in the deeper south

In the Library

2011-07-03T02:46:00.000-04:00

The library at the school which I attend is enormous. So enormous that to me it is both ridiculous and the most wonderful thing I've ever seen. It puts the library in the Beauty and the Beast to shame. It has so many books, that they won't all fit, and the bookshelves are all shoved to one side. When you want to get a particular book, you hit a button on that shelf and they move apart a slight distance, barely enough room for someone to slide in and find the book.
There are eight floors, and far too many people at all times. During exams, it's rather difficult to find a seat to study. Tim and I grudgingly made our way to the seventh floor in our efforts. It's quiet, and my heels are obnoxiously loud. I get glares from more than one person. We can't find any open tables, so we open one of the shelves and wedge ourselves between them. We spread our books around us, and whisper terms into each other's ear. Flipping through notes and reaching across one another to grab a different resource, we create so much tension I expect to see sparks. He leans close to answer my question, but this time his lips brush my ear with each words and I instantly have goosebumps. My hand reaches for him, and brushes against a rock hard dick.
"Could you hold those notes up? I can't see that graph..."
I trail off as he raises the notebook, covering my actions from any who might walk by. I unzip his fly and work his cock out and into my mouth. I try to only move my head, not my entire upper body as usual. I find it to be more difficult than I thought. I swirl my tongue over his very pronounced ridge, and slide my mouth down his shaft. Every molecule of me is screaming to move more, to push him over and climb all over him. I exhibit more self control than I ever have when faced with a dessert containing chocolate. I move to his balls, stroking him with my free hand and looking up at him while I suck on his sack. His eyes roll back slightly, he bites his lip. I grin and suck even harder. I switch back to his cock, swallowing as much of it as I can in this position. Soon I feel his hands on my head, warning me of his ending. He cums with the smallest amount of moving I've ever seen from a guy, but every muscle in his body tightens and strains. It shoots into my mouth and I swallow it down, tasting him for mere seconds. It warms my throat.
I sit up and tousle my hair, trying to seem inconspicuous. We look at each other and giggle silently, bent over with laughter. After we've calmed down a bit, he whispers for me to hold the notebook, he wants to return the favor. I can't see how he's going to get away with that, but he's welcome to try. I think he realized this at the same point, I see his look of consternation. He settles for his fingers. Sliding my shorts up a little, his fingers find my cunt hot and wet. He deftly fingers me, bringing me to orgasm in a matter of seconds. I always come quickly and multiple times, but today was ridiculously fast. He keeps pushing, through a second, and when I think I was going to cum a third time, I really didn't think I would be able to keep quiet. I had to bite my fingers.
After that we couldn't keep studying. We decided to go to his place, it was closer. As we walked out, someone whistled. So much for keeping quiet.

I Like it Rough

2011-06-28T22:10:00.002-04:00

There has been a man, a friend, who has offered to dom me in the past, but circumstances have always alluded us.
This night we were in exactly the right place. We both miraculously had a free night, and I wound up sitting in my car in front of his house, frowning at my cell phone. The address in the text matched the numbers on the facade of the grey-sided duplex, but there weren't any lights on. Deciding to be safe, I called and before he even answered, the door opened and his silhouette was suddenly highlighted in the glow of a lamp behind him. I grinned and clicked the phone off, grabbing my purse and the bottle of tequila I had purchased on the drive over. We go inside, and I meet his roommate, who is very pleasant but doesn't take the hint that if he were not there, something would be going down. We watch lame television for hours, slowly getting more drunk, and in this space of time I become intoxicated and then come back down to a state where I am safe to drive. It is at this point that I realize tonight has been another dud, another sexually-charged evening that didn't go anywhere and leaves me more frustrated than ever. There were little things throughout the night, his arm brushing up against my leg, our fingers statically touching when he passed me a lime wedge, each sending a jolt through me.
I finally announced my departure, as it was very late, and the two boys also stood. The roommate stretched his arms, then headed upstairs without another word. We looked at each other. I had just slid my feet into my flip-flops, one hand was in the bottom of my bag searching for my keys. His stare was so intense that I froze. He covered the space between us in just a few strides, and his hands were in my hair. The lights had been turned off, and I could just make out the outline of his lips, parted slightly, the hard curve of his jaw, and the glassy sheen of his eyes. His breath came a little labored, and he was so close that I could feel the hard exhalations on my face. I was still stuck, deer in the headlights, completely caught off guard. His hands were cradling my head, then suddenly the fingers tightened and he jerked my head down and back, exposing my neck.
"Are you a slut?" he asks.
In the back of my mind it occurs to me that the question is presumptuous, but I am so entranced that my head nods of its own accord.
"Good," he responds with another yank of my hair.
He is eye-fucking me in the white glow of the moonlight pouring in the window, and it is exquisite the degree to which I cannot look away. He hisses how I will be his, how he's going to use me, and I am still frozen. I am dimly aware that my hand is still in my purse, fingers clutching my keys. He tells me to get on my knees, but I resist. I just shake my head, without breaking eye contact.
"Slut, I told you to Get. On. Your. Knees." Each word is punctuated with him roughly shaking my head, to the extent that the strap of my purse falls from my shoulder and it drops to the floor. I appreciate how both his hands are firmly entwined in my wild curls, none of this one hand groping my ass while trying to exert control bullshit. He is focused completely on dominating me.
"I have to tell you," I start, then falter. He edges me on with a raised eyebrow a slight head twist.
"I'm submissive. But I like to get hurt." These two sentences explain me almost entirely; in so many aspects of my life I am aggressive and stubborn with the hope of being gripped by some outsider's iron will. At this he smiles, almost baring his teeth, and in a flash his hands rearrange at my throat. I involuntarily inhale and regret it, the air can't get through and I cough. My eyes are open fully as I stare into his, and I am slowly brought to my knees. His jeans come unzipped and I am presented with a very hard, cut cock which I take to the back of my throat by his guiding hands, on my head once more.
"Amazing," he breathes.
The spell is broken and I pull off him with a wet slurp, grab my bag and bolt for the door. I am fully aware that he is allowing me to escape. I stumble down the front steps, still half-drunk on his eyes, and realize that throughout the whole exchange our lips did not touch once.
I am still in awe.

My Love of Bruises

2011-05-30T01:51:00.003-04:00

I look down into his face as I ride him. My hands are planted on either side of his head, arms supporting my weight as my hips gyrate. Our eyes are locked, the deepest look of intimacy. This is our favorite way to do it. When he is on top, our height differences make it difficult for our lips to meet, and I like to wrap my arms tightly around him, compressing our bodies and forcing our heads over the other's shoulder. Girl on top makes me feel small, smaller than I already am, and extremely feminine in his grasp. He runs his hands along my body, from the waist over my back and shoulders, pausing over my tits to squeeze. They settle on my upper arms, and he turns his head to bite my forearms, so close to his mouth. He bites down hard, and I've learned to gauge how long the marks will last by the fleeting and gorgeous pain I feel in the moment. An hour from now, I'll have red pinpricks on my pale flesh in two semicircles, in eight hours dark brown bruises will bloom. If he's being really viscous they'll deepen to purple, and in four days I will still have the green-tinged tell-tale signs of what in my opinion is a good time.
My most memorable bruise didn't come from him, surprisingly. He was after all the first to introduce me to pleasurable pain, but he was only a small contributing factor in this particular display of sexual passion. I was on my back on her bed, her face was on mine, and our bodies were touching over so many inches that we were practically one person. He was sitting on the bed next to us both, fingers in each of our cunts, talented fingers that made us both squirm and cum repeatedly. We moaned into each other's mouths, the pleasure stretching on and on, time nearly stopping though it felt like hours. We were completely oblivious to the icy snowdrifts outside her window and the fact that the pair of candles lighting the room had gutted out. She moved to my neck, sucking and biting and fingers pinching and twisting my nipples. When we finally surfaced for air and to allow our pelvic muscles to recover, I dimly noticed a stinging, and she pointed out shyly that I might have bruises. Now that was an understatement. The next morning I looked like I had been mauled by a wild animal, which was actually not that far off. Two girls in heat and slightly intoxicated are as close as I've been to wildlife. They lasted for two weeks and I made no effort to cover them. In fact, I wore low cut shirts, my hair up, and a smile every time I passed a mirror. Yes, I am a slut.

A Headache

2011-05-14T14:25:00.000-04:00

We were studying, this friend of mine and I. I am at his apartment, cross-legged on his bed, while he reclines in his desk chair. We have our notebooks open on our laps, but we aren't getting much done.
"I have a headache," I announce; really, it's more of a whine. He tells me to close my eyes for a few minutes, and I comply, leaning back against his pillows. I smelled his cigarette smoke, and his rhythmic inhalation followed by forceful exhalation soothed me. I didn't realize I was drifting to sleep until the sliding of my notebook off my lap jarred me awake. I quietly groaned and make a grasp at it, eyes still closed, but my hands landed on his arm instead. My eyes opened slightly, and I saw him on the bed next to me, closing my notes with one hand and his other sliding up my thigh. I smile and ask what he thought he was doing, to which he replied he was helping my headache. I had to agree, the migraine was the last thing I was concentrating on.
His lips touched my neck lightly, hands grazing my waist, and making their way up to my breast. His hand slid under my top and bra, tweaking the nipple. At this I opened my eyes fully, and tip his head up to mine so I can slide my tongue into his mouth. He becomes more bold. He clutches my tits with both hands now, pressing me down into the bed.
My back arches. I unclasp my bra. His belt unbuckles. I feel him hard between our two layers of denim. Suddenly I take charge, rolling him over and straddling him, simultaneously tearing off my top and setting my tits free. I lean backwards resting my weight on my hands, grinding and giving him a show with my bouncing chest. He pulls at my waist, dragging me down to meet him. I still feel sleep-drunk and am completely open to anything that happens, things I would previously never considered between me and my now lover. He throws me off him, yanks off my pants, and drags me to the edge of the bed, where he proceeded to kneel on the floor. My legs are straight, crossed at the ankle, and pointing at the ceiling. Strong hands grip the sides of my thighs, thumbs digging into the backs of them, tongue trailing across my slit and teasing my clit. My arms are above my head, palms down, fingers alternately spreading and gripping the sheets. I hoped to high heaven none of his roommates were home. I couldn't contain myself. I also couldn't believe that the guy I had sat next to in countless classes over two years could be this adept at eating pussy. I cum and my knees bend involuntarily, hips pressing his face into me. I sit up, legs still in the air, and start to giggle. What they say is correct, orgasming can have miraculous pain-relieving properties rival to any drug.
It's clear that he doesn't expect any reciprocation, but I couldn't let him go unpayed. I ask if he would prefer to fuck or get blown. He can't decide. Finally I decide for him and turn over on the bed, chest down and legs hanging off, but the bed is so tall my feet don't touch the floor. I lift my ass toward him, toes pointing. I fish in my bag for a condom and hand it back to him. He thrusts into me, shallow at first because my post-orgasm pussy is very wet but very tight. My fingers grip the sheets again. My hips are raised completely off the bed, back arched to an intense degree. The only points of contact are my tits and my forearms, as his hands held my hipbones up. Each delicious thrust was prolonged, slow deep fucking that was getting me off. I was once again impressed with him, he held off cumming through my very long and wet second. He dropped my hips, pulled out and stripped the condom off, spurting across my back. With his fingers he scooped up some of it. I sucked his fingers clean.

The Stuff of Myths

2011-05-05T09:30:00.000-04:00

I shouldn't be doing this. I have so much studying to do, with upcoming exams, that I can't spend any superfluous time writing. But something amazing and for me, mythical happened yesterday.
I was looking through various websites, trying to find something to get off to, which I also currently don't have time for, and I forgot to pull out my favorite vibrator. Just watching different videos was getting me so hot. Luckily no one was home, because I was involuntarily making some quite expressive moans. I wasn't even paying attention to my body, I just kept watching my newest obsession, girl on girl fisting. Seeing these girls moan, spread-eagled on couches, while another naked chick spreads lube on her completely smooth pussy. First one finger was slipped in, then another from the opposite hand, going in and then opening slightly as they're pulled out, stretching her cunt wider. More lube, more fingers, before the whole fist is slid in and out, to the girl's screaming pleasure.
As I was watching, I suddenly felt like I was going to pass out. My whole body went numb, pins and needles everywhere, and a moment of panic before I felt my cunt contracting, and I realized I was having an orgasm, and a strong one at that. I forced my eyes open to continue watching, hoping to extend my experience before gasping in delight. I breathed a sigh, feeling that after-coming high.
I couldn't believe it! One of my friends has claimed that she can think her way to an orgasm, but I had always secretly scoffed. I am after all a scientist, and since she was too demure to perform on command, I took it as something she was imagining, and not in the way she was describing. But after my own coming-sans-touching, I immediately called her, and gushed about how amazing it was.
She just giggled and said, "I told you so."

A Real Wake-Up Call

2011-04-29T15:09:00.000-04:00

He rang my doorbell at three. I had been in bed for a few hours, trying to catch up on sleep.
"Yeah?" I said into the speaker.
"Hey."
I instantly recognized his voice, it raised goosebumps on my arms, made me bite my lip. My hand worried a tendril of hair, curling it around my finger.
"Hi," I whispered.
"Can I come up?" As always, he was bold, and he knew what he wanted. On a Thursday night, he had probably been to the bar, and the fact that he wasn't slurring at all was promising.
I buzzed him in, then sprinted to the bathroom, swishing mouthwash while removing the leftover makeup rings from under my eyes. I tousled my hair just as the knock came.
I opened it, and in my excited and sleep deprived state, I failed to notice that I hadn't changed out of my sleeping attire. That is to say, I hadn't put anything on. His wide eyes brought my consciousness back around, but I decided that it would have been a waste to put anything on, as I knew that it was just going to come off again.
I pulled him to me by his belt, shutting the door behind him and reaching my hand around the back of his head. He kissed me, running his hand over my bare backside, gripping it firmly. I pulled his shirt over his head, he unbuckled his belt and jeans, dragging them down to the ground. I started towards the bed, but he resisted.
"I want you on the table," he growled in my ear. I arched my chest into him, and his hands grabbed my waist almost uncomfortably hard, tossing me into the air. His arms caught me under my ass, and I wrapped my legs around him. Fuck, this was why we were so good together. He was strong and incredibly tall, and liked to manhandle me. Check, check, and check. Our kisses were forceful, and he dropped me on the table. I shifted my hips forward, and leaned back to rest on my forearms. He pushed into me, and hooked one arm around the small of my back, yanking me upward until I was almost in a yoga pose. My mouth opened in a gasp. He pumped his hips, and I was melting within seconds from the deep penetration and contact of his groin with my clit. It was overwhelming.
Little tremors shocked through me, my cunt tightening. He bit my neck and pushed me over the edge; I was grateful for his arm holding me up as I could spasm without holding back. I keened into him, and felt his body contract as I was starting to come down, his free hand pulling my hair taut away from my head. We breathed heavily together for a moment before he lifted me down, exchanging one last kiss. I invited him to stay, a rarity. We both collapsed on the bed, not bothering to pull down the top sheet. I twisted my neck, glancing upside-down at the clock. It was three thirty-two.

Opening the Relationship

2011-04-09T14:29:00.000-04:00

The boyfriend and I have been together for quite awhile. While he is the person I want to see most, all day every day, there are times when a little diversity improves our sex. It started when I realized I eyed women just as often as I eyed men, and the allowance to bend some of the rules of monogamous dating emerged as a way to gain experience in exactly what I did like. It started as threesomes, with female friends. But as a fight with one led to emotional distance and the unreliability of another made it impossible for a regular hook-up, we began to look outside our friend base. It was around this time we discovered that we do have similar tastes, but there are certain traits that he finds attractive that I don't, and vice versa. Inevitably, this has led to the agreement that we are officially non-monogamous, not exactly open, but sex with other people is available to both of us.

At first, I was hesitant, I admit for selfish reasons. I was perfectly happy setting out to seduce other young women and men, but the thought of him doing the same made me bite my lip. It is more difficult for me to separate sex from love than it is for him, but interestingly, not when it comes to myself. I am not in least concerned that I will fall in love with a casual hook-up, or even a regular, should I ever acquire one. But somehow in my mind it has proven difficult to convince myself that he won't leave me for every one night stand he has.

When I meet someone that makes it absolutely impossible for me to resist, it is easier to push the negative thoughts out of my head and focus on the thought that if I wanted him, I could have him. And this is how it was when I met Josh. I met him in a professional context, he is also working on his masters at the same university though in a different field. He caught my eye when a friend of a friend invited us both to a lunch.
Afterward we walked back to our respective buildings, walking close but keeping some distance. We got along very well, and the playful banter was a refreshing reprieve from serious work. A few days later, he showed up at my door at work, coat in hand, smile on his lips, asking me to lunch, this time alone. Over lunch our connection deepened, and I found myself asking him to play hooky the rest of the afternoon, and suggested we head back to his place, which I had recently learned was not far.

We walked, the warm breeze stirring the skirt around my thighs, and I found myself glad I had the foresight to wear matching and attractive lingerie. We get to his apartment and he pushes me up against the closed door, his tongue in my mouth, one hand cradling my head and the other tightly gripping my waist. I brought my thigh up around his, angling my hips into him. He fumbles with the lock, and we stagger inside. I bring my shirt over my head, and give him just a moment for his eyes to settle on my breasts. Tits spill over the cups of the bra as I push them together, and then tear away the back clasp. We undress fully, and I sink onto the couch, pulling my legs up, knees to my chest. He kneels in front of me, and brings his mouth to my cunt, dragging his tongue along the slit, making my shiver. As he works me more energetically, I produce more moisture than I thought possible. It smears along his cheeks and the insides of my thighs. He comes to his knees, and I offer to blow him, but he declines, rolling a condom along his shaft before sliding it into me. I wrap my legs around his torso, and rub my clit while he fucks me. He kneads my tits with his strong hands, pinching the nipples roughly. Every shiver that runs through me is echoed with a tightening in my cunt, and I can tell my his moans he notices as well. I can feel perspiration budding on my forehead and under my arms, already running freely on our groins from the friction between us. I gasp, fingers on my clit hitting a high point and I cum, shuddering and gripping around him. He pulls me in tightly and I can feel his rhythmic swelling. We sit back, breathing heavily, then venture to the bathroom to clean up. We make light talk, of our projects and respective advisors, as we redress. I bid him farewell, walking down the stairs, and realize I hadn't even entered his bedroom.

It is exchanges like this that make me think non-monogamy is the answer for everyone. Though I am temporarily satiated, I walk home from work that night with a wet cunt, and pounce on the boyfriend as soon as I see him. I tell him of the afternoon, and he is slightly surprised but approving. I had fun, no one got hurt, and as we cuddled one another that night, I felt more than ever that I was with the right person.

The joys of red wine

2011-04-04T20:06:00.000-04:00

I've known for almost a year now that I have a thing for girls, but I'm not yet ready to tell the world, only a few select friends. I've been ready for awhile now to have a fling with a girl, but its harder than I thought. Somehow I always felt that if I could gather the courage to admit to myself that it was something I wanted to happen, magically, it would. Not so. Finding a girl to fuck would take some effort.
And then, finally, I found her. A coworker at my summer job as a waitress, though an opportunity didn't present itself for some time. It was three months of sexually-charged shifts, with much flirting and ass-grabbing to the amazement and obvious glee of the busboys. But she was shy, and never responded completely to my somewhat aggressive advances. She was bold in her texts after work, but would never follow up. It was quite sexually frustrating. And then. A quick text one night came, "Are you home?" I responded that yes, I was, and very bored. She must have been standing outside my door because the knock was immediate. Thanking my lucky stars I had shaved that morning in the shower, I answered, my stomach fluttering nervously. She shyly smiled and held up a bottle of wine in each hand. I smiled wider as I stood back to let her pass, my hand momentarily grazing the small of her back as I followed her. She walked quickly to the kitchen, not even stopping to take off her coat or shoes, so desperate to open the wine. I could tell that she had been thinking about it the entire drive over, so I grabbed the biggest wine glasses I had and handed her the corkscrew. The dark red liquid poured smoothly into the glasses, and she filled them almost to the brim.
We both took a sip, and as I swallowed, I relaxed a degree. I saw her do the same. I suggested we watch some TV, and we walked back into the living room. In my studio apartment, my couch is my bed, so it was slightly awkward for a beat, each of us not knowing where exactly to sit or what exactly would happen when we did. I found something mindless on the TV, and we sipped at our wine until both glasses were nearly empty. I was starting to feel my face flush. Deciding if I wanted to refill my glass meant deciding how drunk I wanted to be when this happened. I looked at her, and we both giggled nervously. She took my glass and set it with hers on my bedside table. We shifted our seats, now facing each other, and leaned a little toward each other, desperate to make the first contact. I touched her hair with my fingers, feeling how soft it was. She grabbed the back of my head and pressed her lips to mine.
Relieved that kissing her felt natural, and feeling a tingle between my legs, I opened my mouth and slid my tongue into hers. She tugged at my shirt, raising it up over my shoulders, and her hands slid over and under my bra. She broke the kiss, looking at my tits in her hands and biting her lip. I reached behind me, unhooking my bra and letting it fall away. At this, we both quickly shed our clothes, and repositioned ourselves more comfortably on the bed. She crawled up my body, pressing me backwards into the pillows, sliding her tongue into my mouth again. I felt her fingers crawl their way down and tentatively touched my pussy, which was slightly wet. I moaned softly into her mouth, and arched into her. Feeling more bold, she slipped her finger into my cunt, curling it up to stroke the front wall. As my breath came heavier, her strokes grew faster, and soon I was keening into her body, the spasms lasting a minute at least. Planting my hands on her shoulders I pushed her backwards and off of me. I wrapped my arms around her thighs, bringing my mouth to her cunt, feeling the wet warmth on my tongue. I licked and sucked until I felt her gush, her entire body tightening up. After the first round, more wine and more orgasms followed. Toys were pulled out, and then pushed in, for hours of blissful, freeing, and exhausting sex.
She was gone when I woke the next day, admittedly very late in morning.

Riding the Bus

2010-04-10T17:59:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I sat on the bus next to a girl, a normal, cute-looking girl. Brown hair, leggings, flats, ipod headphones placed firmly in her ears. Occasionally she would pull her phone out of her pocket and text. Once I happened to glance down at her phone as she was typing, and saw : "I can't wait to suck your throbbing cock."
Well. I internally gasped, and feel myself grow wet. Immediately, I whipped out my phone and related this information to Todd. He told me to keep watching. I did, but she didn't say anything racy, unfortunately. Instead, my mind started to wander. I thought about watching her suck her boyfriend's cock. That increased the amount of wetness between my thighs, and I shifted in my seat. Then I thought about myself, spreading my legs, and her sliding off her seat to kneel in front of me. I would lean backwards, arching my back as her tongue nudged my clit. Small shocks of electricity shot up my body as she made contact over and over again. She pushed my legs apart, forcing her tongue deeper into me. My breath quickened, and my hips moved rhythmically as I came. She sat back and smiled.
Then the bus hit a curb and I was jolted out of my daydream. Glancing around, I looked at the girl seated next to me, obliviously nodding her head to her music, and smiled to myself.

Oh, the joys of Spring

2010-03-17T20:55:00.000-04:00

There is something about the weather turning that lights a fire in me. I think the same thing is being said in blogs across the board, but it's true. When I can finally throw open the windows and breathe deeply the smell of fresh earth and leaves, part of me also wants to rip off my shirt and stand at the window completely bare breasted. Warm weather makes me want to do naughty things outdoors, like straddle Todd, topless, as he sits in the wooden Adirondack chair on our meager roof. I want to wear skirts without panties and cross my legs in public. I love wearing my mesh bra with a thin tank so when a breeze picks up, my nipples instantly stiffen, visible to anyone looking closely. I love the strappy sandals, the high wedges, even flip flops. Bright nail colors, and suddenly pedicures matter again.
I also love this season because suddenly it doesn't matter how much work we both have, Todd will put anything aside to fuck. After the cold autumn and freezing winter, my sex drive is zapped. With the first warm breeze, lust also rolls in. It takes nothing to make me wet, an only slightly dirty innuendo leaves me shuddering. A slight sway of the hips, and I'm panting. I am aching to be tied up, fucked from behind, pushed up against a wall and taken forcefully.
And tonight, Todd did just that. After dinner, walking to the kitchen with plates in my hands, he slides one hand around my waist and one around my neck, tilting my head to allow his mouth access to my throat. Biting lightly, and trailing his tongue in small circles, he makes me whimper. He takes the plates from me, sets them on the counter, and turns back to me, both hands going to my face and kissing me with such intensity that my knees shake. Entwined like this, we make our way to the bedroom, where he throws me onto the bed, and strips me of my pants. In the semi-darkness, I see him undo his belt and push his jeans to the floor, stepping out of them as he moves near me. Without much preamble, he slides his cock into me and as I am already soaking through the sheets, it feels phenomenal. He thrusts and I arch my back, loving every second. As he covers me with his body, he kisses my neck, and I raise my legs up over his back, grabbing my feet. I come quickly, multiple times, and he cums soon after, onto my stomach. He kisses me sweetly, and grabs a shirt to clean me up.
Oh, the joys of spring.

Making Minutes Count

2010-03-16T21:07:00.000-04:00

Last week was spring break for Todd and myself, and it was nice and relaxing. I am a naturally early riser, and he is, shall we say, not. During the week, I get up first, usually making some breakfast, and getting things ready for the day. I often forget to set things up the night before, books and clothes and such, so the mornings are a little rushed. Then, when it becomes inevitable for Todd to get up, I wake him. I hate to do it any earlier, because he has a hard time getting to sleep and I want him to sleep as much as he can. That makes things even more rushed. He is completely unfazed by this, and I am the complete opposite. Tardiness makes me frazzled, and that makes me snap. Todd is constantly telling me to relax.
But over this past week, when we were able to rise when we wanted, things were different. We cuddled before stretching and swinging our legs over the side of the bed. Spooning, holding hands, snoozing a little more, all was wonderful. And I realized that I felt so much more relaxed when we got up. So, I have decided to continue this into the days ahead, even when classes and work loom.
This morning was Day 1. I set our alarm for the normal time, and when it went off, I rolled over and slipped my thigh over his. His hand reached around and grabbed mine, pulling me over him, and lacing his fingers through mine. We both sighed contentedly, snuggling deeper into each other. After fifteen minutes, the alarm went off again. Todd rolled over, and we kissed. Then we got out of bed, and continued on with our day. Mood? Relaxed. Success!
The best part: About twenty minutes after we parted ways for our respective classes, I received a text from Todd. "Hi love. That was really nice :)" Perfect start to my day.

The Lies That Cosmo Tells Us

2010-02-16T23:12:00.000-05:00

So, many of you ladies out there will, like me, be unable to resist the newest edition of Cosmo magazine that hits newstands each month. Even though there is almost nothing of substance in any given issue, my hand has a mind of its own, reaching toward that glossy-covered bible teenage girls looking for tips of all kinds.
But truly, I start to wonder sometimes. Who exactly is their target audience? I am only in my early twenties and already feel the information is outdated. I found all of this useful when I was seventeen, new in the arts of seducing men. Now, as a seasoned professional, (wink wink) I find all of their articles repetitive and redundant. No matter how many times I read that it is "sexy" to lick a man's armpit, I will never attempt it. From the men I have met, it doesn't appear that that particular spot is an erogenous zone. None have ever lifted their arms and whimpered, "Lick it, please." I really don't think that this is going to get them off any faster.
Another hilarious thing is Cosmo's weight loss guides. From time to time they run these, figuring, somewhat correctly, that all women reading their magazine will have the desire to lose weight. One of their "tips" for "quick weight loss" is to have sex every night, specially advising you to take the girl-on-top position. Now, I've had some crazy sex, and some very acrobatic sex, but I don't think that I have ever sat back after doing the deed and thought, man, that was some gnarly cardio!
Cosmo recently ran a guide on "sexting." Welcome to the era of cell phones, please. It's not as if sexting hasn't been going on for years without a self-help guide. I am sure that all of the women, and possibly a few men, who have read this article will immediately pick up their phone, and text "I want to drip chocolate all over your body" to their significant other. Wouldn't you love to be on the receiving end of one of those texts? What would your possible response be? "Should I pick up some whipped cream and maraschino cherries?" I just hope you also remember a plastic sheet, because that shit would be seriously hard to get out of a mattress pad.

Out in Public

2010-02-13T18:22:00.000-05:00

Well, semi-public anyway. Todd and I go to the same college, and it just so happens that we have classes at the same time across the hall from each other this semester. Because it is an early class, he usually has a hard time staying awake, I like to send him dirty texts. I can't ever resist flirting. We had been getting really worked up this past Thursday morning, being vague at first.
"I loved the look of your cock this morning."
"Your ass looks so good when you sleep on your side like you do."
But talk quickly turned dirty.
"I want your cock in my pussy."
"I want to lick your pussy until you come."
And soon turned even more dirty.
"Bend me over the kitchen table and fuck me hard."
"Lick my balls until I come over your face."
I was practically moaning in class. My legs crossed, I was trying to jiggle them unnoticeably, hoping to get a little more friction on my clit. I accidentally kicked the chair in front of me, and though no one noticed, I felt my cheeks flame.
One last text. From him.
"Boys WC, 5 minutes."
I waited for a second and then fled, leaving my book bag and computer. I found him already waiting, in one of the stalls. About to drop to my knees, he pulls me back up and puts a piece of paper towel on the floor. Such a gentleman. Getting back to work, I pull his hard cock out of his jeans, and slurped from base to head. A hard, thick dick like that feels so good in your mouth, so right, and I tilted my head downward to deep-throat. I stood up, licking my hand and stroking him firmly. I was wearing a skirt, and he reached under for his fingers to circle my clit. Moaning into his shoulder, it was hard not to be loud. His fingers plunged into me, harder and faster, and then we heard it. The door opened with a creak, and someone wearing Timberlands walked in. He held his finger to his lips, and then picked my up by the hips, holding me close to him. I held my arms tight around his neck, and he slid his cock in me. I was so wet, and he felt so good that I really wanted to moan. I had to bite him quite viciously to stop. Barely moving, he thrust up into me, hitting my g-spot exactly. Both of us were holding our breath, waiting for the man next to us to finish. I felt the walls of my pussy flutter, and then contact quickly, around him. The other stall finally flushes, zips his pants, and leaves. Breathing a sigh of relief that quickly turns into a moan, Todd thrusts hard for another minute, then pulls back so I can slide onto my feet and take him in my mouth, just in time to catch the cum. I look up at him while I swallow. We stand up, zip up, I make sure I look neat and proper, then saunter back to class. I sit down, smiling, and am completely oblivious throughout the rest of class, going over what we just did in my head.

Up for Submission

2010-01-31T12:31:00.000-05:00

My boyfriend and I have been dabbling in the world of sub and dom for awhile now, since I discovered, that I really, really like being told what to do. This is interesting to me because in my daily life, I am anything but submissive. Being ordered around and sometimes thrown around (as he is 6'3'', 190 lbs, and I am 5'2'', 120 lbs, throwing me around is pretty easy) is exciting, fun, and different. So what I'm getting at is, I like being submissive.
However, this interest of mine was somewhat challenged last week when Todd brought home a ball gag. Even a simple gag, a black rubber ball threaded onto a nylon strap, looked intimidating and very final. Trying it on, I felt the usual rush of endorphins when his voice changes to that deep, slow, and very firm tone that means I had better do what he says. Or Else. But I also felt something else, a slight twist in the pit of my stomach, a sliver of apprehension. But endorphins and lust won by a long shot, and we were soon naked.
"On your hands and knees", he said. Trembling slightly, with anticipation or trepidation I wasn't sure, I pushed myself up onto my knees. He slid his hands over my ass, my flesh warming to his touch, but I was in no way ready for the crack! of his hand, stinging my flesh. Taking a deep breath, I readied myself for the next swing, but it didn't come. Instead he lowered his mouth to my ass, kissing then biting lightly. The pressure of his teeth increased sharply, making me yelp around the gag. What really got my attention is how muffled that sound was, and I realized that this was the ultimate submission, not being able to make a peep. And at this point, it didn't matter if that was a step I was willing to take, because without knowing it, I already had. He flipped me over onto my back, almost knocking to wind from me, and slid into me while saying, "You like that, you little slut, you little whore?" And while I was trying to say yes, indeed I did like this, I found I couldn't.
He continued to pound me, eliciting small moans from my gagged mouth, then he held onto me tightly as he rolled us both over. Now I was on top, and he pushed me vertical, and said, "Ride me, harder, work for it you slut." I came almost instantly, and tried to ride it out over my thrashings. It's hard to get your breath back while wearing clenching a rubber ball between your teeth, and so when he put his hand around my throat, which is normally something that sends me over the top, I wasn't sure how I felt about this. I loved the feeling of his hand there, but I was already losing air, and something floaty took over. I had to bat his arm away from me, and after a few more minutes of frantic fucking, he came, and I came again.
The thing I've realized from all of this is, you really have to know the person you're being submissive to. You have to completely trust them, to trust that they will not put you in the way of real harm. To trust that afterwards, they will hold you, and whisper into your ear that they love you.
Sappy, I know.

New Bras

2010-01-13T19:50:00.000-05:00

I am not sure if anyone but the small percentage of women with special bra needs know how hard it is to find one that fits. Most women, the lucky women, drive to the mall, to Macy's or Parisian or even Victoria's Secret without thinking twice. For those of us that do not have a 'normal' bra size, it is much more complicated than that. For us, it involves calls to specialty stores, usually upwards of three, and then a discouraging search online for something not only in our size but wearable under actual clothes, not just under the sheets. When you wear a 30 E, finding something that you can wear under a t-shirt but doesn't have a strong semblance to his grandmother's unmentionables is difficult. I have recently found a brand, Lunaire, that actually is pretty. The ratio of wearability to attractiveness is still pretty low, but at least when you can see it under my shirt you see lace, and not thick white cotton.
The upshot of this is that I need to order my bras online. And I usually order three or four different styles, so that I can try them on at home and send back the ones that don't fit. Todd loves when I do this; he usually requests a fashion show so that he can appraise them. Not surprisingly, his picks are not always mine, his are usually concerned with the least amount of fabric whereas mine have more to do with support.
When he tears them off of me, though, support is the last thing on my mind. His fingers graze my nipples under the foreign mesh fabric, stiffening immediately and demanding more attention. His lips are on them, one hand arching my back , pushing my tits up towards his mouth. I close my eyes and bite my lip, trying not to whimper as he bites down softly. Bringing his mouth to mine, we kiss, and I sigh, enjoying the warm contact of our lips and tongues. Pushing me backward, he unhooks my bra and lays me down on the luxurious down comforter, feeling soft on my skin. He peels down the matching black mesh panties that have come with the bra and tosses them aside. I arch my hips up at him, trying to hasten the moment of contact of my skin with his lips. He obliges, bringing his mouth firmly to my pussy, his tongue stroking my slit before sucking mercilessly on my clit. It is all I can do to keep my hips on the bed, to keep from bucking under his ministrations. Then, to my simultaneous consternation and elation, he slides two fingers into me. It utterly destroys my will to keep still and I thrash as I come, almost violently, my muscles all clenching and relaxing at once. He is the only one that can produce this from me, one of those indescribably beautiful orgasms that leaves you speechless afterward.So much so that I need a breather before starting to repay him.

Intoxicating

2010-01-07T13:20:00.000-05:00

Starting off the new year here in Savannah, where it is 54 degrees, I am thankful. Thankful for not having to live in a climate that forces me to wear incredibly unsexy things, like long underwear and earflaps, for five months out of the year. I can still wear my skinny jeans with the ankle boots, and a little leather blazer over my just-tight-enough sweater. Which more than one guy appreciated on my walk home from the market, I can tell you that. Smiling slightly, I pull out my phone and text my boyfriend; "Be ready to get blown", I say. He immediately responds, "I'm already hard for you." There is something so great about knowing that at home, waiting for you, is a man that will immediately drop his pants to fulfill your addiction to sucking cock. That this man instinctively knows when to lean back and let you go, doing your own routine to him, and when to grab the back of your head and push himself deeper into your throat.

Sliding my key into the old, heavy lock on the door, I twist my wrist and step inside. I set my bags down on the solid oak table in the kitchen, trying to remember if I bought anything that should probably go into the refrigerator before I go crazy thinking about what I am going to do next. Todd's hands are suddenly around my waist, his lips on my neck, cock pressing up against the back of me. Too late. I moan and turn, dropping to my knees and sliding my mouth around him tightly. My hands reach up and around, grabbing his ass and pushing him fully into my mouth. I pull back and continue to suck, slurping and rubbing my tongue on his underside, feeling him swell slightly against my lips. After a minute, the hardwood floors are killing me, and we move to the living room. He sits on our couch, ass near the edge, shoulders leaning against the back, lightly holding his dick in one hand. This is my favorite position; it allows me unrestrained access to his balls. Settling down on my knees on the (much softer) carpet, I lick my hand and start to jack him off while I pull his balls into my mouth and suck. I know he can feel every touch of my tongue, making him twitch and his hands unconsciously reach for my neck. Cupping my head lightly, he pulls me back and forth, letting me know just how fast to go. I move back to his cock, and he inhales sharply as I stroke quickly, creating pressure with my lips and tongue. He lets me know he's close, and in a few seconds I feel him push his hips forward. I shove his cock deeper, and feel him spurting into my mouth, swallowing after each one. He relaxes, draws a deep breath, and lets out a contended sigh. I love this.

There is something so heady and addictive about someone allowing you to create this much pleasure for them, it requires so much trust. Truly, truly intoxicating.