Dragging

A pink sunburst gliding its way along me,
Your warmth flooding along to my heart.
The buggered red elastic,
Of my love's sweet fucked arsehole.

Moving

From the scent of that which you had put on yourself when we spoke for our first time, I have journeyed to the warm places in you where you delight to put your scents on me.

Surging

Ringfuck, mindsuck,
My tide flowing in to your cunt-shore.
Drag me back over myself,
Ripple me up with your not-quite-wideenoughness.

Reaching

Puckering myself up to your puckered pinkbrown halo,
Our muscles reaching for each other.
My fingers hard over your rippling thighs,
As I ready me to crowd you.

Summer, with treats

She's so ready.

My fingers snap away from the clamp, her body twitches as the chain tinkles onto her breasts; the pvc makes that delicious crackling sound as it arches up with her, slave and plastic fully together for me, moving exactly as I wish them to; she's mewling as the crocodile clip slowly takes possession of her flesh. I can't resist a smile at how well she knows how to behave for me. Her mouth alternating smile and grimace, her body twitching all its length. Grimacing, both in pain and with the effort to hold her climax in check. I'm so pleased with how well my slut's training has paid off. The cunt's good.

Her legs part wide enough for me to see how full her pussy is, how wet for me, how much mine it is too. And she's so disciplined with herself, so understanding of my control over her, how much things work better for her when she lets me decide the pleasure she'll take. A clever fucker, that's my slave. All she needs from me is a glance to know how much I'd disapprove of her impatience so she holds back, muscles the length of her body hardening as she forces herself to back down from her pleasure.

How to reward her for her efforts?

I'll think we'll start with some saliva and I lean over her carefully writhing body, slowly rolling the spit in my mouth as I hover over her one free nipple. The leanest trace of a smile between us: agreed, I'm taking her to the next stage. A slow, fat bead of my fluid reaches down to the slut-teat, rolling away over the breast to her belly. Reaching down, I clamp her nipple between my teeth, just hard enough to pull it upwards, not much I know, but the pain's just enough to pull her to the edge of orgasm. Looks like it's time for the other clip: she's moving in slow motion, silently begging me for more. And the woman's going to get it, too...

Whispering in her ear "time for you to feel some more metal, no?" The silent figure only gazes at me, her eyes watering with the happiness of being with her Master. Good. It's only right that she should be so appreciative of me. So to the other clamp, how to tease? Holding it half open, dragging the teeth along her teat, watching them clutch at her, watching her gaze clutch at them as I work the clamp open and shut, slowly, peacefully: crushed pink, popping pink button; squeezed red, keen red dot; crinkled purple, juicing cunt. She's started making plaintive noises too, small testaments to the roiling delight she must be feeling by now. I'll admit, I do find it very, very arousing.

Time to stop teasing, and let her take the full measure of discomfort she seeks, so the clamp goes on; she's all clamped up now as her mind drinks in the sensations she knows only I can bring her. I pause to contemplate my work: her belly working in and out, skin glossy with her sweat. I have to restain the impulse to lick her from head to foot, her perfume is so alluring: scent-cunt, fuck-cunt.

"Is that insufficient?"
"Master?"
"I'm not sure you're feeling as much as you should be"
"Please, Master, give me more, take me out of myself"

Sternly holding her gaze, I pull the chain down toward her belly, nipples and breasts distending in the direction of my will, pulling pink and white with the unnatural blood flow as my slave's heart flows out to me. Now pulling together, now dragging one nipple at a time. Sometimes easing the chain taut, then tugging it hard enough to make her gasp. Or pulling the chains round a full circle, observing my slave's breasts as they pull into shapes and colours nature never imagined. How I love to feel her flesh resist my desires for her, to feel the chain as it gets tighter and tighter, how marvellous it is to witness her carnal ambitions.

"You're performing well today"
"Thank you, Master."
"I'm impressed with your self-discipline"
"Yes, master."
"And it's so hot today, too. I do think it's time for some refreshment"
"Master?"

And I reach down to pick up her treat.

Red. Gorged. Full.

What kind of a man says such things to a woman he doesn't know? Idiot...

She walks off, not bothering to look back. Neither of them are quite sure who's snared whom.

Follow her. Eyes cupping her full bottom, her trousers slack and taut over her assured legs. Passers-by noticing his erection. Followed. Toes twitching for his spectacle, wondering how he'll come. Quietly? Repeatedly? How much does he have inside? How much will she enjoy herself by throwing him out the second he's finished?

Her place: keys jangle, arm sweeps, door opens.

A quietly challenging smile, daring him to go through with it. He steps in and heads towards the living room.

"No, that's far enough for you" and pushing him back against the wall, turns to face him. They're barely past the doormat: she'll be wiping her feet on a new kind of doormat today.

Still, paused, settling down in the groove with each other. Gazes given and held, breathing slowing down together. With each other now, now it's her turn to scan him, to measure him up, take pains to show him he's under scrutiny. Half-closed eyes lower to his trousers. Her hands cupping his shoulders, then sweeping over his chest, teasing him with an index finger. Pleasure fickers over his face as her fingers flicker over his pleasure. Palm of hand twisting for length and fullness, pressing into him for proof. Is that him fully erect already?

Holding his gaze, she pulls up a trouser leg, smoothly lifting her leg to him as her shoe catches a ray of light in the semi darkness of the corridor, lighting up brightfuckmered. Pressing her knee against his groin then drawing her leg up to the ankle, making sure he can feel the bone against him as she rocks it side to side over him. She's relaxing now, lazily propped against the wall as she takes control of him, the linen flexing and relaxing over the mature fullness of her body. He's definitely hard by now.

"Well? What did you say you wanted to do?"

Red. Patent. Peep-toed.

Almost a true story.

Well, anyone who's wearing those is seeking some kind of attention: I am Desireable and you are going to Notice Me. Late forties: attractive, full hips and thighs and walking with a deliciously relaxed, precise, asssertiveness. Khaki linen suit, white shirt and those. Red patent, peep-toed courts. Such a perfect, insolent, glossy red, plotting their owner's way along the pavement. Faultlessly sure of themselves and out there in the light of day too. On a younger woman they'd smack of overdressing; on her, it's something different: look at the way she's repressed the colours in the rest of her outfit; most surely, she's calling attention to something.

Shoes for sex, made to be worn, made to be wiped in semen. If ever there was a pair of shoes he'd wanted to come over, there they are, right in front of him. What a delight it would be to mess them up a little. The pleasure of watching his semen scooting over them, his base desire to leave his mark. The Selfish Gene, indeed. Trick is, how to manage it; he'll have to think of something quickly.

At ten paces, eye contact, eyes, then mouth, smiling next a glance over her body, scanning her to her feet, slowly, that she won't miss herself being caressed by his desire.

"Do I know you?"
"No, no. What a handsome pair of shoes you have."
"Yes, I couldn't resist them."
"Indeed", fixing her gaze to his eyes with a small smile: modest, deferential and desiring.
"You can be as charming as you like but you're not getting into bed with me. Is that clear?"
"I understand but really, I only wanted to fuck your shoes."
She's chuckling, disbelieving, yet not completely offended "You're kidding me, don't be ridiculous."

Smiling ruefully, at least he gave it a try; some you win and... oh well. Perhaps next time. Watching her go, watching them pull her away from him. Yet she's scarcely past him when she turns and pauses, chucking to herself in a fleeting crease in her forehead; now looking at him hard, flicking her head to one side: follow me.

[part two follows after the news...]

Insiding

Stretching yourself over your outstretched me.
Fresh pink fuckcunt, my mind is inside out from insiding you.
Deep wet sunburst, shluck yourself along me, and make me yours.

Summer, with accessories

As told by a devoted slave

My skin is no longer the outside of me anymore, it's become the membrane with which I love Him, a gorged clitoris fully the size and shape of me as I lie here slowly juicing, sweating happily onto the pvc.

My thighs drawing up and then shedding the sheet, pushing them down to feel my flesh stretch and pucker in a thousand gorgeous discomforts. Now arching my back, the pvc rises with me, a lover so attentive, so careful to push me only closer to my pleasure. Twisting my shoulders against the bed, I'm feeling the plastic slowly suck and pull at me. Can't tell if I'm becoming part of the bed or the bed's floating up to become part of me. Can't tell if my pleasure is a part of His will or whether it still belongs to me. I'm so peacefully in wait for Him as I feel the cascade of pleasure in my every movement.

Slowly squirming in my quiet joy.

The birdsong from the garden is only noise now, I haven't the attention for anything else. Except Him and His fingers. Except Him and His clamps. Except Him and His love for me, lucky slut me.

And now He's here with me, slowly approaching my bed with a slow smile as our eyes meet. No boy here, this is a man to make me orgasm. Centred in Himself, centring me with Him, He's getting us both into the space. Wonderful that someone would ever have taken the time to know me like this, to humbly dedicate Himself to me? When I climax with Him, naturally I feel the pleasure of my body but also the happiness of knowing Him, of being for Him, of letting Him see how well He understands me. It's the least I can do to reward Him.

Standing over me now, my knees parting for Him and I'm hard put not to clench myself any closer to coming, my bottom rising and turning as I try to fob my pussy off with some preview of what she'll be feeling before long. Unzipping your bag, my beautiful Master! Watching the chain thrown spangles onto my face as you hold it in the light for me, letting a clamp dangle down onto my nose, I'm smiling, close to pleading aloud for you to put it on me right now! What could be better for a hot summer's day than a freezer-fresh pair of nipple clamps? Let the vanilla people have their Pimm's: my Master has got me some proper refreshment. And now He's going to attach it to me.

Reflections on my face as the metal nears my nipple in His artist's hands. Watching Him prise the clamp open, I notice how white the tips of His fingers are with the pressure needed to open the clamp. He must have to press quite hard, no? I do so truly hope so.

My nipples have been hard for a while now, erect for Him as I can see He's erect for me. "Please, please..." asking, and again... Peacefully in charge of me, He's smiling at me as He drags the clamp over my breast, stroking it against my erection. My mind wandering dizzily between His gaze and my nipple. Begging for Him to put it on and just as keenly begging Him to make me wait just a little more.

Whispering: "Do it, I beg you.". "Are you sure you're ready?". "Master, please". "I'm not sure that..."

...and He lets the clamp snap shut over me. A flash of pain, so refreshing in the Heat, weaves through me as I cry out. My chest bounces off the bed, I'm whimpering in the pleasure of Him. I feel...what? Pain and happiness: released from my loneliness, blossoming in front of this man, joyfully admitting Him to my Heart. And plain admiration too: as many times as He's done this to me, He never fails to clamp me at the exact right moment, when I'm perfectly ready for Him. An artist, I'm privileged to have Him work His art on me. Proud of myself, to be worthy of His attention.

I feel myself twisting round as the long-desired pain subsides to a magnificent discomfort, my mind flickering from my free breast, to the clamp and to Him. And I'm not ashamed to admit, to my sex as well. She's starting to overjuice. She's starting to spasm, but I mustn't, must not, come yet.

[to be continued]

Enjoying the sensations

My wife and I have agreed: the next time we make a joint presentation, we'll be sure to be wearing our butt-plugs.

Yoga and myopia

What the eye can't focus on, the heart can't grieve over: attractive women folding their handsome bodies into positions the mere contemplation of which is sufficient to inspire one to acts of cunnilingus hitherto unreported by the Kama Sutra. I never thought I'd consider my myopia a blessing.

Of boots and marscapone | 3

It's true, when it's love, you want to put her in your mouth.

Wheels on gravel, you're here. Looking out the window I see only your feet, red nails and flip flops making me giggle with myself. I can't tell if my fondness for your instep is an idiotic foolishness or the most sublime expression of love that I possess. Who gives a fuck anyway? You won't mind at all, not when you're riding me to orgasm with your toes in my mouth, pulling it out of shape as you scream obscenities at me. You'd make even a pair of Birkenstocks look sexy.

Such a lazy sexy suckable instep you have, standing in front of the window as you flex your slut-red toes for me. I'd say you were teasing if I didn't know you were rousing me to service you the way you deserve. Our private plot against the rest of the world, it wouldn't be half as rewarding if anyone else actually Understood What We're Up To.

Longing for you to draw out of myself and pull me to pieces in front of you; you're the only one who can solve the puzzle of me. Close my eyes and I'm already kneading your calves as I slaver over your instep, mouthing you softly then biting you then licking you then, then... Your instep, again, for heaven's sake. It's not enough just to desire you, I want to take your feet and place them my heart and worship them every day for the rest of my life.

I'm so indisciplined, losing focus again as I muse on my mouth running wild over you. No doubt you'll know how to correct that, won't you?

Climbing the stairs to let you in, I have to shield my eyes against the light, seeing you only in outline, holding out my hand, hungry to start touching you once again. It's time to take refuge from the light and hide ourselves in each other in the cool loving darkness of the cellar.

Lovemaking and parenthood

Early morning. We've finished making love and we're still lying in bed, twined together, mouth to nipple, thigh to thigh. Our daughter has woken up and she comes into our bedroom to stretch out on our bed. So we have desire and it's fruit. And a love expanding out of sight to bless us all.

My thoughts drift off to the morning in Berlin when we conceived her, me pushing my erection into her mother (goodness, was I hard that morning!) - and the flooding joy of my orgasm as I left my seed inside her.

Desire and its fruit: loving parents, happy fuckers. Beautiful.

Summer

Distant childhood memories of the seats in dad's car. There's the stickiness you had to put up with and now you're grown up there's the stickiness you can choose.