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.