Saturday, January 26, 2008

Oh, my....

He's going to spank me.

He says I've been a bad girl. I've misbehaved. And I'm going to feel his hand heating up my naughty little ass.

My panties lie around my ankles and he is bending me over his knees. His lap is broad and his thighs are strong and I know that he will be able to hold me down, no matter how hard I struggle or squirm.

And I'm going to be squirming.

His hand slides my skirt up. I feel the breeze of the open window as it wafts across but butt. He strokes my flesh as he prepares to give me my punishment. He makes me wait for the first blow, anticipating, waiting, wondering.

I get a spanking once a week. I have always transgressed and I know he'll have to redden my cheeks for me.

It never fails.

Lying across his lap I know he is going to be very hard on me tonight. Because he is very hard beneath me. That is always the sign that I'll going to really pay for my bratty misbehavior.

His hand comes down. Smack. Hard and tingling. But not nearly as hard as I know it will be. Soon. Next. Or the one after.

Again. One more. Another.

I am gasping. My ass is heating up. My flesh burns where I know the imprints of hiw wide palm are even now coloring up, nice and pink. Soon there will be so many imprints they'll blend together and then it will be impossible to tell how many I've hand.

He makes me count them. I squeeze out a tear and I count the next. Then I have to concentrate because they are coming fast and furious and if I lose count we start over.

Sometimes I lose count on purpose.

A lull. Momentary. I hold my breath.

His hands smooth over my tingling skin, soothing, squeezing. When he grabs a handful of ass and squeezes, hard, I gasp. Then I hiss as another blow falls.

And they continue.

But then another respite. His fingers push between my cheeks. They slide down, tickling, between my legs. I'm wet. I'm dripping. He knows how hot it makes me when he spanks me. He teases me. He slides a finger into me. I'm so wet I can hear the slippery sound as he lazily finger fucks me. Then he pushes in another big long finger ...

Have I mentioned how big his hands are? He's a very big man. He works with his hands and they are rough, scratched, calloused. I can feel those callouses as he pushes the two fingers in and out.

I'm very very tight. Because last night he told me I needed it rough. So he gave me an ass fucking that was one for the books. Whatever book keeps track of those things.

As I said, he's a very big man.

And I'm what they call, "petite".

My petite little ass is throbbing now because he's back to spanking me.

His fingers in my cunt had made me whimper and he was not about to let me enjoy myself just yet. He goes back to punishing me in the most delicious way, burning my butt with those powerful flat-handed swats.

Soon I'm writhing on his lap. I think I might be able to get some mercy if his cock is so hard he needs to fuck me and forget about spanking me.

But he's very focused.

Then, all of a sudden, I've counted thirty.

My punishment is done. My rear is aflame. My cunt is quivering. I'm breathing deeply.

And I can't wait for next week. Because I'm going to be naughty again.

I just know it.

Monday, January 21, 2008

A Long Hot Summer Day

It is a hot summer afternoon. The winds are dry but they blow across my skin as I work in the garden. Too warm for clothes, but I must bow to practicality. The filmy, flimsy dress I wear is my favorite. Loose and feather light it flutters in the breeze as I get to my hands and knees to tend to the delicate buds. My breasts, round, full, yearning for a firm touch, swing free beneath my loose clothing. My bottom is secreted under the soft fabric, peaking out as the breezes gently lift it up. As I lean forward, my pussy is exposed; the dress blows up, I don’t smooth it down. The sun on my naked flesh feels carnal and decadent. I pause for a moment, smiling at the joy of freedom before succumbing to societal rules. I resume my labors when I feel you. You are near and the earth gives a slight shudder as you go to your knees behind me. I smell your scent, the masculine musk of a man, fresh from the outdoor, smelling of sun and sweat and more. I begin to quiver in anticipation. What do you have planned for me today? Are you going to fuck me here, on my knees, outside, where all the world can see? Beneath the trees and amid the flowers, where anyone, if they are curious, can sneak a glance between the branches and see you, see me, see us …. see me with your cock inside me? You are, aren’t you?

Your large, strong hands touch the back of my thighs. They are hotter than my flesh and your touch sears. Up slide your hands, pushing the hem of dress away, exposing me to your hungry gaze. The cheeks of my ass, my slit, the shine of juices bursting from my cunt to anoint my skin at the knowledge that you are there, preparing to do …. what?

Your hands slide up, they push my dress further, up, over my shoulders, over my head, until the slight scrap of fabric slides over and down, to pool around my hands. I am naked for you. The way you want me, always. My nipples tighten. Your hands on me grow more commanding. You urge my head down to my hands. I lay my face on the dress sprawled there and wait …. inside me a throbbing has begun, an urgent beat that tries to communicate my desires, my want, my need to have you take me.

Then I feel you. Your cock. Big, thick, and god, my god, so hard. You use it to stroke the back of the thighs, the crack of my ass, the lips of my sex. There are drops of cum, the first of many, oozing from you and you paint my flesh with your semen. You are spreading my cunt now, the round head of you pushing in just a whisper, just enough to enter and stretch me. I groan and beg silently for a thrust, slow, or hard, I don’t care, I just need it inside me. Deep and filling me, the precarious spreading that can be pleasure or pain as you want it ….

More of your thickness pushes forward. Infinitesimal degrees sliding through my slick lips. I want to suck you into me, suck that cock inside me and keep it there, buried, inside of my tightness.

You taunt me. You move forward … only enough to tantalize me. You reach beneath my soon to be filled hole and take my clit in your fingers. You twist and tease it, stroking the hard little nub with your calloused fingers, the roughness bringing me to a panting state of insane lust… Then your hand moves, it leaves my little bit aching for more, but you reach forward to cup my breast, and squeeze the generous, needy flesh in your strong palm. You palm the other breast, pulling on my nipple until all my little bits are standing at attention for you.

Then you begin to move into me. It is a hot slow steady stretching of my flesh as you inexorably penetrate me. I want to push back, to take you faster, but you hold me back. You are in control and I will have your cock exactly as you want to give it to me.

And you want me to take it slowly. Excruciating, agonizing anticipation builds in every cell of my flesh. As you slide in, please, god, please hurry … I cannot stand to wait … don’t torture me … please give it to me….you push, you push harder and more of you fills me. I am crazy with wanting it.

Then you renew. You slide out and I whimper but then you are moving forward again, pushing, harder now, more firmly, more deeply. I take your cock into me but you are going to give me more. You thrust it in now with power. You reach so deep inside me that I feel you bang the end of me. Then you thrust again. Then again. And again. And I am shoving myself back, now, and you are letting me as you begin to fuck me in earnest. Slow, powerful, deep strokes that hit me again and again. You’re pinching my clit and ramming your cock deep inside of me. The sun burns down on us and my flesh is on fire. My cunt is steaming and I’m writhing and groaning and then you are coming. Cum is pouring into me, filling me, and you continue to ram inside of me, forcing me to scream and beg and then I am coming too, as you finger my ass, sliding a big finger into that tight place, and my cunt squeezes and sucks your cum deep inside of me to warm and fill me. My body takes your semen, it takes it all as my body contracts around your cock, wanting to hold it, longer, always.

Then I breathe.

The sun is burning down. I can hear again. I hear the buzz of bees and the trill of birds. The wind is blowing and the air smells green. And I am kneeling naked in my garden with your cum running from my cunt to coat my legs in your sticky, hotness…

And you are gone.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

Just One Of Those Things

She was horny. That was all. She didn't mean to be a slut. She just wanted some good lovin'. Her plane had been cancelled, damn the weather channel and their crappy predictions. She had watched the board as the dire news rolled down, flight after flight after flight. As "delayed" became "cancelled" she watched. She was all alone, in a strange town with no hotel rooms left, and hours to wait. The book she'd picked up had been naughty, not nice, and she was hot and bothered as she sat in the hard plastic chair, squirming, just a little, as she thought naughty thoughts of her own. Beside her an angry man screamed at his wife, his children, his travel agent and his shrink. Across the way a family of homicidal maniacs in training annoyed the shit out of everyone in the vicinity. After three hours she lost all patience and grabbing her laptop and carryon, headed for the dark of the airport bar. It wasn't one of the large international airports and the bar was commensurate with the rest of the place. It was tacky and tawdry and the waitresses looked like Hooters wannabes. All plastic tits and cellulite asses hanging beneath red velour shorts.

She had plastic too, but it was in her wallet and she whipped it out to start a tab.

"Why not just drink myself into a stupor," she thought as she ordered up the first thing that came to mind, a Tequila sunrise - shades of college boyfriends. She sipped the lukewarm drink - a snowstorm but no ice, she lamented - and listened to the Celine Dion song from Titanic, whatever the hell the name of it was, that a sad looking woman played without interruption on the jukebox.

"You stuck here, too?" She stopped drinking and looked at the man who'd sat down next to her. Surely she was dreaming, because guys like this one just didn't exist. To say he was a hunk was to say Brad Pitt was mildly attractive. He wasn't in a suit, and he looked the worse for wear. But quite frankly, she didn't care.

"Stuck in hell, yep." She tried for laid back, to match his slouch, but she was starting to drip.

"You're not from here, huh?" His mechanic's uniform was the key to her calculation that he was an employee, rather than a traveler. All the better. He might have a home nearby.

"I'm from a galaxy far far away. New York, to be precise." He laughed at her witty retort and she added another start next to his name. A stud and a sense of humor. When she caught herself looking him over, she blushed. But he smiled and it was one of those smiles that said, lady, you are so going to like what's coming.

"Guess you couldn't get a hotel room, huh?" He moved his knee into her space and she wanted to grab hold. Of his knee, or whatever.

"Hell no. It was like the second coming of Christ at the hotel. And I'm not one of the wise men."

"Bet you'd do anything for a room, right about now." He spread his legs and slid the stool closer and she checked out the big bulge of his cock in his pants.

"Bet you I would." She said and the dripping became a torrent.

"What would you be willing to do?" He slid his hand onto the bulge and squeezed.

"Why, I would be willing to get down on my dainty little knees and suck that horse cock of yours all the way down my throat." She batted her eyes and smiled demurely.

"Well, that would be worth something, I guess." He feigned a look of uncertainty and she spread her legs for him.

"If you held my head and refused to let me go, why, you could probably make me swallow all your cum, too."

He was looking up her dress and she was thankful that she'd slid off the annoying little thong during her last trip to the restroom. This way he could see her puffy pink cunt oozing. Nothing, she thought, like motivation, and she slid the skirt up a bit. In the dimness of the bar, there was no likelihood of witnesses, not that she cared particularly.

"Nice pussy," he said, and he reached out to stick a finger into the wetness. He sucked hard on the juicy digit and popped it out of his mouth with a grin.

"Glad you like it. It's pretty tight cuz it's been lonely. Maybe if you promise me a bed, I'll let you shove that big old thing of yours right inside it."

"That sounds like a plan, but I have a lot of energy. I might need some more incentive."

"A big dick like that I bet you would. I suppose you'll want me to do something kinky, won't you?"

"You mean like maybe bend you over and spread those sweet cheeks of yours and pound my cock up your ass?"

"Something just like that."

"That would be worth a bed, I guess."

"You guess?" She was starting to wonder if she was going to have to go down on her stud in the bar, not that she wouldn't, but enough games were enough.

"See, the problem is, I've got a roommate."

A moment of silence passed as she contemplated the lovely possibilities.

"Hey, no problem. Consider this a two-fer."

By sunrise she had been fucked hard and long and had fallen asleep with a smile. Her jaw ached from sucking cock and swallowing cum. Her cunt had entertained two big rods and her ass had been royally reamed. The two-fer simultaneous fucking had been a first, and a second. But of course, they had wanted to switch places, and, after all she was a team player! She rolled onto her back and her boobs showed whisker burn. The sound of a 747 jet engine roared as she slept, the little trickle of cum from her holes dripping down onto the sheet.

Friday, January 11, 2008

The Midnight Hour

Silence permeates the night. I am alone and thoughts of dark desires swirl around me. I think of the keyboards flashing in the night. Chat rooms filled with lust that oozes into the darkness. Women searching for men. Men searching for women. Couples searching. What sorts of desires? Touching. Taunting. A woman wants more than she can ask for. She wants to be controlled. She wants to submit. A man wants to explore. How can he say what he feels? Decadence. Taboo. Dark desires. Pages shuffle. Magazines stuffed between cushions. Flesh swells and throbs. A woman lays on her pillow and her hands stray. Her flesh weeps. Dark desires. A man sees a woman in a bar. She looks. She stares. Her hungers are there for all to see. Will you come explore with me? She wants more than she can ask for. Where is the limit to my desire? Where will desires lead. Into the sun? Beneath the sky? Or behind closed doors. Dark desires.

Memories filter through. A woman recalls a boy, his flesh smooth, his body taut. She was young. She was wild. He made her feel wild. She no longer feels wild. But she wishes to. She wants to feel the power of youth. She wishes her flesh knew nothing of the carnal. She wishes to learn anew the feeling of being one with another, of being plundered and borne away on a rush of ecstasy. Where is that young boy and his desire? Are his desires dark now? Does he recall that night? The softness of the night sky above them. The richness of the earth below them. Her desires are dark now. Are his? She closes her eyes and tastes him. His body and his seed. Upon her lips she can taste it. Upon her flesh she can feel it. Inside her she burns for it. Dark desires.

The midnight hour passes and moves toward dawn. Hours left for the suffering of the flesh. Hours of night to reach for the unknown. Moments to savor his touch. Countless seconds to feel the need. Dark desires.