Mano e Mano [mf][d/s]

*”Now: set your timer for 45 seconds.*
*Place one hand on your cunt, and one on your tits.*
*Begin to stroke, rub, squeeze, pinch.*
*Visualize one hand from someone you’ve fucked this year — that’s on your tit.*
*And think of another — that’s on your cunt.*
*When the timer goes off, switch hands.*
*With each switch, change visualizations.*
*You may repeat people, and you should include people you want to touch you* *but haven’t yet.*
*After the timer goes off 6 times, you may come.*
*That should be just enough time.”*

I read these texts in bed a few days ago. Late December reflections. Like a Best Albums of 2015 list, only with fucking. Freezing and bundled up under the covers, those initial strokes, rubs, squeezes and pinches were of course about you. I could’ve come just from that, no doubt. But you’re not that sort of dom, not that sort of friend.

Bell Bottom Blues [mf][bittersweet]

I know you won’t be reading this; we’re done – good and proper. It’d make you cry. Stiff and sad. Your dick hard pressed up against your pants, your eyes welled up with tears.

We missed our chance. Or rather, we had no chance. So we took a chance. We took place in stolen moments. Lots of moments, a year of moments. Moments of unparalleled passion, of kisses up and down your body, of your face between my legs, kisses in alleys and walks in the rain. It’s been a good long time – and I still miss you. But I can write this now.

You know how Tolstoy has that bit about happy families all being alike? But the unhappy ones are each unhappy in their own way? Are all love affairs alike as well, do they all boil down to the same raw ingredients, the same biological effects and by products controlling everything? I don’t know, in part because feeling those moments – you throwing me against my apartment door as soon as it shut behind you, pushing my bra straps slowly down over my shoulders, my pussy aching at your touch, wanting the moment to last forever – in those moments I couldn’t help but think *so this is what people were talking about*.

Published
Categorized as Erotica

No Words [mf][d/s]

Sir, I have a request. Unusual, I know: but, well, hear me out.

You and I, sometimes, we’re **Great Communicators** giving Reagan and Bonzo a run for their money. There are times for that. But there’s also time for every purpose under heaven, according to such great thinkers as King Solomon, Pete Seeger and Roger McGuinn. So what I want today is – no talking.

Fuck the bejesus out of me, Sir. Then we’ll talk.

I do know my audience, and to be precise, we’ll say the *sufficient and necessary conditions* for the **bejesus** being fucked out of me would be met when you make me come three times – so, the challenge – should you choose to accept it – well, it’s no challenge for you, Sir, you could do that in your sleep! In fact there was that one time… erm. Nevermind.

And we’ll sidebar the inevitable conversation about the nature of speech and what I’m really forbidding – are my moans of delight and pain so different from your involuntary “fuck” muttered under your breath the first time, *each first time* I receive your cock in my mouth, surround it with my lips, and take it all in? We’ll sidebar that for pillow talk and the discussion will likely make me want to sit on your face and grind my cunt into you because I love talking to you and I love fucking you and what could be better?