guest post « Heartbreak Nymphomania

25Aug/102

Correspondence

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

Filed under: L, exhibitionism & voyeurism, guest post, sex 2 Comments

21Sep/091

A Story of You #10 My First

The tenth and last entry to my anniversary contest, by Allie Coquelicot!

10. My First

I’m not really sure how it happened. Each day spent in Adam’s company reminded me of the fact that I did not want to be with him.

I was sixteen, and aware of the fact that I was not even close to being in love. It was a year of discovery, and that’s all he was to me. Something and someone new.

My friends were horrified to find out that I was ‘dating’ the tall blond. Sure he was slightly geeky, awkward. No one could say that he wasn’t handsome, for he was. His intense blue eyes always hypnotised me. I liked how tall he was, having to stand on my tiptoes to reach his lips. His strong sexy arms felt perfect around my waist. He was a couple of months older than me, and we were not in love.

He liked his video games and his science fiction. I liked parties and shopping. Outside of the intense entanglement of our bodies in his teenage bedroom, we had nothing in common. We were only close when I pulled him on top of me and whispered in his ear that I could feel his excitement.

There had been months of buildup before it happened. We would leave school together on set afternoons, sometimes holding hands. Sometimes not. The conversation was always a bit strained, and our pace quite quick. We were not friends really. But I trusted him, and I knew him well.

We would reach his parent’s house, have a snack. Moan about the homework we had to do. A cup of tea later we would snuggle in the sofa, episodes of Star Trek on the TV. I politely watched for about ten minutes before our well-rehearsed routine would begin.

I shifted my body so that I was leaning into him. A fingernail would graze down his neck, tickling him. I love being a distraction.

My hand would travel down his body, prodding, playfully pinching and finally feeling his hard-on through his jeans. At this point the TV was forgotten, a poor competitor for his attention. He kissed me hard, with purpose. His hands were so big I could feel them grasping around my neck. His tongue explored my mouth, still finding new ways to send shivers of arousal down my spine, despite the familiarity of the action.

We kissed on the sofa the way only teenagers do. We were aware that his parents or older brother could walk in on us, and that made it even more exciting. We kissed for what felt like hours, until our lips were sore and most of clothes had ended up on the floor. Somehow.

Our rehearsed routine always got a bit longer each time. First his nimble fingers would unhook my bra. It was only when I felt a kiss on my nipple for the first time in my life did I realise what he had achieved. We had moved one step further. Naturally, the next time the bra got unhooked without any protests and I quickly guided his lips to my nipples and asked him to bite them. The feeling was just fantastic!

He was older, 17, and he knew what he exactly was doing. Each time we got a little bit further. Had we been American teens we would have talked about ‘first, second, third base’ but we were not in that world. What we did was not for boasting. It was not for sharing with others. It was our private passion. It was our shared hunger and desire that kept me returning to his house each week.

We would move upstairs - clothes bundled in our arms just in case someone came home. His single bed in a his messy room was just perfect. The room smelled of aftershave and pizza but I didn’t care at the time.

In that room I earned my nickname ‘cock tease.’ With every step I took up the stairs, I left behind my insecurity and inhibition. I pushed him backwards, told him how much I enjoyed seeing him on the bed, wanting me. I got such pleasure from the power trip.

The decision of how far we would go each time was entirely in my hands. I knew he had before, and that all I had to do was say the word and he’d be ready. But I enjoyed keeping him waiting.

I toyed with the idea of not sleeping with him, after all this was not love. But curiosity made me cave in, and that day was just perfect.

His well toned body was a product of years of karate lessons. I was not so impressed when he tried to speak to me in Japanese, but I could definitively appreciate the rock hard abs and biceps.

After a month or so we started skipping the snack and TV foreplay and spent most of our time in his bedroom. One day as our routine was continuing in traditional fashion, I turned around so that he would have a good view of my ass as I slid out my jeans. As I was doing this enjoying his comments and how his breathing got a bit heavier I saw something hanging in his wardrobe. Adam’s karate belts.

I pulled one out and asked him nicely, flashing him my breasts at the same time, if he would let me play with the belt. Unsure of what I meant he seemed to hesitate. I straddled him on the bed, moving back and forth, teasing his cock through the thin material of his boxers. I loved seeing him so turned on and not fully realising the extent of my power I knew that if he got excited enough then he usually didn’t deny me anything.

I secured his wrists behind his back, and suddenly everything was so much hotter than it had been before. He was helpless. Well, not really but in my mind he was.

I stripped off all of my clothes, and then, without really knowing why I left the room. I could hear his shouts down the hallway, and I was grinning. He wanted me to come back.

I returned, in all honesty I had probably only been gone for one minute but he was angry. And frustrated. I jumped on top of him again and we kissed some more. I let him finger me but that was it. Nothing further that time, the belt had been enough to satisfy my curiosity that day.

Next time however I asked him to tie me up. What a feeling! It was not that tight, I could easily have removed the belt but it was enough of an aid to stimulate my mind. I closed my eyes and struggled against my bonds. I was helpless, naked, vulnerable.

I wanted him to fuck me.

Suddenly it was the only thought in my head. I told him it was time, and that he should get a condom. He was a perfect gentleman asking me repeatedly if I was sure. My body was on fire, I was aching to feel him inside me. He wanted to untie me, he was not at all comfortable with the play we were engaging with. So he untied me, and even though secretly I would have preferred to have remained helpless, I could still keep my arms behind my back and fantasise. The belt had made me so wet and hot I could barely wait as he fumbled with the condom, an action which made me wonder how much of his previous experience had been truthful.

I felt his large cock pushing against me, gently but still quite aggressively. I was not sure what to expect, but I was ready. My curiosity was about to be sated.

It took a while for me to relax enough to accept the large intruder. It hurt, but only for a short while. The pain was quickly replaced with strong feelings of pleasure. Slowly I felt his cock filling me, and I was in heaven. His thrusting was slow at first, keeping a strong steady rhythm. I was in ecstasy pretty soon, enjoying a pleasure I had only ever dreamt about before. I came long before him, without really knowing what I was doing I yelled out and grabbed his hair. My ankles crossed on his back, drawing him into me. I lost track of time, it felt like no time had passed, yet at the same time we could have been there pressed against each other for hours. He came with a grunt and collapsed on top of me. We shared some hesitant breathless kisses and lying underneath him in that blue room, karate belts and clothes strewn across the floor, the scent of sweaty sex in the air, I felt really good.

I knew I had made the right decision. My first time had been truly fucking amazing.

We showered together afterwards, an action almost too intimate at the time. It was a bit awkward and I got dressed quickly and headed home. Snuggling was not our thing.

We saw each other for another couple of weeks, had sex twice more, each time better than the one before. It was enough for me. My curiosity had been sated. We broke up, and moved on with our lives. After all, I had known from the start that it was not forever.

Now five years later I wrote this. We are not really in touch anymore, but if I saw him on the street I would not hesitate to say hi. Perhaps ask him if he still practices karate?

I don’t regret anything about my relationship with Adam. I now know that sex is a lot better with someone you love, but I also know that at the time I had my mind set on exploring sex and I really couldn’t have picked a better partner.

Filed under: BDSM, Erotica, guest post, relationships, sex 1 Comment

20Sep/091

A Story of You #9 The Kiss

Contest entry number nine by SweetSpiced...

9. The Kiss

My shyness was crippling. I mean I knew all the people I was with, I just wasn't as sure of myself as they were. Here I was, a theater geek, but the backstage kind. These were all the people who had the confidence to get up on stage; to audtion. And it was an overnight! With everyone camping out on the floor. I could see them all, tucked into their sleeping bags, many already asleep. How could I sleep? Right next to me was HIM. He was funny, smart, popular - at least with this crowd.

Me, I adored the way his hair fell across his forhead when he laughed. He stirred up in me all these odd feelings. I heard him stir next to me. Was he scooting his bag closer?? He was. "Breathe", I told myself. "Just keep breathing." Looking back, I don't have a clue what we spoke of. I remembered whispered conversation as we tried to keep the others snoring around us from waking up. I remember how he kept moving, turning toward me, reaching out and touching my arms with a soft caress.

I was so nervous. I'd never really been like this with anyone. High school was still such a mystery to me, and my shyness made me keep my head down and my nose in book. I knew the library, not boys. But even I couldn't mistake his intentions as he touched me, teasing my nerve endings. He was definitely much more experienced than I with these butterfly feelings. When he leaned forward finally, to touch his lips with mine, I was overwhelmed with sensations. My eyes closed, feeling warm lips touching mine, feeling the tingling that ran through my body.

I had no ability to object when his hand slid my covers down, felt his fingers fumbling with my shirt. The moist wetness of his mouth was against mine, his tongue teasing mine, enticing it to come out and play. My breasts felt heavy, and I could feel the warmth between my legs. I felt trapped by the covers, wanting to be closer to him, yet not understanding anything. I mean, I KNEW what it was, I'd read naughty books, touched myself. But this was HIM. This was a boy, holding me.

When his hand slid in my bra, I was awash again with new sensations. It felt nothing like when I touched myself. His fingers slid over my hard nipples, squeezing them. The kiss grew wilder, more intense, more of a clashing of mouths. I wanted more, so I reached for him, wanted to feel what it was that made us so different. His hands blocked me at the same time someone coughed. We both stilled, hoping no one heard us. Sighing, he eased away from me, as voices called across the room.

I leaned back in my sleeping bag, knowing I'd never get to sleep now. My lips still tingled from the kiss and I could taste him. If I slid my hands down I would find myself wet. I knew that even that slight motion would be visible to anyone else.I sighed, and closed my eyes, imagining he was still there, touching me.

Filed under: Erotica, guest post, intimacy, swag 1 Comment

19Sep/090

A Story of You #8 Karina

Contest entry number eight by Merlin...

8. Karina

She was slender, with small breasts and a slim but well-defined ass. Her arms were long and thin, birdlike in their profile. Her complexion was dark, almost olive in hue, with broad red lips framing slightly uneven teeth. Her eyes were as black as a November night.

Her name was Karina. And she was a hippie.

Or rather, she aspired to be a hippie. She hadn’t moved from our suburban locale to San Francisco to drop out of society. She wasn’t dropping acid, at least as far as I could tell. She wasn’t even smoking up, or keeping any pot around the house. I think her father would have had serious problems if he caught her doing that.

But she dressed the part. Tie-dyed T-shirts. Low-rise bell-bottom jeans that were always dirty around the cuffs and showed off a hint of buttcrack when she sat down. Often a headband around her long, black hair. Leather sandals in the summer, wooden Swedish clogs when it got cold.

And she was attracted to me. I can’t explain why.

"X,” she would say meeting me in the hallway at high school, and then launch into a diatribe on whatever issue was moving her at the time. She was quite political, and the Vietnam War provided a constant stream of material for her to riff on. It wasn’t uncommon for her to break off her monologue when she reached her class, starting up right where she left off the next time she found me.

Even though I wasn’t much of a hippie, a bond of friendship began to grow between us. Maybe I resisted her ideas just enough that she was energized by the prospect of a potential debate. Maybe I could see that, under her outspoken and sometimes abrasive manner, she was a young woman with womanly desires, and few inhibitions about achieving them. And that always attracts me.

I began walking her home after school, even though her house was out of my way. One cold afternoon she carefully maneuvered me away from the kitchen window where her mother might be preparing dinner, dropped her books on the grass, embraced me and gave me a tight kiss on the lips.

“I love you, X.” She was in the house before I could react.

Her affection was unconditional. She never waited for me to say that I loved her. I really wasn’t sure I did. But as we began to hug and kiss routinely, I was getting more and more interested in going farther.

One day Karina announced that her parents were flying to Florida for a week and she would be alone in the house. Karina was an only child, and her parents were rather old (they might have been in their 50s, imagine that!). I didn’t need a road map to see where this was going.

The day after her parents left, we walked home from school as usual. Rather than kissing outdoors, Karina said “Come in.” I followed her indoors, watched her throw her books on the kitchen table and then engulf me with an enthusiastic hug and a tongue down my throat.

“Come in my bedroom,” she said breathlessly. “I have to get out of these clothes.”

We kissed again as we entered her room, the walls covered with Janis Joplin posters and antiwar slogans. She looked at me and began talking about how she enjoyed being nude and free, but her parents were too uptight (of course) to let her walk around the house in the raw. As she talked, she began casually dropping her clothes. Off came her T-shirt, revealing a spunky pair of tiny nipples. Down went her jeans, collapsing on the floor in a heap. She kicked her clogs into a corner, her jeans following. All that remained was a pair of white panties with a hole under the elastic.

“I love you. Kiss me.” Karina was nothing if not assertive, and I was not about to resist! My hands gripped her torso as I pulled her toward me, our tongues intertwining lustily. I could feel my cock getting rock hard in my tighty-whiteys.

“We have to hurry up,” she said. She explained that her grandmother would be coming over to have dinner that night, and I could understand that she was not enough of a rebel to want to be caught with a classmate’s cock stuck inside her. But Karina had something else in mind. She reclined on her small bed, peeled off the ratty panties, and began to preen her furry patch.

“Eat me,” she commanded. “Eat my cunt.”

I had never done this before! I had heard her talk about feminism and the tyranny of the penis, and it was apparent she was intent on taking the upper hand in her sexual encounters. I wanted to fuck her, right then, but I was excited enough to give pussy licking a try.

I knelt before her, still fully clothed, and inhaled her musky scent. Her outer lips were dark and sinister; her inner lips a deep pink hue, glistening with her feminine secretions. Thick, curly black hair covered everything. I gently lowered my head, using my fingers to push the hairs back, and delicately extended my tongue to taste her.

“EAT ME!” she snarled, grabbing the back of my head with both hands and pushing my tongue deep in her slot. Recovering from my shock, I began to lick her pussy enthusiastically. I had no idea what I was doing, but from her moans and the rhythmic shaking of her body I seemed to be doing something right. When my tongue reached the top of her slit and began to work her clitoris, she shrieked and arched her back off the mattress, then collapsed into her pillows.

I rose up on all fours, her hot young juice coating my face, watching her breathe shallowly with her eyes closed. After a few long seconds her hand snaked down to her pussy and gently stroked her clit, eliciting one last paroxysm of pleasure.

“Come on, you’d better get going,” she said as she got up, pointing me to the bathroom across the hall. I washed my face, returned to her room and was received with another deep kiss.

“See you tomorrow, lover,” Karina said as I closed the door.

Lover. That sounded nice.

On the way home I noticed a wet spot growing on my jeans. Looking inside my belt, I saw my now-soft cock covered in white goo. Yes, political discussions with Karina were becoming an enjoyable experience.

Filed under: Erotica, guest post, sex, swag No Comments

18Sep/091

A Story of You #7 The First Time I Gave Up…

Contest entry number seven by NoZeFace...

7. First time I gave up...

The best thing about fighting is making up. And the best thing about control is giving up. How I got in the position I was in (face down, ass up, hands pulling my ass apart, plug filling me) was rather easy to tell. How I gave in...a little more difficult. It all started with a fight. Well, not so much a fight as in my lover frustrated at me and letting her feelings known.

We have a long distance relationship and limited time to be together. In the 24hrs we have been together, I have gotten off a few times. She...not so much. Or, more accurately, at all. Now, it wasn't like I was slouching. I was doing my damnest to satisfy her. Just wasn't happening for one reason or another. I was finishing too fast, she not at all. My broad pink tongue not getting her delicious cunt going. Fingers teasing her g-spot...nothing was getting her to her banshee wailing, hip shaking, gripping for dear life post-orgasmic self. And she let me know it. So, I did what any man whose ego was a little bruised, I left. I walked around. I drank...and drank...and drank some more. We cooled off, we talked it out. We hugged it out. We fucked it out. And we were complete again.

“You look so sexy,” she said in a low voice. I felt exposed, trembling, vulnerable. It was a odd change. While not a complete sub (she is way too feisty and demanding to give up totally), she isn't a full-on dom. Sure, she has had her ways with girls in the past...but she likes her men to be, well men. Bold, in charge, collosi striding the earth. And while she is into ass play for herself, shied away from doing so for her men. But there she was, cool and calm, beckoning me to turn around. Gently caressing me admiring the calmness radiating from me. How her hands formed around my pert ass. And how I shuddered when her tongue probed me. How I cried out in pleasure with each lap. Screaming into the pillow the same unintelligible songs she sang when I was on top of her. Understanding how it felt when she looked me dead in the eye and the calm when she came. I was hers and she was mine. I gave of my self to her tongue, the thud of her hands with each spank, the fingers entering my bud. I gave in to the pleasure, wanting more, willing it, holding myself open to take more, more, ohpleasegod more.

My voice low, begging please. More. please. I didn't care what it was, just more. Consumed by lust and greed, the submissive begging for total and complete release. It was a moment that was confusing and thrilling and sexy. Anyone would have walked in and before, I would have been embarrassed to be in such a place. Ass up and spread, moaning like a little bitch, begging for more. But, she made me feel comfortable, alright, sexy. She soothed me as she worked in the plug in my virginal ass. She pulled me up and kissed me sweetly. We became lost in each other; the roles switched. She, moaning with waves of pleasure; begging for me to cum inside her. I, fucking her without abandon; becoming the colossus she desired. In my submission, I gained control. In my weakness, I gained strength. We gave to each other, we shared with each other and we came together.

Filed under: Erotica, anal play, guest post, sex, swag 1 Comment

18Sep/094

A Story of You #6 The kiss, the cousin, and being grounded for life

Contest entry number six by Purple Foxglove...

6. The kiss, the cousin, and being grounded for life

My first really satisfying kiss, you know the kind that you remember and smile about every couple of minutes all day long, happened in my car when I was 17. A night and day difference from my firstkiss, by the way. Having a tongue shoved into your mouth is just way too much to manage while you're worrying about what to do with the rest of your mouth, let alone your tongue and somebody else's. In short, I don't recommend it.

Anyhow, I should start the story of my first non-horrible kiss with when I met the boy, who we will call Boy2. It was halfway through my senior year in high school, when Boy1 (a freshman who at the time lives in my neighborhood) walked over to my house to ask me to some ROTC ball or dance or something along the lines of a "date." This boy later ended up dating two of my best friends before getting a third girl pregnant, but at the time, I proceeded to promptly turn him down as gently as I could.

Until his attractive, twenty year old cousin (Boy2) was brought to my attention, almost crashing a bicycle on the street in front of my house. It's hard to let someone down lightly when you're inquiring about their cousin.

Months of old fashioned (and frustrating as hell) courting went by, and it became clear that Boy2 and I would soon be a pair. "Going Out," "Going Steady," "A Couple," call it what you will. Now, no teenage girl ever has a boyfriend that her father doesn't want to beat into the ground. So naturally, Boy2 had a sort of respect-fear that was probably healthy and well warranted. But girls will be girls, and I decided to meet some friends at the Lake downtown, and take Boy2 with me. So I picked him up, in my car, without the knowledge of my father, and we went. For one fabulous hour, we walked in the park, and held hands and were generally innocent and infatuated with one another.

And that was when I got the phone call. “Where are you? With who? So, you’re telling me that [Boy2] isn’t with you right now?” Hmm. I think Boy2’s words were “Aw man, you’re dad’s gonna shit a canary,” and I believe I responded “my dad’s going to shit a flock of canaries.” That said, I’ve never driven so fast and never in my childhood had I been in more trouble.

Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was knowing that I wouldn’t see this boy again for several months when I was allowed to once again see the light of day, but parked outside his house, with Heartache Every Moment by HIM on in the background, when he asked me if it would be out of line for him to kiss me, and I didn’t really hear him so I went with “guess we’ll find out,” I kissed him back when he leaned over and laid his lips gently but insistently on mine. It was one of those cute kisses too, because he came back for a quick round two before he actually got out of the car.

I swear, my lips tingled for the rest of the day, and it was hard not to smile, even when I was being forbidden contact with the world outside my house.

Filed under: Erotica, guest post, intimacy, swag 4 Comments

17Sep/091

A Story of You #5 The Cat-O-Nine-Tails

Thanks to Amy for thinking I'm a good read! I'll pass it on soon

Contest entry number five by Mina...

5. The Cat-o-Nine-Tails

Looking back on things now, I'd have to say it completely makes sense I am who I am today. I've had many firsts, obviously, but one of the most memorable ones is when I first introduced kink into my life. I suppose their was a touch of D/s in there too now that I think about it.

I was 18 at the time. So was my boyfriend, X. Near my house was an adult store. We ventured in there one day. Seeing as I was finally adult enough to go in there, I wanted to indulge myself. I remember I wanted to get a vibrator. I wanted to enhance my sexual experience. At this time, vibes were made of plastic, made a lot of noise, a dial turned them on and off and they were rigid missiles. I am so glad sex toys have changed today. I picked out a turquoise blue one. I was so excited it even came with batteries.

But, I didn't stop there.

My eyes were drawn into the "kinkier" side of the store. I perused the various items, but what caught my eyes the most was a black collar and leash set. The collar went on by velcro with a simple little d-ring for the flimsy leash. The leash had a d-ring at one end and a weak little plastic clasp on the other. I don't know what made me want to buy this. I can't tell you why I was particularly drawn to this item. I asked my boyfriend what he thought. He was game but I think he really didn't have much of an opinion.

Before going to the register though, I needed one more item. What caught my attention this time was a turquoise cat-o-nine tails. Again, I don't know why I wanted this... well I guess I did. I wanted to feel what it felt like to be struck by an object such as this. It wasn't going to do much damage. The handle was skinny and made of plastic.

So I purchased my items. Later that night, X and I decided to give things a try. He put the collar on me and I remember feeling so excited. He attached the leash and had me crawl around on the floor. We were confined to my room (as I couldn't let my parents know I had him there in the middle of the night). But he delighted in pulling me around. I remember feeling that choking feeling when he yanked the leash, ordering me on the bed and back down on the floor. I was completely into being his pet at that moment. I remember getting really turned on.

He had me on all fours when he held the cat-o-nine tails. I remember this part clearly. I was facing him, my ass away. I'm certain I was sucking on his cock while he kept a tight hold on my leash. He swung the tails and they landed on my backside. It didn't really hurt much. Over and over he struck me. I moaned into him. Then without warning he struck me harder and I was quite surprised when the tails swung over my backside and a few strands landed squarely on my pussy, flicking my clit. It stung badly. I remember feeling the sting for minutes after that. I think I complained from the pain at that point of my life, but looking back at that moment, it's quite exhilarating.

X and I had a lot of fun using all the new toys. We even started to role play a lot because of it. Interesting enough, he really enjoyed playing the submissive role. He liked being the innocent boy seduced by the teacher. He wanted to wear the collar once too. Heh. Today I am the submissive one all the time.

And funnily enough, my mom has the cat-o-nine tails, and uses it as a cat toy. When I moved out of the house, I left it behind. I have no idea if she even knows what it really is. She discovered it when my husky found it and brought it out to the living room where we were sitting. From that day it became the cat toy.

Filed under: BDSM, Erotica, guest post, swag 1 Comment

16Sep/092

A Story of You #4 His

Contest entry number four by Lola Batling...

4. His

This is the story of my first time with a Dom and a stranger. It is the story of my first non-parental spanking. It also marks my second time in a carʻs back seat for sexual purposes. Funny how that worked out, Iʻm just glad Iʻm adventurous.

I thought Topping while in a wheelchair was difficult, but I must be a masochist. Bottoming is harder, hands down. While itʻs not more difficult in terms of capability or ability, there are a fair number of difficulties.

The finding partners is always the hardest part. Finding people who can accept the “my bitch comes with wheels” is quite difficult. Adding that I’m a painslut makes it even weirder. People have a hard time hurting me. Even though I’m a big girl and I ask for it. I know what I can handle, and I will use my safe word.

You know what they say, that when you stop looking for something, you find it? It’s true. In fact, itʻs the only thing I believe in. I just have to remind myself of this a lot.

It was a cold night when I met him. I was with friends outside of Stilettos, a gay and lesbian bar in Detroit. He caught my eye. He was older and debonair, the type of guy I masturbate to. I love older men, but I had never really been with one. I was staring at him. He was staring right back.

My friends had to drag me inside. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go in. I simply wasn’t about to lose a test of wills. Once inside, I consoled myself with something alcoholic that tasted vaguely of blackberry and turned my attention to the stage.

“Hello.” A velvety voice whispered in my ear. Startled, I jumped and looked up. It was him.

“Hello.” I said, marveling at how close he was, yet he was not touching my chair. He put his hands on my shoulders. My breath caught, my heart pounded, he was touching me.

“My name is X, I’m interested in getting to know you. Come outside with me while I smoke,” he said before walking away. It was not a request, it was an order.

Before I could think, I was up and away from my party. I quickly caught up with up him. He held the door open for me. My nipples were hard and I couldnʻt tell if it was the cold or the excitement.

“Let me guess, early twenties, rebellious and a Daddyʻs girl,” he said from behind me.

“Hardly a Daddyʻs girl,” I said, giggling nervously.

“No...” I could hear the smooth suck on his cigarette. “I can fix that.” He spoke confidently, reaching down and tweaking a nipple. I was mortified, I was embarrassed, I was aroused.

I was his.

There are those moments when you can just feel your whole life change. This was mine. The moment I knew I could be submissive. As the realization set in, he turned and the next thing I knew, he was walking off, during my moment of epiphany! How dare he! I chased after him.

He stopped in front of a really nice, sleek black car.

“Ever done it in a BMW… I didnʻt quite catch your name?” He said. He was smirking.

“No, and my name is O.” I said. Oh shit, I used my real name. Oh fuck, I wanted him bad.

“Well, O . Let me enlighten you.” He said undoing my seatbelt with one hand and opening the BMWʻs back door. He tossed aside his cigarette stepping on it once, crushing the glowing ember beneath his heel.

He lifted me as if I weighed nothing and set me in the back seat. I lay there my heart beating while he moved int the car with me shutting the door behind him. I watched him wide eyed.

He immediately exposed my nipples, looking me over. Caressing the curve of my hip. “I want to hurt you, O.” He stated it the way most would say, “I like green.” He let his hand trail down the front of my thighs.

I whimpered.

He moved me so that I was on my belly pressed against the leather. He lifted my skirt. As usual, I wasnʻt wearing any panties. He brought his hand down on my bare ass. Sound of flesh on flesh filled the car. On and on he went until he finally got me to cry out.

It hurt a lot but I was taught never to cry. It felt different from the times my step-dad spanked me. My ass hurt the same, but the electricity was there and my pussy was wet and aching. He knew this, surely he had to. His fingers would dip into every time heʻd stop to rub my ass.

I raised my ass under his hand as he rubbed my ass smearing my wetness across my backside. He laughed and continued his assault on my ass. I was moaning and gasping, and then:

“Stop please.” I said, not my standard safe-word but, he stopped sitting back on his heels.

“70. You must have been an unruly child.” He said chuckling.

“Yeah.” I said gasping. His finger slid into me stopping me from talking. He pushed inside my tight pussy. I was surprised by my own wetness. He slid back and forth adding a second finger and third until my pussy was stuffed full and convulsing around him.

Before I knew it, I was orgasming at the speed of sound. The whole thing was sharp and brief. Even now I think about it, what I could have done differently if I had the toys on hand and the knowledge to use them.

Just as the thought sparked through my mind, my body recoiled, trying to place a definite end to the encounter. Abrupt as it was, the next thing that happened was him putting in me back in my chair and handing me his card.

“Call me.” He said. I quickly dashed back into the bar. My friends hadnʻt even noticed I was gone.

Of course I called.

Filed under: BDSM, Erotica, guest post, sex in odd places, spanking, swag 2 Comments

15Sep/096

A Story of You #3 A Few Moments in the Office

Contest entry number three by Raven Quince...

3. A Few Moments at the Office

It was a day filled with sexual tension. The sparks between us didn’t have far to arc in the tiny room we shared as an office. Swiveling my chair around, he leaned forward and kissed me hard. The heat between us exploded and soon we were on our feet, chairs rolling haphazardly out of the way, bodies tight against each other, his hand down the front of my pants, probing. “Get those off, “ he said as he shoved my keyboard and mouse out of the way. He extended the small sliding shelf extensions on either side of my desktop, the ones meant to give a little more room to lie out papers, or place a telephone. I’d had the desk for six years and had never noticed it’s great potential for sex before.

Jerker

He patted the desktop and I hopped up. Placing each foot on the extensions, my knees were up and legs spread wide. Reaching behind me, he slid me forward so that my ass was teetering off the edge of the desk. Running two fingers up my slit, he slid them into my very wet pussy. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him, our tongues entwined, our lust intense, the pace of our breathing quick.

Letting his pants drop to the floor, his cock bobbed with his pulse as he put on a condom. The height of the desk was perfect as he entered me. With long slow strokes the angle of my pelvis was perfect to receive him, and I could feel his cock filling me up over and over again. I moaned my pleasure loudly and dug my fingers into his shoulder blades, his speed increasing. I could feel my orgasm coming quickly, my muscles tightening around his cock. Reaching down, he rubbed my clit and buried himself deep within me as he came hard. I screamed out as his touch pushed me over the edge of an intense orgasm. My whole body tightened and clenched him, hands clawing at his back, my head tucked down, teeth bearing down on his shoulder. And, in that moment, there was an unmistakable sound. A splash hit the wooden floor below me.

We froze like that for some moments, locked in each other’s bodies. I could feel my pussy dripping, the space between our bodies unusually slick. He pulled back and checked the condom. “What the fuck was that?” I asked incredulously. “It appears you’ve squirted.” I looked down and on the floor below was a puddle. “What? But, I don’t do that!” He looked at me with a smile and replied, “Well, apparently you DO.”

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Filed under: Erotica, guest post, sex, sex in odd places, swag 6 Comments

14Sep/093

A Story of You #2 Artist

Contest entry number 2 by Shay Italo...

2. Artist

I am an artist. I have been drawing all of my life, my mother claims since I was two, but I don't believe her; she never believed that I could turn it into a career until I was in my twenties.

I have two lives, now, in my career: I have me, the freelance illustrator working for publishing companies, educational resources and magazines; then there is X (taken from X - writer of my favorite book).

X draws porn; sometimes porn, sometimes 'erotic art'. Sometimes nude or sexy portraits of friends or lovers (theirs or mine). It's different from drawing a model in a classroom, it's not about the figure or the muscles or the likeness; it's about the sex, or the sexual or the emotions that come with both.

I was young, younger than I am willing to admit, when I (like every girl) eventually came across her father's 'private magazines'. Like everyone, I was curious about the bodies, theirs and mine. I started sketching.

I drew a woman (from the magazine) laying in a field surrounded by gold/brown wheat and a huge blue sky. She had a stereotyped red and white checkered blanket under her, and partially wrapped around her; somehow the wind knew which parts to cover and which not to. I was envious of the photographer for having that career, where he got to capture that emotion. I had Pick-N-Save 'toy isle' watercolors and #2 pencils on ruled paper to work with.

I have long since lost the drawing; my father's magazines were probably thrown out by my mother when he died. I still remember the photograph and the drawing. It was one of those life-changing things. I started drawing myself and friends, then, studying emotions and eroticism. I do not believe that I will ever stop.

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Filed under: Erotica, guest post, swag 3 Comments

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Wilhelmina Wang. Queer, female college student with her mind lodged firmly in the gutter, seeking genderbenders, lessons in BDSM, a meaningful fuck, and a point in life.

Here's where her mind is spilled like the proverbial guts.

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