24 hours with Chef Michael

Twenty four hours of bliss and pleasure. I have your brain wrapped around my finger. I can make you do what I want, but you make it seem like it's your idea anyway and that makes my cunt so wet and my brain fry.

I have come countless, effortless times. I am sore and bruised. Your body aches. I can barely think it all out in my head. All I can see is your stomach flex, the muscles in your thighs tighten. Twitch. Choking on your cock. Drooling. You pinch my mouth so hard my jaw aches.

Your fingers roughly inside me. Telling me I'm a dirty little slut, telling me to come. Spitting on me and god do I come. Relentless streams of effluence, coating, soaking, bucking desire and satisfaction. You release on my body, inside me. Over me, in me, whichever hole you like. However and whenever you want. You're getting the hang of this. I'm getting wet just thinking about it. It's hard to write. I want to touch myself. It's hard to write.

You hold so much intention and intensity. The way you grip my neck. We kiss and I smear drool off my chin, and we kiss again and I don't care. You spit on me, you bite me, you taste me and enjoy me.

You touch and stroke me, concentration blurs and all I can feel is that red hot throb. Pulse. Turned on, turned up, give me attention, give me more, stop, no never stop. Throb. Please don't stop. It's hard to write. I want to touch myself. I'm sore.

Please can this carry on? Please keep evolving. Become perfect. Make it seem like your idea. Make it a dream. Dripping on the wave. Intense. Beautiful, fingers in your hair, yours in mine, twisting, pulling, hurting. Hurt me, fuck just hurt me. Make it perfect. Scare me. Never stop. Push your body into mine and make it blend. Hit my face and my body and over power me and keep going and don't worry. Make me perfect. Palpable and desirable. Make me yours to play with. Make it happen.

Neil - Christmas gifts

You bought me a necklace for Christmas. A pretty serpent on a length of dainty chain. Snakes represent desire, sex and evil transformations.

I lay my head in your lap, later in the evening, drinking a shot of whiskey. The woody, sweet familiar taste. You stroked your fingers down my neck and over the silver. What you must think, I have no idea. Thankfully, I always think the same thing.

We go to bed. You know what I want. Sex, sodomy, stretched pleasures and pain. You stroke me until I'm dripping and begging for your cock.

You slide into my wet slit. You're ready and eager as always, that vacant, heady, intense state. I don't even have to touch you to make you hard. That makes me powerful. I am powerful and desirable and smut and filth.

I tell you that I want you to fuck my arse. It's sometimes like some porno. Easy access. A steady panning shot as you slather your cock in lubricant and deftly slide it into me.

I feel skin and muscle stretch. We groan in unison. It always feels like this. You start to fuck me hard. Grabbing at my hips in a good rhythm. Banging away at me. Mt necklace bobs on my chest. This won't last. It feels too good. I'm right and wronged. A quick tidy up.

A mutter at you in desperation, stretched out, in need of a resolution. In my good voice I say:

"Baby please fuck my arse, with your fingers, stretch me out, make me hurt. I want to feel your hands in both my holes. I want to come. Please carry on".

The thing I like about you Neil is you never need persuading. I begin to really open up to your hands which move and twist relentlessly. I gape, get wetter, groan, moan and mumble.

"I'm gonna come. Oh yes. Oh please. Oh fuck me harder".

My body responds to the onslaught of increased intensity. Your movements are violent, punching connections. Moan, moan, a heightened pitch, desperate little mewls and yelps. My holes contract. My cunt oozes and squirts all over your hands. A grotesque pink machine. Pumping and coming and bursting away. An organic transformation, my climax, your assistance. Smutty and filthy and hot.

The cyclist - quickly

Make me come. Quietly, quickly, don't let anyone hear us. Bury that head between my thighs. Touch, Pinch me, stroke me, charm me. Assume positions, backs curl. Even smooth thrusts. Make me come. Make us climax, do it quietly though. Buck and rub and so close and so there and far away a quiet gasp. Mutual and shared. Quietly, quickly, make me come again. Don't let anyone here us.

Chef Michael - another evening

You run your hand up and down my body. Smoothing over the curve of my hip and the cheek of my bottom. Calloused fingers sliding underneath the lace material. I can hear them scratching like birds feet.

I ask you what you're thinking about. You respond that you're thinking about whether I like what you're doing. You pause. Correct yourself.

"I'm thinking that you are enjoying what I'm doing".

I smile sheepishly, curling my back and pushing my bottom against your open hand.

We start to kiss. Gentle. Then not so. Bitten lips, tongues sucked and twisted and entangled. You push me onto my back and your hand finds my cunt and insistently begins to rub at me through my clothes. Rough and uncaring. The thin material soon becomes sodden.

You suck and gnaw at my breasts. Your hand slips underneath the covering and you begin to stroke me. Desperate, oozing hot and wet.

You kiss my neck and I thread my hands into your hair and tug it and pull you in closer and you ask me if I want you to lick my cunt, and what sort of question is that? I moan softly into your mouth as you push your lips against mine.

Your mouth on my cunt feels so good. You taunt me by gently slipping your fingers close to some point of penetration. I stroke your cock. Hard and eager. I beg you to fuck me. Repeated in my desperation. You oblige me eventually.

I'm on my back with my legs wrapped around your waist and you push deep and easy and it feels delicious. I ask you to spit on my fingers. I rest then against my lips and you drool on then and I push them into your mouth and then into mine. You moan. The visceral, it tweaks your brain, as it does mine. I feel your cock twitch and jolt inside me.

I use my to stroke and touch myself. You sit back, wrap a hand around my throat and fuck me hard. I choke and touch and build and it feels so good. It feels really damn good. I stare at you dark and wild, the ease with which you excite me. I hold your hip with my free hand. I whisper that you'll make me come, I beg you not to stop. I plead with you to fuck me harder. You listen and oblige. I come in an epic burst of froth and foam. Pull you into me And breathlessly enquire whether you want to come in my tight, wet, cunt.

You groan and screw me harder still. Buck buck, heat and release. I contract my muscles against you. You scrunch my hair in your hands and close your eyes and your face looks at once serene and anguished. Your breath is short as is mine. That definitely felt good. The feeling is mutual.

Sir Sunday

You tell me to sit across you. A self conscious sound. I drop my head shyly. Your response:

"Who's body is this? It's not your choice. Your body is mine and it's beautiful and I want to taste it. So get your fucking leg across my shoulder and stick that delicious cunt and arse in my face".

Well if you put it like that.

He licks and fingers my clean, tight bottom. It makes me squirt. He laughs and purrs.

"Dirty little bitch".

So wet, so excited. I beg him to fuck me and it's been so long. I choke on him, wet and drooling as he licks, pleasures and chastises my desire in a rhythm.

We come together. In the heat of the room. Unified in pleasure and inequality, in climax and intention.

He told me earlier that evening that I am the most precious thing, that he has ever owned. I think he probably means it. If he doesn't it at least sounds good.

The Cyclist's 15 small words.

On my back, legs up. You're fucking me so deep.

I bleed for days afterwards.

Chef Michael

You lean over me, the heat of your body, lips close entwined. Hair matted up and damp, faces touching. Cheek to cheek. I run my tongue along your neck, the sinew and the pulse and the jut of your bones, and the contrast to my soft and padded flesh. Its intense. The light is soft, evocative of some cheap french movie, where desire only comes in grande tailles.

Those sort of curves that women have. You run your lips against my décolletage, and your mouth finds my breasts and the sounds I make are sweet and breathless and desired.

I can feel how hard you are against my cunt and thighs, an insistent rub. It takes every ounce of will power not to grab at you and push you into me. The heat, the skin it would be bliss.

You taste me, devour me, appear to desire my pleasure. Your fingers stretch me out and its good. The first orgasm is easy and sweet and overdue. Yours follows. I take satisfaction in being taught to make it happen, how you want it to. You pull my hair, fuck my throat, moan as I spit on to your flesh, come in a burst of release, curled toes, you grip my skull. Fuck me, fuck my mouth.

We roll around in some post coital bliss, chatting about sex, philosophising, warm and safe. You stroke my body, some electric wave. I want more. Can I have more? Give me more. No need to ask really, c'est la vie.

You wrap your hand around my neck, a tight restricting hold and you use your other calloused thick fingers to roughly fuck and stretch me out. You twist, push around inside me, releasing white streams of fluid, pleasure, discomfort, strange sensation. My eyes are wide, voice aloud and intrigued. Im enjoying myself. The pain and the pleasure and the pressure of your hand and you're telling me to come, somewhere between a command and begging desire. I ache to come. You twist, push, fuck with your hand, faster, more aggressive, tweaking strands of internal muscle, until I burst.

Fracture, white out, le son de la mer, the smell of sweet ocean. Intoxicating fluid cascading from me, into your palm and down you wrist, female, volcanic. My voice echos in pleasure and pain and release. The room blurs.

You push me until I beg you to stop touching me, the smile on your face says it all really. I clutch at your arm, spent and unmoving, eyes wide and breathing. The intensity pulsing and swelling; my chest, my heart, my cunt, my neck, beat, beat. Its a wipe out. Fuck. I grin at you, wild and fragrant and somewhere near happy. You smile at me back, bon, tres bien.

Neil (Booty Call)

Have me over? Drink with me, smoke with me, fuck with me.

Dont ever so no to me. You never say no to me. I don't know why you'd ever say no. 

So have me over. Drink me, fuck me, inhale me, breath on me, taste me... 

...that flavour, a smokey ecstasy. Breath it in

When I'm with you you take me in all the places I desire and crave, you do it right. 

Deep, hard, uncaring. You do it right, right in every hole. 

You hold me when its all over, white and tasteful, naked, tender, you stroke my hair. Almost like love, not quite. Like a lover. Affection, that smoke. A fog of satisfaction. 

Neil again

We're in that club together. I want to fuck. I always want to. I suck you hard, even, nice. You lick me, god its pretty, its delicious. You're good and I tell you so. You take me on my knees. first my pussy, then between the cheeks of my bottom. I mewl, buck against you, it feels good. I wish I wasn't so drunk, because it could feel really good. I purr and moan and ask you if you like fucking me, you lean over me heavily, breath against the back in my neck, respond in a deep growl

"I love fucking you".

Mmm delicious music to my ears. We keep going, you come inside me, we freshen up. You touch me, tease me, torment my body, you know I'm desperate to come. You have your hands inside me, but you wont let me. I ask you, I beg you, you repeatedly tell me

"No".

 Tweak, stretch, touch to roughly, hurt, hurt, pleasure, pain, resistance.

"Please god just let me come. please".

"No".

 I want to hurt you.

The cellar

He tells me to pull up my dress and I lean over the bench in the cellar. I don't know what he's going to do. I don't think he knows. He tells me to spread my legs. Touch myself. I'm far to nervous to appreciate the sensation of my finger tips between  my legs. I can hear my shallow breath echoing around the stone room.

He steps towards me quickly, shoes on the stone floor, stands behind me, the presence of his body over mine makes my cunt twitch. He reaches forward and grips my neck. Strangling me. His hold is so tight. I can't breath. I start to panic. Really panic. I start to black out. He lets me go. I drop forward onto the bench. Struggling to stay up right. My legs feel like foam.

He steps back and laughs at me. He's talking to me. I have no idea what he's saying. I wish I could remember. I hear him pick up his wine glass and drink from it. He spanks me, a few times, just to keep me around. He pushes his fingers in between my legs.

He chastises me for not being particularly wet. I whimper piteously.
His hand finds my throat again. He pulls me into him and chokes me. I scrabble desperately at him. My grip starts to fail. He chucks me back down on the bench. I start to cry now. Burst into tears. Hyperventilate and sob. I start to think about running away. I wish I could. His fingers slide back between my thighs. He laughs at me.

"Better".

I shiver and shake and cry. Stroke, strangle, rinse, repeat. The room is a blur and I can barely stand. I hear him step back and tell me to pull my dress down. I feel like a stupid whore. Afraid and excited. Relieved its over. Sad it's over. He puts his jacket back on and walks up the stairs back to the party. My weak legs struggle to follow him but I do.

We smoke together in silence.

My neck is covered in deep red bruises, now. My legs and arms are grey with marks from gripping the bench. I'm wet now. Better.

The music producer

You kiss at me rabidly. Dart your tongue into my mouth. I tell you to stop that. I don't like it that way. You laugh at me but listen. There's hope in that fragment of information. You're playing with my hair and that feels exquisite, scratching my scalp, pulling your fingers through the soft blackness, stroking it away from my face, it's easy to ignore the indiscretion. It's easy to melt into the moment.

We go to bed together continue to kiss. I ask you to take off your jeans, your cock looks hard and heavy, it curves towards your stomach in an appealing arch. I slide it into my mouth. You mumble an expletive. Push your hips up. I think it must feel good. I hope it does.

I run my hand down your thigh, tight with woven muscle, your right leg is covered in a large grey tattoo, I glance over it as I'm pleasuring you. You're adorned in images of fire, anguish ghoulish faces, brutal clawed hands, swirls of smoke and brimstone. I smile to myself and choke on your cock.

We take off more clothes, my underwear, your t-shirt. Your body is fucking delicious, globes of muscle bulge from your upper arms and shoulders, wrapped in a layer of creamy soft skin. Your chest is taught, broad, smooth toned stomach, dips where your groin begins, I just want to touch you. I can sense how strong you are, they way you guide my head, holding firmly but without aggression, as I slide my mouth up and down your cock.

You slip your hand in between my legs and start to touch me. I'm wet and excited. I ask if you'll fuck me, on my knees, you happily oblige. You push in. Mmm, fuck that feels good. Your thrusts are hard and relentless. You keep pushing. You lean over and hold onto the back of my neck. You cram my face into the pillows. Mm yes please. You penetrate me like this until I come in an aching wet contraction. Moaning into the bed. A breathless raising pitch of ecstasy. We break momentarily. I lie on my back, catch my breath, grin at you, you push back inside me. This feels so good. I whisper that in you're ear, I run my tongue up your neck, I can taste sweat, I kiss your throat, big open mouthed kisses. You pin my hands to me sides, you're very strong, you don't break for a moment. You just keep fucking my pussy, spasms and wetness and pain as you push deep.

You lean back. Rap your hand around my throat and start to squeeze. I stare at you. My eyes flutter. I smile and moan. I can feel it starting to get hard to think, a wash of white, fade, fade and back. You loosen your grip. I gush and come against you and all over the bed.

"Sit on my lap".

I squat flat on my feet over your cock and push down.

"Fuck". You've sworn at me relentlessly throughout this process. It must feel good then. It seems good. At points you tell me not to stop. There's no whisper of humility in it, like when I beg for pleasure. It's a straight cold command.

"Don't stop".

I wouldn't. You hold my hips tightly, thrust into my hole, you're so strong, your arms, I hold them tightly and feel the muscles contract.

We switch again. I go back to sucking you. Deep, fast, choke, working with my hand as well. I can feel the tension in your body. The desire to come. I tease you. You jam your cock deep into my throat. Grip the back of my head.

"Don't fuck around".

My cunt vibrates in deep contraction. The way you talk to me, it's delicious.

You pull my head back, you tell me you're going to fuck me again, back on my knees, you do, a few more minutes of pleasure, but it's stopped being about me now, it's about you, your cock, your orgasm, my body is a vessel. My head is flying, tripping on its happy wave, my body pumps with blood and desire, red, the colour of control, emergency, make it happen.

You pull from me. Turn me around. I look at your eyes, dark and desperate and wild. The squeak of the bed an irritating distraction.

"Come here", I say.

I kneel on the floor, at the foot of the bed, you stand in front of me, you get the picture, jerking your cock aggressively jamming it between my lips and down my throat, I act as a canvas, a glass to fill, to cover, spill all over. I open my mouth, look up at you, green doe eyes, darkly lashed. Come for me.

You cover me, splatter all over my mouth, my chin, my chest and stomach, strings and ribbons of finale. A pretty come shot. I grip your thigh. Your muscles are tight and twisted, ragged breath, you feel so good underneath my palm, so strong, so in control.

Saturday evening

I go and sit on his knee. He's at his desk. I ask if we can go upstairs and have a little fun. He says we can. I am excited.

We go to bed. Undress. We kiss each other in that soft and tentative way we do. Ribbons of caged desire strung out between my lips and his. He is smiling, happy, relaxed, he strokes my body, from the curve of my bottom, up over my hip, dip to the waist, almost to the curve of my breast. He stops before the sweetest spot, repeats the process in a monotonous build up of pleasure.

I'm devouring him, heavy breath, please give me release, please give me more. He strokes his fingers over the creamy soft flesh of my chest, over my nipples, lifts his head to take one in his mouth, suck and pull, it's exquisite, a make those little mewling noises, gasps. I can feel the wetness begin to lubricate and over take and coat everything. The foreplay is timeless, he just goes on and on. It scares me when he's nice like this. It excites and gratifies me.

I ask if I can take him in my mouth he says I can. I start to suck him in effortless rhythm. We are in time, in tune, it sounds good, his hand reaches between my legs. I am dripping wet. Easy to arouse. I beg for him. I want to feel him fuck me so badly.

I ask him if it feels good as he slides between my legs.

"Of course".

I climax quickly and then we carry on, bucking, I come again. I'm breathless, as is he. Moisture dripping from our skin. I whisper.

"What can I do? Let me give to you. What do you want. Anything".

I curl into him. He to me. He tells me to enjoy the feeling, catch my breath. Our bodies are wet and happy. Sweat, sex and satisfaction.

The cyclist again

I still dont know if I find you that attractive. I don't really like your body, but I like your touch and the way you fuck me. You smile is wicked, you make me laugh. I love your enthusiasm and you are so sweet to me. I think thats probably enough?

You touch and stroke my body, by the time you slide my clothes off I'm dripping wet. You delicately play with me, take direction wisely and lick me and that feels so good.

You fuck me hard, my body relents with several orgasms, good hard climaxes, I gush all over the bed.

We break and I suck you, its hard to make you come but I don't resent it. Its alright. You stroke me while Im sucking you. Its distracting is a good way. You ask to fuck me again. I say of course. We finally come together. Me on my knees, you curled against my back like an animal, its very satisfying, its very nice.

You have to go, no problem, dude, I'll see you soon. Its probably enough?

Burn

Im on all fours by his desk. He's inserted the vibrating plug into my cunt. he's intermittently touching me, when the mood takes him. I am soaking wet. My knickers are around my ankles, my body vibrates, my chest heaves every time he stroke mes. Its getting hard to stay still.

I hear you get up, come back upstairs, I hear you light up as well and then I feel a scorching burn between the cheeks of my buttocks. I squeal. I assume you've burnt me with a cigarette. It feels that way. I cant work out what you've done. Oh, you've covered me in chilli sauce, some scotch bonnet potion, don't normal people start with tabasco? No normal people don't do this.

Hes laughing at my squeals, poking me, he makes me get up and go upstairs. Walking is agony. He makes me get on my knees, probes my arse with his finger tip. It makes me squeak again and cry. He removes the plug from my cunt, it's dripping, tries to slide it into my bottom. I find it hard to let him. Its a battle. He wins in the end.

He starts to fuck me. God it hurts, chilli has dripped down and my whole groin feels ablaze. A hot horrid heat. I come quickly. We carry on and break.

Then plug out, he's going to fuck my arse. I hate him. For gods sake, why? He slides in easily and begins to screw me long and slow. It burns badly. It fades out. The fuck is endless, we go on and on, I come for him again despite the pain and protestation. I don't know how long we're together for. I know I'm spotlessly clean, twitching, burning, alive for him. He comments later that watching my little hole twitch, flicks his sick and sordid switches.

I know it must feel good, the noises he makes, his gaze is completely vacant. I can feel him popping against the muscle. I know he's close. He releases inside me and its almost cooling. What a horrible thought.

We collapses together on the bed. I take him in my mouth, he tastes like chilli, how bizarre, how divine, he's sweating and spent. Im exhausted and I still burn. It takes hours to fade away, but theres no real damage.

The Good Dad

I've got my head tipped over the side of your bed, your repeatedly jamming your cock down my throat. I cant move, you're thick and I can barely breath. This just got interesting.

It took me a while to warm up, I don't like how you kiss or touch, but you're spoiling me with something phallic and its generous and thats good enough and its easy to come.

We sleep together. You make me a coffee in the morning and some toast. You cut it into small pieces like I'm a little girl. That doesn't bother me. It makes me feel safe.

The cyclist - head

I want to make you make some noises, I want it to feel good. I pull out all the tricks. You fuck my throat, twist my hair in your hands, I lick and jerk and suck hard, you like it hard, a tight grip. I make you come in a breathless tight gasp. Your body is tense and brittle. My intentions are rewarded. You seem happy. You pull me in close to you, wrap your arm around me. You seem happy. Good.

The guitar player

Drunken visceral sex, you fuck me and its sore, I can't remember your name, you've told it to me several times, but I can't remember it.

The things you do to me feel good, but you're a little much, too eager, to affectionate, it makes my skin crawl. It makes me want to leave an carry on drinking.

You do make me climax, big and bursting, wet. I don't particularly worry about making you come. I don't particularly care.

Sir - contentment

I cook him a beautiful dinner, fresh, vibrant, full of big tastes. I Fix his drink, light his cigarettes.

I patter around our house in my lingerie. Black lace, straps of satin, nylon stockings, smoothing, accentuating, a sculpture in desire. 

I want to be perfect to him, a feast for his senses and desires. 

He stretches out on the sofa and plays old albums. Leonard Cohen, folky love songs. I sit on the floor at his feet. 

I rest my head on his lap. He strokes my soft dark hair and sings along to the music. 

He looks so content. So happy.  He's  warm and relaxed. I've made him this way. Good slave, good girl. 

Neil

We're in your flat, drinking whiskey. Kissing, smoking, bubbling energy, we fuck, too drunk to do it right. We fall asleep together. 

The morning comes. I'm up, awake, the sun is shining through the thin curtains. I can taste sweet woodiness in my mouth, my head throbs. I can feel you hard, pushing against me. Nudge nudge. Maybe in a minute. I rub my eyes, get up, go get myself a glass of water. Still a little cut. I get back into bed with you. 

We're pretty comfortable around each other, we've always had a spark, now you're not with her anymore, we can fuck how we want, just straight sex. I think your heart is breaking just a bit, I know you miss her. A warm woman's body is what you need to hold. I'm willing skin. I like you and I like attention. 

You're affection, good with your hands, you're stroking my body. I take you in my mouth. I'm wet. Take me instead? You fuck me really hard, you've got one of those cock's that just finds the sweet spot. You make me come so easily, you orgasm as well. 

We spend most of the day in bed together, touching, talking, kissing. You start to slowly tease and tweak my breasts. This sort of thing I like. This eager build up.  I need to fuck around again. I can feel myself wet and wanting. You trail your hand down my stomach, run it over my thighs. Lean in to kiss me, I push against your mouth in desperate desire. You pull back, taunt and tease. Your fingers find the space. I need to come so badly. You push the digits into me. Yes. Please. Stretch me. You keep bringing me up, holding me there, that point, stopping, kissing me, taunting me. 

My frustration oozes from my pours,  a bead of sweat drips down my neck. I'm hot. Im flushed. I'm flustered.

"Please for god's sake let me come. Please don't make me beg you". 

You smile at me. Slide your fingers back into my flesh. Thrust,  push, fuck me with your hand. I gush, squirt, come, climax, whatever you want to call it and fuck its good, brain wiping. You go to remove your fingers, I yelp a piteous...

 "No". 

It sounds like anguish. 

You reinsert them quickly. Bang bang, thrust, twist, fuck, hold me there. The pleasure fractures like a sheet of glass. Sweet honey taste in my throat, breathing ragged. Spent out. 

You lay down next to me, put your hand on my ribs, stroke the white flesh over the bone, run it down my stomach, in a squirming gooey mess. You pull me in, kiss my soft and breathless mouth. Affection, sweet and faint, a ghost of an emotion that you had for someone else. A whisper of a near past. You stroke me, the smoothness of my skin. Tender and desirable. A woman's body, soft and warm and yielding. 

The cyclist - happy

I'm kneeling, taking him deep into my mouth, he's running his hands through my hair and twisting it in his fingers. I'm covered in drool. His palm trails down my back, over the curve of my bottom and he reaches between my legs. Wet, hot, aching to be touched. He rubs his fingers over me, wish washing back and forth. I'm away. Enjoying his flesh. Giving him pleasure, we fuck, I come quickly, it's good, a steady improvement in skill. 

I ask him if he'll let me make him come in my mouth. He gladly exhales a yes. Open, hot, wet mouth, firm strokes with my hand, urging him into ecstasy. Come for me. I owe you one, well no I owe you several. He's so hard, twitching, I hear his breath begin to stutter. White fluid, stroke and lick it all out. Yum. My mouth is covered, my lips are chalky. I lick them. Happy and satisfied. Happy, good. Are you happy? Good. 

(The Cyclist) A smile on your face

He's stroking my body, gently, softly, the way I like it.

He's trying to get me to tell him jokes. as he manipulates my nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Im struggling to string a sentence together, trying to tell some silly thing about a Rabbi and a Priest eating a sandwich. He thinks this is a very funny game, I usually mix it a little stronger but its certainly familiar, he's playing with a little power, teasing me... it's making me wet.

His touching is insistent, I unbutton my jeans, pull them down. His hand reaches between my legs and he begins to stroke me. I am dripping. He rubs and I start to spread out into that endless pool of pleasure. Expressions roll across my face like ripples in the water. Smiles, breathless pouts, a furrowed brow. Give me more.

He talks to me "I bet you can't tell me any jokes now".

I respond "I bet you can't tell me any either"

His thrusts and strokes become more insistent. I ask if he'll stretch me, push harder, I tell him that I like it when it hurts a little. He pauses then obliges me. He can sense the desperation. I mumble deafly.

"So, so wet, this feels so good".

He "mmms" at me.

"If you keep doing this I'll come for you"

Its a good incentive. He thrusts, I buck and touch and do my best to keep as quiet as I can. The contractions hit and the pleasure follows, convulsing, aching, pulsing. I clench his fingers inside me, flush with colour, my hands shake.

My breath is gone, faltering, back, heavy. I beg him to stop. He yanks his fingers from me and I gush onto the bed. Lay still. Still still. I pull his hand to my lips and lick his fingers clean. Stroke them across my mouth and down my neck, briefly hold them.

He has to go. Fair enough.

"Thank you"

"No problem. I wanted to put a smile on your face".

Mei

He runs his thumb up the bridge of my nose, over my brow and down the side of my cheek. He smiles at me, pulls me towards him. He rests his forehead gently against mine, i catch his eye, look down, he lifts me, begins to trace his lips across mine, so softly. A kiss, gentle and tentative. 

His thumb slides down the side of my neck, we continue to kiss, and he coils his fingers around my throat. He pushes me backwards. Quickly. Pins me to the wall. He starts to kiss me raggedly. More aggression. My cheek is pushed flat to the wall. He gnaws at my neck, runs his tongue up and down its white pulsing expanse, he pushes the flat of his palm against my collar bone and squeezes tightly. I can feel my pulse against his fingers. His grip is strong. Arousing and unsettling. 

He finds my lips. Kisses more, again and again. I am breathing raggedly, my cunt aches and pulses. He pulls at my clothes, I was dressed to leave. Not anymore. He yanks down my top, my underwear, exposes my breasts, pale and stark. He takes a nipple in his mouth, sucks hard, bites. 

I am getting wet, I am off in my own half conscious world of pleasure, he has the power, he controls the air. Keep it that way, keep choking me, make me melt. I moan into his mouth as he brings his lips back up to mine. 

He lets go of my neck and I draw in a heavy breath, my legs feel weak and worthless. I smirk at him. 

Where are we? 

What are we doing?

Do I want more than this?

Do you?  

I tell him I should go, work, early, I rearrange my clothes. He doesn't try to stop me. Why doesn't he try to stop me? We reach the front door and kiss again, softly now. The passion flickers like an ember. I want to stay, whats stopping me? I break the kiss, look up at him, touch his cheek, and watch him watching me. I say goodbye and walk off into the night. 

The cyclist

We've been chatting for a while, dating almost. A lotta cups of coffee, stolen time, walks in the park. 

It makes me feel green, like a teenager, its fun. We kiss tentatively, you're a little clumsily. 

We finally got to fuck today.  I spent a long time sliding you in and out of my mouth. It's effortless and easy. You seem appreciative. At one point you grip my head and push me down onto your cock. Excitement flickers in my groin. This smells like potential. You don't hold me there for too long. 

When you touch me it's a little rough. I tell you to go easy. You do and then you lick me and its smooth and good. 

After a while I ask if you'll fuck me, you seem surprised I asked and oblige me. 

It lacks a little in skill but you're excited and it feels good enough and I come. 

After wards I'm lying next to you. You slide your hand between my legs and stroke me. It feels delicious. I close my eyes and enjoy it. I can feel you watching my face as you touch me. My eyes are closed, pleasure rippling across my expression. You must like creating happiness. You do it well.

You seem to like me. I didn't have time to give back as I had to get to work. You didn't seem to mind. I know you like me. I know you'll want me again. 

Thursday Evening

I'm on my knees, sucking him, as instructed, he is cruelly twisting the lips of my cunt, digging his nails into my flesh. Hurting me. Im covered in spit. Doing my best to keep calm and carry on. He twists and stretches and pinches. 

He decides to start pulling apart the cheeks of my bottom. He tries to jam his fingers into my dry little arse hole. He's splitting skin. Im bleeding. I squeak and bleat pitifully, my mouth full of cock and drool. I can feel him pulsing harder every time he causes me pain. He's a sick fuck. Its one of the many things I like about him. 

Hear it

He runs his tongue over my tight and puckered little hole. Slicks it over my cunt. I'm blushing scarlet against the crisp whiteness of the bed sheets. I still hate how good it feels. I'm dripping wet.

He gets up and opens the box, grabs something. I hear the crack of a bottle being uncapped. I feel oozing, oily lubricant pool in the cheeks of my bottom. I feel him start to work something inside me. Big. Sort of. A plug. I feel it pop past the muscle. I feel him push into my cunt. 

So wet. So wanting. Climax is eminent and allowed. My insides are sore and full, being abraded by his piercing and aggressive thrusts. It doesn't hurt enough. It should hurt more. 

He pulls the plug and pushes into my arse. Fuck yes. His pleasure is vocal and visceral. His thrusts are aggressive. I start to build up. I want to come again. He isn't going to let me. He releases deep inside me and I push back and fuck until he's sated. He flops next to me on the bed. 

He breaths deeply. He's still hard. He speaks to me calmly. "Make yourself come again. I want to hear it".

A letter

I desperately want to keep loving you and be the person you want me to be. 

I want us to build a life together, to have dreams and aspirations about silly but lovely things. 

I want to feel that you want to share your life with me and that I am not a transient time waster.

I want to feel a level of importance, reflective of the time and effort that I put in to making us work. At the same time, I don't want any other partner you have to feel worthless, secondary or second best. I think it's appropriate for you to entertain their feelings and acknowledge their needs, because people are people and I understand that. But I value the care taking of my own needs above theirs, I probably want you to do that too. 

I don't want the power to veto other relationships you have but I want to feel like you listen to me, respect me and respect my opinion. 

I don't always feel that way. 

I don't want to feel insecure or worthless. I want to feel loved. I want to feel there is a future and we will spend it together, no matter who else comes or goes. 

When I get anxious I get defensive. I fluctuate between being your slave and self preservation. Please don't criticise me for this. It isn't on purpose. It's because I'm afraid. 

I don't know which part of our relationship polyamory falls into. I don't know which girl is meant to deal with it, because the problem is the sides feel rather differently. Slave says yes, girl says I'm not so sure. 

I feel like the two sides get played off each other, you do it to me and I do it to myself. 

I can't be faster, I can't be more efficient at processing my anxiety. I'm not sorry for that. I don't see why I have to be. I am good and I am trying and if you cannot see that then you probably don't know me very well, or at the very least are blinded by your own desires and will. 

Please treat me positively. Please do not select the parts of my anxiety that irritate you and make me feel like I'm not trying hard enough or doing well enough, and beat me over the head with them. Please ignore my failings and celebrate my achievements. 

Understand that they are anxieties and not my intention. Please realise how hard I am trying to shift from a lifetime of failed monogamy, cheating and insecurity. Please make me feel like I can achieve it, treat me like I can, respect my opinion and need to communicate, regardless to whether the communication has rational or value to you. It has immense value to me.  

I need to feel that I have space to talk or not talk, succeed and fail. I need to know that you will love me without conditions. I want to be the best person that I can be. Help me to make that happen. 

Sunday - good

He's sucking my nipples, sore and hard from the clamps. 

He licks my cunt, I am forever grateful, he sucks at the engorged bruised skin and bites it. I squeal like a little pig. He laughs at me. 

When we fuck its tight and swollen and bruising. It aches bad, he crams his flesh into me, thrusts and bucks and doesn't care. I don't care either. It feels good. 

Saturday - Why

My cunt is purple, bruised and swollen. The lips are engorged and painful. I can't cross my legs. My body aches. My lower back. Over stretched, over used, needy desperate whore. 

He laid me down and hurt me. Clamped nipples yanked, bottom stretched, cunt, pumped it into a puckered and contorted mess of flesh. 

I screamed, begged, shook, sweat. Clicked my fingers to try and distract myself from the agony.

He likes this sort of stuff, minimum effort, maximum impact. A yank or a pump evoking agony. Fucking my holes, no feeling, too much feeling. So many stupid feelings. Why am I doing this? 

Friday - plugged

Kneeling at his feet while he sits at his desk chair, I'm on all fours, both holes plugged, oozing. He stops what he's doing to stroke my cunt. 

Pleasure shoots through my body and makes my knees tremble. I'm all trussed up in black lace. Sad and desperate to look appealing. A vessel body. Just a bit of something, something. Just a bit more.

He stops to stroke me. 

It goes on and it goes on. I wish he'd take me upstairs, but it just goes on. My knees and hands are starting to shake. I can feel myself pulsing. Tight, twisted up muscles pushing down painfully. Small whimpers interject the silence and the click of keyboard keys. 

I hear his chair move. He tells me to get up, go upstairs, get on the bed. He removes the plug from my arse, replaces it with his flesh and begins to fuck me. Mmm the stretch, the pull of the flesh. The continuous rhythm of his body, pushing deeply into mine. That dull ache of feeling overly full. I ask him in breathless desperation if... well you know how it goes by now. 

Deep, aching, feeling like something make break, pop, rupture, so full, too full. I beg him to fuck me harder, he obliges, he climaxes, deep shuddering moans of satisfaction and release. I could have so easily come again. He flops next to me. Eyes closed. Body limp and relaxed. He mumbles to me. 

"Make yourself come again".

I oblige. I can feel that he's drifting off to sleep. Crippling, deep muscular pain and droplets of pleasure slosh around inside me. Black heat and twisted yelps. I look at him. His eyes and closed but his lips curl into a smile. 

Wednesday night

I am so clean. Perfectly clean. Soaking wet. Desperate for attention. 

I lean over his lap and he spanks me repeatedly. He dips his fingers into my cunt and my bottom and stretches them and fucks around with me. His other set of fingers find my mouth and he slides them down my throat, forcing me to gag, so he can feel my muscles clench. 

I know he gets a great amount of satisfaction from this sort of special sickness. 

He pulls out his fingers and makes me suck them clean. Strings of gooey,  clear pleasure, web between the digits. I stick out my little pink tongue and lick them away.

I want to go home. I want to go to bed. I want to fuck. 

When we do it's dreamlike. We're tired. He fucks my cunt.  He tells me I can't touch myself until he's hilted in my arse. Whatever you want. Anything you want. He slides in. Deep. Damp. He thrusts his hips and bucks and I touch and push back onto him. 

I talk in half gone whispers. 

"I'm such a desperate little anal slut. You fucking my arse makes my pussy so wet. It feels so good. What a monster you have made". 

I beg him to come for me. His thrusts increase. I'm close. I want it too. He says I can have it. His climax is deep. I harsh stuttering breath. We're trying to be quiet. Not disturb the people in the room above. I can feel his body shake and start to melt behind me. I climax with him. Those same intensely quiet gasps. I just want to moan. I can't. I bury my head in the pillow. We separate and lie together. Breathing steadily. I slide my hand underneath his. He links his fingers into mine. My brain is mush. I can hear myself whispering to him. I don't even know what I'm saying. Something messed up, I'm sure. Something dark, undoubtedly.

The Rugby Boy

You are strong and stocky, you make me feel delicate. Maybe some days I am?

Flirtation is budding quietly. I study your face, trying to make a call if I find you attractive. Trying to work out if I want to fuck you.

You pull me in for a kiss, not bad, not great, I run my hand up your thigh, your cock feels thick and hard, much better.

I tell you to take off your shorts, you're stroking my breasts through my tank top. I tell you I'm going to get on my knees and suck your cock. You're not going to stop me.

I take you in my mouth, thick, hard, fat, flesh, full of blood, full of come, mine right now, mine all mine. Im putting on a show, I can tell it feels good. I know what I'm doing here. I take off my top, I give you some eyes, I trail hot, wet spit all over you and gag as I pull you into my throat.

I like sucking cock, you're a good specimen. Im getting wet. I ask if you'll take me to bed and fuck me, you oblige. I pull down my jeans. You lay me down and get between my legs and give me some exquisite pleasure. Lips, tongue, fingers, pulling, plucking, thrusting, tasting.

"You've got such a wet pussy"

No shit sherlock, tell me something I don't know. I mean...Thats not what I said obviously.

I purr at him and tell him to fuck me, I tell him how hot and tight its going to feel, I tell him I want him to make me come.

The fuck, the weight of his body, he pushes down on my spine. My back curls. I feel like he could snap my bones, but that thought wouldn't cross his mind. His moving quickly, pushing deeply, the thrusts are heavy and painful and what I want and need and then I come, and he comes and its hot and all sort of over now.

He goes to clean up and I lie on the bed, draped over the covers, pink flushed skin, soaking hole, my heart beats hard, my breaths are even. He comes back into the room and grins at me. He tells me I look satisfied. Maybe I am? I doubt it.

You've done worse

He pushes into my tight, unstretched, dry arse. The skin burns around the punctured fucking wound. He begins to move his cock back and forth. Abandoned. Using me. I hold still and try to stifle my stupid bleating little sobs. There is no let up, there is no end.

"Please Sir cant we use some lubricant?"

He spits on me.

"Lube is a privilege not a fucking right."

I bite my lip. Stupid bitch.

He keeps fucking my hole until he gets bored and then he pulls out and lays on his back.

"Suck me"

"You're filthy though"

He grabs the back of my neck and shoves me down on his cock. His voice is full of poison and desire.

"You've done worse".

Saturday small talk

"We should add more blood to that rope."

"Yes. I'll stuff  it in your mouth and then punch you in the face."

I squirm. 

"Why do you say things like that?"

"Because it makes you wet."

Thursday 6.

We have been playing hard for hours. We're both flying. He's so high. We go to bed together. He leans over me. Kisses me. He says 

"I'm going hurt you a little more and then we're going to fuck"

Anything. The sex is so close I can almost taste it. I'm desperate. Take anything you want. He pinches my nipples and tells me to fetch the crop and a stiff leather flogger. Three then two. He tells me to get on my back and spread my legs and rains three harsh hits down with the flogger onto my cunt. It's like being repeatedly burnt with the tips of lit cigarettes. A scalding itchy pain. He then tells me to get on my knees on the rug and put my head on the floor. 

I crouch down. Arse up. Thwack with the crop. I scream and curl up. A nasty harsh hit between the cheeks of my buttocks. The tip wraps around and scorches my arse hole and the lips of my cunt. I start to cry and kneel back on my haunches and beg him not to hit me again. My hands ring together in a pleading crippled mess. I try to look at him. He just smiles at me. He talks me into putting my head back down on the carpet and hits me gently on the cheek of my bottom. 

"There you go. That's two"

My head racks with confusion. That fucking bastard. That's not enough. He beckons me onto the bed with him. I lay limp and full of venom. Feeling betrayed and stupid. 

He looks me up and down. 

 

"Fine get back on your knees then"

I crawl back onto the rug and he hits me so hard. A massive welt begins to form on the back of my thigh. The skin is burnt and damaged. I snivel and take in ragged breaths. I try to curl up but there's no chance. I asked for it. Even though I barely said a word. 

So quick back on the bed, his cock in my mouth. Half hard already. Hard. 

"Get on your knees". 

He begins to fuck me effortless and ragged. I touch and buck and push back. I burn. I bleed. He's smeared in our effluence. He grips me tightly. I come in an aching desperate crash. After asking on both instances of course. We separate and he's breathing hard and sweating and theres nothing there, he's lost. I catch my breath and nuzzle into his neck and kiss him and ask if I can suck him again and if he will use my sorry sore arse. 

He pushes my head towards his groin and shoves his cock towards my lips. He's covered in my blood and come. He looks like a fucking horror show. I take him deep in my throat and he groans. I wet him and make him hard again and my face gets smeared in red. He tells me to lie on my slide and starts to nudge himself between the cheeks of my bottom. No please. Not slow. I want it to hurt. I bend and let him use me and talk to him.

"Please put me on my knees. Please fuck me hard. Please hurt me please". 

"Fine".

I scrabble. Arse in the air. He pushes into me roughly and groans. He starts to thrust hard and it hurts and the skin splits and stings. It goes on endlessly. I beg to touch. I can feel the burn in my groin as he dazzles the nerves.  He's working hard and out of his head. He talks to me like he's possessed. He's on one hell of a power trip. 

"You're a dirty anal slut. So fucking desperate. You're mine. I own you. I own your tight sore arse. I love to fuck you. I love to use you. I own you. I could kill you. I could choke you. What are you?"

"Yours sir. Thank you sir. I'm a filthy whore. I'm a filthy fucking whore".

He groans at me. I'm fit to burst. I repeat the phrase in an incessant whisper. 

"Fuck me. Come for me. You're mine. You're my slave. My toy. I own you. Come for me now". 

I let go. My breath is ragged. I push back hard against him and climax. I cry out It's huge. Heavy. The third orgasm I've been allowed that evening. It's certainly no bronze medal. It's shattering. I hear him groan deeply behind me. I feel him pulsing inside me. I don't know if he's come. I don't think he knows. He's flying. He leans into me and holds me so tightly. I feel I could break apart and crumble into dust underneath him. Fade and fade like flotsam on the wind. Nothing could take away how good this feels right now. Nothing could take away the pain. The power, the intimacy and awfulness. 

He releases me. Rolls onto his back. He's laughing. His eyes are wide and so blue. So full of something alien and adrenal. His hands and the bed are soaked in my blood. He stares at me. I look at him. He writhes and squirms like he's going through something exquisite. He touches the marks we've left on the bed and then touches my face with his bloody hands. 

"Look. Look. This is so visceral. It's so hot. Fuck. My head. I need to come down. Look at this". 

I just smile at him hazily. A brutalised and spent body adrift on the covers.

He pulls me into a hard kiss. Pushes himself against me. Holds me. 

I stroke the back of his hair. Part my lips. Speaking to him softly. I say.

"Lets go have a cigarette. I think you need one".