by the newcomer's. Longer fingers, more slender. He explores her uncertainly. Sighs.
The man says: Go on, don't be shy.
The second man says: Mmm.
Zipper-sound, and a warm cock-head rubbing against her. She moans behind the gag; half afraid, half dizzy with desire.
He enters her swiftly, cock long like his fingers, places his hands just below the creases of her knees, and crudely ploughs her - no consideration, no pretense, just pure lust.
The man is watching her face, she can tell. While the other man pushes against her legs more urgently and his breathing becomes heavier, the man puts his hand under her chin, tilts her face up, turns it this way and that. She bites down hard on the bit; closer... closer... She imagines the man's eyes riveted on her as her face contorts and her body spasms in pleasure.
The other man thrusts hard twice more and freezes, and the heavy, sour smell of his come hits the air.
The other man says: V-very... very good. It feels very good indeed.
They both leave her then. Muffled conversation. He leaves her there for what feels like forever. The semen drools from her entrance. She starts twisting uselessly against the rope.
Finally the man comes back. Says nothing, just starts untying her quickly and efficiently. Then the bit is gone. Then the blindfold is off. And they both look at each other, smiling madly, and then she laughs and he wraps her naked form in his arms and kisses her.
Microfantasy Monday: Tits
She is sitting, naked, on the edge of your bed, arms at her sides, legs pressed modestly together.
You close your cupboard and turn to face her, two scarves in your hand. Wordlessly, you stand directly in front of her and gently put her arms behind her back, twisting a scarf tightly around her wrists and tying a secure knot. You can feel her breath ghosting your collarbone.
You pull back and look at her, careful to look expressionless; nonchalant. Her eyes are fixed on you, full of nervousnessmesmerizedintriguedturned-on. You calmly slip the other scarf around her eyes.
The light from your desk lamp is dim and paints the room in deep orange.
"Don't make a sound," you tell her quietly, evenly, as you weigh her heavy breasts in your hands, first one, then the other. She bites her lip, squirms, but stays silent, even when you tease her nipples between your thumb and forefinger until they're hard points.
Then you reach over to the windowsill and pick up a pair of clamps. You fasten one, then the other, and she's holding back sounds as you slowly do this, until you let the chain that connects them drop, and she has two pretty, glinting pieces of steel decorating her ample, thrust-out chest.
You're surprised, and somewhat proud of her - she hasn't made any noises yet. Well that is going to change, for sure. You gently cup her breasts, run your fingers over them until you reach the tips of the clamps, and flick one. A wince, but no sound. You smile and pick up the chain, yanking.
She squeals then. She looks absolutely delicious. You desperately want to let go and kiss her, but not yet.
"Tsk," you say. "I told you not to make a sound."
The small tea-light that has been sitting on your desk for a while now is now quite full of melted wax. You pick one up, carefully and hold it in front of you.
"Do you know what's going to happen now?" you ask her.
She shakes her head. You smile again. Sticking to the rules won't help now, but it's a lovely gesture.
You let the wax drip over her chest. She gasps. The whiteness rolls down to her cleavage and turns the surrounding skin a pretty red color.
You can't help yourself. After putting the candle down, you finally give in, pull her towards you and kiss her hard.
Microfantasy Monday: Silence
I liked 2-weeks-ago's theme better so I'm going to be a deviant and go with that one - silence.
When his fingers enter you, he's rough and abrupt. You start to squeal because you didn't expect it - he'd barely even gotten your pants down - but his other hand clamps over your mouth. Hard.
"Mmmpff--"
He's shoved against your back, and you're face to face with a copy of Ernest Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises. You're in a particularly unused corner of the library stacks, but still. No noise here. No telling how many students are hidden against the walls, hunched over piles of research, just looking for a distraction. The air around you is tense; compressed.
You close your eyes and bite on his fingers slightly when a third, then fourth, finger enters your copiously dripping cunt, and his hand starts rocking into you...
Microfantasy Monday: Long Distance
Wow. It's been a while. Coming back with a theme I like a lot though - long distance.
You're clutching the dildo in one hand. The phone in the other. The one is slipping in and out of you, and the other is almost slipping from your grasp. You hold onto it, wedging it into your shoulder and pushing it close to your ear.
On the other end of the line is panting. Rough, harsh breaths. In-out.
The two of you were having a normal enough conversation until you let slip that you were lounging around in your underwear, something about the heat, and he teasingly asked you what kind you had on, and you told him. Cotton. Floral. Cute. From Victoria's Secret.
And the one short answer turned into a long spiel of how your body sprawled over the bed, how your lightly sweaty limbs were positioned. You traced a hand over yourself and let him follow it, from your hips, down to the dip in your waist to your chest to your hair.
He groaned. Talked you into putting your hand inside your panties. Practically guided your fingers inside you with his voice. In no time at all, you were both panting and thrusting in a chorus that was stretched over 600 miles. Spouting nonsense words:
"God!"
"Your pussy--"
"You feel --"
"s'so good--"
"amazing..."
He insinuates your other hand into your bra and pulls the dildo out of your drawer and tells you to imagine him. Imagine it's him doing all this to you.
You do. And then a few seconds of ragged breath - and you come. And the phone skitters, clatters, to the floor.
Got a sex fantasy? Microfantasy Monday is by Sweltering Celt and rules can be found here.
Microfantasy Monday: Furniture
This week's theme is furniture, though mine isn't really about that, not really...
You don't rightly know how it turned out like this.
He's flung you, on your back, onto his desk. You can feel balled up paper and pens and who knows what poking into you, through the fabric of your top. One of your hands is scrabbling for purchase, eventually bracing itself against the wall behind you. The other hand is clamped over your mouth, trying to muffle the sounds you're making.
Your ankles are against his shoulders, skirt's hiked up to your waist, underwear haphazardly pushed to the side. You can see him looking down at you intensely - as intensely as he's pounding into you.
You don't know how it turned out like this. Him - fucking you in his office, married and a father, twenty years your senior but so gorgeous... and you - who could have sworn you just came in to ask him for his comments on your midterm paper...
Got a sex fantasy? Microfantasy Monday is by Sweltering Celt and rules can be found here.
Microfantasy Monday: Strap-on
More like Microfantasy Tuesday
Sorry - very late on account of life getting in the way...
"Bend over the desk."
She swallows nervously - a barely discernible movement. She moistens her red-lipsticked and now-dry lips with her tongue, turns around, and bends over.
You've been wanting this for a long time.
So has she.
She delicately rests her hands, palm-down, on the surface of the desk. The room is almost silent.
For a while you do nothing but appraise her from a small distance away. You can't see it now, but her face is perfectly made-up. Her long hair is in a high ponytail and her clothes are simple, but obviously expensive. Her skirt is so short that you can almost see her panties, what with her bending over like that.
She's one of those blonde, bratty, thin girls with a glaring type A personality. Merely one of many such girls in your competitive college, but somehow different from the others. Well - she's in your room bent over your desk and probably sweating with anticipation and apprehension - call that "different" for want of a better term.
She begins to fidget a little from impatience and sneaks a glance at you over her shoulder.
"Keep still," you say, irritably, and she freezes.
You unzip your jeans noisily and take them off. Then you pull on the harness. The black leather still inexplicably thrills you, just like when you first laid your hands on it.
Finally you walk up to her and gently lift up her skirt. You run your hands over the soft, smooth skin of her ass and then rub her through her panties. Her loud intake of breath cuts through the silence.
She's already wet. You grab the lube from the desk drawer and squirt it liberally over your cock and fingers. You pull her panties to one side and she squeals when you slide one - then two - fingers into her waiting ass.
You guide your cock towards her hole, grab her hips and push forward...
A big thanks to Ang for running the prompt I requested very enthusiastically
Got a sex fantasy? Microfantasy Monday is at Sweltering Celt and rules can be found here.
Microfantasy Monday: Boots
He's been looking at you all evening.
You don't blame him. You're utterly ravishing tonight. Short dress, black mascara, red lipstick. Hair immaculately coiffed; nails polished to a sheen.
You finish your drink; say goodbye to your friends. And then you walk towards him. The wedge heels of your knee-high boots gently tap-tap on the floor. Your hips sway. Your legs look amazing in the elegant black suede.
He's doing that thing where he swallows and scracthes the back of his head; pulling at his already messy hair. Wanting you... trying not to want you... knowing that it won't make one whit of difference in the end.
---
You're trying to open the door to your room, but he won't stop kissing you long enough to let you. Already your lipstick's smudged and almost all kissed off.
---
The light from your bedside lamp is dim. Your clothes are strewn about the floor and your hair is out of its neat bun. You're sitting on the edge of your bed; naked but for the boots. He's kneeling on the floor in front of you. You wait for him to unzip the boots and pull them off, but he doesn't. Instead, he picks up one pretty foot and presses his cheek, then lips, against the soft suede.
"Maybe we should leave these on," he murmurs.
He puts your foot back down, and pushes your knees apart...
I actually own the pair of boots I'm thinking about; they're from Morgan de Toi.
Got a sex fantasy? Microfantasy Monday is by Sweltering Celt and rules can be found here.
Microfantasy Monday: Heights
I've decided to give the Sweltering Celt's Microfantasy Monday a try! Not following the theme this time. Windows are still on the brain, it seems.
We're in an opulent hotel room that's high up. Very high up. The floor is smooth, cool marble. The window reaches from the ceiling to the floor, and you're pushing me up, naked, against it. My face and breasts are flush against the glass, and your body is flush against my back. I can't move. I almost can't breathe. When I look straight ahead, I see the sky and a cityscape of lights. And when I look down, I see a tiny, snaking network of roads. I don't want you to let go of me because I'm afraid of falling off the edge and plunging so many feet downwards.
I notice your hot breath on my neck, and you begin to run your hands slowly over me...
Got a sex fantasy? Microfantasy Monday rules can be found here.
Dream Girl
I'm so glad I've dealt with my emo bullcrap and that I actually feel like writing again. I'll probably explain my emo-ness more in one of my next posts. I need to.
---
Have you ever had a dream so good you didn't want to wake up?
That was me this morning. I ended up sleeping in a good few hours longer than I was supposed to, because I didn't want to get up and leave the dream. Then I woke up feeling really good and couldn't remember why. I still couldn't remember when I was walking to the supermarket, and couldn't remember during the long wait in line. First I thought it had something to do with Tobago-Guy, or someone else on the trip. I only remembered on the walk back to the dorm.
This was the dream. I was trapped in somebody's house, because of some fight or battle between two different groups, and I was being held prisoner. But the house was more like a mansion. Beautiful. Lights and marble and winding staircases everywhere. And I was being kept prisoner, but for some reason I was being treated very well and could wander where I pleased.
I went to take a bath. Or maybe I went to hide from someone, from my captor... The bathroom is beautiful too. The bathtub is big and white and gleaming.
Here's where it starts to get fuzzy. There's a person in the tub. I don't know if I know him. He might be someone I knew from my life, or someone I knew in the dream - I might have seen him walking around in the house before. Or maybe he was someone I only imagined I knew. And I suddenly need to hide, and for some reason, I find the tub an effective hiding place. So I get in as well. We're both laying in the hot water. I'm on top of him, and he doesn't seem to mind, even though he's naked. We're just looking at each other, and feel very tense and scared because we don't want to be found.
And I realize that I was mistaken when I thought he was a boy, because he's not. He's a girl - a very androgynous girl - with small, lovely shaped breasts and pert, dark nipples and broad shoulders and clear, white, smooth skin and dark, short, floppy hair and dark eyes.
We're smiling at each other. Hesitantly, with my heart beating wildly, I lean down and kiss her.
Her lips are soft, and surprisingly cool, contrasting with the water that's surrounding us. The kiss itself is amazing. Gentle, and probing. Our tongues entwine lazily. At the same time, it's incredibly intense. I'm melting (cliche as that may be). I feel like our wet skin is going to meld together and the hot water is going to engulf us both.
That's what I miss. I miss the simple, yet shiver-inducing, quality of a deeply intimate kiss.
























