Wander I Go
I had a whole afternoon to myself. No one around to interrupt me. I can’t remember the last time that happened and I was in the mood for some personal playtime. And so I wanted to make the utmost of the situation.
Another week and another three days I had spent gallivanting away from my lovely man. Darned work taking me away from Mister.
It was a tiring, exhausting first half of the week in which I didn’t get much sleep on Tuesday night. Not for the right reasons either. Grr. (Ah..vague references to my super secret work identity). But return I did on Wednesday afternoon back to Mister’s loving arms. He carried the heavy heavy bag in those loving arms. Unfortunately I was unable to jump him as I had been dying to do right there and then as he had to depart for Band Practice in the next city. So I had to compensate. I showered and promptly took myself to bed to catch up on sleep.
Only despite my fraught and tired state, I was ultimately and undeniably very aroused. Sleep was not on the cards at that moment. More pressing matters needed to be addressed. We had not had sex for over a week and a half – when you are there living with your partner and you know you have regular access to sex, when you don’t have it, you miss it as much as when you live apart. Believe me. It had been the Monthly Visit and prior to that we went through a few days without and so I had spent most of the previous, sleepless night thinking about what I would do to Mister upon my return. What he would do to me. What we would do together. I keep in my mind’s eye a montage of images that keep me warm on cold nights. Usually saved for when we are apart, or if I have that private, alone time to myself. These began to stream through my head now. More a series of close-ups and long shots, really. It seems porn has affected my style of fantasising.
It usually begins with the two of us in the bedroom, or even when I give myself more time to construct a narrative, us meeting somewhere. We’ve been apart and this is the moment of our reunion. We catch eachother’s glance from across the room. Immediately, that fire rekindles and blazes anew. The butterflies float a little higher.
If the montage begins in the bedroom, it is me who takes the lead. He is already on the bed, waiting for me as I enter to look down at him – the visual dynamic already suggests that I will be calling the shots. But if we meet anywhere else, somewhere public, it is he who take the initiative, he walks over to me, pulls me into him making me elicit a slight gasp. If there is a wall, no doubt I imagine he pushes me back against it and stares deeply into my eyes with those penetrating blue eyes he possesses. The element of exhibitionism, the lack of care of who sees us, thrills me, excites me. In reality, he is generally restrained in public, but if we are at a location where we know there is no-one around we recognise, surrounded by strangers, then his dominant side will shine through.
These images, these stirrings of feeling, sensation, the thrills bubbles up inside me as I delve into my sensual thoughts. I never fantasise about anyone else but him and me (and the occasional faceless lady if that’s the fantasy I’m after). He is what gets me off, no-one else specifically really. What we do together and the possibilities of what we could do together in the future, the next time we fuck, gets me off. That ghosting memory of the first thrust he presses into me. The gasp it makes me emit every time. Not to bookend sex, but the first thrust and the final climax are two highpoints for me of equal merit.
I lost myself that afternoon this week. I had my toys, the favourite buzzing bullet that never leaves my bedside table as well as a few extras and the anal toy. I am still trying to push myself in that particular area and by God I came hard using that along with the bullet. I always smile to myself when I end up moaning and writhing and swearing under my own hand.
Mister came home a few hours later and found me curled up in the linen, hair fuzzed around my head slightly. He was mildly surprised to find me naked under the covers and soon joined me. I was still wet from my own excursions and gladly welcomed his hands to seek out that fact. After nearly two weeks without him inside me, I don’t think wild horses would have prevented me from screwing that man.
As we lay together after some tension-relieving, homecoming-reunion sex, holding me to him, he told me he had missed me.
No words needed to be said after that. Not for a long time. So we just lay there, drifting.
Forced
A lot of the time we have sex in the bedroom. Whilst it’s always very, very good, I do wish we played more outside of it. I guess because it’s warm and we can slink right into bed that factors largely among the reasons why and also because most of our sex happens before we go to bed.
But it is good to get out once in a while.
Like the other night in the bath. Not all the way, but nicely toying with each other. Feet slipping up against skin. Hands moving up thighs.
I have a couple of memorable times within our flat that were outside of the bedroom. One was a delicious and much-needed interruption. The second, which I will tell you of, undesired-of at first, forced upon me against my better judgement, but still I needed it.
A weeknight.
Tired from work and simply wanting to do nothing on the sofa. That was me.
He had other ideas.
I had been feeling that we were in a slight rut with the kink.
He didn’t see the problem.
I was in no mood for anything remotely sexual, but he had tunnel-vision. He wanted me. And He Would Have Me.
He pawed. He stroked. He pandered.
I twisted. I complained. I escaped.
Clearly, realising he’d have to work harder if he wanted to get his way with me, he switched tactics. Moving, adjusting, he entwined my legs around him and shifted my work skirt a little higher. Continuing his strokes, he changed his attention from my arms to my thighs.
I pulled the hem of my skirt back down. I frowned at him.
He stared right back with a determined look.
He shifted again. I wriggled against him, trying once more to escape.
No. That seemed only to make his access to me easier. Try again. Still, somehow my usual trick of wriggling away wasn’t working. I blamed the tiredness.
Things stepped up. He got up, crouched before me and pinned my legs apart in some manner with his legs and arms. Dragging me to the edge of the sofa, the angle I was now in, reclining, I found it difficult to move in any direction but towards him.
I got mad.
| if thy mistress some rich anger shows, | |
| Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave, | |
| And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes. |
I raved. I squirmed. This time from his hand right up on my pussy this time. Showing no mercy. And he was staring right back into my furious eyes. My hand was gripping his wrist to drag it away, but his obvious strength was always going to win out. His determination fuelled him further. He moved toward me. He straddled me.
He unbuttoned his jeans.
I was in no position to argue at that point, really. He’d won. I was lost.
I licked his shaft and the around tip of his head with a mixture of petulance and desire for this man who was forcing me to suck him off. This aggressive streak I don’t usually find in him. I felt him pushing in to me, but it was still careful, still gentle, despite all the brutality behind its origins. I drew him into my mouth and looked up, the fire burning still from my anger. The flame a different shade, though. Not as white hot. More crimson. Scarlet.
A hand was in my hair. Clasping and tangled. The other was steadying his frame by being placed on the back of the sofa. His knuckles were whitening. My eyes, they smiled for a glimmering second before remembering how this came to pass.
***
Isn’t it nice when you enact mini-fantasies without ever uttering a word to your partner about them…
Must I Paint you a Picture?
Dipping the tip of the soft brush into the well of massage oil that the candle had created, I started by tracing out my initial on the centre of his back. Between the shoulder blades the massage oil swept over his skin smoothly to form my mark. It’s not a complicated letter so he guessed it fairly quickly. I followed this warm-up with his initial – he was pretty good at this game.
Holding the brush between my teeth as I rubbed over my first attempts, I took hold of it once again to replenish the supply of oil. Time for something a little more complex. A word this time. Letter by letter I spelt it out as he named each brush-stroke’s delicate formation.
M
I
N
E
That made him exhale in mild amusement. Sensing his playfulness, I quickened the pace of each letter of the next word to see if I could catch him out. Each time a word was correctly guessed, I praised him with a loving rub over his oh-so-yummy back. This was fun. I was enjoying myself. Wanting things to progress further, I spelt out my next command for him.
T
U
R
N
O
V
E
R
He quickly complied.
Good boy.
As he turned, his erection was plain to see. He is always so turned on by my massages, and he was enjoying this new experience at least as much as I was. My eyes always linger on that spot after he turns over. He looks so damn good when he’s naked and aroused. It was hard to keep focus. I brought the candle over and gently tilted it to test its dripping capabilities. Again, it was very mild in temperature and when he tried it out on me the following night I was surprised at just how mild the heat was – barely noticeable above body temperature, tepid if you wish.
The candle itself is held within a glass container and the screw-thread of its lid caused the oil to drip down the side of the glass, which was a little messy and didn’t quite have the effect of a proper wax candle. An unfortunate side-effect is that it habitually came into contact with the sheets/duvet cover and created an oily patch, so if you look into going down this route – be prepared for messy bits! But unless you’re retentive about making a mess during sex, this shouldn’t dampen your spirit of fun.
I played with the oil, letting it fall onto his chest, stomach and of course the nice temperature allowed me to drizzle a few spots onto his cock – a delightful sight, all slippy and slidey once my hand had been there. Honestly, my mouth was watering after this and a sneaky few light kisses and licks up his shaft and head may have escaped my lips. I’m proud to say I’m a lot more generous than I used to be when it comes to oral sex, having started out with a slight aversion to it, I am now finding myself yearning to go down on him sometimes. I think his compliments have helped mightily. Apparently I’m very good 
Anyway…
Mister showed his appreciation for my attention to detail by going and switching on me – as he usually does – fired up from the massage he manoeuvred himself over me and returned the favour of the massage with his own, wonderful talents on my breasts and then turning me over onto my back. Feeling the warm oil made a welcome change from the at times chilly stuff we’re used to. I do so hate the cold. Cheekily, he dripped the oil over my arse making me wriggle as it slid between my buttocks, following the liquid’s movements with his own fingers, trailing over my skin then down between my legs. My moans were low and guttural – the sound of a highly turned on LadyP. The heady mix of the oil’s aroma and Mister’s concentrated focus on my pussy led to a series of intense orgasms, leaving me gasping into the pillows and clasping onto the sheets.
All I can say is – if you haven’t tried it, go and buy a massage candle. They are wonderful. Really, really wonderful. It sets you at ease, relaxes you and leads into some very fun, sensual sex. And who knows, it may even lead to try out wax-play.
Something Wicked This Way Comes
First things first, I’m not employed by Agent Provocateur, but lately I have been rather impressed by them, They lure me in with a sale with the luscious Maggie G as their model; have beautiful riding crops to die for and now, they present me with this. What am I to do. Entitled ‘The Season of the Witch’, it pushes my slightly darker buttons.
Clickthrough for larger and zoomable image from AP website
Ladies and Gentlemen: We have semi-clad men and women for your visual delights! Pretty underwear! Paganism! Voodoo! Parallels to Lady Grey’s execution as painted by Paul de la Roche, the temptation of Eve and Rubens’ Massacre of the Innocents! Ladies being very sexy with men and women! Women asserting their sexualities over the men! Woo!
What’s not to like?
I think I may be a lost cause. No hope for me at all of redemption. Nada.
‘She that makes me sin awards me pain’, Part Three
~ Finally, the third and final part of my exploration into erotica. Refresh your memories with Part I and Part II. This is a little longer than the first two visits into fiction, but I hope you won’t tail off and your attention is retained! ~
‘I want to make you scream tonight, scream out like you never have before.’ She stood over him with the belt in her hand and slowly began to raise it above her head.
In an instant, he heard the leather sweep down and strike the outer part of his thigh. It made him wince, his legs drew up and his mouth opened in shock. It wasn’t all that stingy; she could have been meaner and really let loose, but the initial impact had had its effect. She could see the top of his forehead above the red silk scarf crinkle in a grimace she was sure was echoed in his covered eyes. Immediately she countered this welt with a soft kiss in the same spot. She wanted to show him she wasn’t completely twisted. And that she could be softened, if he gave her the right response.
‘Just the one to begin with, my love,’ she muffled into his skin as she soothed it with her soft lips. He wasn’t quite sure if she was referring to the strike or the kiss. One thing was certain, however, and that was the fact he did not know what to expect next. He felt his girl move away from his tensed body and heard a rustling from somewhere in the bedroom. He took this opportunity to test his blindfold. Shifting slightly in his seat to not attract her attention, he raised a corner of the scarf so one blue eye could slowly take in the view. Bent over the side table, his girl was peering into her bag. Her seamed stockings looks truly delicious when seen from behind, the lines leading up to her perfectly formed arse. It made his mouth water at the delights that lay between those legs, and, not to spoil her fun, replaced the blindfold for the time being. A metallic clink became audible, along with a ripple of material.
Several questions were running through his head in the moment he heard the unmistakable sound of his lighter. ‘Candles. She’s lighting candles.’ The familiar petrol smell wafted to his nose momentarily, informing him she was close at hand at least.
‘Got you guessing, have I?’ She spoke in that low, almost growl-like voice of hers when she is in a mischievous mind. He was about to answer her when he felt a curious warming sensation at his elbow. Not enough to be uncomfortable at first, but it increased in temperature quickly. He gasped as he realised it was a candle flame. ‘What the…!’ was all he managed to get out before being met full on with a kiss. As quickly as the kiss was brought on, the heat dissipated and she chuckled lightly into his mouth.
Their mouths moved together slowly, deeply. The girl placed the candle she had been toying with on the side table as she moved her hands over his chest, up to his face, cradling his head, drawing him to her. Fingers entwined in his hair and she let escape a murmured moan. Almost with a sigh, he replied. She was straddling him now, her underwear the only barrier between the pair. His arms sprung into action as they swept up her back into her long dark hair. Knowing how this made her melt and not wanting to relinquish her hold over him just yet, she quickly moved them back down her body, to her breasts. No man in his right mind would want to argue with that choice. Without his sight, he felt his way softly around the outer-edges of her breasts, where they were ever-so slightly more sensitive, lightly brushing his fingertips over the warm skin. He reached in, under her bra to find her nipples nicely aroused. She saw his involuntary smile and knew his thoughts. Moving down his neck, her tongue traced a line from his jaw to his chest. A nail followed to make sure his senses weren’t softened. Only gently, though. A small reminder not to be lured into a false sense of security.
She reached over to the side table where she had lain out some of the contents of her bag. Not all of them would be used, but ‘Be Prepared’ she thought. Her hand darted over the items, fingers dancing past the handcuffs, the tassly whip. ‘Oh, the fun we’ll have later on!’ She spoke, half to herself. He heard the almost childlike glee in her tone. Was she going to use the whip, after all? Or just her nails? He was answered not with another stinging response, but a soft, glistening hand. A scent of Ylang Ylang passed up to his face and he inhaled the massage oil as it was applied to his skin.
He adored this oil. They both did. Not only was the scent divine, but it was the best in a line of massage oils they owned and had experimented with. A truly sensual aroma encircled the two of them now, each inhaling the intoxicating scent arousing the senses. She too was becoming giddy with the oil and lost in the action of massaging the skin on his torso. Almost hypnotically her arms were moving lower towards his hips, thighs and his beautifully lengthened shaft. Her concentration was being drawn away from his actions as she focused on her movements. She never noticed the blindfold being slipped from his eyes, still knotted.
He caught her unawares by jolting upright suddenly in the chair, bringing her face to face, eye to eye. The pair stared at each other. She in mock-shock at the escape. He with the defiant glare of an untethered hound. In one movement, he stood up and moved her roughly against the nearest wall. This was what she had been waiting for all along. How far would he submit before rebelling and breaking free? She smiled at him, one eyebrow raised in satisfaction. He held her hands together in one of his as he removed her blue bra, slipping the straps down her slender arms before sliding down to remove her French knickers. Kissing the still stockinged legs as he worked his way back up to her. He gently licked the inside of her thighs above the stockingtop seams, knowing it would make her shiver. Inches away from her waiting pussy, he resisted. For now.
As she hooked her left leg over his hip to ease their movement into one another she clawed his back, only lightly – the tingling sensation timed perfectly to the first inward thrust of his cock. They savoured the initial feeling as they always did every time they made love. The heel of her foot pressed in against his soft flesh, anchoring herself to him, pressing him deeper inside. He placed his head into her neck and nipped playfully as he began to move, each thrust pinning her to the wall, hair becoming dishevelled against it.
‘I’ll… make you a deal,’ he managed to say in between increasingly ragged breaths. ‘How about… I make you scream first,’ he continued, ‘Before we… worry about me?’
‘H..honey,’ she replied breathlessly, ‘That’s all I ever wanted… you only had to speak up for yourself.’
Their pace quickened, and his hand snaked down between them to her heated sex and began his favourite past-time – bringing his girl everything she wanted.
And more.
Holiday, Celebrate!
Right my little chickadees. (Note to self, never use that phrase again)
I’m off on my Spring Break slash Easter Holiday slash Half Term holiday tomorrow. (Due to Easter being unusually early this year, it seems like we’ve had two sets of time off)
So, I am off to the much sunnier Continental climes of Portugal. Personally I think I quite deserve some time off to unwind and relax. I know I’ve defintely worked hard enough! Plus it allows me to realise my fantasies I have been having increasingly frequently!
This of course means that I won’t be posting anything for a little over a week. So no deserting this little sanctuary I’ve got going on here. That means You too!
Bon Voyage, dear readers.
Unwinding
I imagine:
It’s Friday night, the weekend has started.
I’m still in my work clothes. My skirt is slightly crumpled from spending the evening watching a kick-ass DVD. My shoes I’ve removed and are lying on their sides at the end of the sofa, feet indulging in the sweet escape from a week’s worth of tight, toe torturing heels. Hair, well, in a dishevelled unbound mass of strands about my shoulders having shaken out the pincer clips that hold it in bureaucratic order during the daylight hours of the week.
I’m unwinding in every sense.
He enters with my refilled glass. The wine is chilled and washes down my throat very nicely indeed. I murmer in appreciation. The cool glass is fogging up as I hold it languishingly in my hand over the arm of the sofa. Absent mindedly, I draw my finger over the mist and run it around the rim of the glass. Work is the last thing on my mind now.
He takes hold of my feet which have been resting on the edge of the coffee table in front of us. He swivels them round onto his lap and begins to rub them. Having replaced tights with my long black over-the-knee stocking socks for warmth, my feet are snug and soon contented after a few minutes of light massage. Running my toes between his thumb and forefinger he eases out the week’s stress and worry. I close my eyes as he continues up my foot, resting momentarily on my heels before working his way to my calves.
I am snatched out of my reverie suddenly as he places his fingers behind my knee, in that certain place he knows will make me jolt. My eyelids flash open and a gasp is drawn from my lips before it is joined by the small giggle illicited by such a tickle. He doesn’t want me to fall asleep. Not at this moment. Not when his fingers are edging ever higher up my thighs.
I feel a familiar stir. A mix of adrenaline, desire and butterflies. That is the feeling of being turned on. For me.
Shifting in my seat, I place my head against the arm of the sofa and slowly sip my wine. I do this whilst looking into his eyes deeply, longingly. We both know where this will lead. He smiles at me in that way I know he’s up to something. But what he does next I was not expecting. Instead of continuing his hands’ journey up under my skirt to my thighs, he moves so that his head is placed against my belly. A natural response, my right hand goes to cradle his head in my lap. I lose my fingers in his hair, toying with his short waves, curling them around my fingers. But his fingers are not idle. In this brief interlude they have wandered higher and are now brushing against the hem of my underwear.
This is it. This is what sends me over into complete abandon. Ever so subtly his hands move closer to their goal. He presses against my sex making me shiver inside. He senses these flutterings and places another hand on my leg. Just the warmth from its presence there is enough to awaken my loins fully. My hand in his hair tightens its grip on his strands as he delicately kneads the dampening fabric. One finger finds that nub and my breathing immediately changes. I inhale sharply as a short rush sweeps over my body from that single touch.
Twisting his hair so that his head turns up toward me, I speak in a voice altered from earlier in the evening. A voice that hearkens from an instinctual need for my man. I look into those clear eyes and say, “Take me to bed.”
He returns my look of lust and desire and replies, “No.” Despair fills my eyes. He can’t surely mean that, not after all he has done. He continues:
”I want to have you here. Now.”
My smile returns and my unwinding is complete.
Mister, Pandorah and a Hotel Room…
I daydream:
It’s a humid Tuesday morning and we don’t have any reason to be up early. The Spanish sun is glowing through the closed curtains, its increasing warmth forcing us awake.
I lazily look at the clock by my bedside and notice it’s almost 11:30. ‘What bliss!’ I think to myself and sink back down under the sheet. It seems like a lifetime ago when I last looked at a morning clock that did not say 6:40am.
With eyes closed, my hands reach out to find him there beside me, shifting. Half in dream, half awake. I run my fingers over his chest and stomach, moving towards coarser terrain.
I side track down to a thigh. Feeling his warmth soothes me, calms me. The knowledge that he won’t be going anywhere fast. I feel him moving closer towards me and we embrace in a relaxed hold. Him behind me. Comforting. Protecting. Reassuring.
I open my eyes to see his arm around me, keeping me close to his body, despite the temperature of the room. We feel the prickles of moisture build between our backs as he starts to kiss my neck, shoulders, jawline.
In return I move my hips, swaying slowly against his front.
****
And then, reluctantly, I am brought back to the present. Back to the 6:40 wake up calls.
I can’t wait until our holiday.
Our first holiday together, alone. Just me, Mister and a hotel room.
‘She that makes me sin awards me pain’, Part Two
‘Now, move over to the chair, and sit with your hands behind your back,’ his girl now said to him. A definite switch from the syrupy tone previously to a more directorial one. One he knew from past experience not to dither with the instructions it held.
He walked and sat on the chair as told, eagerly awaiting her next move.
‘Good,’ was all she said. She knew now that her unexpectedly early arrival had placed him in a state of complicity. Still clad in her long coat, she motioned to slip it off her shoulders to reveal her dark bra straps to give him a hint of what lay beneath. As soon as his eyes caught sight of this, he realised that she had planned this all along, and her façade of a dinner date was merely a ruse. He wondered what else she had in store for him and his eyes sparkled with anticipation.
His wet hair still glistened from the shower and there were still a few missed droplets running down his neck. ‘You didn’t dry yourself very well, did you?’ His girl began to step towards him. Slow, deliberate steps. She moved around him so she was directly behind the chair. Leaning forward she brushed her lips against his right ear and whispered, ‘I’m just going to have to finish you off myself, aren’t I?’ before taking a quick nip of his lobe. She started to gently kiss the side of his neck, lapping at the watery droplets that had been carelessly overlooked. He tried to turn his head to catch her lips but she placed her hands either side of his head and steered it back to centre. ‘No, my love, just stay as you are. You’re not going to move an inch. Not just yet,’ she cautioned, her lips quivering over his skin as she spoke. To strengthen her words, she swept her fingers firmly through his scalp, dragging her nails back down towards his nape then continued to trail her lips and tongue over the droplets.
Confident that he was not going to leave his seat, she stood up and dropped her coat to reveal a deep blue lace bra with matching French knickers. A new purchase, she wanted to impress her lover, even if he was not going to spend much time admiring the view. She had coupled these with her black suspender belt and seamed stockings. Upon hearing the fabric of the coat hitting the floor, he attempted to twist his head around again to see what he was missing only to be remonstrated once more. ‘Tut tut, that’s not what I said was it?’ She hissed into his left ear, this time pairing it with a single nail’s sharp clawing of his neck.
She moved so that she was in front of him and slowly knelt down to crouch in between his open thighs. Now he was given the view he had wanted to see in close-up detail. From his seated vantage point, he was able to look down past her dark, shadowy eyes, past those sumptuously skilled lips, down to her breasts. Upon seeing the new bra, he lifted an eyebrow in approval which did not go unnoticed by her. She allowed herself a quiet giggle as she saw that her appearence was having the desired effect. Staring down towards his crotch, she found things were shaping up nicely and placed her hands halfway up the inside of his thighs. Tantalisingly close.
‘I think it is time you lost some of those clothes, don’t you?’ She didn’t look at him, her eyes were transfixed on his prominence, but she felt his rapid nod through the movement of his body. Her hands moving up from his legs, she quickly unbuttoned his shirt, wanting to touch that luscious, smooth skin underneath. Her hands ran over his chest to ease the shirt past his shoulders, once more dragging her nails gently across his skin making her man inhale sharply. Two faint red arcs appeared within seconds and he glanced at her with a sudden look of anxiety. She had never been as scratchy as this before, and he wondered how far she was preparing to lead him down this route.
In tune with his thoughts, she bounced up from her kneeling position to her bag she had brought with her. With a smirk, she brought out a length of red satin. Running the cold material through her fingers, she returned to her man and proceeded to trail the scarf up his body, draping it across his skin. The coolness made his nipples react immediately. He knew what was coming next and shuffled in his seat. Stepping behind him she placed the scarf around his head and blacked out his sight.
Once completed, she swiftly unclapsedhis belt and hauled it into her hands in one fluid movement. This was one of her most cherished sounds to hear – his belt slapping against his contours as she removed it. Now she had the perfect tool for her purposes. Bunching it in her hands, she left just enough of its length free to make a good impact against his skin.
The next thing he heard was the ’swish’ of the belt rushing through the air. In that split second he tensed up his body, expecting to feel the result. But nothing happened. He thought to himself, ‘What is she up to?’, and immediately realised she was testing it out; he then heard a second ’swish’ followed by a murmer of approval, ‘Now, it’s my turn,’ his mind thought, ‘I hope she doesn’t take it too far’.
Her thoughts were entirely different.
‘I want to make you scream tonight, scream out like you never have before.’ She stood over him with the belt in her hand and slowly began to raise it above her head.
~ Part Three ~
