A chat

Me: They were talking about my red hair. The term 'bruja' was employed

The Other: what is the Spanish translation of "I wonder if the carpet matches the drapes?" TEASING!

Me: It's the rough equivalent to, I've got hardwoods, baby

The Other: ah, keeping the surfaces waxed and shiny?

Me: Maintenance happened this morning.

The Other: and I missed it? that's what being punctual at work gets me...

Me: You were already dreaming of lunch, my friend

The Other: and now I am hungry again, as it were...

Me: Good to know...I like my men hungry...

The Other: you are someone well acquainted with my particular appetite, m'dear...

Me: I've been introduced, had appetizers, this is true. I can only imagine the entire meal

The Other: wanna do lunch sometime? :):)

Haven't written

I've got drafts upon drafts, but I can't seem to come up with a story idea that goes from beginning to end. Still, I love to write, so I've come up with a compromise. For the time being, I'm going to write short stories, or post tidbits of conversations.

Maybe these little bits will inspire me to get a new post going.

The new boy I've been referencing has told me that I can use his name. This is an interesting development, as he has a rather unusual name. Those of you who follow me on Twitter will recognize him and will also recognize how frustrated I get with him.

I find it fascinating that he wants to be talked about.

Another way to fuck me

I'm standing near your low-set table. Walk past me and look at my naked body. Look, and then look at me again. Come closer and shove me back onto the table. I'm bent now, with my eyes looking into yours. My legs are still straight, but my body is now supported by the table.

You stand inches in front of me. I know your expression; you're trying to decide what to do with me next. The smile you get across your face scares me some, but is still intriguing. I know that you know me well enough to determine what will please you and still allow me pleasure.

You take out your ropes. You rub the ropes on my body. Start with my stomach. You know that starting there makes me arch my back even more. Now, my tits are closer to you and my ass is farther away. It also means that my cunt is closer to you. You again stop to think.

You step closer to me, and use your thighs to push my legs apart. The look on your face means that I better spread them as far as I can. I do, almost uncomfortably, while you laugh at me. You then drop to your knees, and while you're wrapping the ropes around my legs, you're looking closely at my cunt. I can see you there, and my only reaction is to move my cunt closer to my face.

"Please," I say. "Please."

Yet you still watch me as you tie your knots. At least I still have use of my arms and hands. You stand again. You watch me again, for a minute, for two, until I have to look away. This is when you push my body back, so my cunt is closer to your cock.

I see your thick, hard cock in front of my face, in front of my mouth. I lean forward to take you into my mouth. God, I love sucking your cock. You're so hot and you get so deep into me. You're in my throat.

You use your hands on my clit. I know it's already hard; it's been hard since you brought out the ropes. You use the same amount of pressure on my clit as I do on you with your cock in my mouth. This is the bit of control I get.

As I take you in deeper, you finger me more. You're exactly replicating the actions I make. If I release your cock from my mouth, you take away your fingers from my clit. If I suck you back in, really pull you in, you use your fingers on my clit and your other hand tickles, and then goes into my cunt.

Now I know. If I'm a good girl, I get to come.

This is how I learn my limits.

One way to fuck me

I'm sitting on my couch, which is already turned out into a sofa bed. I am naked, as you requested. I see you in front of me.

Look into my eyes. I want to see the desire in your eyes. I want your look to match mine. Stand in front of me. Move closer; use your legs to push mine further apart.

Lean over me. Grab my hair in your hand and push me back. See my eyes, which show appreciation and fear. Push me onto my back, but don't let my legs move. With your hand in my hair, tightening into a knot, I can smell how close you are. I can smell your body and your breath.

Stare at me. I'm on my back. My legs are forced so open by you. I want to move closer to you, but you still keep me open. Now I can see your erect cock above my thighs. I wonder where you want me.

Put your mouth on mine. Lean over me and kiss me, and kiss me, and kiss me. Make me twitch and move closer to your cock as you enrapture me with your mouth and tongue.

You see what I have hidden. Reach your other hand past my head and grab one of my toys. The big one, that one that's perfect for my cunt. Grin at me as you pull back. Turn on the vibrator, my favorite toy, and let it wiggle in front of me.

You know I want it in me. You know I want you in me. Show it to my mouth. Run it, while it pulsates, down my neck, over my chest, and over one of my breasts.

Tease me. Run it around my breast. Watch me breathe deeply and raise my chest to you. Now, put it back toward my mouth, so I can get it wet. I lick it and put my mouth around it, to get it saturated in me. Tease me again. Before it dries, put that vibrator against my nipple.

My back arches. I love that feeling; I love my nipples being used. I rise because I want your cock in me. You're leaning over me, playing with me, and all I want is an orgasm. One that you cause.

Your mouth is on my neck, the toy is travelling down my body. I adore your focus. I try to direct you closer to my clit. Please put that toy on me, on my clit. I want to writhe under you. Push that toy into me, into my cunt. It takes no work; I'm already dripping.

Watch my eyes again; they will tell you what I want, and even more, what I need. Use your thighs to push me even more open. I push further down on the couch, so I'm ready for you.

Pull your hand from my hair, and drop my vibrator from my cunt.

I'm wet, and hot, and I'm already trying to pull your cock into me. Put the tip of your cock on my cunt; let me feel how hard you are. I sigh, and try to push myself down further so I can pull you into me.

My tits are high, my back is arched, and I'm looking at your face with gratitude. Now, please, now.

Then you finally put your hard, thick, erect cock into me. Not a little. You force yourself into my cunt, and your hands surround my hips, and I keep you there.

Thank you.

Mmmmm....

This isn't mine. This comes from Trollop with a Laptop. You can get it here. Still, He is a fantastic cook, and suddenly I wish I were on the menu:

Prego

By Alison Tyler

We have such a fucked up, twisted, we’ll always have (last tango in) Paris sort of relationship, that nothing fazes me anymore. I mean nothing in the bedroom. Even our most vanilla activities tend to involve accoutrements such as rubber dishwashing gloves, velvet blindfolds, and Wesson oil. So I suppose I shouldn’t have found it odd at all to walk through the swinging doors of our kitchen and discover Jackson fucking the jar of spaghetti sauce.

But I did.

Both find him, and find it odd.

On any other night, I would have seen him fucking that wide-mouthed jar, and thought, *Yum. Dinner.* I might have taken a seat at the counter and watched, or even have asked him why he’d chosen Prego rather than Ragu. I can imagine wondering idly whether Garden Variety worked better for fucking than Marinara. But we were currently hosting a dinner party for six, and I could see from the open cabinet, that he was using our last jar.

“Please, Carrie,” he said when he heard me enter.

With the very real knowledge of our invited guests waiting in the dining room, and the equally real vision of my husband fucking a jar of pasta sauce, all my thoughts came to a basil-fragranced stop.

“Please,” he said again, his voice as hungry as I imagined our guests to be.

Please what? I wondered. Please slip out to the grocery store and buy more sauce. Please go and tell our friends that dinner’s going to be late. Please…

"Get down on your knees,” he continued.

I was still in mild shock. Jackson had on a pair of black slacks and a black-fitted t-shirt. He looked dashing and normal, except for the fact that he was holding a jar of pasta sauce at waist-level. Water for the angel hair bubbled rapidly behind him on the stove. The sauce was the last thing, the most pressing thing left to cook.

How could he have…why would he have?“On your knees,” he said, and now there was no scusi in his voice, no per favore to his tone. I watched the way he was dipping his cock into the half-full bottle, and for a moment I forgot all about our guests. Forgot that we’d decided to host a dinner party in honor of our tenth anniversary. Forgot that sauce stains.

I dropped to my knees on the slick linoleum floor and waited. Usually, I know what I’m doing in this situation. On my knees, mouth open, Jackson’s cock slipping back and forth past my parted lips. The warm wet heat of my mouth enveloping him. But now, now what did he want from me? He had the pasta jar. he didn’t need my mouth, too, did he, greedy thing?

Apparently, he did.

“Taste this,” he said, smiling that sly Jackson smile at me, “And tell me what you think it needs.”

I looked at his cock, all covered in pasta sauce, and then I looked back up at him.

“Are you serious?”

I shouldn’t have asked. He pushed forward, grabbing the back of my hair at the same time, and suddenly, I found myself sucking Prego from his rock-hard shaft. I should say that I am a pasta-junkie. I don’t care if pasta is the cheapest thing for a restaurant to make, don’t give a damn if $19 for a plate of macaroni is obscene. Every time we go out, that’s what I order. I like red sauce best, what Italians mean when they say gravy.

And I should also say that I love sucking cock. I have gotten on my knees for Jackson in far stranger places than our kitchen. I’ve sucked him on the ferry from Larkspur to San Francisco, with the salt spray behind me and San Quentin to my left. I’ve drained him on an airplane, the red eye from L.A.X. to La Guardia, while our fellow passengers snoozed zombie-like beneath those thin gray throwaway blankets, and I worked hard to keep my slurping sounds to a minimum. And I’ve sucked him on our fire escape, overlooking Chestnut Avenue, as early morning commuters slogged toward yet another workday.

But I had never mixed these two pleasures before—sauce and sucking, fellatio and food. Not until now. Not until Jackson had finished slamming that bottle of sauce to death, and was ready for me to clean up every wayward drop.

For only a moment, did I worry about what the sauce would do to my face, my hair, my outfit. For only one sliver of time, did I hesitate, remembering my best friend and her fiancé out there, in the dining room, talking about the Oscars with Jackson’s college roommate, Eli, and his lover, Joe. What would they think if one were to push through our swinging kitchen door and find me on my knees, covered in sauce.

“Oh, prego,” Jackson murmured, and I had to fight off the giggles that threatened to spill out. We’d gone on our honeymoon to Italy. We’d learned all of five words during the two weeks we were there: grazie, per favore, scusi, and prego. We’d said the words constantly to each other, pretending we were having legitimate conversations, like the other couples in the cafes.

Grazie, grazie.

Per favore.

We’d spoken those phrases to each other in bed. Jackson stroking me, sweetly touching my hair, my face, then flipping me onto the mattress, spitting on his palm and oiling up his cock. Saying, “Per favore, Carrie,” before thrusting inside of me, sealing himself to me.

During our honeymoon, I hadn’t worried that he was the last man I’d ever fuck. Instead, I’d thought with pleasure that we would be fucking together forever. Just the two of us. In our twisted, kinky, we’ll always have Milan and Venice and Rome sort of ways. And now, we were adding to the repertoire, my mouth working hungrily on Jackson’s sauce-covered cock, my pussy twitching in anticipation of what might be next on the menu. When I cleaned off the sauce, would he bend me over our island and screw me? Or would he spread me out on our Corian countertop and drizzle olive oil all over my skin?

But maybe, I decided, I shouldn’t worry so much about secondo when we were still on the appetizer. I could feel the cool black-and-white linoleum through my fishnets. I was infinitely aware of the flavor of the sauce in my mouth, combined with the real scent of Jackson’s cock, Jackson’s skin.

My tongue flicked out to touch his balls as I brought one hand into play. I wrapped my fist around the base of his shaft as I continued to bob on the head. What had made him dip his cock into the sauce in the first place, I wondered. What had gone through his mind as he’d unscrewed the jar of the wide-mouthed bottle?

Unfortunately, I couldn’t ask. My mouth was too busy, too full. I could feel the sauce on my cheeks now, could feel the spread of it from my lips to chin.

He was groaning softly as I sucked him, and he pushed my hair off my forehead and gazed down at me. I wondered if sauce had splattered my dress. If my breasts, visible in the V-neck of my scarlet jersey, were freckled with the juicy tomato puree.

I continued to suck him even after all the sauce was gone, so that his cock was clean and shiny from the wetness of my mouth. Jackson tried to lift me up then, and I guessed he was going to fuck me, but I couldn’t let him. The sensation was so sweet, sucking him to the sounds of clinking glasses in the dining room, to the knowledge that at any moment we might be discovered. I could see the half-filled bottle of Prego on the counter, and that turned me on more than anything I could have imagined. Who would ever have guessed—forget oysters or ginger—this was pasta sauce as an aphrodisiac. Thinking of Jackson just screwing that bottle while the rest of us waited for our pasta course made me wetter than I could imagine. I fantasized about all of the actions he’d been doing while I had busily entertained our guests—envisioned him undoing his slacks and slipping his cock into the sauce-filled jar. The sound must have been intense. That sucking sound.

Oh, fuck.

I put one hand between my legs then, touching myself through the layer of my dress and the creamy white panties I had on beneath. I could sense right when Jackson had reached his limits, because first I tasted the salty-flavor of his pre-come, and then the liquid of his climax filled my mouth.

Practice has made me an expert at swallowing him down, at draining his cock without spilling a drop. I felt pleased with myself as I backed up to give him room, but my fingers didn’t stop their spirals over my clit.

“Show me,” Jackson begged. “Per favore.”Grinning like a fool, I lifted my dress, still kneeling on the floor. Jackson got on the floor with me, and his fingers took over. I looked down to see the red stain of the sauce from his fingertips mark my panties. How sexy was that? I couldn’t stop staring as he rotated his fingertips right over the placket of my panties. I have always loved being touched through a barrier, and this time was no different. Except, in a way, it was. Because there was sweet sauce on his hands, so that I could see the trail of his touches. See the path his fingers took. I wanted that sauce all over me. Wanted him to mark me with the tomato puree. Then suddenly, I was coming, his middle finger hitting my clit in the perfect rhythm. I clutched onto him, aware that we both smelled like basil, like oregano. Aware that the pasta water was rollicking now. That we had nothing to serve our guests.

My eyes were glazed when Jackson stood. I watched him, but I didn’t understand. He moved me to the far doorway, not the one leading to our dining room, but the one that led out to the hall. Moved me so that I was far away from him, and then, before I could say a word, he dropped the sauce jar so that it shattered on the floor.

“What?” I stammered. “why?”

“What do you think?”

The remaining sauce went everywhere—perhaps the red juices wouldn’t have covered my panties on its own—but the breaking of the bottle served to give us both a reason to change. To apologize to our guests for the slight delay in their meal. To head to the bathroom down the hall for a quick cleanup.

And a quicker fuck.

Jackson took me for real in the bathroom, took me against the shower, the scent of soap washing away the last remnants of the Prego. I was sad to see the water turn from red to clear, I must admit. And I think Jackson felt the same way. As we dried off together, I saw him lick the last drop of sauce from his top lip.

“Delicious,” he told me. “We’ll have to cook for guests more often.”

When we returned, Eli was in the kitchen, whipping up a sauce from frozen pesto. He and Joe had taken it upon themselves to clean up, and Joe was gingerly sweeping the shards of the bottle into our dustpan.

“Grazie, grazie,” Jackson said with his usual buoyant charm.

“Prego,” Eli replied easily as he stirred the pot on the stove.

I felt my cheeks turn as red as the sauce, still clinging to the shards of broken glass.

Monogamy

This post will be outside my norm. That's fine; this is my blog, after all.

I've never been any good at monogamy. I really don't understand the traditional definition of it. Well, yes, I do understand the traditional definition. I just wonder if it really works. Just about every relationship I've had, and just about every relationship my friends have had (hell, I'm going with just about everyone now) has involved some sort of cheating.

Cheating is certainly relative. From what I've gathered, cheating to men means that their woman has had sex with another person. Cheating to women can mean that as well, but also, often, means that her man is emotionally involved with another woman.

I'm not tackling gay relationships here. Those are beyond my experience.

From my own experience, I know that I've never had a serious relationship where I could stay faithful. The interest, the desire, the need to be needed is too strong. I hate that I've hurt those people.

Now I have Him. He told me from the beginning that He would not be faithful. I protested at first. He asked me when the last time I was faithful was. I had to be honest. He smirked. (We've known each other for a long time, long before we're finally trying to get this right.) I realized what He meant. I always wanted to have my boyfriend around, but be free to do what I wanted to do. I now realize that I can't have it both ways. This means I have to allow the freedom to explore for Him and for me.

He's too important to me to not let Him. I know that He loves me. I know that I love Him.

Now, finding people who understand this free, honest relationship is a different matter. I want more others who are willing to engage with me, knowing the parameters. My friends already think I'm crazy for agreeing to these terms. Does it seem strange? It doesn't to me. I know I am occasionally jealous. That's usually because He's getting more attention than me. I've seen the pendulum shift when I get more attention. All He and I have to do is be sensitive to it.

PS - Don't expect to read a lot of posts like these. This place is about raw animal sexuality.

My Favorite Morning

As I've told Him, I often awake empty. I mean empty in both the physical and emotional sense. It seems strange when I awake and He's not next to me. Even worse, I hate waking up without Him in me. I want each and every morning to awake with His cock in me. That's how I know I'm alive. That's how I know that He loves and desires me.

Emotionally: He can make me laugh more than anyone else. He makes me feel gorgeous and wanted. He loves me for my mind as much as He loves my body.

My favorite morning is awaking with Him in me and on me, kissing me. He then cooks, and I crawl and beg for Him. He feeds me from His fingers. The we go back to bed.

Tonight I miss Him.

I wonder how many times in a day I can come. Sometimes I want to push Him away. Still, I want to come at least 3 or 4 more times. The day/night is early, and I know I will be used. I know that I love it.

Cravings

Lately, I find that when I'm going about my day, I pay more attention to the people around me. I watch each and every one and remember that they are all sexual beings. Just about all of them are fucking. This is both amazing and disgusting to me. Like it or not, I have a type.

Still, as I watch them all, I walk a better walk, a stronger walk, one where I'm sure to move my hips more and arrange my ass for the best view when I know someone's watching me pass.

Sometimes I crave all the people I see. I want to tell them what I know. And what I know is that sex - raw, involved, filthy, make-me-beg sex - is amazing. It reminds me that I'm alive. It reminds me that I'm free.

I would love to walk up to a stranger and tell him that I am a possession. Once I explain what He does to me and for me, I can imagine the look on his face. I want that person to crave me, to wonder what I would do at his request.

So far, I've found nothing I won't do. Try me.

My introduction

Last night, He told me in detail of His plan to introduce me to His friends. He's told me before about His plans to show me off, and I have absolutely agreed to this. He's not told me a lot of particulars before.

While I don't know where He will take me, I do know that it will be outside His home. Before we leave His house, I have asked Him to take care of my hair and makeup. I want to be His vision of perfection before we go.

He first wants His friends to see me dressed, looking beautiful and calm and ready. I know this will not last. He loves me more when I am distressed and in tears. This makes me more appealing to Him.

He will undress me, slowly. He will show off His favorite parts of me. This will be the first time that He shows what on my body is the most attractive to Him. This will be a test for me. I can be shy, and it can be awkward to have strangers look at me while I'm being stripped and touched by Him. My response is to react to His hands on my body. I will not be restrained, but I know that I may not move without His guidance. Still, I will strain, dip, lean to keep His hands on me. I hope it will help me to not be embarrassed.

Once I am naked, He will lead me to my post. I do not know if it will be another St. Andrew's, or if He will just have a ceiling tether. It depends on how He wants His friends to use me. He will not lead me by the hand, or by a rope. He will lead me to my position by putting His fingers in my cunt and pulling me behind Him. I will follow, quickly, because I know the results if I move in such a way as to disturb His fingers.

Once I am attached to my place, I am to show His friends my body. They are allowed to touch me, slap me, examine me, toy with me.

Still, He tells me that I am His. His possession, His pet, His filthy whore. I am. I know that He will not allow His friends to hurt me. I know that He loves me. I trust Him. While I am being handled, I watch His eyes and see His pleasure at His friends enjoying my body.

This is all I know right now.

Guest Writer

A friend of mine wrote something to post here. I know He would love this scenario. He would love to add her to His collection. Maybe someday...

For your pleasure...

"I thought of her kissing me. I'm not a lesbian, but god, women are just such amazing kissers. And knowing that it's naughty is such a turn on. I think of her kissing me as she smiles wryly and starts playing with my tits.

I wanted to put on a show for him. He's never seen one, so this is something I need to give. I desperately want to show him what it's like to be with someone so sensual. So she makes me come just from kissing me and playing with my tits. And seeing me come is his ultimate turn on, so he slides his cock into me, feeling how wet she has made me so far. It's really hot, and it feels like his cock was made for me.

She keeps kissing me, and I guide her onto the couch so he can eat her while he fucks me. I help pull her panties down and touch her creamy white thighs. Her skin is like silk. And he keeps fucking me, and watching her get naked while he fucks me is almost too much to take. I play with her tits as he fucks me.

He flipped me over to fuck me from behind so he could eat her properly while still fucking me. I'm on my hands and knees, staring at the full length mirror in front of me. Her hips ride against his face as he sucks on her clit. I can feel I'm about to come, and I can hear that she is close. I want to wait for her. I bite into the pillow beneath my face to keep from coming without her.

I breath in sync with her, and soon we are both coming together. He finishes immediately after. I love the feel of his cum in me. It feels so hot, and I love knowing he was deep in me when he came."

A previous

I'm thinking of a previous favorite, and how inspiring he was.

Years ago, we were together for quite a while. I have a favorite memory of him and me...

I was at his apartment. His roommate had finally left, and I was so, so hot for him. He was trying to study. I didn't care. I wanted all of his attention.

I laid across his lap, opening my blouse with one hand while guiding his hand to my nipples with the other. This was a favorite game for me. I loved having his hands on my tits and his fingers toying with my nipples. I loved the sensation of being so caressed. It made me wet every time he would play with me.

He pushed me away, off his lap, off his couch, because he had to study. By then, I needed him so badly. I crawled over to the other side of his living room. I know he watched me crawl, because when I turned around and faced him, the book on his lap, the one that recently replaced me, was covering something.

I knew what he was hiding. I dipped my back down to raise my tits and my ass. I finished taking off my blouse. I slowly, oh, so slowly, crawled to him on my hands and knees. I started to climb up the end of the sofa where he was sitting. He pulled my wrists to him, pulled me on top of him. I rested just above him on my wrists. I pushed my tongue into his mouth as he tried to pull me completely onto him. I began to rub my still-covered cunt against his hard cock. Just a tease, a little dance on him, as I pulled away.

He threw me over, so I was under him. He yanked my pants down and shoved himself into me. It was so deep and sudden that I gasped as my cunt widened for him. He tried to withdraw. I knew that he wanted to tease me back. But my cunt was strong, and kept him in me. I was able to suck him in so deep in me.

He gave into me, and just fucked and fucked and fucked me again. Even when he came in me, he continued to fuck me until I threw my head back and begged him to stop.

He told me to be careful what I wished for.

Anticipation

He and I have exchanged emails all day. He's tired and frustrated, and in need of relief. He called me on His way home. He acted as if He just needed to talk. I know better. I can read His voice.

I promised Him that I will stay awake for Him, until He gets home. I told Him that I will find a way to entertain Him. He answered, "Dance, monkey, dance!" I told Him I would be the monkey.

I will give Him His relief. He will want to whip me and mark me. He will do this until I am crying and laughing at the same time. I so much love this about Him. He can figure me out so quickly. What I want tonight doesn't matter. He needs His satisfaction.

I love that He watches my face as He puts me through my paces. He does enjoy marking my body. I sometimes think that He chooses a pattern for my back and my ass and my thighs. He then will sometimes choose a different pattern for my tits and stomach and cunt.

Then, He will bend me down and enter me. Hard. No mercy. I don't need His mercy. I need His cock so deep into me that He hits my cervix again and again. He can get so far into me that it brings tears to my eyes.

He may change His mind and not use me tonight. But I really hope that He will. I need Him like I need air.

The other

As much as I belong to Him, I am allowed others. So is He.

I played with one of my others tonight. My other wants to be a bottom sometimes, so I let the other tonight. The other envisions standing before me, naked and afraid. As the other should be. Once I'm left to my own devices, I can be tough on them. I belong only to Him.

My other asked me for direction. While I'm naked before the other, I make the other get down on the other's knees and suck my clit. The other is a good boy; the other does as the other is told. I even move the other's face to the places on my clit that I like best. Ummm, good boy, the other is making me feel weak. I next direct the other to put the other's fingers in my cunt. The other's fingers in me, the other's mouth on me, are beginning to make me bend, as if I cannot stand up anymore.

I ask the other to fist me. The other is too afraid, and the other backs away in order to adore me. I have to be careful not to push too far or else I won't get to keep my other others.

The other adores me with the other's mouth and fingers. I'm getting closer to coming. The other knows this, and moves the other's other, last hand to my ass. The other is putting two fingers in my ass, the other's most-hand in my cunt, and keeps the other's mouth on my clit.

I can't do anything but fuck the other's mouth, the other's fingers, the other's hand.

I wish He could see this.

A way to fix Him

He is not doing well. There's a lot going on for Him. I want to distract Him. Here's how I want to do it.

In His house, I am not allowed to wear shoes. Also, when I enter, I must immediately remove my clothes. I know when I am there, I am His possession. I duck my head down and wait for His commands.

He will want His cock in my mouth. I work hard to be sure that He can fuck my mouth deeply. I must stay still and take all of Him into me. I want to touch His body, but I know that I am not allowed. I want to rock my body some. No. I know the answer is no. I love the feeling of His cock in my mouth. I know that I am His possession. I am His pet.

He is angry. He had a bad day. I turn once He finishes in me. I know where He wants me now. He wants my ass. I am lucky that He wants me again. He uses a lot of lube to be sure that He won't hurt me. I love that He loves fucking my ass. I feel full of Him. I take all of Him into me.

I'm not bound this time. But I still know my rules. I am so grateful to have Him. I love Him in me. I feel empty without Him.

And, again, this is what I was born to do. I was born to fuck Him.

My turn

Last night was my night to use Him. He allowed me complete control over His body. This is a rare treat. I did my best to please Him.

I tied Him on all fours. I placed mirrors under His face so I could watch Him. I was allowed to use my cock on Him. I love doing this, because I always want to know how it feels to fuck Him while He's fucking me.

I made Him suck my cock. I rammed it down His throat. He's so pretty with His mouth on my cock. He got tears in His eyes from me being so far down His throat. I put my hands on His cock to tease Him. He got so hard. He was twitching from the sensation. I wanted Him to come so I could use His come as lube. I told Him so.

I gave Him permission to come in my hands. When I'm in control, I get to decide when He's able to come. I love listening to Him beg me to give Him permission. I'm not entirely cruel. I only make Him wait a minute or two.

I used His come and His saliva as lube on my cock, and then I entered His ass. He's so good to me. I love being inside Him. I love riding Him hard, so He knows how I feel.

After just a little while, He got so hard again. His face was clenched with pain and pleasure. I made Him beg me longer this time to come. He waited 5 minutes. I could see that He could barely hang on any longer. I shoved my cock one more time, deep, hard, into Him, and then allowed Him release.

As He came, He told me again and again how much He loves me.

No release for me though. It was worth it.

Makes Him happy

He now knows how easy I mark. This pleases Him. He loves knowing that it's not just Him who marks me. I also mark myself. When I can reach, I bite the soft part of my hand below my thumb. It is now swollen and black and blue. I wear this mark with pride, as I wear His.

He has agreed to put His initials on my back. He can't decide whether to use His fingernails to scratch them in, or if He should use a whip and mark me that way. I know what I'd prefer, but it's not my choice. I get to be tied to a Saint Andrew's cross and enjoy it. That should be enough for me. But I am willful. I hope He decides to use the whip. I will be gorgeous when He's done.

He loves me in tears and near collapse. When I can only take more because I have to. He loves that when I'm that close to my end, I look at Him in His eyes and tell Him that I love Him.

I told Him that I would like His initials on my inner thighs. Because I said it, it will be a long time before He grants my wish.

I am still in training. But I do know that I am His. I am very grateful.

Makes me happy

The other night I was on my hands and knees. My hands were tied to a table. I had clothespins on my nipples. The rest were running from the insides of my knees to my lips.

When He finally decided to fuck me, it was perfect. He got harder, and then harder, and then deeper.

He told me what I had never heard.

"I own you."

The First

The very first person I ever fucked is still a favorite. I knew him when I was younger. He was gorgeous, and attractive, and I knew he would be OK.

I chose him for those reasons. I didn't want to be a virgin anymore. Most of my friends were not. It is not easy to admit, but I did search for a man who I knew would be OK with being my first lover.

I believe I chose well. That night, the night I was first fucked, I went to his house. He had a case of Boone's Farm wine. We drank, and drank. Then we went to his couch to watch a movie. During that movie, I laid across him with my head in his lap. He touched me. He was gentle and sweet at first. It did not take long for him to start putting his hand down my chest. Even less time before he started unbuttoning my blouse. His roommate was in the room. I think his roommate ignored what he could see.

Once I was undressed from the top, his hand went down my pants. I remember that I groaned for him. Next we went to his room.

I was nervous. I laid down on his bed. He was not nervous. He came at me, from my feet up towards my mouth. He took off my clothes. I reached for his back to pull him close to me.

He entered me. I learned to twist my hips to take him in. He was not gentle. He wanted me. I wanted him. But this was my first time. I did my best to take him in as far as I could.

My first time, I came. He came too.

After, he went to shower. I was left in his bed. I did not know what to do. I got dressed. It was time to leave. I saw that I had bled on his bed. I felt bad. He had told me before that his parents bought him new sheets. I ruined them.

He and I still talk.