Interruptions
I should have heard him coming.
Eyes glued to the laptop screen, the evening was slipping away from me all too quickly. The click and clack of the keyboard distracting me from my true purpose of the evenings – being his girl. Obviously feeling neglected I assume he was just reasserting both his and my rightful priorities. He padded over from the other room, the disappearance of the white noise from the TV should have been a dead give-away. He had other things on his mind than mindless images of banality.
I felt him approach before I heard him or saw him. It’s odd, I do feel his presence when he is near. Probably a little clichéd, but it is true. He came up from behind and rested his warm hands on my tired shoulders. Lowering his head to my eye-level he glanced at the screen and made the judgement call – whatever I was working on could most certainly be delayed in its completion. His face was millimetres from mine, radiating his scent and masculine force. My eyes still on the screen, I let loose a small smile with an outward breath. In that minute sign, he knew I wasn’t going to argue.
With his arms still on my shoulders he turned his head to my cheek and earlobe, gently beginning to kiss and nibble. Thumbs lightly moving up and down the nape of my neck. Moving to my neck, his head became lost for a moment in my hair. My head started to swirl and that familiar stirring in my pussy was awakened. Breathing deepening, it always surprises me how quickly he can whip me into a frenzy. I lifted my hand to reach back to his hair, losing my fingers briefly as they buried into his scalp – something I know gets to him almost as quickly as the same action does to me. My head lolled back on its own accord. I was lost.
Keep your hands on the desk. Palm down and don’t move unless I say.
I think I melted completely then. My breath faltered on the exhale and he knew it was what I wanted, longed to hear. Him taking the lead. Taking the responsibility away from me. Into his own hands. I returned my hands to the desk, either side of the laptop.
Eyes front.
My dark eyes instantly became transfixed on the screen in front of me. But god help me if I can remember what the pixels on the screen resembled. All my mind was focused on was the effect his touch, his being was doing to my body in that moment.
He moved away from me and murmured for me to stand. I say stand, but it was more like leaning, what with my hands ordered to remain on the desk. Add to the image in your head you may be building that I was also still in my work clothes – long asymmetrical skirt and v-neck jersey top – and we had quite the air of a boss/secretary flirtation. As soon as I was up, he was down. Lifting my skirt and removing my hosiery and knickers (quite affected from my now-slick pussy) Mister remained under there. Placing my legs either side of his kneeling body, he worked his caresses up my legs. These were not light brushes. Firm fingers snaked up the inside of my thighs. Strong lips pressed against my skin. I was praying for the moment he reached the apex of my legs to arrive. Willing him not to be a devil and stop. My prayers were soon answered.
I felt his fingers first. Against the slick folds of my labia, he tested to see how turned on he had made me. 10 out of 10 there. Quickly after, his tongue followed.
Did I ever mention that he’s amazing and going down on me? No? Well, he’s bloody awesome!
I nearly buckled at that first contact. In fact my knees did slightly give. One hand reached up under my top and bra to cover and tweak a nipple. I’ve said before I am not a big girl in the bra department, but I love it when he feels my breasts when I am upright – they are at their best and the way he holds them in his hand, the weight of them as he releases them…indescribably delicious.
Abruptly he was gone. The lack of his touch was painfully apparent. My eyes snapped open as I realised he had moved. Turning around I saw him disappear into the bedroom, rustling and them returning a minute later. Naked. With a condom. On.
(hot)
(whimper)
(lip-bitingly gorgeous)
I was still, for the majority, fully clothed and remained so as he walked up behind me, lifted my skirt and drove home. No fuss. No talk. Straight to the point. He thrust inside me so easily. Not hard to really, seeing how well he had worked me up. I was still in the position he had told me to adopt and so, partially bent over my desk, we screwed so fantastically slowly. Gripping onto the edge, we worked to a rhythm gathering pace.
We both knew we wouldn’t be able to maintain this languorous motion much longer before one or the pair of us fell to our sense of desire and hedonistic momentum.
I could speak of waves, or fireworks and explosions but those metaphors will never really do the sensation justice. Each is individually its own, belonging to that instant, that particular performance. This one hit like a steam train. But again, that doesn’t fully describe it. The overwhelming release, euphoria. When he comes his voice lets out one deep, short moan. When I climax it’s relief mixed with absolute pleasure with equal parts MInx.
He withdrew and left me standing there. Forearms flat on the desk, fingers splayed.
The screen flickered from the absence of clicking keys and faltered into sleep.
Hesitations
My mind is in a pretty filthy mess.
You did this to me.
I think of naughtiness and niceties frequently.
You did this to me.
I want to crawl under your skin and twist you.
You did this to me.
~ ~ ~ ∞ ~ ~ ~
You were the catalyst for the unlocking of my Inner Minx. She was always there. Inert. No channel for her to unfurl into until you arrived. Like a cork from a bottle, she can never be returned to that state of hibernation.
Not everything was released, however. That little mouse you discovered those years ago is still hiding under your Wildcat. Trying to keep out of sight. She is the hesitating of words she cannot verbalise into reality. All those thoughts and feelings raging inside of your Minx – the things she longs to say, the dirty words …Call me your Whore, your fucking slave… She just can’t seem to say the words.
She wants you to not only give her those deadly stares you execute so well, the little mouse longs to tell you to call her the names, order her to do what you demand. She knows you want to say them, she sees the words playing in your eyes …Suck it, you fucking love it, don’t deny it, I know you… But the words stumble into the dust before her eyes.
You did this to me.
Enjoying my power too much, I get carried away with administrations upon your skin, your clear skin I love to sully with my nails, my scratches, my wax, oh the wax, yes. I forget to say the things we both want to hear…You will beg, you will simper and whine, I don’t care how loudly you plead to stop, I want to see you strain against the cords, I want to see the marks from the cold metal appear on your wrists… I can’t say them because it would reveal me to be that unmerciless, cruel bitch I don’t want to be. But it is who I am.
You did this to me.
All that you are, all that I am. I cannot say the things I most want to say. They don’t sound right coming from my voice. Like when I try to speak Street (innit). It just won’t wash. You laugh, as do I. I can’t wear those phrases on my shoulders, around my frame. Yet it is the cloth from which I am tailored for.
And so I write the words down. I type them into a black box and file them away. Maybe one day you will find them and see how depraved I really am. How much you perverted me.
You did this to me. I will find a way to say this to you. To tell you. But not quite yet. Soon.
Soon.
Your Favourite Things – Fantasising
Escapism is a wonderful idea, isn’t it?
Caught on a wave of dreams, you are whisked away from the dull November rain that’s malingering outside your windowsill at work when a pause in your schedule appears albeit briefly. Your head brightens with images of a field with long, willowy grass rippling in the wind. As if captured cinematically, the frame sweeps over to locate a large blanket flattening the young stems. Zooming in, the tartan fabric is protecting two figures from the creepy crawlies beneath them. Two figures lying wrapt in each other’s company.
I know. Clichéd. But it’s one of my most happy daydreams.
When I can’t sleep at night I go there to switch off from the work thoughts. I try to imagine the soft wind on my skin. I am always alone at first, enjoying the solitude and being in that wide expanse of green. Turning around to face the opposite direction I am pleasantly surprised to see him there next to me. He’s got an unkempt look to him. Rugged and unshaven. Clothes haphazardly put on. Just another reason to get him out of them. My eyes glint and my lips smile sideways as I roll into him with a yelp of glee.
The question all this is leading to for you to partake in is:
When do you begin to drift away into thoughts of a steamier nature?
During the day at work? At night alone? When your clinch is lying next to you as you drift into post-coital snoozes?
I was once in a drama workshop during my A-Levels my Sixth Form College where we were imagining all these potential locations you could find inner solace – the beach, the aforementioned field – and we set about visualising a warm sensation moving all over our bodies (I know – am-dram stuff, but it was fun). I don’t know about the others lying about on the floor with me during this, but I couldn’t help but find it all rather sensual. A familar warm fuzziness. I like to do something a little similar nowadays. I use the same focused thoughts and concentration to picture Mister roving his mouth, tongue and lips all over my body. From small nibbles to deep, lingering kisses high up on the inside of my thighs. If I think hard enough, and am not disturbed by any outside influences (noisy neighbours) I can bring myself to a climax. It’s only happened a limited number of times, but when it has, WOW. Perhaps I will go into detail about this at a later date.
Well then, my dears…over to you.
Gruff Gruff, Purrr
It’s been a rather frazzling two weeks. I’ve been weighed down with paperwork and the day-job itself is being quite testing at times. They make me grumpy sometimes! So much so, I’ve been coming home feeling rather tense and gloomy to find him waiting there for me (still nothing on the job front) with a smile and a hug. Then it all shrugs off as the stress melts away. And I am his once more, not the pen-pushers’.
At least for a couple of hours. Until I have to prepare for the next day.
Last week as soon as I got in, he sent me to bed. I felt like a reprimanded child. No supper for you, young lady. Straight to bed. No naughtiness, not an iota of innuendo. He saw my tired tootsies and sent me packing. Honestly, I couldn’t have loved him more then. The worry, the care, the thoughtfulness. I had my snooze and was much refreshed and ready to act more like a human with him rather than a glum statue.
I think I need to have a rethink of a few things in my life. I’m not finding that I have nearly enough energy as I need. More bananas and stuff. Bought one purposefully at Elevenses today and I do believe I felt all the better for it. I even came home this evening feeling sprightly, sparky and in a jolly mood! Damn and blast that today was a Mister-goes-off-to-work-evening-leaving-Pandorah-alone-til-Saturday day.
Yesterday was another example of him being utterly lovely and me feeling a little sad that I’m so drained in the evenings. I went to bed earlier and settled in with my book (I Am Legend – apparently the film murdered the book so, having no knowledge of either, I’m reading the book then going to rent the movie) and was all ready to cosy on down in the duvet. Recently Mister has been keeping later hours than I, not being sleepy at the same time. He flits about with his guitars or t’internet or whatever he does whilst I attempt to get some shut eye. Although I find it harder to get to sleep without his frame lying next to, around, nestled in with mine.
Last night, however, he pleasantly surprised me by coming to our room shortly after I had bedded down. Certainly, I will never turn away from an opportunity for a cuddle with him and did my huddle into his chest thing that I do. Breathing in his skin. Him. Nothing calms me or soothes me as much as that. So relaxing yet at the same time envigorating. I can’t explain it. A rush, a surge, together with a glowing feeling of warm fuzziness. He knew I was tired, knew I wasn’t likely to wiggle against his wishes. His hands drifted and they were welcomed. Legs parted and fingers toyed – testing my reactions before fully engaging. Ultimately, nothing will ease away tensions, stress and worry than my man paying me such careful attention. His eyes brightly stared into mine. There was a slight querying, questioning to his gaze. Seeing if he should…
Always, yes.
He moved me, shifting my position, by that time I was lost to him once more. My mind just focused on the immediate, the present. Adjusting the pillows, he propped me in a half-sitting position with my legs either side of his kneeling presence. His favourite trick of making sure I can’t wriggle away as he focuses all his energy, attention, lust and love toward me.
That man gives me more reasons by the day of why I should love him.
Not that I needed reasons in the first place. But he supplies them anyway.
Arrrrrrr!
Need I say more – Once again, the brilliant Agent Provocateur new line of lingerie for your viewing pleasure. (And mine!)
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Yo ho, yo ho,
A pirate’s life for me.
Coffee Table Kink: The Pandora – Vibrator.com
I’ve been making friends across the pond. In fact, I hope that it will be a lasting friendship of mutual benefit. I was approached a little while ago by some lovely people at Vibrator.com asking if I would be interested at all in sparing some time to review some of their products. I was a bit hesitant at first, truth be told. Unsure whether I should or could I was assured by the dulcet tones and allure of free sex toys… oh, and a desire to give an honest, realistic and level-headed review to those out there who wander in here from time to time. I’m doing it for you! I can be such an altruist sometimes.
Well, imagine how delighted I was that the company were willing not only to ship over to dear old Blighty, but that their first recommendation was made with a personal view! Ladies and gentlemen (hmm…don’t see too many of those as I peer out…maybe I should leave it as voyeurs and deviants…) may I present to you the Pandora:
Here we have what is billed as a P and G-spot vibrator. Running on three LR44 batteries (y’know, the ones that go in watches), it has itself seven different settings: four main buzzers of varying degrees of bzzz and three pulse settings. When it arrived in the post, it was nicely packaged by manufacturers and doubly so by the distributors at Vibrator.com including some thoughtful sachets of lube. Upon opening, I was greeted by this pretty little sight:
Aw. Very sweet. I was eager to tear into that plastic case. It isn’t as big as it appears, it is approximately 4″ tall and with a rubbery squidgy texture. The body is rather firm and the nodule at the top – intended to aim at the G/P-spots is more flexible. Quiet on switching on, I secreted myself away from Mister. I like to test new toys out alone when first get one, so I can get to grips with how it works and, more importantly, how to make it work for me.
I have to admit, I did warm myself up a little beforehand with my favourite bullet. Just to get in the right frame of mind, you see. I grabbed hold of the Pandora and eased the tip over and around my clit, testing the waters of each individual setting. It wasn’t all that strong – I supposed it is a G-spot vibrator, rather than a clitoral stimulator. Move on.
Getting suitably slippery, I slipped it in and switched it on once more. Now, I don’t know whether I have an unsensitive G-spot but I was slightly disappointed with the immediate results. I could feel it vibrating subtly inside, but I felt nothing against my G-spot at all. I think, for me, the flexible nodule isn’t firm enough for hitting that particular area. Even on the highest buzz setting, it was merely a tingle. Thinking I was just being impatient, wanting my goodies right there right then, I experimented. I turned it around so the nodule faced downwards. Nah. No effect. So I started to thrust it gently in and out, not really savouring the vibrations, but liking the sensation of being, well…for want of a better word, fucked. This was a level better.
Remembering how much I love it when Mister fingers me whilst playing with my clit, I clutched after my bullet, which was laying discarded by my side and attempted something new. With one hand controlling the bullet on my clit and with a pulsing setting on the Pandora, I set about getting a rhythm going in this fashion.
This was gooooood.
Very good. In fact, this was possibly one of the better orgasms I have managed to achieve alone. And I practice a fair amount. The simultaneous thrusting and pulsings of the Pandora were just right enough for my G-spot to react to the orgasm caused by the clitoral attention of the bullet.
I shall be trying it out tonight with Mister, he was most off-put that I closed the door to him.
All in all, the Pandora is disappointingly average as a stand alone G-spot vibrator. The buzzings are just a fraction too subtle for me, so if what you are looking for is something to ease you into G-spot stimulation, then I see no harm in giving it a try. If, however, you are a buzz-fiend then this, sadly, won’t do very much for you. For optimum pleasure, I recommend you place it along with your favourite vibrators and dildos for a good session of You-Time, then this will fit quite happily in to your routine.
Do pop along to Vibrator.com’s site and have a perusal over their other, similarly-themed G-spot vibrators. They have a good selection, which I hope to tell you more about in the near future!
