wherein I muse dirty thoughts most dreamily
24 posts
Je-vous-appartiens - Je Vous Appartiens - Tumblr Blog
This won’t make your blog look ugly. How could you not reblog this? REBLOGGING THIS COULD SAVE A LIFE!!!
calling my lover "mine" but not in the way that my toothbrush or notebook are mine, mine in the way my neighborhood is mine, and also everybody else's, "mine" like mine to tend to, mine to care for, mine to love. "mine" not like possession but devotion.
The chemistry was nearly instantaneous the moment he walked into the shop. It was just a combination of senses, long glances, mutual tension. She glanced up from her magazine, darkly rimmed eyes scanning him. Tattoos graced his biceps – she could see the beginnings of a full set of sleeves on him. Brushing a loose strand of dirty blonde hair out of her eyes, she stood up and moved to the counter. "How can I help ya?" She said, tongue ring glinting in her mouth.
He coughed gently, glancing down, then up into her eyes. "I need to see your piercing portfolio." His soft voice replied. She nodded, and pushed the book over to him. "There ya go. Let me know if you need anything."
She had just sat down when he said, "How much are the nipple piercings?" She sprang up as if she'd sat on a tack and stepped over, "Eighty."
He nodded, "Then, I need to do that." She nodded in return, and got the paperwork for him to fill out. She noted he signed his full name, Joseph, and not a nickname, and idly wondered what he looked like without his shirt, if his biceps indicated anything about the rest of him. Something about him stirred something deep with in her. 'Maybe it's just pheromones...' she thought, idly, trying to push the wanton thoughts from her head.
Once she'd gotten his license and credit card, she led him to her room in the back. He glanced around the sterile room warily, sitting gingerly on the table, as she set to prepping the needles and jewelry, donning gloves.
"So why are you wanting to get your nipples pierced, Joseph?" She queried politely, trying to ram the veneer of client/piercer firmly in place in her mind.
He looked rather sheepish, "To...make them more sensitive...maybe. I don't know. I like the way they look. I mean, they're already pretty sensi...I mean...I just like it. Is all."
She grinned slowly, nodding. "Right on. Off with the shirt, there."
He shivered as he took his shirt off and she assessed his nipples, trying to keep her eyes from roaming over him. He wasn't cut, but just the way she liked them, thin with strong arms. She shook her head to clear it, then marked where she’d send the needle through. "Stand up and look at the mirror. Let me know if the placement is good."
He hopped up and scanned himself, appraising critically. Finally he nodded, and lay back down on the table. She grinned, having seen the wrangled nerves of her clients a thousand times before as she cleaned his buds off with a swab, making them pucker. Seizing the needle, she placed her left hand on his ribs, and instructed, "Now exhale, luv." As he breathed out, she ran the needle through the flesh. He grimaced as she swiftly followed the newly made hole through with a barbell, securing as quickly as she could. "Not too bad, right?" He laughed shakily. "Ready for the next?" She asked, and watched him clench his fists and steel his nerves, nodding. Repeating the procedure, she had his second nipple pierced in no time, and helped him sit up.
"Go take a look." She chirped as she pulled the gloves off, turning to her counter to get her after care instructions for him. She heard him exhale softly, then say, "Perfect."
With a smile, she turned and held out the slip of paper. "Don't fuck with 'em, soak 'em with sea salt soaks twice a day for six weeks, and come see me if you have ANY questions at all." He nodded gratefully, pocketing the slip of paper and gingerly pulling his shirt over his chest.
She walked him out, feeling a little wistful knowing she'd probably never see him again and sent him off before greeting her next client.
He didn't pass her mind much for awhile, just the occasional day dream she had to rub out, but that was the way it went in her business. Customers came and customers went..
Six weeks to the day, Joseph showed back up in her shop. It was a lull in the afternoon and she was flipping through another magazine while doodling. In fact, she was so engrossed he had to clear his throat to get her attention.
"I was wondering..." He asked, quietly, a little nervous, "If you'd take a look at...erm...these..." He motioned to his chest.
Blinking a few times, she stood up and nodded, "Sure, alright. Come on back. Having problems?" He nodded and trailed after her. She closed the door, motioning to the table. "Have a seat, then, and I'll take a look."He pulled his shirt off, tossing it to a chair, then hopped up on the table while she donned her gloves. She turned and got closer, surveying. "They look fine to me..." She said, trying to see what he was talking about.
"You might need to look closely. I...I think I might have not taken good care of them." He said softly. She could feel his nerves jangling again as goosebumps erupted over his skin and his nipples contracted in the cold of the room. She inched closer, looking as deeply as she dared, searching for whatever it was that he saw that she didn't.
She glanced up at him skeptically, noting his slack jaw. Her brow arched as she went back to studying his nipple, though her eyes happened to glance downward. His cock was straining at his pants. Her womb practically contracted right there.
"Well...maybe...I do see something. I think I can treat it really quick." She stood up and smiled warmly at him as his eyes slid open slowly and he blinked himself back to reality.
"Do you want me to treat it, Joseph, and make them better?" She asked, softly. It was such a corny line, but she didn't care at the moment. Watching this fantastic man in front of her was mesmerizing.
"Oh, please, would you make them better, Mariam?" He asked quietly. She was startled he even remembered her name, and it registered as the faintest flickering of shock across her face. She settled back into the warm smile she'd affected, and bobbed her head, once.
"Certainly. Now hold still. If you move too much, it might not work." She requested, authoritatively. He nodded slowly, and braced his arms by grabbing the lip of the table.
Slowly, she leaned forward, allowing her warm breath to tickle his areola, before her tongue snaked out and flipped the tip of his nipple. She heard his breath catch, and she did it again, netting the same response. "Well, there's that one." She said softly.
"Nooooo." He whispered softly, "I...I think it needs more." He bit his lip, then, to stifle the whimper growing in his throat.
She pressed the flat of her tongue to his puckering bud, slowly dragging it across until the bar in her tongue hit the bar in his nipples. "Oh god." He managed to choke out, and she smiled slowly, then lapped liberally at his nipple, bathing it in her saliva, alternating the flat of her tongue with the tip, stabbing, licking, and finally sucking until he was arching against her mouth
Satisfied she'd gotten everything she could out of that side, she turned her attentions to the other, repeating the treatment until he was shuddering under her mouth, cock rigid in his jeans, arms straining to keep him upright. When she finished, she pulled away slowly, a satisfied smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Even if licking his nipples was all she'd ever get, she was happy with it.
"I think..." He whispered huskily as he straightened up, "That you need to...adjust...that tongue ring." She blinked in confusion until he stood up, seizing her roughly by the arms and dragging her to him. She opened her mouth to protest the manhandling, only to have him dip his tongue into her mouth. The protest died instantaneously and she kissed him back, tongue stroking his in return. She didn't know how long they stood there locked in a fierce kiss, and she didn't care. The shop could have burned down around her head and she would have still stood there, consumed as she was with the sense of him, the feel of him, his fingers digging deeply into her arms.
He worked his way down her jaw with gentle nips and nibbles, and she tilted her head back for better access. Gingerly, he flicked her Madison with his tongue, a movement which caused her to whimper. Slowly he took the ring in his mouth and sucked gently. She pressed herself against him, fingers running over his back as he toyed with the piercing at her throat. His hands slid down her torso to the hem of her tank top, then quested beneath it, fingertips stroking her ribcage.
She pulled away from him, frantically yanking the tank top off over her head and tossing it in the corner before lunging at him, seizing his face and kissing him again and again. He recovered from the attack quickly, turning her and lifting her up to set her on the table. Pulling away from her barrage of kisses, he peppered her throat neck and shoulders with nips of his own, fingers working the clasp on her bra to free her tits for his sampling.
He pulled the bra from her shoulders once he'd gotten the clasp undone, tossing it into the corner with her tank top and his shirt, and took a moment to admire her own set of pierced nipples. She leaned back, bracing herself on her arms, arching her back, wantonly giving him access to her breasts. He took the unspoken offering and gently began to lap at her nipples, first one, then the other, alternating slowly. She purred her appreciation as he worked, his arms around her to help hold her up. He continued to suckle at her ever tightening buds until she was gasping for breath, shuddering in his arms. Releasing her, he stepped back to admire her again for a moment, and was about to reach for her when she slowly sat up, heavy lidded eyes regarding him as she unbuttoned her shorts, raising her hips to pull them off, revealing the white thong underneath. With a flick of her wrist, she threw the shorts into the pile of clothing, then knelt before him in one fluid motion. She deftly unbuckled his belt, then unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. After the tongue lashing he'd given her nipples, she was dying to wrap her lips around his cock, especially if it was anything like the imprint it was making on his jeans and had made in her mind during lonely, boring hours at work since she'd pierced him.
With agonizing slowness, she pulled down his jeans and boxers together, allowing his heavy dick to swing freely. Her eyes almost lit up as she regarded his large, swollen member, appreciating the heft, weight, and length of it. His fingers clenched as he looked down at her. Slowly, he took his dick in his hand and offered it to her, wordlessly expressing his need.
She glanced up, a smile flickering over her mouth, before she began to run her tongue along the length of his shaft, long, wet licks that left him slicked with saliva. Once he was fully moistened, she began a nibbling, suckling kiss around the head of his cock, then, with painful slowness, inhaled his shaft centimeter by centimeter until she'd taken all she could and then some. Whatever she couldn't stuff in her clasping throat she held in her hands. Once he was situated, she began to suck, hard, in earnest, one hand making up for what she couldn't suck, the other gently stroking his balls. His head lolled back, rolling on his shoulders as he whimpered in time with her sucking.
She could have gone on for hours, just deep-throating him until she'd gotten her fill of it, but she could tell he was getting closer to cumming, the way he was starting to grunt with every twitch of her tongue on his shaft. She toned down the blow job in increments before pulling away altogether and rising to stand up.
Her standing gave him just enough time to recover, and he growled, primal. "Hhhmiiiinnne..." Before taking her by the shoulders and spinning her around, forcing her to bend against the table. "I'm going to fuck you so hard..." He said around ragged breaths, "That you won't remember your name."
"Then do it." She responded breatlessly, pressing slowly back against him with a roll of her hips. Reaching back, she slid her thong down her legs, then returned to suggestively press against him.
"Oh, I will." He breathed, seizing his cock in one hand, holding her shoulder with the other. He dragged his prick through her growing wetness, slicking himself up with the remains of her blow job and the fluids from her pussy. He began to aim his dick towards her cunt but spied her puckered brown hole. Taking his hand off her shoulder, he passed his free hand through her wetness as he continued to stroke her folds with his dick. His damp fingers reached for her tight backdoor, stroking tentatively.
"God, yes, please." She moaned, reaching around to pull her ass cheeks apart for him. Encouraged, he worked a finger into her asshole, slowly pumping in and out of her. She had to bury her face in the table to stifle the coos emanating from her throat which were growing steadily louder. As she began to relax, he worked a second finger in, his cock throbbing against her pussy lips, wanting to replace his fingers.
Once he'd gotten her ass and his dick as damp as he could, he slowly angled his cock at her tight rosebud. At first, he was met with resistance, but eventually she opened up to allow him entry, and he began to push himself into her most private hole.
"Like that like that like that..." She chanted softly, releasing her ass cheeks, one hand grasping the table, the other going to stroke between her legs. "Jesus, fuck me."
He obliged her, working himself about halfway into her butt hole, before pulling back, netting himself a soft squeal for the effort. Back and forth, he withdrew and pushed onwards until he was buried deep in her ass. He admired the view he had of his cock stretching her pink ring wide, then ground into her. He could feel her fingers stroking her pussy between the thin wall of flesh that separated him from her cunt. It only served to stimulate him further.
Slowly, he worked at her, his cock sawing in and out of her ass. Enthralled with the sensation, he barely heard her whimper, "Oh, god, don't stop.' Her ass and pussy were throbbing as she stroked herself and he continued to fuck her, trying to help drive her over the edge. She bit into the padded top of the table to stifle her howl of pleasure as her innards tightened up fiercely around his cock, squeezing him in pulsating rhythm. He could feel the tingling sensation signaling his own orgasm.
"I'm...not going to last long." He panted, slowing down the pace of the ass fucking he was giving her. Once she'd caught her breath, she turned her head, and breathed, "I want you to cum, Joseph...I want you to cum in my ass." The words were like a magic spell and he resumed the fevered thrusting at her backdoor, balls slapping her pussy lips, riding the ever growing waves of tightening frustration until he had to bite back his own scream as he sent a torrent of cum deep into her ass.
After a few moments, the haze cleared and they slowly separated - her with a wince, him with a groan. Bodies aching with exertion, they hunted down their clothing, redressing silently.
"Erm..." She coughed gently, "Your piercings are fine." She began to smile, and he laughed.
"I'm sorry. I just...had to think of some reason to come back." He smiled sheepishly.
"I'm glad you did." She replied, almost bashful.
Hopefully, he asked, "Can I see you again?"
She nodded, "Only if you help me reestablish this as a sterile zone." She began to grin.
He grinned back and nodded as she handed him gloves and cleaner.
Mine
You sleep, peacefully, unaware that I'm curling up behind you. I pull you against me, burying my face into the middle of your back, breathing you in. You smell so good
I run my hands over your skin, listening for how your breathing changes depending on where and how I touch you. Those soft sleepy moans you make are divine; I feel so powerful. I can make you so needy in your sleep
Finally my questing hands reach for my prize: your stiffening cock. I love that you're ready for me, and kiss your back softly. A few obscene sounds from the bottle of lube I have on hand, and I start to run a slick finger around your asshole.
Those shuddery breaths you make are heavenly, and I work my finger into you, loosening you. Fuck, it's so slutty, you working back against me in your sleep. Needing this. Wanting this.
Sensing you're ready, I line the strap up against you, before slowly working myself into you. Your soft whimpers are delicious, and I reach for your cock to stroke you while I fuck you.
i like how sleeping people have no filters. You don't even realize you're riding me as I fuck and stroke you. The most vulnerable version of you is such a whore for me.
I could go on like this forever, thrusting into you, my fingers dancing over your shaft, listening to the moans you can't hide from. But your climax is building. I can tell from how much harder your working against me, how your turgid length throbs in my hand. I won't prolong this delicious sleepy torture. You need release and I want to give it to you.
A combination of things tilts you into bliss as you cum; I can't pinpoint any one event as the culprit for your climax. Maybe it's the strap in your ass or my hand on your cock, or, hell, the soft, encouraging kisses I pepper over your back as I work. It doesn't matter. Your whimpers are such a delight as you spill your need over my knuckles.
After a moment, all is quiet. I survey the damage: open, lubed hole, messy stomach, cock, sheets. I slide off my harness and set it aside, debating whether to clean you up, but opt instead for you to wake to evidence of your use. One final touch, though. Using your cum, I fingerpaint one word over your pubic bone: Mine.
And They Were Roomates.
Lucy hit send on the email and flipped the laptop closed, leaning back against the couch cushions. Muttering, she said, "Man. Fuck those guys." Presumably about whomever she'd had to email. She stretched stiffly and glanced at the clock. How in fuck was it 2:38 am? Yawning, she rose and padded down the hall in her socks. She paused at her roommate's door to say goodnight, but Erin was completely out. Lucy admired her friend while leaning in the doorframe.
The girls had been friends for years and roommates for almost as long. People often joked they were a couple. Maybe in Lucy's secret heart they were, but she'd never even made a pass at Erin. Friendships were irrevocably broken for less. Erin had always joked they were in a sexless marriage and were constantly stepping out on one another. As it was, the girls talked about everything. Work, lovers, family, the gross and intimate details of sharing a home together. Even what they liked and preferred in bed.
Which is why, when Erin shifted in bed and Lucy saw she wasn't wearing a thing under her oversized tee-shirt, she remembered something Erin told her about wanting to wake up to being fucked.
It was risky.
But it might be worth it.
Maybe?
She made up her mind. Both of them were going through a dry spell and she could explain herself…somewhat plausibly? Lucy slipped down to her room for some supplies, then tiptoed back.
The dim light from the hall lit up Erin’s curves, and Lucy allowed herself a moment to just absorb the scene. She’d looked, surreptitiously, at Erin over the years. But she never allowed herself a moment to just ogle her, so she luxuriated in that for a moment. Erin had always been her type. Or had she based her type on Erin? She wasn’t sure anymore. Did it matter? She was here now.
Gingerly, she stepped over to the bed, and lowered herself to sit on the edge. Erin stirred only a little, but didn’t wake, and Lucy released a held breath. Ever so slowly, she trailed a finger over Erin’s hip. The other girl remained blissfully unaware. So Lucy began to move farther, hands trailing over exposed skin, not daring to travel further than the arms and legs that were available to her just yet. Erin stretched and smiled, and mumbled something incoherent, making Lucy freeze mid-pet. When she was sure Erin wasn’t waking, she resumed her slow, lazy exploration of Erin’s skin, but she could feel her own growing impatience; she wanted more.
Gingerly, Lucy began to push Erin’s shirt up, revealing the delicious curves she’d only dreamed about for years. She gulped. ‘Am I really doing this?’ she wondered, even as she slid the shirt up further, baring Erin's breasts It took a moment for Erin’s body to respond to the change in temperature, but her nipples stiffened into tight peaks. Lucy bit her lip to stifle a moan.
She ran her fingertips over Erin's stomach, over her ribcage, and began idly tracing designs over her breasts. For her part, Erin trembled in sleep, arching up into Lucy's hands, whimpering. Emboldened, Lucy leaned down, using the point of her tongue to run a lazy circle around Erin's nipple. Erin shuddered, and rolled away from the sensations. Lucy had a moment of vaguely needy panic and shook it off. It wasn’t like they were actually both playing together. She ran her hands over Erin’s hips, and down over her ass. Fuck. The way that ass filled her hands.
Lucy had a dilemma. She could continue petting Erin’s (admittedly fantastic) soft skin, or move forward with the “seduction”, such as it was. After a moment’s hesitation, Lucy sent her hand questing between Erin’s legs, and was delightfully rewarded to find that her previous petting had made Erin’s cunt start leaking liquid desire. Starting slowly, Lucy ran a single finger through the wetness, just lightly stroking Erin’s labia before sinking her finger in deeper. Erin sighed and purred. Lucy watched her in the twilight in the room, heart pounding out of her chest. Eyes flickering, Erin sleepily looked about, before sinking back into sleep.
Lucy began running her fingers through Erin’s slicked labia in earnest, slowly sliding a finger into her pussy, a little bit at a time, until she was finger fucking her best friend with a single digit, long and slow. When Erin shuddered and whimpered in her sleep, Lucy added a second digit, increasing the tempo, and in sleep, Erin responded by rewarding Lucy’s efforts with even more juices for her to work with. Beginning to lose herself in this completely one-sided moment, Lucy slid a hand into her bra, pinching and rolling her own nipples, feeling more and more needy.
And brave. She added her thumb to the mix to swirl over Erin’s clit.
Erin rolled to her back, squealing, hips lifting. Once she settled back again, Lucy began the achingly slow assault on Erin’s pussy, rolling her clit under her thumb, two fingers pumping into her cunt, her other hand fed up with nipples slid down into her pants and her own sodden slit. She was really into it now, fingers working her own wet quim, the other hand fucking Erin in earnest. Erin was beginning to pant and mewl in her sleep, hips starting to move in time with the very wet, wicked fucking she was getting. Lucy felt Erin getting tighter and tighter under her fingers. She was so lost in the sensation of Erin’s impending climax, she didn’t notice the other girl was lying, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, panting.
“S…slower….Lou…please.” Erin moaned. Lucy yelped, snatching her hand back from Erin’s body. “Fuck I’m so sorry…sorry…sorry…” She was gathering herself up to flee when Erin sat up and pulled Lucy to her. “Finish what you…” She was panting, lightheaded, “Finish what you fucking started.” Lucy blinked. “Please!” Erin whined. Uncertainly, Lucy slid her fingers back into Erin’s pussy, resuming the slow, hard finger fucking she had been doling out just moments ago. Erin squealed, wrapping an arm around Lucy’s shoulders. Slowly, that squeezing was starting to come back. Erin’s head was tipped back and she was breathing shallowly. “Fuck…ah….fuck Lucy…” Lucy took in the scene. Her in Erin’s arms. Erin blushing. Erin fucking her fingers back after waking up to Lucy taking advantage of her. Leaning in, she buried her face in Erin’s neck, breathing her in. “Yes. Honey please.” Erin whimpered. Everything was becoming a blur, her hand working Erin to orgasm, Erin’s gasping encouragement, Lucy’s own growing need, until everything shrunk down to one moment. Erin grabbed Lucy’s chin and hauled her mouth up to hers, driving her tongue into Lucy’s mouth as she came completely undone under Lucy’s fingers, burying her cries in a very unconventional first kiss.
Lucy was floating, Erin’s orgasmic sobs filling her mouth, one hand being milked by her clasping pussy, the other arm wrapped around the girl she’d only been dreaming of fucking for the past several years. She wanted to cry from joy. As it was, she continued the kiss, but slowed her assault on Erin’s cunt, working her down from the high of orgasm, until she stilled, her hand still buried between Erin’s legs, though.
Erin ended the kiss with a series of smaller, softer kisses, finally just pressing her forehead to Lucy’s, trying to regain control of her breathing. She was smiling, eyes closed, before chuckling softly.
“What?” Lucy asked.
“I’ve been waiting for you to do that for months. Jesus Christ.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
Erin pulled back and looked at Lucy, deadpan. “I love you. You’re a dense, silly bitch though.”
Lucy’s face broke into a smile, and she leaned up, capturing Erin’s lips with her own.
Consent
He leaned forward and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear in a move both overly familiar and nearly paternal. For a moment his fingers hovered just over the fine hairs on her ear and she ducked her chin, moving her hand to her ear and the errant stand, cheeks pinking. He leaned back in his chair and resumed talking but she missed what he said, confused and flushed for a moment.
"I'm sorry?" She asked. "I missed that." The pen descended to the paper again.
"You asked about my relationship with Lydia." He smirked lazily. "And I was telling you. We were lovers. She was so crass and rude." He leaned forward again, long fingers reaching for her wrist, dropping his voice. "Nothing like you, I'm sure." He canted his head, studying her startled face, her eyes locked on his, pulled from her reverie while documenting their interview. He closed in a little more, the corners of his mouth slowly twisting into what was becoming a familiar smirk. "No. I can see. Timid. Never asking for what you want." His other hand moved to her knee as he leaned closer, invading her space. She inched back, transfixed as he came ever closer. Closing the space, he brought his mouth to the ear he'd caressed and murmured, voice thick and slow, sounding the way honey felt as it melted over the tongue. "Trapped in tradition and propriety. I bet your skin feels like fire right now." The hand on her knee was tracing letters she couldn't register. Her mouth was dry and slightly slack, face crimson, and her most intimate parts ached in an unfamiliar way. She gulped, making a soft squeaking sound.
He pulled away, returning her space to her. His peridot eyes scanned her and she thought she saw him hesitate, the domineering facade slipping. It returned just as it left, the wry twist back on his lips. "I'm so sorry. Talking about her...I miss her." His hand rifled through his long silver hair, his smirk turning rueful.
"Oh. Of course." She responded, confused at her feelings. She should have been relieved he pulled away and resumed the interview but she felt disappointed. Her smile was faltering. "She must have been wonderful. I think I have everything I need. Was there anything else?" She began to rise and he stood with her.
"Unless you have more questions. I'd be happy to discuss this further with you."
"Yes...if I have any more questions, I'll be in touch."
His hand hovered at her elbow as he escorted her to the door. She had begun to relax when she turned and looked up at him. His expression changed from congenial to that primal, dominating look he'd had before while he was turning to say his goodbyes.
His movements were languid, one hand beside her head, then the other. She held her breath as he crowded near her. Gooseflesh covered her back as she pressed to the wall, which was chill to the touch, and she trembled. One of his hands left the wall as he pressed even closer, knuckles delicately running along her jaw as he appraised her, then he leaned into her opposite ear and murmured, "I won't go any further until you tell me what you want."
As suddenly as he was in her space, he was gone, leaving a fiery heat between them while he reached for the door. She was speechless, waking automatically through the door and down the steps, before turning to look at him.
He leaned in the doorframe, hands in his pockets, smiling kindly. She blinked in confusion, then turned and practically scurried out the gate and down the street.
---
She had stood in the snow on his stoop for a half hour, simultaneously trying to talk herself into and out of what she was about to do. Finally she pushed the buzzer.
She was just about to turn and run when the door opened. He arched a brow, concerned.
"Look. I don't know what I want but I can't stop thinking about… that…"
"Come in from the cold, Marie." He gestured to the hall and she stepped in, suddenly feeling uncertain. She turned and he was on her heels, moving swiftly. Tottering, she felt her balance shift, but he caught her by the wrist and pulled her up and then firmly against him, one hand splayed against the small of her back.
He pulled her wrist up, shoving her sleeve down, then snaked his tongue along the translucent flesh there, his eyes never leaving hers. She watched, lips parting slowly to breathe as his mouth on her skin sent electricity from her wrist to her center.
"That?" He asked, bringing her upright.
She paused, her tongue darting over her parched lips, then nodded imperceptibly.
He smiled warmly, then ran the hand on her back upwards into her chocolate curls, fingers grasping a fistful of hair at her crown, carefully pulling her head back. She gasped, eyes widening, when he leaned in, running his nose along the outside of her ear, growling softly. "I said you had to tell me, didn't I?"
"Yes?" She squeaked.
He released her gently, then helped peel off her coat, hanging it on the stand. She was still somewhat dazed as he led her to the parlor where they'd met before. A fire was burning fully on the hearth. He motioned to one of the two richly upholstered wing back chairs, and sat himself in the one next to a small table holding a lowball of amber liquid. The bottle rested there as well: Whisky.
She sat slowly, watching him as he took the glass in hand and raised it to his lips, drinking deeply with a satisfied sigh. Motioning wordlessly, he offered her a glass of her own and she shook her head. One of his shoulders lifted in a shrug and he poured himself another.
They sat in silence for several long minutes, when she abruptly rose from her chair. "I… can't." She gulped, then turned to flee.
He caught her wrist again, dragging her into his lap. She gasped a half-hearted protest, but he held her firm.
"You can't?" He breathed, eyes reflecting dancing firelight, glowing nearly silver with reflection.
She squirmed, then mumbled. "I've never done anything like this. I don't know what to say."
Smiling indulgently with a soft chuckle, he murmured, "None of the boys at that newspaper ever trapped you behind the press?"
Her face heated and she gulped. "Yes. But not… not in a way I wanted...or...liked."
"And you're here because you think you'd like what I'd do?"
She didn't answer, staring at her lap.
Reaching up, he took her chin, raising an eyebrow as he turned her face to his. His voice dropped, and he spoke in earnest softness. "I don't go further until you ask."
She squeezed her eyes closed then looked up as if entreating her maker. Without looking back down, her words tumbled out at just above a whisper. "I can't stop thinking… imagining… you."
"Oh?" The smirk returned. "And what am I doing?" A finger danced idly over one of her knees.
"Everything?"
He leaned up, slowly nuzzling into her neck. "Everything?"
She was flustered, the sensation at her throat and over her knee distracting. "Please." She whispered. "I don't know what I'm asking for. I don't know the words."
His breath was warm against her neck, and she trembled, thrusting her clasped hands between her knees while dropping her chin. He moved the hand doodling over her knee to give her space, and pulled his hair out of his eyes as he looked up at her.
"Then...I suppose I can make an exception." His gaze washed over her features, studying her intently. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, slowly finding her voice. "What… what did you have in mind?"
The hand that rifled though his hair settled over her hands clasped tightly between her knees. "I'll ask questions and you can answer… and I'll try to refrain from teasing too much." Her eyes shifted to him. "/Try/. Watching you blush is… exciting." She thought she felt him shiver with delight as he said the last word, and her cheeks warmed again. He exhaled shallowly, desire clouding his eyes, before he shook his head, and replaced the slack jaw with a grin.
She felt the stirrings of her own wicked little thoughts in the back of her mind, pleased that he made that look, pleased that she /caused/ him to make that look. That rapt, hungry look… and the knowledge that she held him with her assent.
He guided her back to the vanity and took a tissue to her mussed face, his movements deliberate and gentle. She wasn't surprised; some part of her expected it, knew from how he spun her out and drew her back on the dance floor that there could be an undercurrent of tenderness. She took his hand in hers, turning the palm up, and placed it to her lips, kissing his skin.
He smiled faintly, tossing the tissue away, stroking her hair with his free hand. "An apology? Unusual. I accept."
"It wasn't..." she started to protest, before casting her eyes upwards, glancing into his. She was thunderstruck.
"You're a demon." She whispered.
"Nothing so common." He scoffed, waving a hand, before taking her elbow. "Come, my brat."
"Yes." She said, mouth dry. He’d never used a single power on her.
He led her through the kitchens. She was rich; she exited this way constantly. Her limo was parked out back, anyhow.
The driver raised a single brow, which lowered under His gaze. She just shrugged. "Take us home." The driver seemed about to argue, when she gave him a look, "Home, Rhys. It's not a debate." He stiffened and opened the door for the couple, shutting it politely once they were within, and pulling away from the curb moments later.
In the back, he pulled her to his side. She resisted for a fraction of a second and he shot her a warning look. Interpreting it immediately, she nestled against him, shivering. He could sense her blood pounding through her veins, roaring in her ears.
"Are you frightened, brat?" He leaned down and breathed against her ear, before allowing his tongue to trace the outline.
She whimpered softly, hands clasping the hand of the arm he had around her shoulders, before she found her rebellion, and whispered, "I have a name."
"Eulalia Chara Kazantzakis. Yes. Heir to the fortune. The only remaining heir. Your brother lost his life in a duel, your parents in a car crash. You're alone in the world. You go by Lollie. I'm going to call you Brat...in private. But among others, Eulalia. Your name is beautiful."
Her eyes fluttered closed. "Yes."
He nuzzled against her hair, lips pressed to her ear, murmuring, "Or shall I call you Eulalia in private, when you've behaved?"
Gooseflesh erupted over her skin, and she nodded, trembling.
"Yes." He breathed. "You'd like me to acknowledge you more as just my brat. More than just..." He paused, and smiled, growling the word, "Mine."
She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, pressing her knees together. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. Her fingernails bit into his flesh, she was holding his hand so tightly.
"When was the last time you ever felt this exhilarated, Eulalia?" He asked softly, shaking her hands from his, then drawing his hand in, to her throat, stroking the flesh there. Her hands descended to her knees, clenched into fists.
"Well?" He queried. Her response was a full body shudder, and he deliberately, slowly, grasped her windpipe. "That's not an answer, brat." He drew her chin back, tipping her head so he could look down into her eyes.
"When?"
She shook her head, eyes opening, clear, feckless. "Never."
He watched her in the dim light of the club. She was surrounded by sycophants who wanted access to her, to her money. She could barely contain her disdain and revulsion. It radiated off of her, a living thing.
Men sent her drinks. She feigned a flirtatious wave and passed the drinks and the men along to the women around her. The scene left her cold. It had, since she was little. But she kept up appearances.
Being irrelevant was worse, maybe. The only thrill she felt was the made up bullshit in the tabloids. She went home alone, mostly sober, every night.
She was intriguing to him. When she got up to dance, he moved next to her. His own aura was menacing enough, he glowered down any potential suitors. She turned, and he caught her in his arms. Her mouth opened to protest, and her used a single finger to raise her chin and close her mouth, then shook his head and waved a finger. "Shhh. Dance."
She scowled. Nobody told her what to do. Ever. But he was divine as a partner on the floor. She'd never been lead so...expertly. It was almost mesmerizing. When the song ended, he leaned in and whispered, "Again, dearie?"
Her hand went up, and he caught her by the wrist, tutting at her. He brought the offending limb to his nose, breathed deep, then dropped the wrist to his mouth and swirled his tongue over the tender flesh.
Yanking her hand back, she stormed back to her court, casting black glances across the room, but he disappeared into the crowds.
This happened maybe once a month for awhile, then more frequently. She was almost becoming fond of the rage he inspired as much as she hated herself for how she loved how commanding he was when they danced.
Then one day, he followed her into the bathroom when she went to fix her makeup. He was done waiting. The door slapped open.
She looked up, mouth suprised, fresh laquer over her lips, red as blood. Two other girls glanced at the duo and scurried out. As he advanced on her, she cast about, looking for exits. She settled on the nearest stall and dove in, but he was faster, slamming the door after them and locking them in, while simultaneously trapping her against the wall, face first.
"Wh...wha..." She stammered, cheek against the tile, lipstick smearing.
"Shut. Up." He ordered. "If I wanted to hear a spoiled brat talk, I'd go to the bar."
She squeaked, body trembling in righteous indignation.
He pressed against her from behind, hands smoothing down over her shoulders, rib cage, waist, hips. His fingers curled against her slowly and pulled her ass towards him and she felt her body complying, as if it knew it always would. "Oh god." She softly whimpered.
He chuckled. "That I might be." One hand trapped her hips against him as he ground sinuously, while the other snaked up her side, under her top, over her bra. The fabric was flimsy, and her nipples were already straining.
"For all your protestations, your body tells me something different, brat."
"I'm not a brat." She whispered. Her eyes were closed, entire body trembling.
"Didn't I already tell you to shut up?" The hand at her hip slid over the waist band of her skirt, into her panties, and down between her legs. She was soaking. He toyed with her for long minutes, swirling his fingers through the juices in her cleft, while the other stroked and pulled at her nipples. Finally, he leaned in and murmured, "I'm going to take you home, brat." She nodded. "Speak up?"
"Please?" She panted, shuddering. He released her slowly, spinning her to face him, "That's a good girl." Taking her by the chin, he held her gaze. "A very good girl. Come now." She looked a mess, but she also looked, for the first time ever, pleased.
I loved her in the way that only comes with youth: irresponsibly, naïvely, selfishly, wholly and joyously, and I didn't even realise it was love.
I called her my friend, my very best friend. I told her if I were a man I'd take her away from everything that troubled her. I wanted to protect her and keep her safe.
In my ignorance, I hurt her, drove her away, because she already had the language to know how she felt, but surely if I were queer, someone would have told me.
It was the loneliest closet, for I didn't know I was in it, alone.
the world sleeps moon-soaked and I lie awake and ache for you
sexual attraction: wow I wanna fuck that
romantic attraction: wow I wanna date that
sensual attraction: wow I wanna cuddle that
aesthetic attraction: wow that exists
Platonic attraction: wow I wanna talk with that
Harder
They only had a few hurried moments to taste one another's mouths before they had to get back to work. The closet was dark, and dust danced through the outline of the door, its edges highlighted by the room beyond. There was no time for conversation. Paul dragged Michael into his arms, realizing how suddenly he felt weak. His eyes scanned his lover's in the dim light. All he could see were twin stars glinting back at him. Michael hated these rushed, furtive moments. He preferred to luxuriate in Paul's caresses. But there was little time for that these days. He sensed Paul hesitate, so leaned up and captured his dark-haired beloved's rose petal lips with his own. Paul melted against Michael with a sigh. He didn't know how Michael knew when to touch him, but Paul was so grateful he took the lead. Even though he stood a good six inches taller and 3 inches more broad in the shoulder, Paul was so much more anxious. Michael just acted. It was he who took Paul's hand that night, confessed his feelings, come what may. Paul had known he loved Michael for so long but had never found his voice. The memory of that day, nearly a year ago, flooded Paul with such affection. He held Michael closer, kissing him with growing ardor. The fingers of one hand splayed against Michael's back while the others cupped the back of his head, tangling in Michael's fair curls, pulling gently. Michael was not going to complain about whatever was making Paul so amorous right now. He’d never kissed Michael so heatedly here at work. Normally Paul kept his affections temperate and chaste. This was...new. Exquisite. Pulling away from Paul's mouth, Michael sighed, "Harder, love." Blood flooded Paul's cheeks. He hadn't realised how far he’d gotten carried away. He didn't want to stop. "H-harder?" He stammered. Michael pressed up against him, the smaller man's arousal undeniable. "Please." Paul wound his fist slowly and carefully into Michael's hair, then gave an experimental tug. His beloved gasped and trembled against him. He ran his tongue around Michael's open lips, then sealed them with his own, kissing deeply, holding his lover. Every now and then he’d pull Michael's hair. He knew he was on the right track when Michael moaned, low and long, eyes half closed and sweeping languidly, eyelashes fluttering. "You are the most beautiful thing." Paul whispered as he pulled away to admire his panting, whimpering lover. Michael slid from his grasp with a feral growl, hitting his knees, scrabbling at Paul's waistband and belt. "Oh love!" Paul gasped, before Michael took what he desired, in turn.
Re: my last post. What some "lovers" have said to me.
Orgasms and Medication
Mostly this space is to give my poetic libido a voice but sometimes I need to address some real world lust issues. (Lissues? Lussues?)
I have a ginormous list of psych diagnoses that often keep me on meds. I’ve tried several and discarded them for a variety of reasons (Always under the supervision of a psychiatrist. One must be responsible.) but I never dumped them for side effects I could ‘live’ with.
Like… the difficulty with orgasm.
My libido is a hungry, insatiable thing, so psych meds putting a damper on desire sometimes feels better than being constantly lusty and having to monitor my behaviour to be socially acceptable. However, orgasm has always been a little more tenuous, and I haven’t yet met a psych med that didn’t make it harder to have one, if not downright impossible. (The first drug they put me on was Prozac. It made me manic AND made orgasms go away but made me more horny. I only figured out orgasms were off the table after a masturbation session that left me uncomfortably raw. Yeeeeaaah. No.)
So I learned to live with orgasms that took awhile or needed battery-operated assistance or just fled at the sight of a partner. (You’ve heard of shy bladder… here’s shy climax.) While most of my partners have been thoughtful darlings, a few have thought their dick/fingers/tongue/whatever was the magic key to get me off (which, hey, NO PRESSURE OR ANYTHING) and really, few things are less hot than someone who feels your orgasm is 1) the sign sex is over, 2) something they 'deserve’ (ew?), 3) a prize (*foghorn*), 4) I think you get the picture.
I also learned to live with orgasms that just took awhile /on their own/. I’m not a fan of lube because I get plenty juicy on my own, so it’s always a little disheartening when your body runs out of its own moisture. Sanity is its own reward, I suppose, but damn. Buying lube for your vibrator is an experience.
I recently had to do a med change. Now. People. IF YOU CAN’T TELL YOUR PSYCHIATRIST THAT YOUR DRUGS MAKE IT HARD TO CUM, CHANGE DOCTORS. My doctor wants to know all side effects. All. ALL. Can I not sleep? Am I hyper? Lethargic? Weight gain? Loss? Etcetera. And he asks about sex. Yes. It’s uncomfortable to tell this sweet older man but having a sex life you enjoy (YOU DEFINE THAT!) is super important to good mental health! So I stare at the floor and talk through it.
So. Med change. I’d gotten a shiny new mental health diagnosis my former med was either exacerbating or simply not helping. We had to wean me off the old med. Then, I was on a half dose of the new med for a week, and have been on a full dose for the past few days.
Now, this morning I was feeling frisky and decided to get friendly with my favourite vibrator (I’d tried to rally the nearest partner, to no avail). I’d read some tasty smut, slipped my fingers over some very erotic gifs, and was quite prepared to be at it awhile when my body surprised me. Normally, a medicated orgasm takes a good half hour.
Ten. Minutes.
Now. I’m not saying I’ve found my Holy Grail psych med, but if things stay like this… I’ll take it. My mood already seems to be improving… And having orgasms without a fight against my own Self? Sign me up!
Alright. Back to more prose and poetry. I may need to take breaks to reward myself for all the writing...
Sonnet 3
Fevered flesh burns beneath taut fingertips
Each stroke and pull awakens more desire
Memories melt like honey on my lips
Each fresh remembrance setting me afire.
I'll replay ev’rything I've memorized
Your name synonymous with need and ache
Undeniably I am tantalized
From daydreams of you let me never wake
I'll build a bridge out of my arching spine
Fill up my sails with ev’ry gasping breath
Out of my quaking ribcage build a shrine
I'll sigh your name with every little death
I will soon collapse into your embrace
But until then will dream of your sweet face
Dis moi...
Things I want to hear from my lover: 1. "I want you. Now." 2. "I can't stop thinking about..." That sexy thing I did, or something about my body, or... 3. "I fantasize about you." Bonus points if they tell me the fantasy. 4. "Next time I see you, I'm going to pin you down and fuck you so hard." 5. "I want to hear you moan my name." 6. "I need you." 7. "Please." Bonus points if it's whispered. 8. "I crave you." (Variations on a theme.) 9. "You make me so fucking hard." 10. "I masturbate to thoughts of you." 11. "I love how you feel under my hands." 12. "Good girl." 13. "I'm going to shred that shirt off of your body." 14. "Come. Here." 15. "I'm gonna make you cum." 16. "I want to do this forever." 17. "Goddamn." 18. "I love this." 19. "I love you." 20. (While growling, or whispering.) "Mine."
Caress
The duo curled against one another languidly, fingers exploring, voices soft with delight. They chuckled together, jokes punctuated by kisses that promised more and more still. Fingers entwined then loosed to dance over naked flesh. She looped a leg over his and the pair mock-wrestled, until his questing fingers settled over her knee and she gasped sharply. "Does that hurt?" "No...it...I..." Waves of delicious chills rippled out from the delicate strokes over the joint, rendering her mostly mute, jaw slack. Her eyes glazed and she trembled violently. He'd seen her aroused but never like this. His curiosity piqued, he alternated his touches: firm, feather light, raking stripes with his nails, trailing teasing patterns. He tried the entirety of her knee, each progressive touch merely causing her to press closer and closer against him, body shuddering reflexively, skin taut with gooseflesh, her mouth against his chest to mute the song he was creating, playing her skin like that, quieting the soft coos, delicate squeals, lovely whimpers, gasping pants. His free arm curled around her shoulders, pulling her in, creating a safe cocoon. Satisfied with the knowledge gained, his fingers slipped lower along her calf and she buried a howl against his skin as a wave of fresh sensations rolled up her spine. His eyes lit up and he explored this fresh territory as her fingers scrabbled against his back. Tilting her head back, she reached up and pulled his lips to hers, taking long draughts of kisses, pulling back to catch her breath with shallow, panting breaths she cut with whispered pleadings that he not stop. He indulged her, stroking, tickling, raking, teasing, probing, watching her swooning, frenzied arousal with delight. He was so pleased at having found something that gave her such obvious, tremendous pleasure. He could have stayed like that...to be cliché, perhaps forever, until "Oh..." she gasped. "That's too much." "I'm so sorry!" He apologised, ceasing the onslaught on her leg and knee. She took a few moments to catch her breath and then chuckled, "No...it just changed to too much. Oh! Wow. That was lovely. Thank you." He blushed crimson, "Thank /me/? You... were... that was...how come you didn't tell me about that?" Snuggling against him, she shrugged, "Most people don't want to make out with knees." She glanced up, then smiled contentedly and squished against him even more firmly. "I want to know /everything/." "You should see what I do when you /lick/ the backs of my knees." He dove for the end of the bed, eagerly.
Bussed
Do you remember the first time you kissed me? Not that nervous, eager, needy mashing of two mouths together, or that filler while we tore at one another’s clothes. No. The first time you actually met my lips with yours for no other reason than the need to taste my mouth with yours. To feel the heat of my breath meeting yours, the slow co-mingling of inhale and exhale intertwining. Do you remember each aching hesitation, the gentle caress of my tongue sliding against yours, insistent and yet yielding? How I started off tasting like myself but together we created a flavour that was sweet and spicy and utterly addictive? I know I smiled into the gentle tugging at my lips with yours, and you smiled back, so joyful. Those long lost moments made me lightheaded, longing for you, for us, joined.
You don’t remember? You’ve never kissed me like that?
Now is a perfect time to start. I’m waiting.
Dawn
It’s that space between sleep and alarms, the cozy darkness of about 4am. He turns in his sleep, uncomfortable, rolling, nestling against her back gently like a rowboat docking.
His arms encircle her, drawing her closer, so he tucks his whiskered chin against her shoulder, spooning her fully, ensuring they are touching from head to toe. She stirs somewhat in complaint; she’d not been restrained moments ago and now he’d nearly buried the length of her, twining their limbs .
He is content for a moment, before her hips shift, rolling slowly against his groin as she surfaces from sleep, in turn waking his cock. Groaning, he pulls her tighter against his crotch, the unnatural movement waking her further. A soft moan escapes her lips and he’s emboldened.
His hands sweep over her nightshirt, up to her breasts, cupping them familiarly and rolling his thumbs over her rapidly stiffening nipples. She moans again, louder, her hips rolling against his prick. He pinches her nipples gently, and pulls, netting himself soft panting for his efforts. She’s more awake now, reaching behind her for his cock, stroking him through the flimsy fabric of his boxers.
He slides his hands over the low scoop of her neckline, cupping her breasts in his hands, skin on skin. She rolls over, impatiently shucking her shirt off over her head, pressing up against him with a warm, half-awake chuckle.
Cupping her face in his hands, he kisses her hungrily, lips nipping with ferocity, tongue battling. She wasn’t prepared for such an onslaught of ardour. Her kisses are sleepy, syrupy, sweet, her fingers trailing through the curls on his chest before descending to his boxers and the contents therein. She purrs as she slides her fingers beyond the waistband and meets his hard cock, stroking eagerly.
“Yes.” He hisses into her ear, before leaning down and nipping her shoulder, fingertips stroking over her back. She growls, nuzzling his throat, hands working his swollen prick.
“I want you.” She murmurs, realizing she wants more than to stroke her lover, and he pins her on her back, leaning in to taste her breasts aggressively, a knee sliding between her legs. She needs no coaxing.
He shimmies out of his boxers and centers himself between her legs. She drapes her arms over his shoulders, while he guides his cock through her wetness. “Please.” She pleads. He needs no further encouragement and slowly drives himself home with a contented growl.
She sighs, pleased, before they begin to move in tandem, an old practiced dance. He strokes her pussy with his dick, while she milks him with her cunt. They work together, the tempo teasing and pleasing, heightening their pleasure. Before he knows it, she’s reached her peak and surged over it’s edge, her cries a soft soprano in praise. He allows himself to let go and join her, meeting her gentle cooing with his own harsher, gutteral, primal calls, painting the walls of her pussy with his fluids, marking her as his again and again.
For a few moments the only sounds are their breaths slowing, before she chuckles and he rolls to her side with a laugh of his own.
“I hate it when you go.” She said, just a hint of sadness in her voice.
“I love it when you come.” He said with a grin. They were both silent before bursting into giggles and snuggling into each other’s arms.
Kissing his temple, she smiled and whispered, “I love you.”
“Love you, too.” He murmured, pulling her as close as possible.
Greedy
By choice, I am on my knees before you, looking up at you through my eyelashes, cheeks flushed. You search my eyes, your own darting quizzically, hesitant. I reach up up and unbutton you at the waist, drawing your zipper down, it's rhythmic crunching filling my ears. Your fingertips graze the top of my head, filtering strands of my hair lightly. Eagerly, I draw your pants and underthings down to mid-thigh, exposing you. You have always been a delight to my eye, your dark tickling curls a springy nest for your cock. Hard or soft, I cannot get enough of looking at you, let alone experiencing you. I take a moment to admire, then glance up. You always blush at how wanton I am. The red flush stains you gently up to the tips of your ears. Leaning forward, I nuzzle affectionately against your member and listen to you gulp as blood floods your groin, your prick stiffening. I love this anticipation. My breath warms your skin, hot and damp, as my eyes flicker back up. You're floating away now, fingers falling uselessly to your sides, head tipping back with a sigh. I languidly envelop your turgid cock in my mouth, grinning wickedly around your girth, my tongue lapping at your length. For a moment I stay there and savour you, before sucking down your cock. You sigh again, breathy encouragement. I take my time, building you up slowly, a crescendo of obscene noises growing louder, faster, more urgent, as I continue my ministrations. I'm kissing and sucking and licking your prick with the fervent devotion of a worshipper, and there is no better term for me, still on my knees, laving your cock. You moan, one I know well, signaling your impending climax, and I'm delighted. My whole body aches for you, skin tight, breath shallow. Just a few more eager suckles, my hands digging into your hips. I purr in my throat and you gasp, thrusting your hands into my hair, holding me against your bucking hips as I swallow everything, your cock emptying at the back of my throat. We stay like that, you buried to the hilt in my mouth, me gently cleaning you off with my tongue, for many long heartbeats until you remember where you are, gingerly pulling away from me. I move in and lick you clean, pleased. I can sense impatience from you, but I take my time. You deserve the best. Satisfied, I glance up with a smile that is half shy and half sly as you pull me to my feet, hauling me against you. "Wicked thing." You lean down and whisper in my ear. I smile again, writhing suggestively. "I told you I was greedy." I swoon as you kiss me forcefully, my cheeks turning crimson.