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.