Flash Fiction Friday 3-11-11: "Splish Splash"

(Source image: "Good Clean Fun" by John Hogl)

Submerged with only my nose above the water, I luxuriated in heat and silence, a vessel adrift. A small part of me wondered when my beloved might get home.

Timeless minutes later, I found out. Her small hand stole into the water and caressed my sleeping penis; it awoke to her touch, as it always does, raising its head happily.

I shuddered pleasantly and broached, scattering water everywhere. Straddling me, she settled down and onto her favorite toy. I moaned as I was enveloped in warmth and silk sleekness. Clinging to each other, we rocked to and fro softly, loving the day's stresses away.

(Click for details on FFF!)

Your challenge for today was to use the picture above and write a flash fiction of 69-119 words. Additionally, I provided a key phrase I wanted to see used somewhere in the submission:

"...enveloped in warmth..."

Nobody's checking word counts, or for the key phrase, but you're only cheating yourself if you break the rules. Unless you're doing it to earn a spanking (in which case, see me after class).

Special Bonus Director's Commentary Track:

I consciously tried to make this week's pic and phrase more happy and upbeat, as I'd had more than enough of the negative side of things over the past few weeks. I chose something that just made me beam from ear to ear when looking at it. Look at those two, the expressions on their faces, the tenderness in their embrace. That's not just sex, that's not just fucking, that's lovemaking. If you get the distinction.

I've never been surprised in the bath like this, but over the years I've had some wonderful loving interludes that are great for scrubbing away any unpleasantries of the day (or week). I've had one of those weeks this week, actually. Sadly, though my partner is loving in many ways, I doubt it would ever enter her mind to surprise me like this. But hey, that's what fantasies are for, isn't it?

If you are playing along this week, please leave your link below. It will appear in the text of the post itself, not in the comments, so everyone that's playing will be listed here. This frees me from having to chase people down to find out if they're playing or update the Friday post several times for late entries.

In any case, the participants list is below. Go check them out, and thanks to all who played along.



Check back here on Monday for the next challenge! And if you have any photos or artwork you'd like to see in a future challenge, please send them my way. 

-- PB

Group Post: "Discovered Check"

I opened my eyes to discover that I couldn't see a damn thing. Which wasn't really surprising given the layers of thick black cloth that were tightly bound round my head. I strained but the blackness was absolute, except when broken by red flashes when I strained too hard and my eyeballs started to ache in their sockets.

There's a curious sense of doubling when your sight's taken away from you. Centuries of evolution have conspired to make us extremely visually-oriented creatures. Our other senses have dwindled and died to pale shadows of their former selves. Gone the days when Neandertal man would lift his head to scent prey on the wind, gone the days when the slightest crackle of twig or leaf heralded the approach of predators. But there is in us a remarkable overcompensation -- remove one sense and the others will expand to fill its space.

As now. I could hear faint breathing, a soft and steady bellows somewhere to my left. I heard a faint creak as someone shifted in the recliner that sat at the other end of the room. I heard the stately tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway, its slow metronome magnified to a "thud-thud". I heard soft footsteps -- bare feet -- padding towards the foot of the bed where I lay. Then they stopped. I heard faint rustling and could tell that whoever it was was bending over me.

I stretched out -- not physically, but sensorily. Closing my eyes still harder, I reached. I detected faint heat moving inches above my bare legs. My mind raced, classifying, rejecting, and suddenly the sensations clicked into place: the warmth of a hand, held just above my skin, moving near-imperceptibly upwards along my thighs. The hair on my legs stirred in response, lifting towards the stimulus, and I heard her make a small sound of approval.

She -- oh yes, it was definitely a She -- was beginning to impinge on my senses in other ways, too. I lifted my head a bit, Neandertal man reborn, and inhaled slowly. A welter of scents flooded my brain. Scent of sandalwood and vanilla. Sharp spike of alcohol (a fine Scotch, from the scent), mixed with ice cubes musty from too long spent in the freezer. Trail of sweat down collarbone. Smoky musk of Woman, flat-sweet with unmistakeable sexual arousal.

My body began responding to that almost instantly. My cock began swelling in the confines of my boxers, and I heard a low murmur from the recliner to the right, counterpointed by a throaty chuckle from the left. I shifted a bit, trying to ease the constriction, and nearly jumped out of my skin when a soft hand settled on me, squeezing delicately. I groaned as she began to massage me. Softly. Gently. Barely touching, fingertips dragging along my length, squeezing and enhancing as I grew harder. Little crackles of energy burst outwards in radiating spikes as she stroked me.

Off to my left I heard a clink, ice cubes in a glass. A faint slurping sound, then a sharp gasp and a low moan, drifted to me from that same direction. Then I heard footsteps and a soft hand on my face, stroking it, sliding down to my mouth. She grasped my chin and opened my mouth and now I had taste to add to the mix as well; one finger lingered in my mouth and I ran my tongue around it, collecting the salt of her skin, faint oily taste of a hand lotion, feeling the pulse of her pulse in that fingertip. She opened my mouth wider and slipped an ice cube into my mouth. But no ordinary ice cube this. Now I knew the source of that gasp from before. I was overcome by the intensity of her taste -- the spicy, earthy tang of a cunt in full flower. I sucked on that ice cube, devouring her, almost whimpering as her taste dissolved and diluted into nothingness.

Now I felt the hand at my boxers sliding them down my legs slowly. A brief instant of pain as my cock popped free, and then the cool air swirled around my heated skin. Wait, no, that was warmer air. I felt hot breath on my shaft, then warmth and wetness, a tiny thin trail as she ran only the tip of her tongue along my cock from head to balls. I groaned, forcing it out past a throat gone dry with lust.

Now there was a shifting around my head. The bed rocked and creaked, tilting left, and I felt naked skin sliding along my body. That woman-scent struck me again, from much closer range. A shifting and turning, and she sat astride my chest. Now I felt wetness smearing my shirt as she wriggled upward, marking me with her essence, moving closer to my hungry mouth. She lifted and then dropped; suddenly I had her cunt in my mouth, her lips embracing mine, her sticky syrup pouring out over my lips and chin. I attacked ravenously, all thought of niceties or gentleness gone, invading with tongue and teeth, grasping her clit with my lips, swirling my tongue from bottom to top in long hard licks. She moaned a bright brittle moan and I felt her shake; she must have motioned to the one at my cock, because the next instant I was engulfed by heat and wetness there too, a head bobbing on my shaft in delicious counterpoint to the action at my head. I moaned, but it was lost in the slurping and smacking of dual oral worship.

The one riding my face clamped hard around my head with her thighs. Her hips bucked forward, nearly smothering me. My nose nuzzled in the tiny bristly hairs above her slit; a small landing strip pointing the way. I kept up my assault on her clit, now flicking my tonguetip from side to side in a lustful lash. The bucking of her hips and her high moans told of my success and I redoubled my intensity. The one sucking me off was doing the same. A suction worthy of an F5 tornado bade fair to turn me inside out; the heat and velvety friction from her slippery mouth was deliciously intense. I felt my balls draw tight, and I knew she felt it as well, with her fingers wrapped around my sack like they were. Shuddering with delight, I fought to stay back from the edge until I'd tipped the one on my face over ahead of me.

A few short minutes later and I barely managed my goal. A tearing, finishing cry from high above me and a flood of wetness down my lips, chin, neck -- these were the rewards for my feast. Seconds later I provided my own feast for the one further down, exploding into her sucking mouth with such intensity I hoped she wouldn't gag. Not even a hint of it, though, as she drank me down with low murmurs of evident delight and a voraciously swirling tongue.

Brain whirling, senses flooded from all directions by tastes, scents, sounds, touches unimagined and half-remembered, I lay prostrate as they climbed off of me. Soft whisperings and a dirty giggle drifted to me, and I stretched my ears, but the preternatural sensitivity I'd reached had been overwhelmed by intensity, and I caught nothing. I did hear footsteps receding into the distance while another set padded towards me once more.

Abruptly the blindfold was yanked free. White heat burst in front of my eyes and tears ran down my face. Darkness to light is generally rather more gradual than that. I blinked at the nude figure in front of me, and now a new sensation flooded me. Confusion.

Because I had no idea who she was.


*********************************


The theme for this month's Group Post was "I opened my eyes to discover.....". I figured everyone else would be writing about what they saw, and so I deliberately went in the other direction. Hopefully it was a worthwhile trip.

Why not see how these other fine participants handled the theme?

http://secretlifeofaslummymummy.blogspot.com/
http://100waystobeperverse.wordpress.com
http://hubmanshangout.com/
http://ronjazz.blogspot.com
http://topaz-gemology.blogspot.com
http://mygrayline.blogspot.com
http://cuckold-husband-bdenied.blogspot.com

And our host while Kimberly is on hiatus, the sexy and talented Duchess: 

http://theduchessissexy.blogspot.com

-- PB

How does it feel.......

How does it feel.......
...when you haven't had sex in a week or more, when you're so keyed up you can hardly stand it? When every thought is of dirty delightful fantasies, every shift you make in your seat only increases your arousal, every whisper of fabric against your skin makes you burn to be rid of that clothing, hot and nude and pressed relentlessly against your partner of choice? 

How does it feel.......
...when you're lying in bed, hand moving restlessly between your legs, fingers buried to the knuckles in your soaking wet pussy, playing with your clit and sending brilliant sparks of pleasure like summer lightning through your body? When your hips are moving of their own volition, grinding, rolling, enacting that hard rhythm you want more than anything else at that moment? 

How does it feel......
...when I'm lying between your thighs, drinking delicately of your nectar, delighted as always by the way that each fresh swipe of my tongue doesn't use up the wetness there, only producing more? When I'm caressing you with mouth and teeth and tongue, sucking, licking, biting oh so very gently? When I'm gripping your ass in both hands to raise and pull you closer to my hungry mouth? When you're crying out, incoherent moans dissolving to frantic entreaties to keep going, urging me to keep going, oh yes, right.........THERE? 

How does it feel......
...when you're gripping the headboard in both hands, pushing yourself back at me, tossing your hair, harder, harder, yes, that's it, harder still? When I'm pounding you relentlessly, trying to hammer you through the wall and into the next apartment over, where the occupants are even now feverishly masturbating to the sounds of our screaming? 

How does it feel......
...when we're in the shower and I upend a bottle of body wash over your glistening breasts? When I turn blue gel into pounds of lather and spread them from head to toe over your slippery form? When I walk around you, coating every inch of you in slick suds, hands roaming from toes to the nape of your neck and everywhere in between? How does it feel when your legs are trembling from my attentions and your nipples are standing out like tiny cherries and your breath is coming in hard sharp pants? How does it feel when you're dripping so much wetness that the suds are rapidly being washed down your legs? 

How does it feel......
...when I part your lips with my crown and push forward? When you feel my shaft sinking into you, plumbing your depths more absolutely than any explorer could ever imagine? When you're gripping me fiercely, owning my every inch, giving me your all, begging for more and taking everything I offer with gasping moans of assurance and assent? When your fingernails scrawl bleeding trails across my back, flaying me with your desire and need? 

How does it feel......
...when we're out in public and you whisper exactly, precisely, what you're thinking at that very moment? When you can see my own reaction not just in my face but in the bulge at my crotch? When you trace its length with fingertips, each new caress serving only to delineate and accent its rigid outline? When you drape yourself over me from behind, pressing your breasts against me, undulating snakelike, your busy hands working over my front in perfect innocence, simply appearing idle caresses to curious onlookers? When your lips are still dripping honey into my ear, delicious descriptions of what you're going to do to me the very instant we are alone? When every tiny touch has me gulping, fighting for control, a wet spot forming in my jeans? 

How does it feel......
...when you're rising and falling above me, your cunt clenching my length tightly inside you, your wetness splashing all over me, your hands pressed firmly on my chest? When you're dragging your hair in a long slow sweep down my body with every slow downstroke you make? When you can see my eyes, desperate and mad, rolling about in pleasure-wracked spirals? When I'm shuddering all over like I've been tasered, but it's your electric touch that has me so affected? When you know you have complete control of me and will keep me in that envelope of ecstasy until you've tasted your own cup of delight to the full? 

How does it feel? Tell me....I want to know more. 

-- PB

Across a Crowded Room, part 3

(Please do read part 1, which you can find here, and part 2, which you can find here. My apologies for the delay in finishing this, but I wanted to complete it with a bang, shall we say.)

Science fiction writers use terms like n-space and hyperspace to describe methods for moving between dimensions. There must have been something like that in or near your apartment, because I barely blinked and we were inside. Or maybe it was just that there wasn't room in my head for everyday observations, because I was utterly lost in you; your voice, your scent, your presence, all were so overpowering that there was nothing left but She, She who is all women and none, She who is sexuality defined, She who leaves even the goddess Aphrodite behind in beauty and poise and grace.

You drifted ahead of me, sylphlike, down the corridor, through beams of moonlight streaming through windows. "Here," you said quietly, and beckoned to me. I followed, blinking, eyes adjusting to the dim light. An enormous window at one end of the bedroom had curtains flung wide; silver shine spilled in, painting the thick, heavy bed in bright bas-relief, strong contrast to the shadows elsewhere in the room. You reached for a lamp switch; moving fast, I took your wrist and prevented you. "No," I said. "Nothing artificial tonight. I want to see you in all your glory without any aids."

In the luminous glow of the moon, you turned to me and turned your face up. I stepped close, bending near you, taking in every line, every curve of your face. Long eyelashes blinked, slow and sultry, waiting. Your lips parted, your tongue ran along your lower lip. I breathed deeply of your scent, reaching down to your waist and placing my hands there, gently.

Closer. I ran my hands up your sides, carefully avoiding the sideswell of your breasts; ran fingers around to your back and up to your shoulders. I played with your curls for a moment and bent closer still, inches away now from your face. You sighed and closed your eyes, lips parting further and pouting. It was long past time....

Taking your face in my hands, I closed the remaining distance and kissed you oh-so-lightly on the lips. Brushing softly against them, tingling touch only. Your mouth soft and inviting, warm and growing warmer. Again I kissed you softly, then with a bit more force. Again. Again. Each touch of our lips was deeper, more intimate. I caressed your face and neck as our mouths merged, melding together now, wet and hungry for more. Your arms went under mine and locked around my waist; with a soft murmur of need you pulled me close. I felt the soft weight of your breasts against me and wanted to crush you in my arms...but that could wait.

Again. We kissed and kissed, our breath coming faster now, soft moans escaping each time we pulled free. There was fire there now; I felt like I was kissing a piece of the clean sun, a sister to the moonlight now bathing us both in its radiance. One of my hands went, involuntarily, to the back of your neck, pulling your head harder against me; the other slid down to the small of your back, pulling your body closer against me there. Our tongues met now, twining together, hot and wet and urgent. My head spun. My mouth burned.

Again. Again. Moaning into each others' mouths now, heads turning in perfect synch as we tried new angles and new variations; still we explored, tasted each other, drank deep from the fountain of lust that was now spraying over us both. My hand on your back slid lower, cupped your ass, squeezed gently; you moved against me and cooed in delight as your belly pressed against my hardness.

We broke then, staring at each other, panting. Seconds passed; blue eyes locked with gray, that silent offer and counteroffer more plain than ever. Then: "More," you sighed. "I want more."

"And so do I," I agreed, bending to kiss you again, just once this time, but a deep, plunging and forceful kiss this time, bending you backward, supporting you with one hand on your head and the other at your back. I felt your arms clutch me convulsively, fingers digging into my back; a bright spear of delight shot through me and I groaned into your mouth. I pulled back and pulled you up, releasing you. Slowly, a panther stalking its prey, I stood back and began to circle you, eyeing you for what you were: the most delicious treat I'd seen in years.

You stood there proudly, offering yourself for my gaze. Your hands ran up your body, from curve of hips to flat stomach to swell of breasts in front; you lifted and cupped them for me, noting with approval how my breath caught and my grin grew. Up your hands went, caressing yourself, painting with desire, lingering here and there, a touch on your nipples, a curl round your chin, sweeping upwards through your hair as you arched your back and tossed your head. You sighed softly as I came to rest behind you; again placing my hands on your waist, I bent close and nipped at the expanse of skin between neck and shoulder. I felt you shiver, and began kissing my way up your neck, nibbling gently, bending forward, arms locked around you now, pressing against your ass insistently so you'd know without a doubt how you were affecting me.

Long moments we stood there, sighing, as I kissed and licked up your neck to your ear. Bending forward a bit more, I licked at your earlobe and heard a soft breathy gasp from you. I took it in my mouth and sucked gently, running one hand up your front to cup and fondle one breast, nipples now standing out very nicely. You arched forward, into my hand, pushing your tits into my caresses. My other hand was busy lower down, running over your belly and down to your thighs, caressing, exploring. You melted against me, reaching one arm back, hand going round my neck and clenching there.

Now both hands were on your tits, stroking and squeezing. Never hard, never aggressive, but fondling and teasing, feeling them tighten underneath my ministrations, nipples poking out so hard they seemed likely to cut through the silk of your dress. Low moans drifted from your lips; you wriggled your ass against my erection, bringing moans from me as well, making me push harder against your softness.

I pulled back, planting a final trail of kisses down the knob of your spine, and reached for the zipper at the rear of your dress. "Oh yes," I heard you sigh, and couldn't have agreed more. Feeling more excited than a kid unwrapping a Christmas present, I pulled the zipper down all the way to its stop just above your ass, an expanse of milky white flesh meeting my hungry gaze. I began planting kisses and licks down your spine, soft sighs from you urging me onward; I felt you shrug your arms free and the dress's front fell downward. Squatting, I planted a kiss on the small of your back, then reached both hands around front to your thighs, caressing, running upwards. The tight silk frustrated me; I couldn't get at the real goodies. I had to get this dress off you all the way.

Other things first, though. I reached for the clasp on your bra, my growing excitement finally betraying me as my fingers fumbled with it. I heard a low glissando giggle from you but you didn't offer to help; instead you stood very still until I slipped the clasp free and peeled the bra off you. Again I stepped close, cupping your breasts in my hands. Soft. So incredibly soft and smooth. You moaned as I lifted them and caressed, palms and thumbs running over your nipples, so very hot and hard. I squeezed one gently and you cried out "yes!"; delighted, I slid my other hand to your other nipple and squeezed that one as well, tweaking and rolling it between thumb and forefinger.

Your hips bucked and your ass thudded back against my crotch, reminding me there were further delights to be found. I slid my hands lower and began working the dress free from where it'd bound up around your hips; you undulated from side to side, somehow managing to brush against my cock repeatedly while still "helping" me get the dress off; seconds later it fell free and puddled around your ankles. You stepped out of it, now clad solely in a pair of spike heels; I rocked back, stunned, realizing your panties hadn't come off in a mass with the dress -- you just weren't wearing any at all.

You turned to face me, gloriously, unbelievably nude. "Do you like what you see?" you asked, licking your lips.

"God, do I," I muttered hoarsely. What a sight you were -- body bathed in moonlight, creamy white skin spattered with freckles here and there; a flush spreading down your face and chest; bright rosy red nipples standing at attention on perfectly-shaped breasts; a tiny, cute navel; intoxicating swell of hips; lovely firm thighs....and oh yes -- a perfectly-kept landing strip pointing the way towards something I wanted very badly to taste by now.

But not yet. I circled you again, touching you here and there, running my hands over your body, caressing, squeezing, inflaming you further. I'd bend to take a nipple in my mouth as I came round the front, or meet your mouth with mine for more deep, wet kissing, or squeeze the cheeks of your ass with my hands and pull you against me, feeling the heat of your skin through my clothes now. So hot. I wanted that fire. I wanted you. I wanted you.

My hands now went to the buttons on my shirt; eagerly, you began helping me, your fingers exploring and questing over my skin as the shirt was spread wide. You played with the few hairs on my chest, pressing your palms against my pectorals; I arched my shoulders as the shirt slipped backwards and off me, and was surprised as you stepped close, capturing both arms behind me, winding the loose bits of the shirt around the wrists for a temporary binding.

Now it was you who was in control, stepping close, rubbing your breasts against my chest, your hand on my ass, pulling me close. You leaned in and planted a line of kisses down my neck and chest; I threw back my head and moaned as your hot lips and tongue scored fiery trails down my skin. Gradually your hand slipped away from the shirt and it fell loose, away. I pulled my wrists out of it and it dropped to the floor. I felt your hands on my slacks now, undoing the fastening but stopping there; your small hands went to the bulge (very prominent now) at the front, rubbing, squeezing gently, running up and down my length. I moaned again. "God, that feels good," I sighed, and you answered "Good," happily, now going to your knees to plant kisses on my cock through my slacks, still caressing it with one hand and squeezing my ass with your other one. The friction was maddening.

A few moments of this delicious torture and you stood again. Hazily, I realized that you'd somehow gotten my shoes and socks off as well while I was busy floating in the clouds; I'd certainly been in no condition to notice. I felt your hands working along my length and then pulling the zipper down; your mouth quirked into an O of surprise when you realized I, too, had worn no underwear and only hot flesh awaited your questing fingertips. And it was hot, very hot, heavy and hard beneath your admiring gaze as you pulled my slacks down. And soon it was beneath your admiring fingers as well. You ran your hand along the shaft, testing its texture; I gasped at the contrast, softness vs. hardness, delicious friction. You took me firmly in hand and pumped me twice, quickly, sharply; I gasped again and felt my balls draw up in pleasure.

And then we were in each others' arms again. Skin on skin, so exquisite. I pulled you against me, firmly but not crushingly, my cock standing up between us, an exclamation point of desire. Our mouths met again for a hungry kiss, opening deeply, devouring, tasting, sucking at tongues and lips. My hands clenched on your ass, your arms locked round my neck, your fingernails dug in hard to my shoulderblades. I felt you wiggle against me, delighting at the way my cock throbbed harder and harder against you, delectable torture.

Now I bore you backward towards the bed and lifted you in my arms. Grinning, you kicked your shoes off and they clattered to the floor, fetching up in a corner. I bent and laid you down upon the coverlet; it looked like black velvet and felt softer still. I stood by the bedside a moment, admiring; the moonlight spilled in rivulets of silver over your curves, shadows pooling in the hollows the moon's caresses couldn't reach. You smiled up at me and beckoned me with one finger. I took the invitation and crawled onto the bed, spreading your legs, and you grinned again, this time in anticipation, as I began kissing my way up your thighs. You arranged yourself on the pillows and settled in for some enjoyment.

Kissing, licking, sucking; I tasted your scent on my lips as I got closer to your pussy. Musky and sweet, maddening and arousing. I breathed deep, filling my head with that aroma, then lapping delicately, oh so delicately, at your folds, opening you with my tongue, spreading your lips with mine. Such a taste -- no gourmand had ever had a variety of flavors like this one, earthy and complex, sweet and spicy all at once. I put one hand under your thigh and moved it outward; the other hand stole upward and began caressing one breast and tweaking your nipple again. I ran my nose along your landing strip, liking the way your scent had lingered there; perhaps you'd been rubbing yourself before I accosted you in the club? But why wonder about that, I wondered, when the real thing's available? And I dove back in, feasting on you with lips and tongue, lapping up your nectar, using the broad side of my tongue to lick you from bottom to top and back again.

Loud moans and cries were my reward as I continued my ministrations. I felt your hips undulating slowly, not bucking hard, not yet. Your thighs and belly were trembling with need. I wanted more, and I took it, teasing your folds open further until your pink pearl glistened in the moonlight. I began to lick slowly all around it, providing gentle pressure on the sides in passing, getting you wet and sticky with my saliva, mixing it with your own juices for a fantastically wet lube. Soon I closed my lips around your clit and squeezed it softly, once, twice. I heard a louder moan and smiled to myself, now licking you in earnest, tasting that nectar that was flowing so freely, getting it all over my face and lips and chin. I loved the wet sounds, the slickness, the liquid-on-liquid tones of pure cunt worship. Which this was -- I wanted nothing more than to stay here for hours, worshiping you, bringing you from mountaintop to mountaintop, whispering endearments as you moaned and thrashed, coming and coming until you couldn't remember your own name.

You had other ideas, though. I felt your hands on my head, pulling upward; I lifted reluctantly from your sweetness, wiping the back of my hand absently across face and chin to dry myself a bit. What I saw in your very direct gaze immediately drove all thoughts of further oral worship out of my head. A look of purest need, a look just on the threshold of begging, a look that reminded me of the growing ache in my balls and the throbbing need of my own cock. It wasn't a want anymore. It was a need. I needed you, and you needed me. "Yes," you sighed, and "Now" I answered.

I slid upward, forward, over you, poised and fluid. Your hands went between us, positioning me, angling me, pointing the way; you spread your legs and raised your hips. Smoothly, effortlessly, I glided up and into you, that electrifying moment of first mergence as always sending a shock right through the deepest pleasure centers of my brain.

We lay there, sweetly enclasped, for long moments. You drew up your legs and locked them around my ass, your hands moving up and down my back. "Yes, yes," you moaned. The animal side of me wanted to fuck you right through the mattress, but instead I began a slow, grinding rhythm, keeping my weight balanced on my palms, my stomach brushing against yours, driving my hardness deeply into your all-enfolding wet tunnel. In and out, in and out, moist sounds drifting, soft cries of pleasure from both of us. There were words there too, but only small phrases: "yes" here, "more" there, "oh, like that"....instructions we followed, feedback we passed back and forth as our pleasure built and built into another incredible feedback loop.

Sensations. Such sensations I'd never felt before. It wasn't just some trick of well-trained muscles, or that you were tighter and hotter than any woman I'd been with before, or that your skin was softer, or your nipples more exquisitely hard-tipped -- although all of those things were true. Maybe the moon was lending its magic here, but I began to realize as our rhythm picked up that windows were going to break from the screams when we came. Groaning, balancing on one palm, I reached the other arm around to lift and spread you further, spearing deeper and harder into you with each thrust. "Yes, yes," you urged me on. "Harder. Oh, god, like that. Right there." Your "right there" was perfectly in agreement with my own; delicious friction built and built and built all around me with every stroke I took. Our fit was exquisite, our movements effortlessly synched, every straining urge pulling us closer to a pure mergence.

Our gazes locked again and this time the eye contact was searing. I felt a dazzling shock go through us both, and knew by the shuddering gasps we were both making that we were right on the edge. "Can I?" I wanted to know, almost begging, and you threw back your head, crying out "Yes! Yes! Yes! Fill me now!" And I did, bucking against you, screaming "oh FUCK yes!". I thrust hard twice more, then fountained urgently, still screaming, feeling your pussy clenching around me almost unbearably tightly, seeming to shape and direct each blast, aiming my spurts so there was no part of you left unfilled by my hot cream. And you were coming too, crying out your own pleasure in keening wails, banshee howls, drawn out and out and out until I wondered how you still had breath left to scream. But I only wondered it dimly -- I was busy, still thrusting, still spurting, my hands clenching your ass.

A short time later I collapsed on top of you, still buried balls deep inside. I felt you stroking my back, and turned my head to nuzzle at the hollow of your throat, planting soft kisses, feeling your pulse beating at my lips. I heard you humming quietly, a sleepy tune I couldn't recognize, and with some effort I lifted up to gaze at your face, wreathed in a goofy grin that must have mirrored my own.

"So," I asked softly, "does this mean I finally get to find out your name?"

And you smiled.......

-- PB

Group Post: "Sweet Sensation"

Is there anything in the world that compares to that first moment of mergence? That sweet sensation that feels like nothing else on earth?

I am tempted to say no. And the thing is, there are so many sensations in sexual play that feel so. fucking. good. Sensations starting at a low buzz, "mm, that's nice": the way your fingers feel trailing down my spine. Sensations that make me draw breath, sipping air: your tongue licking up the back of my neck. Sensations that make me tingle from head to toe, moaning "ohhhh yessss": your fingers wrapped around my shaft, pumping me slowly. Sensations that make me feel like I've been set on fire, but in a good way, "oh dear god I'm gonna....": that time-stopping instant just before coming. Sensations that make my blood burn, pulse pound, cock stand at attention: the excitement that races through me like summer lightning as you give me that come-hither look from across the room. Oh yeah -- I love them all, and a thousand more besides.

But for my money, nothing, absolutely nothing, compares to that instant when I part your glistening folds with my mushroom head and slide slowly, slowly, forward, gliding up and in and deep into your burning soaked depths. 

First, heat.....

No matter how hot you've made me, how much I'm burning for you, it doesn't matter. I could be incredibly keyed up, so hard and heavy and engorged, baking with lust, but it wouldn't matter. When I slip into you, you're always hotter. There's a nova burning at your core, and you channel directly from that to your pussy -- so regardless of how hot my cock is when I slide home, you're hotter still. And it's such a rare heat, too -- this heat that doesn't burn, just stokes me, inflames me, pushes my own redlining engine even closer to the danger point, so in seconds I'm clutching your ass with clenched hands, trying to draw myself deeper still.... 

Then, wetness.....

Fire and water, two diametric opposites. How then is it that you can be so hot and so freakin' wet at the same time? It astounds me every single time I push into you how effortless it is, how your lips glisten with your excitement, gleaming in the dim light. I look down, marveling, at your sheen covering my cock as I pull back, inch by inch emerging from your tunnel, looking like I've been dipped in lacquer, bright and shiny. Wet. God, so wet. I can hear squishing, moist sounds, can feel your juices, thick like honey, shifting and flowing around my shaft. I can't find the bottom of your ocean, I'm drowning in your depths and loving it.... 

Then, softness.....

Heat. Wetness. The two alone would be enough to drive me insane, but when we add in the silky smooth feel of your velvet cunt gripping me, there's just no hope for me at all. Softness begetting more hardness; it enfolds me, presses close on all sides, engulfs me. Shapes itself to the invader, spreads for the head and closes tight around my shaft, sucks me inward, urges me to drive deeper. I can feel your muscles milking me, inviting me to slide up and in, over and over, to pull back only far enough to thrust home again, to fill you, to plunge deep, bury myself to the hilt and past, take you for my own, possess you utterly.

I pull you close and into my lap, rocking deeper. Sensations explode around me. The soft, maddening weight of your breasts. The dagger points of your nipples against my chest. The fresh tang of your sweat. The muskiness of your excitement. The taste of blood from my tongue, bitten hard to stifle my screams. The slipperiness of our mingled sweat on heated skin. And you're urging me on too, rocking against me, creating a rhythm, grinding hard, going hand in hand with me as we shoot higher, rocketing upwards, breaking through the clouds, hitting apogee, sun bursting on the horizon as we clear the edge and begin the long fall downwards.

Sensations.....all of them exquisite. But none of them, none of them, can ever match that first spine-tingling moment, that moment when I first slide home where I belong, that moment that shocks me anew each time.


(This month's theme for the Group Post was suggested by Autumn. As always, your host is the sexy and alluring Kimberly, the Errant Wife. Why not go see how these other fine people handled Autumn's theme of "Sweet Sensations"?)

Haute Chocolat: http://www.thekinkchronicles.blogspot.com
Britni: http://britisstillshameless.blogspot.com
Petal: http://secretlifeofaslummymummy.blogspot.com/
Ronjazz: http://ronjazz.blogspot.com
fgsakes: http://fgsakes.blogspot.com/
Bri: http://theunequivocalme.blogspot.com
Gray : http://mygrayline.blogspot.com
Salt and Pepper: http://cellobiscuit.blogspot.com
Topaz  http://topaz-gemology.blogspot.com
Barefoot Dreamer: http://dreamingbearfoot.blogspot.com
Autumn:  http://autumnmistspeaks.blogspot.com
Dave:    http://glimpsesofdave.blogspot.com
And finally, our host, Kimberly:
Kimberly: http://yourerrantwife.blogspot.com/

-- PB

Interlude: Anatomy of a Wank Session

Men are privy to a feeling that women can never quite feel -- the insanely frustrating but oh-so-delicious sensation of a cock that's hardening, trapped in the constriction of boxer shorts or briefs, held captive by jeans or slacks, throbbing and pulsing with each beat of our hearts, each beat and pulse increasing the friction and frustration. The slight pain as it tries to lift its head upward, but is denied by logistics; the little darts of pleasure that fly through us as we shift uncomfortably, trying to find a new position that works; the flush of embarrassment as we try to hide the growing bulge from others, if we're unlucky enough to be in public when it happens (as it does, all too often).

How much better, then, to be at home and private when the urge strikes (brought on by reading her latest entry; ye gods, the fantasies that woman creates -- how they burn in the mind), to be able (as now) to sigh with relief, undoing the constricting jeans, sliding the zipper down, opening the folds, sliding the jeans down. Prolonging the torment a bit by running a hand along the bulge, feeling the rippling fabric as it slips and catches along heated flesh. The exquisite friction ramps up a bit more, the pulse becomes more insistent, more urgent. A bright spear of pleasure strikes home as I slide the boxers down as well; the object of my attentions standing free now, pointing skyward, a mini-tower constructed for pleasure's purpose.

I start by running my hands along my thighs, cupping my balls, fondling them a bit. My cock dips and plunges as I pull on my sack, bobbing and weaving. Lazily, I encircle the base of the shaft with thumb and forefinger, squeezing gently. The head throbs harder still in response. I squeeze again, and stroke upwards as I squeeze, more blood rushing through in response, the great vein standing out, every texture sculpted in pink marble. More precious stones appear -- glistening pearls of precum now oozing from my slit. I squeeze harder still, now using thumb and two fingers, and more precum drools out. God, she's gotten me more worked up than I thought. I remove hand from cock temporarily to move mouse and keyboard, accessing her archives and bringing up one of the hottest fantasies I've seen there, and my brain goes into overdrive, imagining myself as the guy she's working over with such delight and enthusiasm.

I take myself in hand fully now, rubbing, stroking. The head is slick and shiny with precum; I take a moment and use thumb and palm to rub the precum all over it. Glistening and purple with arousal, it begs for more attention. I grasp myself in loosely curled fist and begin stroking very very lightly. Slickness of precum provides plenty of lubrication; it's still dripping out with every stroke, and is now running in slow strands down the side of my shaft, making things nice and slippery. I rotate my hand in slow corkscrews, twisting around, spreading the me-lube, covering myself in my arousal.

I begin a nice slow rhythm, stroking up.....and down. Up.....and down. I sigh and close my eyes, my attention now fully on the sensations at my groin. In my head it's her hand that's stroking me, her lips caressing me, her cunt clutching me. It's her body that's pressed against mine, it's her fingertips that brush my head, it's her gentle suction that has me tingling from head to toe.

Up.....and down. Up.......and down. With each downstroke I squeeze my little finger gently around the base of my cock; with each upstroke I squeeze thumb and forefinger just below the head. The net result of that is that my heart is beating harder and harder. Hell, my cock is harder and harder, throbbing almost angrily, harder than I've been in a long time, feeling like a goddamn railspike. I'm so horny that I could fuck a rock right now, and I want to tear right through to the other side, but something keeps me using that same slow, deliberate pace. Stroking....stroking....stroking.

Long minutes pass. There are no sounds but my own breathing and the soft slap of flesh on flesh as I work myself steadily. Up....and down. Up....and down. My thighs are trembling. My breath is coming faster. I imagine her above me, rising and falling. Imagine her pussy engulfing me, splashing all over my thighs as she takes me to the hilt in one stroke. I can hear her sighs -- or are those my own? I'm moaning now, helpless to stop, unable to hold back the tide of sensations.

Almost without volition my hand begins speeding up. I'm gripping a bit more firmly, stroking harder. Up....and down. Up.....and down. Now my hips are rising with each downstroke, thrusting upwards, plunging into her softness, my hand providing a poor substitute for what I want so badly from her. I throw my head back and lean back in the chair, my free hand gripping the armrest hard enough to make it creak. My cock is twitching, throbbing spasmodically. My balls have drawn tight and are hard stones; I can feel them churning, roiling, building up a wave.

For ten seconds I stop utterly, gripping myself hard, but making not a sound or movement, trying to let the excitement die so I can prolong this wonderful torture. When I resume stroking in ten, it's clear that hasn't helped at all. I feel like I've stuck my cock into a light socket; every touch now sends electricity through my entire body. Moaning urgently, I grip a bit more tightly and begin to stroke in earnest now. Up and down, up and down, harder and harder, my cock so covered in precum it looks like it's been lacquered, hips bucking hard upward, driving into her. I can smell her scent, can see her grinning at me, can hear her voice in my head. And she's saying what I want most now: "Cum for me, babe. C'mon, shoot off. Give me a nice big creamy load."

And with a roar, I do, tensing so hard that my muscles will be sore for a day afterward, fountaining urgently, a hot white jet shooting out so fast and far that it lands on my shoulder. Groaning, grunting, I keep stroking, each motion I make producing another blast. Pearlescent white pools are forming on my chest and stomach, their heat so much more than that of my own body. Orgasm cresting, my cockhead is sensitive now, but I can't stop myself, I'm still flogging it hard, and the jets are still spurting, though smaller and more pitiful now.

Finally, gasping, I let go of my cock -- it flops down now, exhausted, splashing into a pool of cum -- and fall back into the chair. I feel utterly satiated, drifting on a cloud of pleasure, warmth spreading through me from scalp to toe. In a few minutes I'll grope for a towel or something to clean up the mess I've made, but for right now it's enough just to sit here, drifting, fantasizing about her, and hoping she gets half as much enjoyment from reading this as I did in writing it....and enacting it.

-- PB

Uniquely Erotic

Why do you torment me so? Why do you dance in and out of my reveries, my fantasies? Why are you so damned hot?


It's.......
the blaze of your gaze, the toss of your wink, the flip of your ponytail. The curve of your hip, line of your shoulder, tip of your nose, the points of your nipples, the curve of your wicked grin. The pink orchid between your legs, already glistening with dew in the morning.

It's.......
the salt-sweat taste of your skin, the spicy sweetness of your cunt, the hint-of-strawberry taste of your mouth.

It's.......
the musky-sweet aroma that's all your own. The scent of your arousal, filling my head with light, making my blood burn and my cock twitch. The clean fresh tang of your sweat as you balance atop me, working hard.

It's.......
the tingling electricity that shoots up my spine when we touch. The heat of your body, so hot, so hot... it's a wonder there isn't steam drifting from your pores. The creamy smoothness of your skin. The distinctive hard ridges of your spine, your hipbones, your collarbone. The soft globes of your tits, capped with nipples tight and hard with excitement. The slipperiness of your girl gloss running down your legs.The slickness of your sweat-covered skin as you slide atop, around, over me.

It's.......
the soft sighs and moans you make, the little squeaks of surprise when I invade you, the growling purr as your lust rises, the screaming shrieks of ecstasy, the filthy words spilling from your lips as you urge me on: "Fuck me, spank me, treat me like your plaything. Take me, use me, do me deep and hard. Harder. I said harder, goddammit!" 

It's.......
the complete package, sight / taste / scent / touch / sound melding and mingling, producing something that is uniquely Woman, uniquely arousing, uniquely incredibly you.

Come a little closer.....I want to savor you some more.

-- PB