fifteen small words

"You love getting fucked hard, you slut."

"I like being a good girl for you".

My Best Friend

She said "Let's not talk about this, its making me horny"

We went to the bathroom together. We did what girls do. Each turning away politely. I stood with my back to the door and I thought, what would be the harm in it? We are who we are. It wont make things weird.

We kissed and touched and groped. I stroked between her legs and she was so wet. I was wet too. I'd fuck her if she'd let me.

North and South

It's been a while since I'd gone down on you. Months in fact, though I still remember how to please you and how easily pleased you are.

It was nice to catch up. I forgot how much you make me smile and how much we have in common. Humour as dry as a bone. Your soft blue eyes and your dark hair and how small I feel next to you.

We chatted a bit, then I sat across your lap. It was familiar, we kissed, your hands digging in my hair. I relaxed.

We moved to your bedroom, fucked on your bed. You seemed to enjoy it. I did as well. It doesn't take me places but it's a pleasant enough drive. Scenic. You bent my legs into various positions, snapped at the knee like a doll.

I could almost imagine you missed this.

The Photo Guy

We'd flirted all night, we'd gone home to a friends. We were curled up on the sofa together in the dark and I was touching him.

I whispered in his ear "I'm going to slide your cock into my mouth and suck and swallow and choke. I'm going to rack up the spit at let it run down my jaw. Im going to choke on you and then I'm going to fuck you".

I could hear him breathing hard. I ran my tongue along the hot flesh of his neck. Kissed him softly. He said "Come on then. Come upstairs" I hesitated, then I followed him. We locked ourselves into the box of a bathroom. He pressed me against the door. We kissed hard. Lusting and needing. I got on my knees and I said "Pull down your jeans". His cock was so thick and hard. I wrapped my small hand around it, lowered my head and licked tentatively. Kissed, licked again, then sucked and swallowed. It was so filling and I was so wet. I pleased him and then I said again "I want to fuck you" and he said "Go on".

He slid down onto the floor and I kneeled across his lap. He guided himself into me and a sat slowly. Stretched and aching and happy. I rolled my hips and bucked and leaked my glistening white fluid all over his thighs.

He said "I want to fuck you from behind". He pushed me up. I leaned over the bath tub with my hands pressed against the tiled wall. He pushed into me. It ached deeply. He fucked me, smoothing his palms between my waist and hips, then moving them to my hair to pull. He slid his finger between my buttocks. I breathed desperately. I said to him "Please when you want to, come in my mouth, or across my face, or wherever you want". He tightened his grip in my hair and pushed harder.

When he finally let me taste him his flesh was burning hot. He came in my mouth, in an oozing tap of pleasure. I let it run out of my lips and down my chin. It tasted delicious.

We cleaned up and went back downstairs and curled up for a while, kissing and touching in the dark.

He said "I want to fuck you again" and I said "OK".

The Swimmer

He said "Would you like to come in?"

I hesitated. I went in. We talked a lot, about his degree, about movies, about music he liked and I didn't. We clicked. Equally embarrassingly nerdy.

He said "Let's get into bed and try and sleep".

I said I wasn't going to sleep. He kissed me. We kissed, then fooled around. He took off my top, but I couldn't, this time.

I said "I can't tonight, but i'll give you amazing head". He told me he was the 24th best swimmer in all of Britain, well when he was younger. I resent that I have never won a medal.

I lifted his shirt. I ran my fingers along his ribs. Tested the meat. Smooth and racked up. Bumped. Slick down to the hips. Beautiful taught skin, fed with muscle. Even and firm. It makes me shiver. I said "Take off your jeans".

He kept asking me what I want.

To please and oblige? I'd like to be the sort of girl you'd fantasize about.

I said "Is this what you want?".

I licked and sucked and spat. He thrust into my mouth and took pleasure in hearing me gag. Came across himself and my face (after I politely confirmed that he could). Even the sweetest boys are bad deep down.

The Blonde

I got dragged out on a night out that I wasn't really meant to go on but I was having fun anyway.

We ended up in a casino. Though I didn't understand the thrill. Why play a game that you might lose.

I was chatting to a guy, a nice man, a bit old for me, but harmless and lovely. He introduced me to his friend, younger and blonde. Pretty blue eyes like the sky over a corn field. I chatted to him, I asked him to roll me a cigarette, he did, I joked and he smiled.

Me and the blonde went outside, he told me I have beautiful eyes and a sexy voice, he told me he has a girlfriend. That sealed the deal. He said to me "Im going to take you home".

I said "Good".

He stretched me and filled me, he hurt me and scratched me. I bled. He pulled my hair, pinned my wrists, drove himself in to me and clasped my throat.

I sucked his cock choking it down, making my eyes run. He smeared the tears over my face and smacked me gently on the cheek.

"You're nasty" he said, (I don't think I am).

I said "Not nasty, enthusiastic" and he replied "Do you like sucking my cock?" to which I didn't respond.

He talked a lot, he made me talk, I purred into his ear like silk.

I said I have to go. He said "I need to get your number". So I gave it to him, but I don't expect a phone call.

It was a worthwhile one night stand.

The Boy - Prey

He hit her till the skin bubbled and the blood came up.

She lay flat on her yellow belly, nervous, spread like prey and open to the attack.

He was breathing hard now.

He jerked all over the injury. Cooled it with his white filth. Shot her down.

She brayed and twitched, like dying. Wet with a beating pulse.

Getting Hit

The lip and flesh in the cheek have split. Cut out like a gorge. Blood in the river. Blood is cells and plasma. It drips from the lips in a red seduction. In an act of commitment and complete submission. It says, "I would never tell you to stop".

The platelets are what form the dry cracks as it pools in the valley bellow the lips. Drips down the neck. Spit on the floor. It dries like paint. Like Matisse, a harmony in red.

She makes a soft sound, between a moan and a gurgle. The firm hand that caused the injury cups her cheek. Red is the colour of danger and passion. Like a snake in the grass.

She mumbles into the open hand. The skin is hot and veined. Flamed like a burning tree. Her eyes are water and the stream is subsiding, banks broken. Red is the colour of power, and riches and pain and anger. Red is the colour of blood.

Boy Friday #2

Number 9 was out, as was I. We hooked up, it seems to be routine now. I took him back to mine again. I need to stop doing this.

We fucked in my living room. I have carpet burns on my shins now. It was exciting, but it a shame he's not better at it. With him, I enjoy the emotion and the passion behind the act, but the act itself is never fulfilling for me. But he enjoys himself, and I enjoy that he does.

Evidently I must have some sort of feeling for him, or I wouldn't still persist with the mediocre sex. I like what comes after. When he raps his strong arm around me, pulls me close into his chest and kisses my forehead.

If I get any busier I may have to hire a PA.

Boy Friday

I slid between his legs and licked him to a climax. I watched him, lapped him as he softened and waited to be told what to do. He told me to wipe my face and left me perched on my knees, while he went to clean up. When he came back he began to run his fingers dully over me. I was too wet and too anticipant, too excited and squirming. I shivered. I begged

"Please go down on me"

He smacked me across the face.

"Don't tell me what to do"

He rolled me onto my stomach and rained my bottom with spanks. I drifted in and out, tripping on the knocks of pain and melting over them in my head.

He wouldn't fuck me, though I begged to be filled. He forced me open with a toy instead. Spread and eager I bucked myself to orgasm, dripping and oozing plainly in front of him. He berated me coldly.

We curled up together, kissed and napped a little.

An Irish Man And A Welsh Girl Went Into A Pub

I went for a drink with an Irish man today. He is argumentative and cocky, he is fun to play words with. I didn't want to talk to him, I wanted to fuck him, but circumstance didn't allow it and well, it was the first time I'd met him.

I watched him talk, he talked about the army, about his job now. He talked a lot about himself. I was fine with that.

I watched his eyes, looked at his dark hair, traced the muscles in his arms and his legs, as he changed position in his chair, gesturing and chatting about opinions.

When we parted he kissed me, soft them hard. I was a bit clumsy. I tend to be, but it was nice.

I think he's going to be fun in bed, I'm looking forward to finding out.

Friday 13th. Unlucky For Some?

As fate would have it, I met number 9. I asked if he was out and he was, came to my rescue as I was being followed by a creep through town after work. We seemed so surprised to see each other, even though we knew we would be.

He held me tight, wrapping his arms around me. He kissed my forehead softly. I looked up at him and smiled. His head was shaved, I scratched it up and he laughed and he didn't believe me when I said I really liked it. He stroked my fringe and informed me that I'd had a hair cut myself. I was not surprised to hear this, because I had indeed.

I asked what had happened and he said that he had had a lot of feelings for me and felt unsure as to what to do, so ballsed out like a real man, and just stopped talking. He thought our friendship had been too intense. I thought we were just fucking in his car?

I said not to worry. I told him I had been confused and he should have just said something.

"I mean of course I like you but its not the romance of the century".

We went for a drink, he dropped me lots of compliments and kissed me. I touched his hands, still firm and calloused. His arms were still muscular and his eyes still creased when he smiled and I was honest and I said I had missed him. He said he had missed me too.

So why do I do these things? Why do I decide the way to cap off what could be a return to sweetness or friendship left on good terms, by taking him home and fucking him.

Because that's what I know how to do, better than talk and feelings.

So that's what I did.

I asked did he want to come back with me for a bit. Of course he did. He said in the taxi,

"We can just lay together, I just want to lay down with you. We don't have to do anything"

"But maybe I want to?"

I crept into my home with him, I sat across his lap and we kissed and touched and fucked and it wasn't amazing sex, but it was such a relief. Tension poured out like blood, but there was a knot in the vein, a sadness, a lump in my throat and a hurt in the pit up my stomach. He couldn't feel them but I could.

We curled up after and I lay against his chest, breathed in his smell that I had missed more than anything and let him comfort me unknowingly. A few tears watered out. Slid down my nose. I sucked my thumb. I don't really know why I'm sad. I should be happy that he's back in my life, but part of me wonders for how long. A drunken fumble is not a promise made on the bible.

Am I being used? Or am I still the user and why am I upset?

I sent him a message after I put him in a taxi home. "That was fun. Don't be a stranger". He replied, but will that be the end of it? Should it be?

Shaun, I am sorry.

Number 9

You sort of slipped out of my life a while ago now and you never really told me why.

That usually doesn't bother me, but I still think about you from time to time, and it aches a little bit.

I probably actually quite liked you. Simple and imperfect and kind.

Love Thy Neighbor

I sometimes took my clothes off for the man who lived across from me.

I remember the day he moved in, with his wife.

Their room, with their martial bed, lay directly across from my own room, white with two desks.

I remember watching him move boxes, with the removal men. White lorry, brown paper, filled with tat. He wasn't all too beautiful, but his arms looked strong and his hair was dark and Jesus says love thy neighbor.

It started by accident. My curtains were open, I was undressing. Not thinking. I looked out the window and saw him looking back, and he was watching.

In all my godly modesty I chose to duck out of sight and when I arose, with my palm spread like clothes across my chest, he was gone.

You would think this was the end, a gracious unspoken apology penned by the act of it never happening again, but it did.

The next time it happened I did not duck, I fixed him with a stare, removed my hand from my chest and let him look at me. He gazed, mouth open, coveting.

I let the voyeur look and indulge in my flesh. God does say love thy neighbor?

And so it went on for a year or two, inconsequently we would accidently meet this way, sometimes I would make it so, sometimes it would just be coincidence.

I would watch him, watch me.

Sometimes he would do what men do to relieve a little pressure.

Sometimes I would encourage it.

He gazed adoring every time, eyes dark, lips gently parted.

And then one day he was gone.

I watched his strong arms move the same brown paper back into a lorry, same colour, different men.

I watched his wife draw the curtains and end the exchange. Shame.

Sunday

He licked her placidly and she lay on her back purring. They slotted together later, with her sat high on his thighs. She took to her knees without demand and he entertained her while she helped herself to a climax.

Some would say it was almost romantic, if he hadn't spoilt it by coming across her back.

The Toy

He bought her a toy, spun smooth and sculpted from glass.

They played with it together and it brought them both great pleasure.

She took it home and played with it alone.

She ran it on her skin. It was wet and softer than silk. It was harder than flesh.

It was harder than his flesh. It was ribbed and rubbled with twists.

It brought difficult and new pleasures, knotted with a good pain.

It filled and stretched her beautifully.

It was a good toy and she liked it very much.

fifteen small words

You smack me across the face, there is a trickle of blood, thick and red.

In The Olden Days

When this started it, it was about sex and power. You were vulnerable and needy and I could have twisted you into any shape I wanted.

We started this on the premiss that you wanted to fuck me because your dull wife wouldn't fuck you. So if you're sleeping with her again then the game has changed. You bent the rules and no one likes a cheater.

I hate the way you think about me and write about me like you are some beautiful distraction in my other wise dumb life. Sometimes I think you shouldn't flatter yourself so warmly. I am not riddled with problems, you are not a tonic. I am honest in who I am and what I am. I've never lied to you, but the same can't be said in return.

You have made me angry like coal and you're walking on thin ice now.

You shouldn't play games with me because I'll always win.

Please?

I would love you to fuck me right now.

I would love to have your cock in my mouth, your tongue on my lips, your hands on my neck.

I want you to grip this sorry flesh like you are ripping it apart. I want you to be inside me, and for us to feel connected in a sick insertion. I want blood and guts and sinew and bile and bared souls.

I want to moan in fear and pleasure. I want to ache deeply and be spread like a pack of cards

I need this. Fuck, I need this desperately.

I need it so much it makes me itch. Like a tape worm in my stomach it twists me up and feeds. Its a parasite absorbing all my common sense and feeling.

Your mouth, your hands, the sickness of our actions as I ride you like a toy, or you fuck me like a stranger. No talk, no grace, no politeness. Its hot and cold and empty.

I want to bruise and come and cry for you. I want to please you and I need to be pleased. So can we go to bed together soon? Thanks.

A Strange Pleasure

Kneeled on the floor she drags his piece of flesh around her mouth. He is stood, hard and twitching like a dying bug. A firm hand plants itself across her cheek and she takes him deeper in response. She is sorry, with a burnt face and streaming eyes. He smacks her again harder as she works to please him.

She slobbers all over him like a dog, choking and dragging up the thick dank spit from deep in her throat. His smell completely drowns her, the taste of the skin and the sight of his flesh and she longs to see that gush of ghostly fluid spread itself across her face, pink lips cancelled in a pearlescent spurt of power.    

"You're disgusting" he berates her coldly.

She gags plainly and is sorry for herself and her actions. 

"Get up" he commands and she does as she is told. 

She stands naked and considered, pale and trembling and glistening plainly with excitement. He stares at her, spreads her apart with his hand and probes at her. He pinches her and twists her. Runs his fingers between her legs and lifts them to his nose to smell. 

He pushes these fingers deftly into her mouth and she suckles on them like an animal. She takes all the taste and the pleasure and absorbs it and cleans away her mess. He calls her a good girl, he strokes her hair in satisfaction.

He moves to sit comfortably across some chair or other and demands her to lay across his lap, she complies reluctantly, laying the flat of her bare stomach across his thighs, breasts spilt down and hair licking the floor. Her toes touch the ground just and she lolls there like a broken toy. He reaches a hand beneath her and cups her breasts, squeezing them together, twisting the flesh like meat. She moans and is punished accordingly. He scratches her back with his fingers, a vast expanse or boned flesh to play with. He cuts out scrams, the length of the spine, with a corner of his nail. He runs his fingers to her bottom and pinches it, spreading her open. 

She is struggling. "Don't you dare make a noise". 

His fingers dip between her thighs, slipping through the molten core. From the tip of her pleasure to her cleft he strokes and she squirms and he is pleased in her discomfort but willingness to comply. 

"You should enjoy this" he informs her. "You don't deserve it". 

She feels she is a very lucky girl.

He holds the back of her neck firmly with his one hand and riddles her bottom with smacks and he runs his fingers over her, rubbing her fluid over her skin, slicking her. She is disgusting and oily and out of control. Scruffed like a pet she lies there obedient and needy.

"You disgusting little slut. Look how excited you are. This is pathetic". 

He hits her hard enough to bruise and make the blood rise.

He feels her chest stutter as she attempts to hold in a tear or a gasp. His hand reigns down hard again and her skin is littered with dots of blood, and almost splitting. He pulls at her hair and yanks her upright, her spine bent and knees buckling. 

"Stop crying"

She composes her face but cannot wipe up the stream that now rests in the dents at the side of her nose and drip over her lips. She takes another open hand to the face and sways. Her sob rattling like a target for another hit. She chokes on the snot and the salt running down the back of her throat. He watches her. Drops his grip on her hair and yanks her to the floor. She is as naked and pale as she was at the start though now smarted with red and crouched between his legs. 

He begins to pull himself as he watches her struggle to wipe the tears from her eyes.

"Stay the way you are slut. I want to look at you like this"

She looks up at him, mouth open, willing and wanting and desperate to be a part of the torture and entertainment. He jerks at his flesh, easing the tension. 

He asks her is she wants to taste and of course she does desperately... and he asks her if she thinks she should get to and she begs for it. He runs himself along her sodden poor face before pushing himself into her mouth. His cock thrusts between her lips and she laps at it in adoring compliance.  

It ends when he decides it ends. When he has had enough or her attempts to please. He draws himself back and deposits his fluid across her face. Like blanketing over a crime scene. She smiles and is grateful. Pleasured in her grim act of pleasing. He is content and empty and this is where it stops for now. 

Alone and Quick

He said to me, while he had his fingers running between my thighs, that I was a slave to getting off. He was probably right.

Today, I was on the bed, and my knees were bent and my thighs were splayed open. My fingers were pushed inside myself as deep as I could get them. I was rubbing, moaning, squirming, taking my body over the edge so that I could get off. I fucked myself with my hands, bitten down nails on little fingers. When I came I seized up, took all the feeling in and groaned into the quiet house. A quick, hard hit, that has me satisfied for now.

You In My Mouth

Smooth, silken, firm flesh, dragged around the sloshing mouth like a rat in the gutter. Hard and yielding. Twitching like a trapped nerve, absorbed in the gaping cavern. It waves like a branch and I long for it so much. Constantly fascinate by its pulsating form. Its warmth and its bulbous tip that leaks a creamy wretched mess from its spout in the moments of pleasure. I suck it soaking and clean and wet it and dry it again. I slobber on it like a dog. I choke on it, dragging out the thick, dank spit from deep in my sinus. I am tearful in my gratitude and my lust. Greedy and tasting and savoring. Pink lips 'Oh' like a song around this tool of giving pleasure and enticement. 

And there is a feeling of being at home, in my actions. 

Safe in the frequency and memory of past plays and familiarity. 

It is tradition and repetition, I have been here before.

The smell drowns the senses, the sight of the flesh, the taste of the skin. The mess I'm in now is satisfaction in vintage white. 

fifteen small words

"Please, please...  

Please touch me, please. Do you want me to beg?"

"You're already begging"

Paper

I am strewn across your bed like paper. Thin skin, ruled and lined by bone. I am laying flat. Lily white. Soft, plain and yielding. 

You bend me and shape me, like origami. I am folded down the middle and spread. 

I am pale and papery soft and you write all over me with your ink. Fluid drips across the silken skin, sweat and spit and foamed saliva, choked out.

You screw me into a ball. You dent me. I am creased like a card and crumbling. The paper waves and flutters. It changes shapes and size. Its milky cover strewn with dirty finger marks. 

I am a sheet of paper, tossed on the floor. Thin skin and blue veins. White blind eyes, an open mouth and a thank you note. 

Grim up North?

You're not a great lay. Foreplay isn't in your physical vocabulary. But you like to kiss and so do I. 

You make me feel so small, with your long limbs and your hands, the width of your shoulders, your bite. You make me feel little and pretty and you're easy to please and I think thats why I'm sleeping with you. You lack any sort of challenge but then again thats not what I enjoy. Where's the fight?

You taste nice though where you're rolling around my mouth. I like sitting across your lap and you licking my lip and you fuck me hard. Im not sure if this is a documentation or me attempting to convince myself that I'm having a good time?

A Monday With The Boy

He told me to go to his room and dress up and I did what I was told and then I lay down.

I was nervous with the anticipation of the moment. When he joined me I was shaking. He got into bed next to me and ran his hands dully over my body to check if I'd done as I had been told. I hope he was satisfied. We messed around, kissing a little, my teeth were chattering. 

"Roll over" he said and I did. 

I was on my stomach, knees bent a little, face down, when the first spank hit. I sighed hard, a few more came after and I was wet and smooth and released and thankful. He twisted me back round and rubbed the material of my pants between my legs. I was uncomfortable, the lace was sodden, he took pleasure in it. 

I got on my knees when he told me to, I crawled to the floor like a bad pet and I sucked and played like a puppy, his hands in my hair, his eyes on my bobbing chest. I took two smacks across the cheek for my pleasure, and I relished it. I wasn't allowed to taste his climax, he spread it across my chest like butter instead.

I was allowed to finish twice, that night, once with my own hands, once with his. He said to me "Be a good girl and come for me" and I was. I gushed my pleasure across his palm, swarming with feeling. He kissed my stomach. 

A Powerful Stranger

I talk to a man who is dominant, he is plain in his control and he likes to assert it. We say a lot of words. We discuss submitting and hurting. We imply all the terrible things that could happen to me if I were to ever misbehave in his presence, not that we will ever meet, and not that I ever would. I wish to please him constantly. I want to say what he wants to hear. He talks a good game and he wields a lot of power. It's very interesting to be a part of. I don't think I have ever longed to submit to someone who I didn't know, but this is somehow different and I would desperately like to feel his hand come down hard against me...

Another Drink For Old Times Sake

You were out on a man date with a horrid little creature who had a moustache. What was he thinking? What were you thinking? I was out with my work friends. We bumped into each other in a club, sort of accidently on purpose.

We got a little drunk... well I got very drunk so you must have been inebriated. 

I needed to use the bathroom so I took you with me for the walk. I dragged you into the toilets and undid your jeans. 

Your smell entices me. Its masculine and full and it breaths and radiates from you. I took you in my mouth plainly, sucked deep and wanting. I do this better than your wife could, I do it better than you would have ever contemplated it could be done. I played you for a while then put you away and we returned to the bar. 

Later that night I talked sharply with you. I expressed my wants and you said you couldn't give me them and that makes me wonder why we still pursue this. The vile little moustached man wouldn't go away. So I took us away. I sneaked us away. I walked out in the cold and couldn't forget myself, my head was busy, unfulfilled, so I filled my mouth with you instead.

I slid down the cold wall and perched between your legs, you thrust hard into my mouth and I did my best. I moaned a longing for pain at you and you smacked me across the cheek and I was surprised and entranced. You made me choke, you made me gag so hard, the violation was ribbed with anger, even though I had been a very good girl. I tasted your fluid as you shot it towards my throat, coating the roof of my mouth like a painter. I grasped my hand to my lips as you spilled out between them like blood. I gagged hard and enjoyed the moment. 

I give you so much power and pleasure. When we are together I give myself up to the situation completely. I would never play half a game with you, so what will you give me?

The Boy and The Park

You came down to see me just for a day. Its the first time you've done something like that in a long time. The sun was shining, we were finally tasting a little summer, so we decided to go to the park and have a picnic. 

I took you in the park. I lifted my dress and put your hand on my thigh. I wrapped my own around your groin and the bulge of your flesh. I sat on your lap and I rode you. Later you told me how much you liked me like that. Looking pretty in the sun.

There was no hurt today and no pain. There was no suffering. This was old school, like when we first started. Nobody choked, nobody cried but I came on your lap and then against your fingers.

A Firm Hand

My face rests in linen, my eyes are closed, my hair is run up the nape of my neck the start of a spine that runs the length of my back, white and flecked with beauty marks like a constellation. 

My belly is pushed hard on the bed and my bottom is raised. I present myself to you, legs bent at the knee and spread apart like a newspaper. You write all over me, trailing your fingers along the creamy papery skin. Soft and malleable. You pinch and stroke, looking at me scientifically, deciding where to experiment and penetrate. A hard smack comes down. A crack in the light. A dim punishment. My breath leaves me evenly, a long sigh. I push my bottom into your cupped hand, where the heat has begun and the fingerprints will be left. Twice more, short hard smacks, making my buttocks move, the skin tightens and the pulsing starts between my legs. 

You run your flat palms along my sides feeling the curve bend in then out like a timer. Your hands cup my breasts, hard nipples caught between your spread fingers, trapped and compressed. Back down and a further hit to quicken the heart and move the blood around the body. A smack again, a pinch and a smack. I am breathing hard now and I’m in pain and pleasured. My bottom is littered with palm lines. You spread me apart and I am ashamed. I am plump and glistening and full of fire and mercury. Dripping and oily and clenched. 

“That's disgusting”. 

You hold me gently to feel the quiver and need. I would desperately like you to touch me in all my shame and my glory, with my red bottom and my flinching muscles. You slick a finger between my lips running it from the tip of the pleasure right down to the cleft between my buttocks. You pause there, rubbing gently. I squirm, uncomfortable and fascinated. You smack down hard again. I am jolted and shocked. You smack side to side knocking my bottom with the palm and back of your hand, taking pleasure in the metronome effect. I am dripping from between my lips and from my eyes. A sob of relief and sodden degradation. You slick your fingers between my folds again. Rubbing at my lump and skin. Hands gripped at the flesh. Frantically twisting the knot of satisfaction. I moan guttural and needy into the dark. You smack me again. I moan, you smack, the repetition seems satisfyingly endless. Your fingers thrust into the dark as your thumb stimulates the awful Sodom place. I am confused and feel vile. 

”You’re enjoying that aren't you?”

A silence is left to provoke. A hard smack thunders on the bruised skin. 

”Answer me”

I cry, “Yes”. I would scream it if I had the strength. I love to be hurt by you, you release me and fill me with sensation. The electric sting of your hands courses through my veins like a ghost. You finger and rub and play me forcefully. You are flooding us both. Sensation and fluid and fantasy. I am numbed and I am wrong and I beg again for redemption. “Please hit me”.

The Body and The Blood

This journey is one you know well. You are an experienced traveller on this road, but the ride never gets old for me. 

There are check points, my neck, my chest, the great plain of my stomach, where you browse like the fawn amongst the lilies. This expanse of white flesh, prior to the oasis, holds so much anticipation. There is a delicacy to the event and there is worship along the pilgrimage, there is indulgence and violation in equal parts. Like the apple and serpent, I am desperate for you to taste and be taken and caught up in the pleasure and knowledge of the act and the creation of feeling.

It is hot down there, warm and swollen and fleshy, the skin raises either side, like a valley with a slithered core. You are reaching the land slowly, running your tongue and fingers the length of my body, trying not to race to the bottom of the pit, though its hard to resist. This is the area of your most interest, you dive between my thighs, duck into the darkness, head down and face to the floor. 

Your lips trace mine, flesh on flesh, your spit slipping wetly across me. I am winged and opened by a push of the tongue between the folds of my skin. You pull away gnawing at my thighs, brushing your nose against the mound of venus that peaks on top of the split in my legs. You run your tongue along the join where my thighs reach my pelvis, I am spread leg like a mannequin and you are painting with your mouth. You are always in control and you can give or take away instantly.

You split those lips with your tongue again, quickly, sufficiently. I make a sound. I am almost stung with the pleasure. Medically you stretch me apart with a hand, exposing my vulnerability. I am pulsing and swollen. I am fleshy and greedy and needing. You lap at me indulgently

It feel filled with light and radiance. There is a purity and a generosity to the event, but a motive to your actions. I lay on my back with my eyes closed, a hand scrubbing against your thick hair, and a feeling of fire under my skin. I am burning and alive and half away and perfect. 

Your tongue connects to the swollen throbbing flesh and fluid drips from me, pearlescent white pleasure running from a crack in the river bed. It appears to flow from everywhere. It makes us sodden. Your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are dark and you are pushing me towards a goal. I leak everywhere. I soak us like cotton and I moan and ache with my voice and my body

You take that smallest point of pleasure between your lips and you suck it gently and rub it against your mouth. I cannot resist moving. I rub myself into your face, suffocating you in my wet warmth and urgency. I am thrusting my hips towards you, I am purring extremities into the air and I am aching to be filled. Your fingers slip inside me and I am internally blessed and grateful. We are one flesh. Fingers dunked into the deepness and darkness you spread me open, rub me and thrust into me.  Fingers on that rough patch of nerves in the dark I am bucking and lifting and lost in my actions. Back arched and arms stretched like a deity I gyrate my hips and fuck your mouth. You are lapping greedily and dining on me. I am chasing my own feelings and I am engorged and leaking. 

I give myself to your limbs completely and we are sinning and I am in heaven. 

For The Boy And All His Fascinations

We’re kissing hard and the closeness of our bodies conjoins them in the dim light. A deformed mass of flesh and noise writhes together on this bed and a longing moans from the lips of the girl. She wants to please desperately and show she can be good and kind and needing, but more than anything she is desperate to taste him. 

He’s hard against his clothes, and against her leg, and bursting to be unwrapped. She slithers down his body and tucks her hair behind here ear. Pawing with a firm hand to his stomach, she raises his shirt and exposes the waistband of his jeans, dark denim against  soft skin and the brass flicker of a button. She begins to undress him, that tantalising dance of the fingers against the constraints of modesty and practicality, two layers of material eased away and he kicks them off his legs, like a child kicking in a pram. 

He is exposed now and her heart is beating hard in her throat. She is entranced like the charmer and the snake. She ducks her head, breathing him in deeply as she begins to kiss his thighs. Hair and flesh and that smell of sweetness and saltiness and male. She is kissing and gnawing and breathing and tasting the smell as she move to the soft mounds underneath him. So delicate and perfect and as soft as her lips or maybe softer she licks at them. Lapping like at water she lets out a moan. She is away and pleasured by this soft smooth flesh. These gentle mounds of sensitivity which quiver and breath on their own. 

She runs the tip of her tongue up the shaft of him. She is sliding and wetting and skating with her mouth on the flesh. She is getting wet and losing her mind in his smell and his skin. The peak of him is her destination but she can’t resist the suspense of waiting, of savouring and feeling him harden more. Fluid glistens at his tip like dew. Such sweetness and she is so hungry. She rests her lips at the tip, rubbing the fluid all across them, lapping and swallowing unintentionally and hoping for more, but none will come yet.

She cannot resist any longer and begins to swallow him greedily, pushing him deep into the back of her throat this wrong girl gags and chokes like she's gorged too much. She is dark in her closed eyes and she is gulping at him and suckling. She slides him in and out of her mouth and runs her tongue around. She is swallowing and begging with her eyes as she looks up in hope that he’ll say she's good. But his eyes are closed and his hand is on her head and he his holding her down and she is sucking him. She may not be good, but she's good at her job.

The soft congress between the lips and him is pure and greedy. She spits on him and sucks are him and lets her spit run all over his flesh. Wet lips thrash harder, hips arch and moans curl from his throat and hers as they both grab their pleasure by different means. She is sucking and beautiful, her eyes are wet and his lips are red and swollen. Her hand curls around his shaft and jerks up the flesh gently as she runs the sodden tip of him against her mouth for sustenance. Please more. She is begging with out talking.

She leaks her pleasure in the act between her legs. Squirming and wet she desperately wants to clock off and get fucked, but she continues to rub him and squeeze and suck and pleasure as best as she can. He moans, she hastens, he speaks...

The Northerner

Very tall, very dark hair, smiling, a little cynical, very dry. When I walk next to you I feel tiny. Your eyes are blue, your lips are soft, you love films, I love anyone who's passionate about something.

You took me to your flat, one of those 'new build' sorts, completely perfect and soulless. We chatted a little and you kissed me. I'm so glad because I was getting bored of my own voice. The kissing heated. Hot coal lips, sandy hands, rubbing like a wind through the dune, cutting a line, embraced in each other, grinding hard.

Your skin was so hot, you gripped my hair tightly, moving my head, twisting my neck, pulling me away and pushing me back. We fucked desperately swapping positions a few times, enjoying the rush. I opened my mouth to take you over the edge. You were satisfied but your nerves get the better of you. I wonder why you're cheating?

Two Nights And A Day

You took me so many times when I last saw you. Every way you wanted to, in every position we like. The sex was a relief. You dominated me plainly, with no airs and no fragmented feeling of misplaced guilt. Spanked, bitten and ridden. I was your doll. 

You pleasured me endlessly, with your tongue and your fingers and I was away and in ecstasy.

We lay spooned against each other and you pinched my flesh, telling me it was yours and I was yours and you could do what you wanted with me. There were no objections. 

I leaned across your lap on my knees, like an animal. You watched me, played with me, ran your fingers all between my clefts and lines and holes and dents and indulged us both. I am so vulnerable when I'm with you. I am completely myself and complete in myself.

I don't know how sorry I was to see you leave but you're gone now, back to where you live and I'm back on my own again just living.

The Boy and Me

You do me like no one else could. You make me leave myself. When you are pleasing me I am outside who I am, and better than anything I could think about. I want to please you desperately. I would do anything for you. We kiss, softly and roughly with short breath and an aching between the legs. I unbotton your clothes, grasping for the muscle and lolling it in my palm. I want to taste you. You deny me the satisfaction of you in my mouth. The release, the choking, the spit and the smell. I am losing my head.  You allow me and I lap you up. 

We swap later, I am the worm trapped in the pleasure. I am so entranced. I have gone beyond. 

These Old Bones

I don't know why I ended up back at your house again. 

I think the more this goes on the less I care.

We fucked. You did more this time. Fingers in my hair, bending me around, letting me bend you. Bodies and brains interchanged with focus and sensation.

You made me orgasm. With a warm rush, my body completely gave itself up to yours and I shook like a rattle. You seemed a little freaked out, or maybe thats me reading you wrong.

We made you the same of course. Legs weakened and eyes wide, as I talked to you.  Lips curled against the flesh, yearning and soft. I like to be on my knees for you. Truly I do.

I had a crisis of faith in your living room, as I looked around at this place, this poor family life, strewn like the toys on the floor. But then again, I'm not the one doing the bad thing. Or am I? 

If you're Francis Fire Fly then I'm Cocky-Roach and you know what they say... you should never play with matches, because thats how fires start.

About & For The Boy

“Go to our room and take off your clothes” he stared at his work, distracted while giving the demand. 

“Will you be long?” 

She wasn't graced with a reply. Getting up she went and did as was told. In the dimly lit room she ragged off the days clothes until all that was left was the pale mass of herself. She got into their bed and lay still and quiet and waiting. He joined her presently, though not soon enough for her wait to have been comfortable. He stood above her in the room, casting a shadow. “Show me yourself” he said. She was reluctant. 

He repeated “Show me your skin”. 

She moved the covers away from her chin revealing her chest, pale and trembling in the cold and the anticipation. He pulled the covers away to reveal the rest of her, nude and still and vulnerable. He looked her up and down and watched her. Running his palm flatly across her stomach and thighs, he began to pinch and grip her skin like meat. She arched her back raising her chest towards him, he ran his fingers over her nipples, pinching each in turn. She looked and was scared and enthralled, 

“Hang your head off the bed” he said. 

She twisted her body so her feet were to the wall and her head lolled painfully against the cold hard bed side. She stared up at what she could see of him and felt faint, she closed her eyes, 

Hearing him unzip his jeans, she opened her mouth expectantly. He moved towards her, resting his thighs behind her head. She was breathing in his scent and she longed to please him and feel him in her mouth. He ran himself against her lips, while she lapped with her wet tongue gently. 

“Please” she said. 

“Beg” he replied. 

“Please can I. Please let me taste you. Please, please”. 

He slid himself slowly into her mouth, filling her until she choked. Her moans cut a palpable tension, her tongue attempted feverish tastes. He was swollen and she was swallowing his flesh as greedily as she dared.

He began to slide himself in and out. 

“Open your legs” he said “Let me look at you”. 

She put her feet together and spread her thighs as flat to the bed as she could, exposing herself. 

“Are you wet?” he enquired, she moaned her reply against his moving body. “Touch yourself” 

Her fingers slid to their familiar place quickly, she rubbed and rolled them and the pleasure rushed through here. 

“Good girl” he prompted. 

He watched her, his stare was steely, following her fingers like pointers as she brought herself closer to a climax. She began to lose herself a little and slid her fingers lower, intending to enter them between the wet pooling folds. A hard smack came down across her cheek. 

“I didn’t say that you were allowed”  he whispered sharply. 

She moaned and felt guilt and pain and want and sorry. She choked a sorry as best as she could. He pulled himself from her mouth and ran himself across her flushed face. Hard flesh on soft skin. She kissed and licked at him desperately. “Can I?.. Please?” 

“Fine” 

She rubbed hard at herself again, swollen and wet and wanting to be taken. He played himself against her lips, throbbing against their comforting wetness. She opened her mouth, he slid back in, hard and fast, pushing himself into her uncontrolled. Her eyes whelled with water and her head span a little and the space between her legs pulsed and burned and begged to be fucked. She choked and gasped and sucked desperately. He pulled himself from her mouth again 

“Ask” he demanded.

”Please, Please fuck me, please”

He spat out his words “You are vile. Ask again”

“Please I need it, I want to feel you. Please” her voice shook. 

“Get on your knees”

A Pet.

I am a dog on my knees. I am a dog. I am black eyed, red skinned, I am yelping and I am a dog. You take me deeply, what an earthly pleasure, a pinch and a grip of the flesh, and a malformation of your god given bone. Fist in the fur. I am a dog who likes to be on all fours, who likes to be fucked and pushed to her belly in the mud of the moment. I bite into myself, into my hand as I am ridden and have gone beyond. The burn between my legs and the slow hard pulse. The primitive position and the dim light. You have dogged determination. You thrust. Flesh growls and I am weakened and pleased. Fist in the fur. I am a dog. 

The Provider

I needed a hit or a fix. The same old pattern. It’s like picking a scab. We were barely in your car five minutes, you pulled into a quiet lane in the darkness. I don’t remember what you said to me, other than that you wanted to touch my body. I got between your legs. You ripped at my hair, with your fist. I sat on your lap and I slid you in and out. 

I saw my reflection in the rear window, pale and dark eyed. A ghost of a girl about to blow into the wind. 

9

We sit in your car in the dark, watching the sea, content in the silence of each other, kissing so softly, though I can feel you getting hard. You move my hand up your thigh to touch you. I do, but I think you know that it’s not going to play out like that. I am away now, soothed by the warmth of your lips as you run your hands against my neck. They are firm and calloused from your job. They are reassuring. The sort of hands that could hold back a flood. There is a tenderness to the moment.

Older But No Wiser

Why did you bring me here, to your house? Why do you have children? I hate you for lying. But the truth hurts more than the betrayal would have. I had to cry, because I was frustrated. I’m a bad person. But I don’t want to hurt anybody. Maybe at the back of my mind I’d known all along. But thinking and hearing are two different things, and why did you bring me here? I’ll have sex with you because I’m not sure what else to do. Its easy. It’s my get out of jail for free card. If I’m making you happy I can forget how unhappy I am right now.  

A dumb, horrid, wretch gets on her knees. Because that's where its better to be. Eyes closed and choking. A black mass riddled with panic, but its too late to go back now, so I forget myself and enjoy it. 

It works because you let me do what I want, you let me sit on your lap and rock away like a chair with a loose leg. You don’t demand me, you just enjoy me. All the sensation I give you, a plausible passing fantasy, who sits against your pelvis like a poor postured rider, indulging herself on the muscle and bone. 

You are very sweet of course. A product of a poor past, but content in the way that age brings that kind of beaten down satisfaction with ones self. I like your ribs, your thighs, the tight tendons in your neck, your shivering skin. You don’t know what you like. Has no one ever asked? I lay on my back. Stretched and aching, the muscles tight in my thighs. You felt big between my legs and you came as a purred softly into the darkness that you were hurting me. 

Number 9 - Doctor's Orders

Number nine, doctor’s orders. One hard sweet pill, swallowed down my throat, rubbed between my thighs. Mouths. Hands. A hard pulse ingested. Slid onto the back seat of your car. The way I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long now. Rising and falling, rocking and thrusting and those lips against my chest, the breath on my neck and the smell of your skin. Running my lips desperately against your bones. You came twice, once outside of me and once  in my mouth and I sucked and lapped at your sweet taste. So satisfying. 

The Older Man - Age Before Beauty

 “I haven’t been entirely truthful” a recurring theme, so it seems. You have a wife. Aslong as we don’t talk about her I don’t care. We went out and got drunk, and you got too drunk, because you are or were nervous, a little, atleast I think. We kissed, we fucked, lazily, inbetween talking and you watching me, enthrawled by who I am, or what I mean or how I came to be there. I don’t know if im flattered, but I like the power. I like the way I make you shivver, I like when you fuck me hard and for a while you lose yourself.  I can see the light dimming in your brain as you let go. It must be nice to forget yourself, in me. 

Number 9

Number nine, my regular attraction. You picked me up, we drove to the beach. The sky was getting grey and waves corroded the wet sand and dragged it back like ink. I dipped my toes in the water and you laughed at me, like I was the dumbest dog on the beach. 

We sat on the sand together and talked. That sort of flat talk that carries time quickly. You on your back, my head on your ribs, your arm curled around me. We lay there in the dark, listening to each other and the sea and kissing lazily in and out, like old hands. Thank you for cheering me up. 

A Repeat of Number 9

A repeat of number nine. You shuffled me around and took me from every way you wanted. I spent ages between your thighs. You are a lot of fun, but please stop cuddling me afterwards. 

Number ?

We clambered into the back of your car and I began to please you. We took off our clothes and then I sat on your lap. It hurt when you pushed inside me, you were big and filled me so tightly. I gasped and rocked against you, stretched and enthrawlled by the feeling. You didn’t make a sound. 

“I don’t make much noise I just do the faces” 

“Well I cant see your face its pitch black!”. You silly blonde corpse, you should talk more

The Older Man

I went on a date, with an ‘older man’, thirty three years is about as close to the grave as I get. Sweet and intelligent, we laughed for hours and you bought me a drink or two. At the end of the night we walked so that you could get a taxi. You didn’t kiss me then you left. I went to find friends and crossed you off the list and then you text me. “I’m so sorry, I haven’t been entirely truthful. I live with my ex. I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to take you home, but I couldnt. I am rubbish. I am sorry for being a sap and having no nerve”.

Whatever.  

Alone

I don’t want you to be here now. I just want you to want to be here. I want you to want me. My brain feels squeezed and my hand is curled between my legs as I torment myself. Needing to be wanted, to be filled and fulfilled and taken. The familiar curl of frantic fingers, lapping away at this wet bay. Hard and fast, crashing against the flesh. My eyes are shut so tight, the darkness is so dark its red, like seeing through the skin. 

Deep, crooked fingers rubbing to a rhythm, a tuneless bridge reaching towards the chorus. I’m not the brightest or prettiest thing so sometimes I have to be told. I want to be told that you want me, I want to be told that you want to fuck me, because I do you, desperately I do. 

Sensation vaults from the starting gate and clatters around these limbs. Like an echo or a rattle, that harsh strutting breath makes her way out with a soft sound. Throat cut across with a gasp and a flourish. Shaken legs and a warm rush of pleasure. I needed that, but its not what I wanted. 

Number 9

Sweet, young, cute boy, a little clumsy a little slower, but such brawny enthusiasm. We broke a bed slat and you covered me in bruises and I’m going to make you take me out later this week so I can fuck you in the back of your car. You’re going to really enjoy it, trust me.

The Time Waster

Everybody had moved out of the flat and I was alone with my old friend vino, so I did what any self respecting girl would do... 

”Sometimes it takes me a long time to finish” 

Yeah we’ll see about that... "Go brush your teeth and I’ll see you at half one” 

My time waster was sweet, tall and dull. He arrived in the dark and I opened the door.

”I’m at the top of all the stairs”

I followed him up, watching his bottom move in his jeans. My hands shook as I let him in to my flat. I was never supposed to bring you home. I was never supposed to bring anyone home. This is becoming more than a habit. His excitement seemed intense, he pawed at my clothes and kissed me hard, pinched my nipples painfully. I went down on him and sucked. He dug his hands into my hair and pushed my face. tears streamed to my eyes as his cock began to make me gag. Sucking, moaning, watery eyes. It feels good to be forced sometimes.  He lifted my head up and continued to kiss me, rolling me over and pushing his fingers inside me “Fuck me?” He didn’t need to be told twice. We began to... two minutes of thrusting and he was done. 

See that didn’t take long at all now did it?

The Musician

Oh no not butterflies. Those terrible awful bugs that crawl their way around your intestines like dressed up maggots. I always hoped there wasn’t going to be one like this. Connecting with someone on a physical level is one thing, on a mental level it becomes entirely different. The musician pushed me, he stimulated me, he told me I was quick and we batted jokes back and forth like tennis pros. He took me out in his car and we drove around for a while before going back to his. We spent the evening with his flatmates before they decided to go to bed. We smoked a little and had a few drinks and all I could think about was fucking him. Most of the time the tension is there but I’m the passenger. It felt good to be driving. He was so tall, dark soft hair, dark eyes, big hands with these silken twigs of fingers that I longed to feel inside me, every time I saw him lift his cigarette to his lips. I so desperately wanted to fuck him. Mentally and physically, his quick mind, my quick hands. I wanted to make his head roll. When he suggested we go up to bed, if I was the running type I would have leapt up the stairs. “Sure”. We lay on his bed, we kissed, it felt right. I went down on him and his dark eyes closed and his mouth opened. This is how I wanted him. I wanted to be the smarter one. I wanted one up on this boy. 

We fucked all night till the sunlight came in through the window and then we cuddled and kissed. He made me toast in the morning, we bitched about breakfast tv and he drove me home. I like you so much.  

Number 2 - Take 2

So I slept with shy boy again. We took a little mystery powder. He made me come this time and he seemed pleased. The drugs hit my hard and I felt like my heart would burst open my chest as he pushed into me. Sweat dripped from his neck onto my breasts and he thrust himself to an orgasm. It was pleasant. I always smoke when I’m with him, so I should probably stop seeing him.

The Dancer

The dancer wasn't a great talker and he seemed to have a lot on his mind. We’d chatted a little before we met up, went for  a drink in a bar which wasn’t great and the whole night felt like it was tumbling into failure. He seemed a tad uninterested, preoccupied. We walked home and stopped half way between our destinations 

“Are you coming with me?”

“I don’t mind”

“You’re so passive” 

“You’ll enjoy that”.

We entered his house creeping silently up to his attic room. Such an odd room, so much stuff. Junk, masks, show costumes, odd scraps of paper, photographs, the floor the walls, all littered with complete little oddities. I sat on his bed and drank some water while he looked at me expectantly. 

“Shall we take our clothes off?” 

“Maybe we should kiss first?” 

We began to kiss, our lips licking and touching and biting and feeling their way. Our clothes started to come off as my head slid between his legs. He gripped my hair and moved me like a doll. He thrust into my mouth. I closed my eyes and began to lose myself a little. His hand slid between my own legs as we moved about. 

Such sweet little bones he had. Bones jutting from his pelvis and his shoulders and his rocky little spine. So sinewy.

“Please fuck me” 

“Ask me again” 

“please... please”. 

He slipped on a condom and slid inside me. Good hard sex is the best kind of sex. He played around, bending and moving my legs, his hands on my neck, covering my mouth, digging into my wrists. I was in heaven. His thrusts were so hard and even. We played around like this for a while, before he pulled out and took his mouth down. I came like that. Legs crossed in the air and then he continued to fuck me. 

“Come on my face” 

A longing for humiliation spilled from my sore mouth and those dark begging eyes. His expression was somewhere between elated and aghast at the suggestion. He pulled out. I sucked him until he’d finished and let his fluid dribble over my cheeks, lips and neck. We curled up for a little while. I stroked his hair. He walked me home. My legs are numb. 

Number 3

My third was skinny with a mop of dark hair. He fucked  like he was banging at a door. His fingers, his cock, his tongue, desperately knocking, trying to reach a place they had no hope of getting. That soft dark hair that I ran my fingers through as I closed my eyes reminded me of spun silk and the way I use to play with my friends hair as a child, hers always long enough to plait while mine never was. His orgasm was short and sharp and we finished with him dragging his sodden erection across my breasts before slipping it into my mouth.

The only way to cheat is to not get caught and to convince yourself its not really cheating. I never bring them home. 

Number 2

My second was a sweet boy, terribly shy, terribly besotted with the idea of sleeping with a bad girl. He knew I was taken. We fucked slowly, him touching my chest like has hands held the softest scoops of pale vanilla, delicate little fingers and such unsure thrusts. 

“How does it feel?” 

I felt guilty. 

I cradled my own love in my arms after him. Darting back into the flat I swept him up and kissed him deeply. He fucked me like I love to be fucked, he touched me how I wanted, hard and fast with no delicacy and I came. My boyfriend gives me orgasms. My conquests are just food for thought. 

I cradled him that night, his scrubbed up head close to mine, his soft tired breathing warm against the pearly skin of a neck. 

I do love you but I’m not sorry. It gets easy very quickly.

When it first began

When I first began to sleep around the guilt never hit me. My first was a boy I’d crushed on. Lusted for, for months, but felt I never had a chance with. He slipped his fingers around my wrist in the dark corner of a grubby club, he leaned in and took my mouth. That kiss opened up my mind to the possibility of playing away. Fooling around and becoming the kind of girl that your mother warned you about. That stray kiss lingered hard, it hit me with an electricity that rattled around my feet and zipped up my calves to my thighs. “About time” I said and then we went to bed together.

I guess it's time

I guess its finally time to start talking this stuff out.

The first load of posts are back ground. They dates aren't what the dates are. You'll be playing catch up for a while.