I Am Not Sure Which Craves You More....

Hey, long time no talk

I hope you're doing well and i just wanted to let you know

that I'm still here waiting for you and i miss you a lot.

Giving In

Warm curves under a fuzzy sweater, socks up to her thighs with a little roll where they cut into her. Chubby cheeks and wide eyes.

As we kiss on the couch her skirt rides up. At some point she stopped tugging it back down. We are becoming a hot wrinkled mess. My cock is so hard it aches under my too tight jeans.

The movie and our promises forgotten.

It’s okay if it’s just kissing. It’s okay if I just feel her up a little. Each little hurdle is rationalized as it is passed. Over her shirt. Under her shirt. Just touching her thigh. Just a little. Just for a second.

If we don’t take off her panties it doesn’t count. We can just pull them to the side for a second.

She closes her legs around my hand but doesn’t let me pull it away. We are both begging. Little whimpers and needy whines.

When I kiss her neck, just under her ear, her legs open, as if I slipped a key into a lock.

When I finally feel how wet she is, she buries her face into my chest. Her hands go to my belt. Everything spins and turns as we finally give in.

Ass Fucking Season Again

more tsubasa ? →　archived

(via quickienewyork)

Obey

He was the first person I saw when I walked into the party. It had been over five years since I’d seen him last, but when he touched my hand one word ran through my head: obey.

I instinctively thrust my left hand behind my back as I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. We talked for almost an hour and I almost didn’t notice the first time he commanded me.  It was mundane and simple, but when he told me to show him my bracelet I didn’t hesitate.  Ten minutes later he leaned in and whispered to me.

“Make me another drink.”

His words ran straight from my ears to my clit and I got up immediately.  I was completely focused as I walked to the kitchen and for four minutes nothing seemed more important than making the perfect gin and tonic.

There were a few other simple commands until he knew I was not only willing, but unable to say no.  When he told me to walk to the back bedroom and kneel by the bed I simply nodded and did as I was told.

It seemed like hours until I heard the door close and lock behind me.  He circled me twice and I was terrified that he wouldn’t like the look of me.  Had I gotten too old?  Were my clothes unappealing?  When he finally stood in front of me it took a force of will to not reach up and open his jeans before he asked.  When he finally gave the command my fingers were shaking.

I placed my hands back in my lap (like a good girl, I thought) and looked up into his eyes.  I opened my mouth and leaned in, taking him slowly between my lips and running my tongue over his perfect cock.  My wedding ring felt heavy on my finger and as I took him deep into my mouth and throat I gently pulled off the ring and slid it into my pocket.

For two minutes I didn’t think he’d noticed.  After twenty minutes of using my mouth I was positive he had.  The command came quickly and without warning.

“Stand, turn, and put your hands on the frame of the bed.”

I did as I was told and moments later felt the cool air of the room against my bare skin as he slid my clothes down to the floor.  I could feel his cock pressed against me and I closed my eyes as I waited for him.

“How long have you been married?”

I clenched my teeth and my eyes as I let out a whimper.  He was pressing into me, first with his fingers, and then the head of his cock and I tried to speak.

“Three years,” I finally said.

It felt like an eternity waiting for him, but when he finally slid inside me I came.  Just like that.  I screamed and moaned and thrust my hips back against him and he fucked me harder than I thought possible.   When he was ready to cum he had me turn and kneel in front of him.  He pulled my shirt down and had me beg for him.  I looked ridiculous kneeling there on the floor, and I begged and begged until he covered my breasts and chin.

I stayed there on the floor as he buttoned his pants and washed his face in the bathroom.  I didn’t move a muscle as he sat on the bed and tied his shoes and I simply closed my eyes when he leaned over and kissed me long and hard.  He dressed me himself, taking care with everything.  He was tender and gentle and I was pained and releived that it was all over.

As we walked back to the party he took me by the hand and kissed it gently. Just before we got swallowed by the crowd he whispered to me again.

“In exactly one hour, I expect you to be back in the bedroom wearing nothing but your heels.  Leave the door unlocked.”

–Guy New York

Remorse

Did that even really happen? She thought. The damp sidewalk felt like ice under her feet. It’s only been a few hours, maybe less. It already feels like a drunken hallucination. 

The problem was that it’s hard to tell what’s real when reality itself is so far from normal. The status quo of this situation was just hopelessly warped. 

It had started with a look.  

That’s a lie, she thought to herself. It started with whiskey.

The whiskey was probably why she noticed the look he’d given her… the look that transformed friendly, getting-to-know-you-as-a-person conversations with acquaintances into a mischievous game of what was basically just chicken. A dare.

It had escalated quickly. Before long she’d sat at his feet, and he let her. Of course, he probably didn’t really know or care about the sort of surrender that implied to her, in her own drunken mind. He didn’t play those games, as far as she could tell. However, he still would have known that she was sitting far too close to be appropriate. He would have been aware that her shoulder against his knee was far too familiar for a casual co-worker.

The others had stepped out to smoke… and that was when he finally called her bluff, reaching down gently and ghosting a feather-light finger over her breast. The sensation shot through her as sharp as if he’d slapped her. Holy shit, is this happening? She couldn’t believe it. Her senses were muddled from too many drinks, and she was supposed to be getting home soon… But god, the week had been so hard. And her feet hurt from standing and her face ached from smiling at rude customers. And backing down felt like running away. She’d never been good about denying herself what she wanted. And she really, really wanted to stay.

It was dimly lit, almost spooky at this time, since the place was normally bustling.  

“It’s been a long time since there’s been a naked girl in this room.” he murmured, and watched her pull her shirt over her head. His words shot straight to the pit of her belly. She spared an idle moment to mourn her mismatched bra and panties, not to mention the fact that she knew her dexterity and skill were never at their best after so much drinking, but then he pulled her closer and she forgot why she was worried.

She couldn’t remember how he smelled. The whiskey had stolen that from her, and it bothered her. She loved to know a man by the way he smelled. But she did remember flashes: the smile on his face, the tattoo she’d never seen, the piercings he always covered, the dark look in his eyes. Her hands were everywhere on his body now. his groped hers freely. Clothes were unbuttoned, unfastened… the details of how it happened had been robbed from her mind by the liquor, and the clear snapshots of memories flashed through her mind as though seen through a strobe light… Eventually though, the frenzy slowed and she remembered with crystal clarity that the first warm feeling of skin on skin was magnificent.

“I cannot believe it’s you doing this,” he groaned. 

Neither can I, she thought back at him, gazing up at him from her knees, mouth watering as she finally went to achieve her conquest. “I try to be very accommodating, at work. We aim to please.” She revelled in the filthiness of it.

“I really need to do this more often.” he’d replied with a groan.

Jesus Christ people eat at this table. WE both eat at this table. I don’t care. Fuck me now.

It was sloppy. it was hurried, and a little clumsy. And it was the most exhilarating night she’d had in ages. In the end, they were both late to go home… and she sent him away with red fingernail welts on his chest. Rushing to meet her friends, she hurriedly ate a slice of pizza, to quell the dizziness from the drink, and to mask the taste of him on her lips.

Nothing I’ve done in ages has felt this wrong, she thoughti. The taboo made her more excited. What if his wife found out?

She laughed, a bit hysterical at the state of affairs, reeling from adrenaline and lust and the rush of a new cock in her mouth, of tasting a man she’d never even dared to consider. What the fuck was wrong with her brain? What possessed her to take things this far? Was “normal” not fucked up enough? Everyone would be so hurt if they knew… She could never tell anyone, she realized.

Later she was racked with guilt even as she brought herself to orgasm thinking about it, her fingers working hard to replay the events of the night as the images flashed through her mind, along with fantasy scenarios she desperately craved as she told herself in the same breath they should never be. 

It had been a hell of a week.

Ethical non-monogamy and the full moon.

“Don’t look at the full moon with her. It would break my heart.” I know it’s unreasonable so I never ask, but I wish I could. I know better though, I know the moon doesn’t belong to me, and neither does he. Standing under the moon is a different thing between any two people, I know this, but it feels like mine. 

Never let her turn around and kiss you on the stairs the way I do. Never let her write stories on the back of your neck with her fingernails after you fuck. Never let her fall asleep on your shoulder, in the crook of your arm, the one that’s just the right shape for me to nestle against. I know in my heart it’s not just for me, I know it’s human-shaped, not me-shaped, but let’s pretend okay? Let’s pretend you were built just for me. What a pretty little fantasy. 

Let’s pretend that there were rules that could protect us, that if we just stayed within the right boundaries this would never hurt. Let’s pretend we can legislate our feelings, follow the red tape, let’s pretend regulations and a page of things we Can Not Do would be simple, like a grocery list. You never look at the moon with her and I’ll never let anyone brush my hair out of my face when it’s messy. I’ll never let anyone kiss my baby toes or hide my face during movies at the scary parts. I’ll never slow dance in the kitchen with anyone but you. 

Until I’m dancing, in a different kitchen, with someone who isn’t you. It’s a different dance, of course. They don’t hold me like you do, they’re cooking dinner and I touched them, it drew them to me, and next thing you know we were dancing. It doesn’t feel like a travesty or an invasion of our space, your space, my space with you. It feels like dancing in the kitchen with someone else. It’s wonderful in it’s own way, but different entirely. 

That’s why it would be a silly rule; You can outlaw an activity but you can’t control the intimacy between two people, the way any arbitrary act can feel magical, the chemistry at play. These things are not compartments you can lock up or barricade, they are life experiences, lived moments. Building blocks to connections that neither you or I can predict. We have to trust in what we’ve built together, and all the unique ways we make each other happy. The moon is going to look amazing tonight, no matter whose hand you’re holding as you look towards the sky. And if there’s fireworks between two people, you wouldn’t need the moon to see them. We can feel how we feel, that’s the deal. 

She looked so smug when she finally got my cock in her greedy mouth.

Her gaze, as she sucked, said “little girls always get what they want.”

I smiled down at her, knowing she would soon learn that they also got what they deserved.