Up, Up and Up Some More

It seems that just this past Friday I had about 185 hits, as opposed to the 50 or 60 a day I usually get. I looked into it briefly and could find no clue as to what happened on Friday to warrant such a spike. I wondered if someone linked to me anew, or if someone was talking about me somewhere (although my ears weren't ringing, that I recall), but nothing.

I can only surmise that Friday is a particularly busy day for smut. Really, this makes perfect sense.

You've spent a busy, maybe draining, possibly boring, week at work. You come home knowing there's no alarm clock to disturb you the next day, so you have a drink, or a glass of wine. You read your e-mail, maybe play a game or two on Yahoo games and then find yourself wondering, "Hmmm...wonder if there's any new porn to get me off before I pass out."

One site leads to another and the next thing you know you're reading about a woman who's husband disciplines her for errant ways in the home. Or maybe you want to know what a woman really thinks about while she's masturbating.

Yes, Friday's are good nights for a little light reading. Whether it's your cock in your hand or your fingers sunk into the wetness of your cunt, I hope I helped you find some relaxation after a busy week.

Doesn't Play Well With Others, or...

I don't like to share.

There are some things I love to share with others. I love to share a meal, music that I love, I love to share the company of my friends with the company of my other friends, I love to share good books I've read, a cup of tea, a blanket if it's cold, my toys, my time and, of course, my opinion.

I don't, however, like to share partners without knowing I'm sharing them. Meaning, if you're dating me then, well, you're dating me. You're not also dating someone else. Or other someone elses. I require, in a word, exclusivity. I'm pretty damn clear about this. Always have been.

It's this issue that has brought an end to my relations with our linguist here. It's too bad because that was some fun, but I know my limits fairly well and this is a hard one. (A hard limit, I mean.)

Ah, well. Win some, lose some.

Thank God for masturbation and an active imagination.

The Cycle of Life

I guess I should be happy, or grateful, or relieved. And, I suppose, I am all those things. I find lately, I'm horny again. Thinking about sex again. A lot. At work. Thinking about sex at work. I don't mean having sex at work...you know what I mean. But, that's not the point. The point is that it's back, I guess. With less of a vengeance, but back.

The problem is that I don't want random sex with a stranger. Well, not really. I mean, if the right stranger came along, I would fuck him for sure. But, I want more. I want a partner. I want a master. Of sorts. I'm always a bit ambivalent about the whole master/slave whatever thing. But, I want that power. That power over me.

I've been dating a little. No-one particularly particular yet. But, you never know who's around the corner. Or so I keep telling myself. I've been praying for miracles. I just have to be smart enough to recognize one when it's in my face. That's the challenge. My own ability to be intelligent enough to see what's being presented to me.

All that aside, I want it.

I want my hair, which is quite long now, to be wrapped up in his fist. I want him to pull my head back and push his cock into my mouth. I want him to tell me, as I kneel before him, helpless to his force, to spread my legs, to touch myself as he fucks my mouth. I want to hear him groan with satisfaction as I do.

I want to be on my hands and knees on the bed while, behind me, he spreads me apart and examines me. My cunt wet and swollen. Dripping from his words as he tells me what a whore I am for showing myself to him in this way. As I push back a little farther, knowing this spreads me apart even more.

I haven't thought of these things in months and now these fantasies fill my head. I can hear in my mind the sound of his hand smacking my bottom red and sore and his derisive laugh as he plunges fingers into me and finds I'm so wet the two or three fingers he uses are not enough to create any friction.

I want it, now. I want it, again. I need a miracle.

A Little Time On My Hands

Last night my plans changed and I found myself with an evening at home. At first this was disappointing, but I easily found something to do.

I watched boring, re-run TV for a little while (Please, writers and studios, figure this out! I cannot watch another Numbers re-run!). But, I was restless. I sat down with my laptop and wandered over to some blogs that can usually stir something in me. After a while, I wandered into my bedroom and took off my clothes. I don't generally become completely naked, but last night I wanted the feel of the sheets along my body.

My mind ran through a few of the fantasies that provide me with excitement. The movies in my head in which I am the star. I landed here, at this iteration (there are a few different versions) of the one I come back to, over and over.

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I'm in a therapists office. I've come to him because I feel that I masturbate too much. He specializes in sex therapy for women and after a few visits of discussing why I think masturbating at least once every day is too much, he's moved our sessions into more intimate territory. He asks me if I would share a fantasy with him. A masturbation fantasy. Something I use in my head to excite myself.

I'm nervous about telling him, but I also realize I'm excited about it. I begin to tell him a rather tame one I've had where I'm "hired" by a couple who want to watch me masturbate. I tell him how I'm sitting in a chair with my legs spread and up on the arms, touching myself, as they sit on the couch opposite me and watch. I tell him how the man begins to get an erection and I can see it rising up through his robe.

The therapist interrupts me and I realize that I've closed my eyes. He asks me how I'm feeling telling him this. I tell him it's easier with my eyes closed. He wonders if I'm getting excited by relating this to him, and I tell him yes. He asks if that's what I like, being watched. I tell him yes. He asks me to continue.

I proceed on, telling him the details of this couple watching me. How the man eventually removes his robe and begins to stroke his...I stumble a bit. What do I call it? In front of my therapist? Do I say cock? Penis? I simply say erection and my therapist stops me again, noticing my uncertainty.

"What do you call it in your head?"

"Cock" I say.

"Well, unless you're too shy, you should say now what you say in your head."

Okay. I back track and say that the man removes his robe and begins to stroke his cock. I say that while he is watching me masturbate, I am watching him. His wife watches us both and we're all very excited. The therapist stops me again.

"Does this excite you? To watch a man stroke himself?"

Pause.

"Yes."

After a minute of silence, I continue on with my fantasy. My eyes are still closed, except for the times he interrupts me, when I open them and look at him. I'm somewhat embarrassed when I look at him, but not as embarrassed as I thought I would be. And I'm becoming more and more excited. I wonder how much I can continue without having to touch myself. In front of my therapist. But, even thinking that makes me ashamed.

I've been talking all this while, telling him the details of my fantasy, until he stops me again. Again, he checks in on how I'm feeling. He doesn't prompt me, so I just say I'm feeling excited. I say very excited.

"Would you like to masturbate now?"

My eyes fly open and I look right at him. My heart begins to pound and I find I'm a little scared. But also the idea of it is overwhelming. I almost spread my legs on impulse.

"You mean, right now? Here? In front of you?"

"Yes."

That's all he says. Yes. He leaves the rest to me. He looks so passive. Not the predator you would think of a man asking a woman if she wants to expose herself to him. He looks passive and almost clinical. He says nothing as my mind races and I bounce back and forth between all the emotions this brings to me. Fear, excitement, embarrassment, embarrassment at wanting to do it, desire for exposure.

"Okay" I say.

For a moment, we both just sit there. I don't quite know what to do and he seems to be patient to let me figure it out. I take a deep breath and begin to raise my skirt up to my hips. Underneath I have on only panties. I raise my skirt and slowly spread my legs. I am looking down at what I'm doing because I cannot yet look at him. I see that there's a wet spot on my panties and I'm embarrassed by this. I pause and try to decide if I'm going to actually take them off. And then I have a moment of surrender. To myself. To my desire. I want to do this, so I'm going to do it, dammit. I slide them down and off my legs and spread my legs apart.

Feeling the cool of his leather couch on my ass adds to the clinical feel of this whole endeavor. And I like that. This is for evaluative purposes. He wants to watch me so that he can determine something about me. So that he can truly help me.

He's been quiet throughout this, but then says,

"Are you okay?"

"Yes", I say. Looking up for the first time at him. He looks the same as he did the last time I looked at him. Passive. Comfortable in his chair. Looking me in the eye.

"Before we proceed, I want to tell you that I will, and am, going to become excited watching you. It's inevitable. I'm human and this excites me. Will that make you uncomfortable?"

"No", I say quickly. Because it won't, in fact, I quite like the idea. He knows this because of what I admitted from my fantasy a moment ago. I wonder if he wants, in this way, to make my fantasy a reality.

"I may need to" he pauses "attend to myself. I may need to stroke myself while watching you."

"Yes", I say somewhat breathlessly. I find as he's telling me this I've begun to spread my legs wider. He just nods and becomes quiet again. Slowly my hands make their way to my cunt and I begin to rub my clit. I am so wet at this point I'm sure I'm dripping onto his couch. I try to go slowly, I want to drag this out, I don't want to come on impact.

"So, you're masturbating and they're watching you" he prompts. Getting me back to my fantasy.

"Yes", but that is all I can say. My eyes are not closed. I am in this moment, not in my fantasy anymore. My eyes are open, my legs are spread, my cunt is dripping and exposed and I am looking right at him.

He sense this and just watches me. Our eyes are locked until, slowly, he lowers his eyes and watches my hands. I realize that is what I've wanted. I want him to watch me. I lower my left hand and spread my labia apart to expose my clit to my finger. An involuntary moan leaves my throat and I see him take a deep breath as he watches.

My eyes close for a minute as I become immersed in the pleasure and the excitement of this whole experience. I'm aware of him, but also need a moment to just feel myself. To feel my hands on myself. To feel how good it feels to be watched. By my therapist.

My reverie is broken by the sound of his zipper. I gasp a little as I realize what he's doing. I've not opened my eyes yet. I want to wait. After a moment I open them and see him sitting now rather upright in his chair with his erect cock in his hand. Slowly stroking up and down. And now I watch him. And we watch each other and the excitement and heat in the room is palpable.

Suddenly, as if overcome, he stands. His pants fall to the ground and he steps out of them. Slowly, still stroking his cock, he walks towards me.

"Can I be closer to you?"

"Yes...yes."

He comes so close he is almost touching the edge of the couch. His cock is close to me. I could almost lift up and pull it into my mouth. I am tempted to, but I resist. No, that's not for here.

I stop what I'm doing and quickly unbutton my blouse and remove it. I unhook my bra and remove it. I cup my breasts and squeeze my nipples.

"I want you to come on my tits."

He takes a quick step back and stops his motion.

"I don't know."

"Yes, I want that. Please."

I resume my attentions to my throbbing cunt and impulsively plunge one, then two, fingers into my hole. He sees this and begins again to stroke his cock. Now faster and in time to my motion. He steps forward again and we're so close. So synchronized. Our motions and emotions in tune to this moment of sharing our pleasure.

Stepping forward even more, I know he is going to come. I sit up straight and push my tits forward for him.

"Please."

With a wild moan at the back of his throat he pushes his hips forward and directs his stream of come onto my chest. Spurting over and over, groaning with release, I am overwhelmed and come with a loud cry.

"Oh, yes."

Time stands still for that moment and there's nothing in the room but our breathing and the smell of our sex.

Then he steps back and turning towards his chair begins to put himself to rights and dress. I grab the tissues and clean myself off and also begin to dress. When we're both somewhat together he sits back down and we sit in the silence. It's not uncomfortable.

"We've shared something that I think will benefit our work together greatly." he says quietly.

I smile and nod. Slowly I gather my things and stand. He stands as well and we both head towards the door. Putting his hand on my shoulder he leans in and softly kisses my cheek.

"You can call me if you need to." he says.

I nod acknowledgement.

"Otherwise, I'll see you next week."

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Freedom

Since my sex life is somewhat limited and quiet these days, I was telling a friend that I didn't have much fodder for writing in my blog. He suggested I make things up to write about and I realized that that's essentially what I do when I report my fantasies here. When I confess what it is that makes me drip and throb and, ultimately, masturbate. And come.

Because, what are fantasies but made up stories we tell ourselves to get ourselves off? Sometimes they come true. Often they don't. Often, we don't really want them to. Because then what would we think of? Where would our minds roam?

I don't often think of real life events when I'm masturbating and fantasizing. Even things that have happened that are extremely exciting to me and that I want to have happen again. Even if it's something I previously fantasized about that has been made manifest. Once it's happened, it's out of my head and in the realm of reality.

I may, though, bring elements of that real experience into my fantasy and either elaborate on it or alter it to make it a new fantasy.

For instance, after He watched me masturbate, I began to fantasize about something similar, but with twists. Sometimes there are other people in the fantasy watching me. Sometimes there are toys involved, a vibrator in my cunt, a plug in my ass. Sometimes the things he says are different. Sometimes he isn't even He, but someone else entirely. (As I've alluded to before, I have a long standing therapist fantasy - someday I'll write it out.) So then, the reality becomes the fantasy, embellished upon.

What I'm getting at is the freedom we have, the fluidity that exists, in making our stories reality and making reality our stories. Plucking from our perverted minds all the deviant ways in which we think we'd like to be used or use. Some people, I'm sure, have vanilla fantasies, but of course that's not what I'm talking about here. I don't know that I've ever had a vanilla fantasy. Something that didn't involve some kind of kink, or perceived kink. Being watched while masturbating is, I'm sure to some, quite kinky. I think it's pretty mainstream, so I guess that's as close to vanilla as I get.

So, when my friend suggested I make something up to write for you I realized that, in effect, is mostly what I do. Yes, you've heard a bit about my real life adventures, but the majority of what is in this blog has come directly out of my head. The pictures I view with my eyes closed and my fingers on my clit.

I lay on my bed, legs spread in some position of accommodation, my right hand rubbing and pulling the wetness up from my seeping cunt, my left hand spreading my large, swollen lips to thoroughly expose my hard, needy clit. This is what you might see were you to happen upon me (and hopefully punish me for being such a naughty, dirty girl). What you don't see is the action that pushes me towards my climax. The story I'm telling myself, the movie I'm playing, in which I'm the protagonist. I'm the star to whom all manner of use, abuse, or exposure is being performed.

This is the freedom we have to bring ourselves pleasure. I can only hope as I relate my inner drama to you, that it brings you some measure of gratification, as well.

A Perfect Piece of Fiction

I'll tell you what's been getting me lately. And, by "getting me" I mean "getting me off".

First, though, let me say that I haven't had sex with another person in, oh I don't know, a month? Maybe a little more? So, I'm left to my own devices. And, by devices, I mean my fingers, generally, and sometimes a dildo. I'm not a fan of vibrators. I've used them, but find the sensation too extreme. After using them consistently for a while I become over-sensitive and it takes too much, and sometimes too long, to come. So, I eschew vibrators and rely on my good, old right hand. It's fabulous.

Anyway, in the hopes he doesn't mind my linking to his site, I want to share with you this fantasy that Roper from Confessions of an English Gentleman has so brilliantly developed and shared with us and what I've been coming back to over and over. And coming to over and over.

As in the fantasy, I picture myself in the lap of my lover, whoever he may be. I picture his hands on my thighs, holding them apart so that the stranger sitting between my legs has a perfect view of my mostly waxed, and very wet, cunt. I see the strangers fingers pushing up into me as my lover watches and makes me watch. I drip at the thought of a stranger, someone my lover has chosen, looking at me and touching me. And watching me as I spread myself for him and come completely open and exposed, while he ravishes my holes with his fingers.

A stranger. I am enamored with the idea of exposing myself, of opening myself, my cunt specifically, to a stranger. Of being seen by a man I don't know. Seen and appreciated. Seen and touched. Seen and instructed in what actions to take. Told to spread myself, to show myself, to masturbate, to come. By someone I don't know.

And yet, I also crave intimacy. Because I have no illusion that what I describe here, simply exposing myself to a strange man, is intimate. I have done it, more than once now, and I know this - it is vulnerable, it is sexual, certainly, and sensual, perhaps, and for me incredibly arousing. But, it is not intimate. There isn't closeness, except in physical proximity.

And that is what attracts me so to Ropers Fantasy No. 11. It combines both the trust and intimacy and ability to share something so private with someone I love and the debauchery of a stranger finger fucking me. It is, really, perfect.

Thank you, Roper. For, somehow, climbing into my head and pulling out such a perfect piece of fiction that I can ride on over and over.

Note: Obviously, I'm over my little moment of feeling supremely unsexy. Whew! As I seem to do with everything lately, I've decided to blame it on hormones. So nice to have a scapegoat.

Summertime Sabbatical

That's right. I'm off again for a long weekend. I have no spicy prose for you anyway, just now, so maybe it's the perfect time to slip away from the blog.

I will admit though (because I know you all want to hear about it and because I'm really dying to tell you) that I've been making like May and masturbating a bit. So, there you go. All is not lost.

Enjoy till next week when I return with tan lines extraordinaire.

Note to commenters: I monitor all comments, so if you post something be a little patient. I'll make sure to put it on the blog when I return.

A Night Out

I walked into the club on his arm and immediately noticed there wasn't loud, pounding music. It was soft and jazzy. Sexy. We walked over to the bar and he ordered us drinks. Looking around I saw people milling around, talking to one another, introducing each other, singles and couples alike. I noticed 3 people walk to the back and slip through a dark curtain. I wondered what was back there and imagined there was a VIP lounge.

As we sipped our drinks and chatted about the decor and how pretty the people were, a couple approached us. He seemed to know them. Not as good friends, but as people he'd seen before. We introduced ourselves and chatted about the crowd, the weather, etc. He and the man in the couple stepped aside for a moment and spoke quietly about something while she and I made small talk. When they returned the couple walked off and, following them with my eyes, I watched them walk through a curtain in the back of the room.

Turning to me he said, "I want you to masturbate for those people. They want to watch you." I looked at him for a moment, not knowing what to say. He had said things about taking me to a club and making me masturbate for a crowd, but I didn't realize it was anything more than fantasy used to make us both hot. He waited patiently while I integrated this information. I panicked, for sure, but also realized I was excited, and not a little, at the thought of that couple watching me.

I picked up my drink, took a big swallow, and said okay.

"Good girl", he said. Smiling, he led me through the bar to the curtain and through it we went.

We came into a corridor off of which there were rooms without doors. Instead of doors the entryways had either beads or strips of sheer curtain material so that everything within the rooms could be seen from the hallway. We walked slowly down the passage and looked into each room. There was something different in each one. Anything from a man and woman simply having sex, to a room seemingly crowded with people, some watching, some engaging in all variety of activity.

We came to a door in which "our" couple was waiting. The woman was sitting in her partners lap. He was clothed, but she had shed most of hers, except thigh highs and a push up bra out of which her nipples, hard and rather large, protruded. They looked up as we came in and both smiled.

My companion put his arm around my waist and gave me a little squeeze. I looked at him and felt a little bit reassured, but my stomach was turning somersaults. He walked me to the bed in the room and told me to take off my skirt and panties and shirt. I was left, then with only my bra. Once I'd removed these things he took the cups of my bra and pushed them underneath my tits so that they were bare and propped up. He grabbed a nipple and pinched and pulled it as he came close and whispered, "You're going to be a good little whore and masturbate for these people. They're going to watch you expose yourself and drip for them." As he hissed these indecencies into my ear, I nodded my ascent and became wetter and wetter. "Dirty fucking whore."

He indicated I was to get on the bed and kneel upright, with my legs spread. Standing beside the bed, with his arm around my waist and his mouth next to my ear he said, "Go ahead, slut. Spread your legs and touch yourself. Do it just the way you like it while these people watch you."

It was at that moment I realized what was really happening. Before I think I was in some kind of denial, or daze, but when he ordered me to masturbate, it all became clear and sharp. And I was suddenly terrified.

I looked over at the couple who had now turned to look at me, obviously expecting a show. She had her back to his chest and he, almost absent-mindedly, was playing with her pussy between her outspread legs.

"Do it", my escort hissed at me. "I know you're wet and want this. Just do it."

Reluctantly I moved my right hand down to my crotch and slowly began to touch my lips. I couldn't look at the couple as I did this, but fixed my gaze at a spot on the floor. Tentatively I put my fingers on my pussy, gently touching my lips and beginning to spread them apart. I moved my hand down a bit and pushed a finger within the swollen flesh and found myself to be so very wet, I gasped a bit. I was so humiliated at doing this, but my body belied my feelings of embarrassment.

Finding myself in this state aroused me even more and I began in earnest to rub myself. Pulling the wetness up to my clit, I began to circle what was becoming a hard nub of pleasure.

"Show off your pussy, slut. Spread yourself for these people. They want to see how wet you are. They want to see your pink slit."

As he instructed me to expose myself, he reached a hand over and began to pinch the nipple closest to him. And not gently. Pinching and pulling and digging his nails into my breast, he continued to issue instructions as to how I was to spread myself, to pull the lips apart, but to continue to masturbate. The pain spurred me to pleasure myself more, if only to counteract the degree to which my nipple hurt.

"Look at them. Look up at them. Watch them watch you, whore."

Through half-closed eyes, I watched as the man pushed his fingers into the woman’s cunt as she pushed her pelvis forward into his hand, moaning and arching her back to force his hand farther up into her. I could hear the squishing sound of her wetness. Both their eyes were glued to my hands as they spread my lips and rubbed my clit. Seeing their excitement, spurred me on even more.

As my left hand spread my lips wide, exposing all that hid within the folds of my large, dark labia, I sat back on my heels with my legs spread wide, and I imagined they could see up into me. My fingers flew over my clit and my excitement rose.

"They want to see you fuck yourself. With something big."

This last was said with a sadistic relish I had come to recognize and fear. I looked over and found in his hand maybe the biggest dildo I had ever seen. It was 10 inches long, if it was an inch, and the diameter I couldn't imagine, except that I had never seen anything like it. Covering it with a condom, extra-large I imagined, he handed it to me. Reluctantly I pulled my right hand away from my now dripping cunt and grabbed hold of this monster.

"Spread your legs wide, slut. Very, very wide, and push this cock into your cunt. Force it in, if you have to." Pause. "Or I will."

I put my bottom onto the bed and spread my legs wide, with my knees up and placed the head of the cock at the opening of my cunt. I was sure it wouldn't fit. It couldn't. I pushed the head with a small amount of pressure and it wouldn't budge.

"Harder. Push it in harder." He leaned over and with both hands on either side of my dripping hole, he pulled my cunt apart.

And I pushed. And, with a loud, painful, satisfying moan, the cock slipped into my cunt and slowly I pushed and pushed till it was in as far as I thought it could go.

"Mmmmmmmmmm. Good", he said, as he watched with lustful eyes as the dildo disappeared from view. "Now, fuck."

And fuck I did. I pulled it in and out and in and out, over and over, farther and farther. My legs spread of their own, my knees pushing up towards my chest as I reveled in the feeling of being so completely full. I became unaware, for a moment, of my surroundings and focused only on the intense sensations of being so full and so wet and the pleasure.

With my left hand I moved the cock in and out of my stretched hole and with my right I continued to rub my clit. Fucking and rubbing, that’s all I knew. I was full and the feeling of my fingers on my clit were exquisite. And then I remembered I was being watched. I opened my eyes and looked down between my legs and the three other people in the room were now standing around the bed, watching me and touching either themselves or each other. The sounds emitting from my throat, growls and moans, were involuntary and loud. The realization that they were intensely excited from watching me masturbate pushed me further into the haze.

And then two more people entered the room. Two men, one naked, one naked from the waist down. Both in various states of erection. My companion looked at them and moved over a bit to make room for them at the foot of the bed. And then he looked at me, and I at him, and he smiled that wicked smile. And I spread my legs wider and watched as one of the new men began to stroke his cock.

And that was it. Watching these strangers, real strangers, people neither of us knew even casually, watching them watch me masturbate in the most open and exposed way possible brought me to the edge. To the cliff. And I held it for a moment, knowing that the longer I could hold it, the harder the fall would be. When I knew if I held it longer it would be lost I let go and my entire body shook and shook and a scream came out of my mouth and the world was only this. I was slightly aware that my spectators also moaned and groaned as they watched me climax. And I found satisfaction in that.

As the shaking subsided and the glorious contractions ebbed, my legs slowly came down and moved onto the bed. He came to me and slowly pulled the dildo from my cunt. I closed my legs and curled up into his lap as he sat on the side of the bed. The men drifted from the room and the couple gave a little wave and left, as well. I just lay there, shaking, as he stroked my hair and whispered his praise to me.

“Next time,” he said, “they'll watch you suck my cock while you fuck yourself.”

Next time!

Move Away From the Toes

I've always had an aversion to having my toes sucked. Or licked. Or kissed. Or anywhere near the mouth of another. It's always struck me as, well, just gross.

In the summer I live in flip-flops and walk NYC streets. You do the math.

Rub my feet till they fall off, just keep your mouth to yourself.

He had asked me on the phone if I liked to have my toes licked and I said no. We talked about it for a bit anyway, and I still said no. But, this gave me a clue as to a) the turn on it was for him and b) his degree of persistence.

I was on another planet. I was on the planet of pleasure. My fingers were moving at the pace and with the pressure that only I can provide. My legs were on either side of him, the right near his head, the left lying across his chest, as he watched me, closely, massage my clit, then pull my lips apart for direct contact. I heard his moan of approval as the view became more revealing.

Meanwhile...I knew, vaguely, that he was rubbing the foot nearest to his head. I was somewhat conscious of his kissing the top of my foot, then pushing it into a flex position and kissing the bottom. But, I was stunningly aware when he pushed his tongue, gently, underneath my toes. Did he think I wouldn't notice his warm tongue on the bottom of my feet? I pulled my foot away with an "uh-uh", but he gently pulled it back towards him and continued to kiss the bottom and my toes. Occasionally darting a tongue in between two of them. I was so thoroughly excited from masturbating and his watching me that I knew I couldn't stop what was going to be inevitable, so I let go.

He sensed my surrender and began with diligence to push his tongue in between my toes. He pulled one, then another, of my small digits into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it. Sucking them into his mouth, so hot and wet. And I got more excited. I liked it.

When he pulled my big toe into his mouth with a groan of satisfaction and began to suck it like a small cock, I rose to the top. The feeling of his mouth on any part of my body was sublime. But, this was taboo. Maybe, even, the most taboo.

I've had a tongue in every orifice, I've had a cock rubbed over my face, I've had a finger or a toy or a cock in every hole, but I've never had my toes sucked on. He was smart (and sneaky?) to realize that I would only "allow" this if I was otherwise distracted. If I could pair what I thought was awful and unhygienic with pleasure that I couldn't stop. I'm not sure if he timed it to be so close to my orgasm that I wouldn't be able to protest too much, but if he did, the man is a sexual genius. And I liked it.

As his tongue invaded the space between my big toe and the second one, I became wetter and more excited. And closer to the edge. He sucked harder and my fingers became more focused on the goal. At the end, just before I came, his mouth moved away from my foot so that he could encourage me, entice me there, with his dirty words. And I felt, for a second, the loss. The absence of heat at my foot. But the storm overtook me and my naked toes became forgotten.

But not gone.

"You sucked on my toes!"

"Uh-huh", he replied with definite self-satisfaction.

"I liked it!", I said with incredulity.

"Hmmmm, yes, you seemed to", he said, again with a hint of amusement.

I liked it.

Greedy Eyes

In some situations, some very specific situations, I am truly an exhibitionist. Generally, I can be rather modest. He says I look like the girl next door and the only clue as to my true identity is an earring I have at the top of my ear. Even that, these days, isn't really a sign of anything untoward.

It all changes when someone wants to watch me masturbate. Something about being watched makes me crave exposure. And, not covertly. I throw off the cover and spread my legs if eyes are on me. If the person watching is watching for their pleasure, not because I want them to, I'll spread myself wider still.

And that's what was so perfect. So perfectly nasty. He wanted me to, no, he demanded I masturbate for him. He wanted to see how my finger rubbed my clit, in perfectly rhythmic circles. He wanted to see my lips, swollen and full with my intense excitement. He commanded me to open myself to him, to spread my full lips, without masturbating, but just open and exposed for him to see me. To look inside.

A stranger. A man I'd never met before. Watching me perform the most intimate act.

Lying between my splayed legs, he watched as I brought myself pleasure. Watched and stroked and whispered reminders of what a slut I was, a dirty whore. My breath became shallow, and then I held it. I held my breath in tight, spreading myself wider for him to see and for me to access directly my hard nub, my erection. He pushed a finger, no two, into my aching cunt and began to push on the spot he had found earlier. The spot that made me drip juice down the inside of my thigh. As he rubbed inside, and I out, his eyes on me, riveted to the image of us both working me into a frenzy, I peaked. I reached that spot, that edge where it all stops - sound, movement, time - for just a second and then it crashes, the sea into itself, throbbing ecstasy over and over. In my head, my mantra kept me there, brought me there, "Watch me, watch me, watch me."

In this way, I am an exhibitionist. A showman. A performer. I want it to be intense and moving and, above all, exciting. Erotically satisfying. When my audience and I are entwined in this act, and greedy eyes are gorging on the feast of my debauchery, I become, if possible, more swollen still.

Hi, my name is Eve and....

I'm a masturbation slut.

Phone Sex

"I'd like to watch you masturbate. Standing in front of me, with your legs spread. I'm sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you with your fingers in your cunt. Would you like that?"

"Oh my god, yes."

"mmmm...or on your hands and knees, one hand underneath you, rubbing your clit. My fingers pulling your lips apart, probing your wet pussy, maybe pushing a finger into your ass. How would that be? If I put a finger deep into your ass while you masturbated?"

"please, yes"

"What's that? Please?"

"Yes, please."

"Please what?"

"Please, put your fingers in my ass."

"You like that? You like to have something in your ass?"

"oh, yes. I do."

"Are you on your bed now with your legs spread?"

"Yes."

"Have you taken your pants and panties off?"

"Yes."

"Are you masturbating?"

"Yes, I am."

"Good girl."


I'm such a good girl. Dripping and plunging my fingers in and out of my cunt while this lovely man tells me how dirty I am. Pushes me in all the directions I want to go. Tells me about the spanking I get for being so slutty. Describes his cock driving into me with my legs around his neck while he pinches my nipples within an inch of their puckered lives. Relentlessly whispering naughtiness into my ear while my fingers dance over my clit, faster and harder. Frenzied. I come hard, for him.

We try for a moment to talk about other things, but before long we're both stroking again. He tells me how hard his cock is. How his hand strokes up and down, his damp, pre-cum covered hand.

"Would you like to watch me stroke my cock?"

"Yes. I like to watch."

"That turns you on?"

"mmmmm...."

"Would you like me to fuck your mouth? Push my cock deep into your throat with my hand in your hair?"

"please..."

"Masturbate while I fuck your mouth. I want you to touch yourself while you suck my cock."

He likes to watch. He says he makes all his lovers masturbate for him. I have no problem with this at all. In fact, this feels very compatible. Like a good fit. My hand on my pussy, his cock in my mouth.

I come again, for him. I'm such a good girl.

We meet on Sunday. Drinks and some dinner, then off to his house to play. He suggests that maybe, while we're in the restaurant, he would ask me to put a finger in my cunt and then push my finger into his mouth, so he could taste me. Other diners would see me put my finger in his mouth, he says.

"You would make me do that?"

"Oh yes."

We meet on Sunday.



Who needs alt when there's Match dot com?

Last Hoorah

Tomorrow is the last day of May. Hence, the last day of Merry Masturbation Month. I hope everyone has celebrated appropriately and often. There's so many variations on that theme, it's almost endless. The ways and means are as plentiful as there are people who do it (which is everyone, right?).

I thought in honor of the end of the holiday, I'd link to some of my favorite posts about masturbation (and by that I mean, the posts that make me touch myself) by some of my favorite bloggers. (Okay, and one of mine. A little shameless self-promotion.) This isn't by any means an exhaustive list, but these are the ones that have lingered in my mind.

Enjoy the posts and enjoy yourself. It's good for you.

Dirtyboy's invitation
Someday I'll be spying on him from the doorway. mmmmm....

AAG's Spread
Oh, to be on those stairs, waiting to pounce.

Gracie's Sharp Edge
Make me the fly on her wall.

Chapter 1 of a novella by Remittance Girl
You can't read just one.

Climb into my head

Happy Merry Masturbation Month

Apparantly, May is Merry Masturbation Month. I learned this from the lovely Shay at The S Spot. What fun!

April was National Poetry Month, so I tried to read a poem everyday. I didn't always succeed, but I was in the spirit of the thing. Just think of the possibilities for May! Makes me glad I work at home.

Maybe I should celebrate by buying a new toy? I've been thinking I need one of these to enhance my self-stimulation. I've never used one or had one used on me. Although the desire is there, the opportunity hasn't presented itself. I've had other things, both corporeal and silicone, inserted, to great affect, into my bottom, but not something with the intention of keeping it there. So, I think this is the perfect excuse to run out and buy one (or order one, whatever).

In any case, Happy Merry Masturbation to all! And to all a good cum!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go celebrate.

First Date

“Is that what you like? Spanking?”

“Yes”, she whispered across the table.

He leaned in closer.

“Do you like a hard spanking? Swats that leave a nice, red bottom?”

“Yes”, she whispered again. Her heart was beating fast and loud and she could feel the moisture gathering in her panties. She had been looking down at the table, trying to focus on the salt and pepper shakers. But now, she looked up and found his eyes on her. When their eyes met a little smile, a devious smile, crossed his face.

“Shall I pull you across my lap when I administer this punishment?”

She nodded.

“Hmmm…That pretty skirt you’re wearing up around your hips, your panties dangling from one ankle.” He paused for a moment, seeming to be in deep thought. “I love the sound of my hand meeting a bare bottom. That slap rings in my ears sometimes when I least expect it.”

She could tell he was becoming aroused. With a deep breath he awoke from his reverie and leaned back in his chair.

“Can I ask you to do something for me? I realize we’ve just met and don’t know each other, but I feel comfortable with you and I hope you feel the same.” He paused here for a response and she nodded her head. Still unable to verbalize what was happening inside her.

He leaned in again, slowly.

“Would you spread your legs for me? Here, under the table. That’s all, just spread your legs. I’m not going to touch you under the table or ask you to do anything else. I just want to know you’re exposed to me.”

With that and a gasp, a fresh gush of fluid poured out of her clenching cunt. She paused for a moment thinking, this is a little crazy. I don’t know this guy from go. But this is so fucking hot. I have to do this. It’s not going to hurt anything. I even still have my panties on. Curious he didn’t ask me to remove them. Maybe that’s a turn on for him. This is a total turn on for me. God…

So under the table, with slow intention, she spread her legs apart, almost as far as they could comfortably go. This pulled her short skirt up her thighs, leaving her clad sex exposed. Just this simple gesture produced a thrill in her that translated immediately into a throb between her legs. He obviously could tell she had done it, maybe by her motion or maybe by the look on her face. Her lids became heavy, her mouth formed into a small o and she pulled in a breath, almost unnoticeable. He smiled and they quietly sat staring at each other with the knowledge that they were both extremely turned on. She could tell she was pleasing him, that he was satisfied with the result of his request and with her willingness to comply. This only added to her increasing excitement.

And then the waiter arrived with dessert and coffee. She looked up at him to see if he could sense anything, could tell something was going on. His obvious indifference to, what seemed to her, the palpable sexual tension at the table, relieved her. She was grateful they were sitting at a booth with a table cloth.

They drank their coffees and ate dessert, a piece of chocolate cake they had decided to share and made chit-chat. He talked about his work, she listened and responded with questions. He asked her about her work, her colleagues, projects. All the while the both of them distracted by the knowledge that her legs were still spread apart.

He watched as each piece of cake entered her mouth as if he was studying her technique. Committing to memory the way her lips closed around the fork. Even this, just the way he watched her eat, added to the growing intensity of her excitement. She began to wonder if she could orgasm just sitting there. She so longed to touch herself, it was close to unbearable.

There was a lull in the conversation and before she even knew what she was saying she quietly blurted out, “I’d like to touch myself.” They both knew this was a request. She was asking permission to masturbate right here in this restaurant.

His eyebrows flew up in surprise and he chuckled. “Would you?”, he said with somewhat sardonic amusement. “Right here in this restaurant? You’re that excited by simply spreading your legs for me?”

“Yes, I am.”, she said with a blush, embarrassed at what felt like an admission of being ‘easy’.

“I’m almost inclined to say no. To make you wait. But just the idea that you would take the risk is very exciting. Yes, please, go ahead.”

Before he had even finished the sentence her hand was off the table and between her legs. She slipped two fingers underneath her panties and pulled in a breath at both the feeling of pressure on her clit and amazement at how wet she was. Quietly, she began to rub, making slow circles on her very hard nub. He watched her face and the pleasure that crossed it as her fingers began their work.

“You’re very wet, aren’t you?”

“Yes, very. Very.”

“Will you do as I tell you?”

She nodded, grateful for his guidance and participation.

“You’re rubbing your clit now, yes?”

Again, another nod. Her eyes were beginning to close with the pleasure and her breathing was quickening.

“Open your eyes”, he said sternly. “Look at me, eyes on me.”

“Slip a finger inside your cunt. Just one. Good. Pull it out and push it in again quickly. Fuck yourself for me.”

After a brief moment, “Now another finger. Two fingers in your cunt, for me.”

She plunged her fingers in and out, going as deep as she could reach and as fast as she could without being obvious in her movements or noisy. She knew she was on the edge of moaning and had to consciously prevent this which distracted her from her task, but also made her aware of the ‘danger’ of being caught.

He watched as a flush rose up her cheeks, her mouth slack and moist and her breath almost giving her away.

“Rub your clit, now. Imagine it’s my tongue,” he said, licking his lips obviously for a long moment so that she could see the tip.

“I’d like to crawl under this table, put my hands on your thighs and press my mouth hard up against your sopping wet pussy. Licking up all around your lips and your clit before plunging my long tongue into you. Deep into you, darting my tongue in and out before pulling out and focusing my attention on your clit. Flicking it lightly, then applying more pressure, just enough pressure to create the storm. Not faster, just a steady, quick rhythm and pressure, just as you’re doing now with your finger. So close, you are so close now…”

“Yes, yes”, she whispered, so close. Almost at the edge, then at the edge, the brink, the precipice that lasts for longer than a second before falling over into the whirlpool of throbbing, dripping ecstasy.

She let out a cry, louder than she wanted, but only the one, then released the rest of this blinding orgasm in only breath and a few small moans from her throat.

“Good, good”, he cooed at her. Pleased and encouraging. “So beautiful.”

As the sweet spasms slowed and her awareness of where she was returned she began, with some difficulty, to compose herself, pulling her right hand up to the table and smoothing her skirt down with the left. She hoped there wasn’t too much of a puddle on the seat or mark on the back of her skirt.

He reached over and took her hand into his two hands, wanting to feel the wetness from her cunt, wanting to smell her and know her scent. He pulled her hand up to his face and after a deep breath, taking in her aroma, he kissed her fingers, unobtrusively flicking his tongue to get a taste of her juice. Knowing his own release was not far away, standing up from this table would not be easily achieved.

In silence they smiled at one another, feeling connected to each other in their shared secret. She wondered if maybe this was the start of something. Obviously, they were on a very similar page.

And then the waiter came to the table. She thought, oh my God, he MUST smell that! This table reeks of sex! But, without any sign of recognition or shock, he blithely asked if they wanted anything else and left the check.

They looked at one another and burst out laughing. If they had pulled this off in public…

Yes, this was the beginning of something good.

A Summers Day

This is a story I wrote a long time ago and had forgotten about until recently.

Its summer and I’ve been working in the garden. Pulling weeds, taking the ripe peas off the vines, watering the broccoli so it doesn’t bolt and planting marigolds by the tomatoes to keep the pests away. It’s almost noon and getting too hot to work. Back inside I have a long drink of iced tea and take a long, tepid shower, trying to cool off.

Once out of the shower I lie down for a rest on my bed wearing just a white tank top and panties. The sun is streaming in and a slight breeze is rippling the sheer curtains. My mind wanders to the last time I had a nap on a hot, summer day. My hands begin to move, almost on their own, to my breasts and I squeeze both nipples, not gently, until I gasp at the pain, less than I can take, but as much as I can give myself.

A breeze brushes by my legs and it makes me aware of how damp the crotch of my panties are. My hand moves to my thigh and my fingers slip under the blue cotton and, as always, I’m amazed at how wet I am. My fingers slide up and down the cleft of my sex, I slip a finger in, then out and up to my clit, which is hard and poking out from under the hood. I pull my panties off, spread my legs wide and begin to pay much needed attention to my wet and swollen pussy.

As I rub my clit and squeeze my nipples, I'm so involved in what I'm doing I don't realize that my roommate, Claire, has walked into the doorway and has been watching me. When I realize she's there, I gasp, half sit up and stop. I pull my hand away from my crotch and close my legs. She moves slowly into the room, her eyes moving from my face to my somewhat concealed pussy. She comes towards me and tells me not to stop.

I’m slow, somehow, to realize she wants to watch me until I notice that her eyes are half closed and that her nipples, under her blue tank top, are hard. She continues to walk towards me and I slowly spread my legs apart again and move my hand back to my waiting cunt. I begin again to move my finger over my clit in slow, tentative circles. She sits on the edge of the bed between my spread thighs, her eyes riveted to the movement. Watching Claire watch me makes me more excited than I could have imagined. Excited and nervous, my attentions to my clit become more focused. I press a little harder, sometimes moving my finger down to my opening to pull up to my clit the needed wetness.

She puts her hands on my thighs, spreading my legs wider and I gasp at her touch. Almost involuntarily I plunge two fingers deep into me as her eyes greedily watch me fill myself. Then, she begins to tell me what a bad girl I am.

“You are obviously enjoying me watching you. What a slut you are. Masturbating for me, giving me this show.”

As she speaks my need becomes fevered.

“You like me to spread your legs apart, don’t you? Helping you to pleasure yourself.” She spreads my legs wider still, pushing them up and back towards my chest.

Claire’s breathing is ragged, her voice deep with desire and lust.

“Get on your knees, slut. Let me see you from behind.” She pulls her hands away and watches as I roll over and get on my knees, pushing my ass up into the air. I put my hand underneath me and continue to masturbate.

And then comes the first smack. First on my right cheek, then the left. Then more short, hard smacks on my ass as I continue to rub myself. I'm moaning and whimpering from the pain of her spanking and the pleasure of my touch. I’m overwhelmed as she punishes me for what I’m doing, but commands me to keep doing it.

“Stop.”, she says suddenly. I almost can’t believe it, but she says it again. “Stop touching yourself. Now!” I pull my hand away quickly.

“Stay right there, just like that. Don’t move, don’t touch yourself.”

She gets up and leaves the room and I watch her retreating back panting, feeling as if my pussy will explode from how swollen and full it is. She returns and I see in her hands she has a huge dildo. Flesh colored and lifelike, she rubs it in her hands. She sits beside me on the bed, smiling as she shows me the toy she’s brought back with her.

“Would you like this in your cunt, slut? Would this fill up that whore pussy of yours?”

Unable to answer with words, I simply moan at the thought of it. I watch as she sucks the cock, pushing it deep into the back of her throat over and over. Then she comes around behind me. I can feel the head of it at the opening to my cunt and without much effort because I’m that wet and open, she pushes it deep inside me. I scream out from the sheer width of it spreading me apart. Slowly, Claire slides the cock in and out of me, fucking me, filling me. I move my hand back down to between my legs and rub my clit as I get fucked with this dildo.

“That’s right. Let me see you masturbate while I fuck you. Let me see you take your pleasure like the dirty slut you are.” Quickly, she plunges the cock in and out of me, as I continue to masturbate. Harder and faster she pushes it inside, fucking me as I rub my clit frantically.

“Harder”, I beg, “Please…”

“You want it harder, you want me to split you apart with this cock, don’t you?”, she says with a little laugh. She pushes it in now so hard I scream and am so close to coming my legs begin to shake.

And she begins to spank me again. She slaps my ass hard, leaving a sting after each. Finally, with the dildo in my pussy, my fingers on my clit and a last, hard smack on my ass, I’m awash with the contractions of an orgasm so strong tears are in my eyes and my legs give out beneath me. My body shakes and my breath comes fast for what feels like a long time.

With the dildo out of me Claire comes and lies beside me, her hand gently rubbing my undoubtedly red, and very sore cheeks. Tenderly, she pushes the hair from my sweaty face, as my breathing begins to go back to normal and my body sags into the bed from exhaustion.

“Good girl,” she says, “You’re a good girl.”

Lingerie

"I want you to take the panties you wear tomorrow and put them in an envelope and mail them to me. I wanna see the envelope, I get hard just thinking about it, opening it up and feeling those panties of yours, smelling them and stroking myself while holding them."

Sunday I wear my best panties. My favorites. Black silk that are almost boy shorts, but ride up my ass, cut up the side of my hips. I start the day at the gym - exercise, sauna, shower. I'm freshly waxed and feeling clean. I pull the panties on and find I'm immediately excited. Thinking of him holding them, feeling them, rubbing them against himself. I'm in the ladies locker room and put a hold on these thoughts while I continue to dress. My day includes my regular Sunday brunch with Kathy, some shopping and drinks later with Sandy and Paul.

On the subway my mind wanders to his words. How the envelope, just by knowing what's in it, holding it in his hands before it's even open, will excite him. The anticipation of what's to come is much of the pleasure. My eyes are closed as the subway rocks through the tunnel and I wonder if I'm flushed.

Lunch with Kathy is fun, distracting. We talk of her new relationship and upcoming trip to California. All the while, in the back of my mind, are the panties. I excuse myself to the Ladies and as I sit and pee, I look at the cotton crotch against the black silk and I see it's a bit stained with white and damp. I smile knowing how pleased he'll be.

Kathy and I go our separate ways and I'm off to the lingerie store. If I'm to send him these, my favorite pair, I have to buy some more (especially since I wonder if this will be a frequent request - I'll need backup). I wander through the store, touching the undergarments, silk and lace, holding them up, imagining them on me, him pulling them off, down around my thighs and ankles. Pushing them to his face, surrounding his hard cock with them, rubbing the damp spot up and down his shaft. I take a deep breath and carry on with my shopping, a definite smile on my face. I pick out a few pair, similar to what I'm about to give away, make my purchase and leave the store.

I have some time before meeting Sandy and Paul for drinks, so I stop at a cafe and get a coffee and read a magazine. But my mind can't focus on the article. All my attention is focused on my cunt. The tingling, the tightening and involuntary pulse and throb. Before I leave the cafe I stop in the ladies room. I spread my legs over the open toilet and with my right hand begin to rub my clit in concentric circles. My left hand pulls the panties to the side, but only slightly. Enough for access, but pushing the crotch of the panties slightly into my cunt. I rub them up and down my wet, swollen slit. I want to cover them in my juice for him.

I don't let myself come. I pull myself up short from that satisfaction so that I can stay wet throughout the rest of the day.

Drinks with Paul and Sandy and then off home. Again, my mind wanders on the subway and I find I'm impatient now. Over heated, crossing my legs and clenching my thighs, I'm longing to come.

I walk in the door to my apartment and call him. After we chat about our day, he asks me about my panties. Which ones did I choose to wear today? Did I think about him at all? I did! What was I thinking? About his cock, I say. About him rubbing his cock with my panties. I tell him how I've been hot all day, wet and dripping a bit. I tell him how I pushed the crotch of his panties into my slit. I tell him I want to come on them for him.

He directs me to the bedroom, to remove my pants and to sit on the bed, legs to the side of my thighs, thighs spread. "Rub your clit through the panties. With your other hand spread your lips apart and as you rub, push the material as far into your cunt as you can. Make them wet." I do as he says with urgency, I'm that close to my release.

He knows this, can hear it in my breath and the involuntary moans and begins to describe for me his plans for my black silk.

"Once I have the envelope in my hand I hold it up to my face and smell. I want to know if I can smell your scent through the package. Slowly, I open the flap and turn it upside down and let the silk slide into my hands like sand. Both hands feel them, imagining them as still warm from your body. And then I pull them up to my nose and breath deeply in and there it is. The smell of your excitement, your arousal, your juices. My cock is so hard now, I pull it out of my pants and wrap my shaft with the soft folds of your intimates. Finding the crotch, seeing how covered it is with your now dried come, I place that over the head of my cock and push. I push my cock into your panties."

Before he can describe the completion of his fantasy, I'm wildly rubbing my clit through the silk, practically fucking myself with material, bouncing my ass up and down and moaning. The image of him stroking with my panties is too much and I explode, and explode and explode. On my knees now, gravity does it's work and I pour onto the crotch of what I know will be his object.

When I'm done, and I'm calm, lying down and the shaking has subsided I hear him on the phone saying reassuring, sweet things. Helping me to come down, as if I'm wrapped up in him. He tells me to make sure to send them first thing in the morning and we hang up.

I get up and take off my panties. At my desk I pull out a manila envelope and, with hands still slightly shaking, I address it and then slip the contents in and seal the flap.