Saturday, April 27, 2013

Imaginary Infidelity

I know a lot of people do it. I know it's ok to think about whatever you want during sex. It's just, I've never done it before, and it felt very different than I'd imagined.

My husband G and I were making out. He pulled me over so my nipple dangled in his mouth. He nuzzled and made that little snuffling moan I usually find so seductive. That night it just wasn't working for me. I didn't want to be there. I didn't want it to be him. So I imagined someone else.

I imagined it was Quiet Person, whose mouth I have yet to feel in such an intimate location. A tingle went through me. I closed my eyes and focused on QP's face looking up at me, QP's hands pushing my breasts together, QP's tongue making circles on first one nipple and then the other.

The tingle came again, more intensely.

G and I started fucking, and I pictured exactly how it would be if QP were underneath me. I imagined the sounds he might make, and my pussy quaked with desire. G was right there, but I was blocking him out of my concious mind so I could ride QP, slow and hard and on and on.

My orgasm was tremendous. I toppled forward and G held my head against his chest. I didn't want him there.

This infidelity feels worse than the ones where I actually AM with someone else. Kicking G out of his own bed -- out of his own fuck -- seems like a terrible offense.

Friday, April 26, 2013

Negotiations and Consent

Handsome Quiet Person was not put off by my cheating ways, or not entirely. He wanted to see me.

Is there really any denying the ravening howl of new-lover lust? Not for me.

I resisted through one long afternoon walk but at some point we found a secluded spot and our lips met and pretty much all was lost.

Except that what was turning me on wasn't him. He doesn't smell amazing. He's not a bold kisser. He's new, and he really really likes me, and that's all it takes, apparently, to captivate me.

I suggested we go back to his place. "I guess you thought over what I told you," I said.

"I have, and I haven't figured out how I feel about it. We could go back to my house, but I don't want to do anything more than what we have already," he said. I agreed, and he went on, "I know, it's strange, a guy setting a limit like that."

I wish I hadn't interrupted. I wonder where he would have gone with that. But I was eager to reassure him. "I appreciate knowing your limits. I don't think it's strange."

So we went back to his house, and in moments we were on the bed kissing intensely, and his smell and taste and timidity were not slowing down my heart rate at all. He pulled off my pants and I asked permission before stripping off his shirt. "Is this ok," I asked, biting his nipple. "Is this ok," I asked, squeezing his ass.

"I'm sorry for being inconsistent," he said, as we stripped off the last of our clothes.

"That's what consent is all about," I said. I sat up an admired his handsomely furred body, his cock  curving over his flat belly, thick and mouthwatering. "I want your cock in my mouth," I told him, "But I've started using condoms even for blow jobs these days." He passed me a condom, but he wilted right away.

"I have performance anxiety," he told me. I knew why. I knew more than I should about him, and that's one reason I was being so careful. It was obvious I wasn't going to be getting a condom on him. And besides... when it comes to consent ... I try to be extra careful.

"Let's take a break," I suggested.

When I was younger I used to say what I wanted, the same as I do today. The thing is, I wouldn't live up to it. I'd get caught up in the moment, and if the guy I was with bothered to take the time to check in again I was sure to just moan and rub his cock in a way that made my intentions clear. No condom? No problem. Got a boyfriend? Already forgot about him. Not sure I like you? So what.

I know all too well that considered consent doesn't happen on the fly. These days I stick to my limits or know in advance if I'm likely not to. I don't count on anyone else to respect my no if I don't respect it even more. What did QP know about consent? I had a feeling not much. So I gave him time to collect himself and consider what he wanted without the distraction of my naked body up against his.

We ended up kissing some more and taking a nap. It was intensely sweet.

I need to be careful with that man. I have a feeling I've already gone to far, for both of us. When it comes to consent, love and friendship are a lot harder to navigate than sex.

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Type Three Orgasms

I spent a large part of Sunday with Quiet Man, and Monday I took the day off from work to spend it with Complicate Lover. It was extreme indulgence. I feel sated and fat, like I ought to fast for a few days.

CL pushed me hard. He gave me orgasms until I was satisfied, then forced more on me until I begged and fought, then held me down and growled, which made me come some more.

I used my safe word when I started to feel like I'd be too sore to fuck if he didn't stop.

The orgasms were good. I arched my back and clenched my pussy at each peak. They hurt a little, from g-spot stimulation, if his fingers were inside me. They felt a little hollow if his fingers weren't inside me.

"Type one orgasms," I said to CL. "I figured out why I only have type three when I'm alone."

"Wait, what's type two?" he asked. "Is type one good or bad?"

So I had to go back and explain.

Of course orgasms vary widely. Different women experience them differently, and while some have just one set way of coming, many have a range. My range is wider than three, but I can generally class any orgasm I have as one, two, or three.

One - g-spot or external stimulation. Mildly pleasurable and spasmodic. Leave me wanting more.

Two - AKA why I'm primarily straight. I only have these from fucking. Not from finger fucking and not generally a dildo. either. Mostly only cock can give me this level of out-of-control pleasure. Loudness, full body spasms, and major enjoyment.

Three - The best possible feeling ever exploding my entire body. This orgasm can go on and on, if pushed, or end and leave me completely satisfied. If I'm alone, it's loud and messy and involves thrashing around a lot. If I'm masturbating after sex and my partner is sleeping, it's just a quick full body clenching and a near-painful peak of concentrated pleasure. Like swigging a shot of whisky, it burns and elates and leaves me relaxed.

Type three orgasms are fueled by fantasies. Generally degrading fantasies, where I'm being forced to do something repellent, or punished for being an out-of-control slut. I can't get lost in fantasy when I'm with a partner, so I only have these when I'm alone. Or on the phone, that seems to work, if my caller wants to call me names and tell me how he'd use me.

"You need to distance yourself from that extreme pleasure," CL ventured.

I used to only have type 3 orgasms. Back when I was young and disgusted by sex. When my stepfather licked me to orgasm and slid a finger into my too-tight pussy. Back then I had blinding orgasms even though they were the last thing I wanted.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Another Conversation

I don't want you to watch me come.
When I come, I want you to feel it
In your spine. In
the back of your skull.

I want you to feel my cum searing into your insides.

when I pull out of you,
you can see it
mixed with your cuntwine
slickening my cock shaft.

Then you can taste it . . . us, blended.

Think of it this way: My cum, not
running down your hand, but
through your veins.

[words by him, conversion to blog post by me. Used with permission.]

Friday, April 12, 2013

Masturbation Fantasy Fancy Cake Fun Time

I've been a bad girl. I know that's why he's making me lay like this, tummy propped on a pillow so my ass is raised and my cunt exposed, arms stretched up over my head. (Except, of course, one of my hands is actually between my legs. But let's not let that spoil the fantasy.)


It's the one day a week I'm allowed to have an orgasm. I've got five minutes to come as much as I like. If I can't come in five minutes, I'll have to wait until next week. I'm so close but I can't get over the edge. I've been holding back too hard, too long, and I can't reach my release that quickly anymore. Five minutes passes. This has just been another tormenting denial.


I'm tied spread eagle. Chained, actually. Cold metal on my wrists makes me shiver. My nipples harden and ache. There will be a man in to fuck me soon. I'm just a hole to him, a hot, wet hole. Or am I? If that were all I were, why would he bother hurting me?


I'm back in the first scene, exposed and guilty and fearful. He's spanking me, and I'm wriggling more and more frantically. Am I trying to avoid the burning blows or to more effectively hump the pillow? Either way, he decides enough is enough and holds my back down with his knee. He keeps on spanking me, telling me all the reasons I deserve it. (My orgasm tears out of me with a wail like a subway car on a curve. I'm flopping around the bed panting when I hear footsteps approaching the door. Time to pull down my skirt and act composed.)

Thursday, April 11, 2013

One More Breath of Magnetic Air

Last night was a strange one. Complicated Lover was there with the woman he likes and the woman who wants him. I stood around with them for a while but then I started feeling like a harem member and wandered off. Besides, the man I was thinking about was in another part of the club.

He's shy, or so i'd thought a week ago. He's got blue eyes. (I don't remember faces, or eyes, particularly well, but I seem to have a subconscious thing for blue eyes nonetheless.) I know more than I should about him. Let's call him Quiet Person..

QP likes me and I like him back and yes, I do mean like like. He's innocent seeming, though, and I worry about that. "Why?" CL asked me when I called him for a consult. "Most men like being corrupted."

"I've got no problem with the corrupting aspect," I said. "It's more... the cheating. And the not-falling-in-love."

So after we left the club I pulled QP into the alley. "Listen," I said. "I want to say something probably premature and totally inappropriate. Is that ok?"

"Sure," he said.

"I like you, and I'm definitely attracted to you ..." I could feel him waiting for the brush off. I hesitated. I wanted another moment of the mutual attraction. One more breath of magnetic air. "I'm attracted to you and I think it's mutual ..." He smiled at me. If I'd leaned in he'd of kissed me, but I didn't. Instead I finished up with the truth. "I'm not in an open marriage. Sometimes I cheat. I thought you should know."

QP nodded. "I was going to ask you about your situation," he said. He didn't say more. We hugged goodnight.

Today he texted me a random "How's your day?" so I don't know how he took it.

Thursday, April 4, 2013

What He Said

"You want me to fuck you? Why should I care what you want? I want you to make me come."

"By fucking," I said. "Don't you want to?"

"Maybe I do. But I'm not going to."

He likes to watch me suffer.

Dirty Pictures, Anyone?

I know some of you've been waiting for this moment, my friends. Enjoy. Then tell me about it.

My doctor has recommended more baths. I admit, I enjoy them.