I was never a lady. I never clutched my pearls at the stories of boys with loose morals or girls labelled “great dinner dates”. I never worried about my reputation. Sex is just something that I’ve always considered separate. It’s a need like any other and, more than that, it feels so good. I cum easy, hard and often… why deny myself the simplest of pleasures for fear of shocking the common folk? Because of that, I never fell into that trap of determining my value by the number of cocks I let inside my dripping wet holes. My body is a temple, but it’s also a party. You don’t need to handle me with kid gloves; I don’t want you to.

Maybe that’s what makes me such a good slut. I love the thrill of new experiences. I love that jolt of excitement when I meet a guy, and I just know I’ll have his cock down my throat before the night is done. Have you ever sat across from a man in a bar and let him order you to spread your legs to reveal your pussy to anyone walking by? Ever fucked in an alley with a man whose name you didn’t know? What about in a church’s backroom, knocking the extra hymnals off a shelf? I have, that’s what I live for.

And now, here I am, excited to be starting something with a creative guy willing to continually push my boundaries. When you get so much pleasure from one upping your own sexcapades it can be difficult to find that new challenge, the next thing you can add to the spank bank (so to speak).

The reality of the situation was further driven home when I was surfing the internet, procrastinating on finishing my last paper of the semester, and I came across a funny little meme. It read: everyone is a “freak” until you meet a FREAK. Now you’re tied up with something in your butt wondering how you got here on a Monday. Literally my life story. So… with that long unnecessarily preamble, let me tell you about my Monday night.

I am such a good and obedient little sub, I swear. I’m perfect at listening to commands and executing them without hesitation… given the right motivation. So when he took out the rope and tied my hands behind my back, I didn’t even flinch. Have I mentioned the way that rope makes me feel? There is something to be said about the way my tummy does a flip when I feel that fibre rub across my body. The way you can tell he knows how to use those hands (for good? For evil?) as he ties them with the perfect mix of tenderness and security.

Now, when the nipple clamps came out, I may have lost my composure for just a couple of minutes. I have really sensitive nipples, and those nipple clamps may actually be manufactured by Satan himself. I honestly and truly hate them with a passion that burns deep within my soul… so I’m not sure why my body betrays me by making them stand so erect as he threatens them. I’m perplexed on how my pussy responds with that sticky juice spilling all the way down my thighs as well. It’s strange. Either way, with my arms behind me I didn’t get much choice in the matter and protests have a tendency to bring out the opposite of the desired response, so I tried to control myself. He eased me against the wall and attached a long chain to the clamps. The cold metal shocked me as it hit my soft, hot flesh. I closed my eyes as he fastened my bonds to the ceiling. Tighter and tighter still until I had no choice but to raise myself on to my tiptoes or risk screaming out as the clamps were pulled tight. Deep breaths. Concentration. Those were the only tools at my disposal as I heard him reach into the chest beside us.

Those damn clips.

With the clamps secured at the base of my nipples, which were hard enough to cut glass, he had ample room to secure those painful instruments of death on to the ends. I will not repeat the thoughts that were running through my head at this point… they were definitely not those of a good girl. My calves were starting to burn, I knew I couldn’t keep the position and to top it off he was torturing my nipples.

The man is a creative genius. Monster. Something. He is definitely something.

He ordered my legs spread and began to tease my defenceless body. As he played, I felt my resolve slip away, and my body relax. Until I felt the pull of the chains and reality intruded once more. I often wonder how much joy he gets from watching me make those impossible decisions. There is something almost sacred about the mix of powerlessness and control when one is faced with the choice of surrendering to ecstasy at the expensive of extreme pain. I don’t exactly hate it.

I did hold my composure enough to keep myself from dropping on to flat feet, but it wasn’t easy. More deep breaths. More concentration. More rummaging through the torture chest. He pulls out the big purple cock. Lubed up with my juices, he pushes it inside of me. I feel that prickle of humiliation as he fucks me hard like the whore I am so thankful to be. The mix of agony and desire are a powerful drug and my body thrown into turmoil. Nobody coaxes out that feeling quite like him. For him, I will gladly degrade myself and beg for the plug in my ass. Even on a Monday.

It’s strange. I feel so comfortable with him, so sure of my place and secure in my fantasies. But, at the same time, I’m always just a little bit nervous.

This meeting was no exception. After the disappointment of the day before (all talk and no cock over lunch) I was desperate to feel him inside of me no matter what the cost. Or so I thought.

As he pulled into the underground parking lot, my heart began to beat in my chest. Was I really going to do this? He got out, and I froze, glued to my seat. The thick, stale air hit me as he came around and opened the passenger door, ordering me to follow.

I only hesitated for a moment before I got out. He had spotted a tarp concealing a storage area full of forgotten furniture. Yes, I wanted to feel him inside of me but one of these days he’s going to get me in trouble.

Ever the gentleman, he sat me on a dusty chair and eased his head between my thighs. Slowly, his tongue began to explore. I was still too scared to fully enjoy it, constantly on edge.. fearful that I’d be caught in a compromising position. But he is good at what he does. Within a few minutes, my body eased into the rhythm of his tongue, and he slipped a finger inside of me. I felt the warmth spread and the rest of the world began to disappear…but not quite

“Are you going to be a quiet little slut?”

I couldn’t trust myself to open my mouth. He accepted my frantic nod and slipped another finger inside of me. He knows I hate that emptiness. I asked politely for permission as my body tensed up. He obliged, and I bit my tongue to keep from crying out. I saw stars as I imagined the ensuing disaster if I let my guard down for a moment. There’s no way I could keep quiet without full concentration. I held my breath and curled my toes, and he continued licking me. “Good girl” he cooed as I slowly came back to reality.

Then it was his turn. I took a deep breath as he freed himself from his pants. I love when a man is hard at the anticipation of my lips. I teased the head and kissed the tip until I couldn’t control myself anymore and had to take him deep down my throat. Long, deep thrusts seemed like the quietest option, and I tried my best to concentrate.

But, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone could catch us at any moment. I listened for voices and cars. The headlights that passed felt like spotlights as I keep my mouth on his thick cock and my eyes on the holes in the barricade. I love a good throat fuck, but my heart couldn’t take it anymore and I begged to feel him inside of me.

He agreed. I stood up, and he lifted my dress over my hips, then bent me over that dirty chair. I spread my legs wide and arched my back, happy to finally be filled up. It had been a week since our last real encounter, and it took everything not to steal an orgasm as his hard cock forced its way into my tight, throbbing cunt. His dick always hits just the right spot and makes me soaking wet and ready to please.

But then he didn’t move. Not one inch.

“Look at you,” he said softly “what kind of whore lets a man take her into a disgusting parking garage to fuck?”

That familiar warmth of shame and excitement filled my body. As he started to fuck me, I buried my face deep into the dusty upholstery of that chair. I arched my back and let him fill me up with every inch of his rock hard dick. I begged for more as he fucked orgasm after orgasm out of my slut body.

I’m the kind of whore that lets a man fuck her in a disgusting parking garage and, when he makes me cum as hard as you do sir, I’m the kind of whore that will beg him to do it again

I’m not sure how this story starts. On the one hand, I really have been such a good girl this week. I rose to impossible standards and bit my tongue – nothing short of a miracle. But, on the other hand, I did steal a couple of orgasms.

So, I’m not really sure how much of last night was a reward and how much was a consequence.

I’ve never done good rope before… Remember that little issue with patience? So, as I was lying naked on my back, as ordered (silently asking how I repeatably allow myself to get into these predicaments), it wasn’t really a surprise that my body shook with anticipation. It only got worse when the clamps came out and were secured tightly.

He started his project with my wrists. Just the feeling of the fibres against my skin made my pussy wet. He placed the blindfold gently over my eyes, and I could sense something taking over – I was defenceless. I kind of liked it.

As he slowly worked his magic, securing me in place one knot at a time, I noticed the slight roughness of the rope juxtaposed with the softness of his hands. It still felt like purely a reward as he began to secure my legs. This part took longer but every time he pulled the rope across my chest, and it tugged, ever so slightly, on the nipple clamp’s chain I had to fight back an orgasm.

Apparently, I like rope… A lot. I didn’t know if I’d be able to do it, but he teased me just the right amount. Little clips were secured all over my pussy. I was wet and shaking. I could have laid there all night blocking out everything but that rope, his hands and that delightful tinge of pain.

Suddenly the feeling of a long, hard object startled me out of my relaxed state. This was not my first experience with a spreader bar. This was, however, my first time with a true sadist. He secured it in such a way that if I relaxed my legs, even just for a moment, the bar would pull my nipples clamps. Ouch. And, if I raised them to ease the discomfort that comes with keeping a position that long, the bar would rub against the clips. Ouch.

Predicament bondage. Ouch.

Forced to chose my pain, my body went into overdrive. Every sensation tripled in intensity.

Which reminds me – do you know the chosen punish for stealing orgasms? Basically torture.

I was naive enough to think the magic wand he pushed between my legs was solely more reward. He whispered softly that I could cum as much as I wanted and my soul soared. Until maybe the fifth time. Then it was just too intense.

That’s when I realized that stealing is kind of a big deal. I couldn’t get away from that wonderful toy. That evil toy. That wonderfully evil toy. Whatever I tried just amounted to more pain. I begged him to stop but he just laughed and reminded me that I loved to cum so much I thought it was OK to do it without permission

…it’s not. Have I mentioned that? Lesson. Learned.

Then he decided to turn it off. Relief flooded through me. Except when a sadist gives you relief you should probably be a bit nervous. He took advantage of the break to remind me of each little discomfort I could choose. Pulling on the nipple clamps. Flicking the clips. Keeping me just off balanced enough that I forgot what happened when I put my knees down… Or up.

And then he started talking.

I wish I could tell you exactly what he said. I wish I could bottle that feeling or record the message. I wish I could have it any time I wanted. I just remember being ready to quit and hearing “it’s ok. Give in”. I remember the soothing way he spoke to me as he tortured my body. I remember the moment I took his advice and surrendered.

My whole body relaxed and let go as my mind melted into the scene. I felt my legs spread wide and all I wanted at that moment was for him to use me for whatever made him happy. I wanted to give myself to him entirely. It just suddenly clicked – this was his body to abuse for his pleasure. It’s just that simple. If that meant pain, I’d gladly take it. I didn’t even waste energy hoping he would allow me some relief before he was finished with me.

I’ve never felt that surrender before. That complete abandon. It was perfect.

The rest is a blur. By the time that he told me to fuck him, I was done. Completely out of control, still physically bound but more mentally free than I’ve ever felt, I moved every inch of my body like a bitch in heat.

I didn’t just want that cock to explode inside of me. I needed it. With every cell in my body, I felt desperation so intense it probably should have scared me. Nothing scared me by then. I let go of all the conditioning and brattiness I had used as a defence. It was all id. Just raw desire manifesting.

And when he finally let me have it, I knew I had earned every last drop.

(There’s definitely more than one story here, Sir)

I kneel, naked, in front of the glass door. Waiting for him to come and use my body however he sees fit. The possibilities fill me with excitement and dread, just as he knew they would.

As I close my eyes, I swear I can hear one of those analogue clocks nobody uses any more tick away the seconds. I try to steady my breath by focusing inward and my senses click in to overdrive. I can no longer ignore the cold tile on my calves, or the dull ache between my shoulder blades as my muscles strain to keep them back. When he finally arrives I want to be properly displayed – and that means tits out and thighs spread. I want to be welcoming, regardless of how he has chosen to abuse me.

While every moment feels like an eternity, I know he never challenges me like this without reason. In fact, if I’m being honest, these sessions are more for my benefit than his. This is obviously an exercise in patience – a skill in seriously lacking. The time spent on my knees waiting will just make me greedier for his cum, an added bonus I’m sure he looks forward to

He lets himself in. He’s already warned me that today I’m not allowed to look at him, not allowed to speak. I’m just a pretty hole and pretty holes don’t need such frivolity. He talks softly and I try to sneak just a little peek.. My eyes drift from his feet up to his knees before I’m caught and swiftly reprimanded. Fine. Lesson learned.

He orders me to get up at face the stairs. I’m already shaking when I spread my legs wide and try to arch my back. There is nothing in that moment I wouldn’t have promised for just a little taste of that cock. He has that strong of an effect on me – I dont even have to look at him, just being in the same room makes me desperate for it. I let myself believe I was getting something even more satisfying when he thrust inside of me. Instead I heard him reach for his phone.

“Clench”

I tightened my pussy around his dick and held it tight. The seconds ticked away. He timed it and then..

“Rest”

Did I giggle out loud? Like I could rest when I was finally getting my reward. I panic… Not allowed to speak means not allowed to ask for permission to cum. This could be catastrophic.

Clench. Rest. Clench. Rest.

Over and over as I tried to grind my greedy pussy to feel him fill me up. “Last one” thank god. And then the sweetest words in the English language “good girl. You can cum as much as you want”

And. I. Did.

Wave after wave of ecstasy filled my body until i could barely stand. This is my purpose. I was made to cum hard and often. Nothing makes me happier than a full pussy and a happy man sweetly calling me a slut. He tries to pull out a few times but my body clings to him. Please don’t leave me empty. Not yet

But good things can’t last forever and I find myself kneeling on the stairs as he covers my back in that warm, wet reward I hunger for.

“Don’t move until you hear the door close behind me”

And just like that he’s gone. I wonder what he was wearing.

He’s finally here, ready to make good on the promise of covering me in cum for being such a good girl.

The door had barely opened when I found myself desperately searching for his lips. Who has time for mindless chatter? I had an hour before class, he was sneaking away from the corporate drudgery. Minutes counted.

He threw me down and had me topless halfway up the stairs. Frenzied hands grasping for any bit of exposed flesh. Eyes filling with desires that couldn’t possibly be fully realized. Tongues exploring lustfully. We tore apart long enough to make our way upstairs… Barely.

Since our last encounter it had become obvious that he was powerless against the way my body moved when I undressed for him. I’m no longer allowed that indulgence. Instead he gets to pull off my pants. I can feel his reckless abandon as he reveals my naked body. He wants it just as badly as I want his.

Our clothes are a heap on the floor (who has time to be tidy, right?) and I’m fighting between the urge to rush through a quick hate fuck or slowly take my time on his cock. But that choice was never mine to make, not really. He manoeuvres me in to position with my head overhanging the side of the bed and commands me to relax my throat.

A good face fucking. That’s exactly what every lucky girl should skip lunch for.

He starts off slowly. Deliberately. Almost gently. As he guides my head in to the best position for his pleasure that familiar feeling rushes over me. I’m a toy. My body is for his pleasure. The thought catches me off guard and I cum hard. Maybe he feels too good to notice, or maybe he’s not in the mood to punish my stolen euphoria. It doesn’t matter. He quickens his pace and my throat starts going raw. I feel that thick spit gather and I settle in for a long mindless blow job… But he has other plans.

He makes me beg before finally giving me a taste of satisfaction as he thrusts his cock deep in to my greedy pussy over and over again. As we find a rhythm I’m vaguely aware of my screams echoing off the walls. I giggle thinking of the contractors next door, they must hear me being treated like the whore I am.

The rest is kind of a blur, the way those frenzied first fucks usually are. He did eventually call me on those stolen orgasms but I’m too cute to stay mad at. And I was finally rewarded with his warm, sweet cum all over my chest. I even got to lick it up…

…good girls always do.

Good morning you sexy things!

I just wanted to take a moment to have a chat. I’m excited to have found a bit of inspiration and I promise to update more regularly until that tap runs dry (I may be working on something as we speak) but I need to add a little caveat first.

Today is international woman’s day! A day not only to celebrate the wonderful women who have supported, cheered for and loved you, but also to reflect on where we’re at on that whole equality thing. Hint : not far enough.

I know this is a hot button issue (because people refuse to actually look at facts) but it’s important. Please remember that having privilege is not a bad thing (we all have it) but using it to keep others down makes you a dick – and not the good kind.

So, while I stare down the barrel of a few more nights of rough sex and look forward to a man forcing me to my knees, degrading me and bringing out that dirty little slut side I missed terribly, remember: feminism is essential if we want a society where women feel empowered enough to submit.

Also ending gendered violence…reaching equal pay…breaking the glass ceiling…reproductive rights…family leave… Do you get the point yet? Ok perfect 😘

I almost cancelled, five times. I was just too nervous to follow through with the whispered plans and laid out fantasies. He was too intense, it had been too long.

I’m lucky I didn’t.

I knew as soon as he met me at the door that he was more than just pretty words sent over text. Did he notice I was shaking? He started by making a simple request that I ignored. We were both testing the waters and he had to know I wasn’t going to be easy.

By the time he sat down across from me at the bar, my false bravado had all but disappeared. I couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying. I wanted him. I wanted to see his face when I brought him to the edge of ecstasy and at the moment of release. I wanted him to grab me by the hair and force orgasm after orgasm until couldn’t move. Did he notice my mind wandering?

“Look at me” eye contact was excruciating. It felt like he could see every filthy thought that ran through this deprived slut’s mind. He calmly commanded, “spread your legs”. The whole bar melted away as I tried to hold it together. “wider” “Good girl”

I was powerless. What happened next wasn’t my fault. When a man can look at you and demand your submission with such ease there isn’t much you can do.

The next thing I knew we were sneaking into the back stairs. “Hands on the wall,” I really did try to keep some illusion of being a lady but within moments my back was arched and my legs were spread. He forced my tight black dress up to reveal my dripping wet pussy. The brat never goes away… but the slut? I missed her.

My knees buckled as I fought the urge to turn around and tear off his suit, but one should always try to be polite on the first date… and something told me that misbehaviour would be corrected on the spot. He was the picture of control as he slowly used his hands to explore my body, grabbing and teasing my throbbing pussy. The shaking was back and I was on the verge of making more noise than would have been wise given the clandestine circumstances

He didn’t allow me to cum.

I was desperate by the time we made our way back to the bar. I just wanted to be a good girl. Or bad a girl. Or whatever girl gets a climax so intense it that scares the neighbours.

Instead, I got more games. We sat at a quiet table in the back corner and he teased my dress over my hips again. Reminding me that good posture shows off my tits to the rest of the bar he eased his fingers inside of me. I didn’t dare move. Not an inch. “Finish your drink”. To the rest of the bar, it must have looked so innocent – a well-dressed man with his arm around the waist of a younger woman. Maybe a few would have noticed the way he leaned in close to talk in my ear, but the bar was loud, that was to be expected, right?

He smiled smugly as I squirmed. I knew nobody could see but the thought of that room full of men knowing what a whore I was being turned me on. I had to get him to stop.

That’s when the trouble started. I really am a sweet girl, I swear. But a couple of drinks in and I get arrogant. I’ve learned that this isn’t cute. I may have pushed my luck a little too hard when I insisted that my pretty face was good enough to keep him in the palm of my hand. I maybe shouldn’t have been so sure that my fluttering eyelashes would make him forget that he was the one in charge. Maybe. But, maybe he baited me into the arrogant way I assured him that I would get a second date because he was powerless against my charm.

He was not powerless.

Making eye contact he reached up and applied pressure to a point in my back “I can’t spank you in the bar now can I?” he said, without losing an ounce of his composure. The pain was immediate. I buried my face in his neck and tried not to cry out. I wanted to run away. I never wanted him to stop. It hurt. My thighs were sticky. I was going to cry. I was going to cum.

I did end up getting my second date, but not without a lot of recovery and the promise of being a really, really good girl next time.

 

He stayed home this morning. It would seem that the brat coming out in full force this weekend wasn’t just going to be ignored like I had hoped. 
Sliding my collar around my neck and pulling it tight, he breathed softly in to my ear. As he put on the blindfold he ordered me in to position – hands and knees, arched back, spread just enough for easy access and head up – so he could put on my cuffs. Concentrating on my ass with the leather flogger he quickly ramped up to hard blows all over my back and thighs. 

“I thought this one was too soft?” He laughed as I struggled to keep position. Maintenance was going to be easy this week. 
Then he grabbed his Christmas paddles and layed one softly across my back. I trembled and immediately dropped flat on the bed. I hate those things with a passion. He allowed it for a few minutes as he reassured me that everything would be alright. Did I trust him? Yes. Did I want to be a good girl? Yes. Did I love him? Of course. He guided me back to my knees. 

Now that he had my reluctant approval he was going to show me what submission would mean for now on. I had begged him for this just a few nights before. I desperately demanded him to put me back in place, complained that I felt lost without his firm hand. I wanted this. I needed it. 

The hard wood maybe contact with my soft flesh over and over again. I cried out I’m desperation but my pleading was only muffled by the gag in my mouth. Every time I faltered I felt his hands pull me up again: A gentle reminder to stay arched and a firm swat to drive the point home. 

Whack! 

I was going to be obedient, right? Yes, Daddy. 

Whack! 

And respectful? 

Yes, Daddy. 

Whack! 
As he punctuated my new expectations with hard blows to my thighs I felt calm wash over me. Yes, I would be kneeling by the bed waiting every night. Yes, I was Daddy’s slut. Yes, I would behave. He reminded me that good girls get cuddles and bad girls get bruises. With each lick of the paddle, he reminded me that love and guidance comes in many forms. He reminded me that there was no better place than serving my husband. 
When we were done, aftercare turned in to something a bit more as I was allowed to please him in some of my favourite ways. As soon as he lowered his pants, revealing his big hard dick, I came. I didn’t even need his touch and my thighs were already drenched. His cock was plunged deeply down my throat as I gagged up thick spit that coated my face and tits. I kneeled as he face fucked me, not allowing me to let his cock fall out if my mouth. Good girls always finish the job. 

I didn’t even plan to go out that night. School has been so busy I just wanted to curl up in bed with my vibrator and fall asleep early. But I had a costume and I wanted a drink. So I buckled my boots, tied my corset, grabbed a man and ran off to the local swinger’s bar.

I wasn’t looking for anything special on Saturday. I just needed to blow off some steam and, at most play around on the pole if some good music came on. It was just a fluke that, as I waited in line, I ran in to a couple. We exchanged a few words and (in classic Canadian tradition) I politely suggested that they could come say hi to me later.

They lasted less than 5 minutes before finding me on the couch. I was completely oblivious to what they were looking for so we sat there making more awkward small talk. The guy was tall with shoulder length hair tied up in a bun. She was small and quiet but you could feel her sexuality through every movement. I saw him lean over and whisper something to her, she got up obediently and walked over to my man. It seems she had been ordered to suck him off. Not to be outdone I started kissing this mysterious man. His kisses were not what I’m used to – they were rough and demanding. They were not the kisses of a man who was used to being told no. With one hand he grabbed the back of my head and pulled me closer, with the other he roughly spread my legs and started playing with my clit.

I felt my thighs get sticky and I suddenly needed his cock. I ached to feel it inside me but I knew I hadn’t earned it yet. I pushed him off me and dropped to my knees. I know my place – on the floor, looking up with a cock in my mouth. I’m at home there and I do my job well. I thrust him down my throat until I gagged up that thick, sticky spit all over my tits. I was losing myself now. I don’t even notice the growing audience. It’s becoming a blur of pleasure – his and mine. I watched as if from above as his eyes rolled back and his strong hands controlled my head, maneuvering it until he was so deep I was gagging. Suddenly, he pulled me off and thrust me towards the couch. He walked off.

I turned my attention to the man I had come with. Sprawled back on the couch with his eyes closed he was enjoying her attention as she licked every inch of his throbbing cock. Jealous, I took the opportunity to go to work on his neck with my tongue. He moaned in appreciation and grabbed my tits. I came instantly. “Good girl” he growled. I came again.

Mystery Man came back and threw a condom at me. I fumbled with it, managed to get it open and climbed on top. It felt like a reward after an excellent cock sucking and I fucked him hard. He grabbed my hips and forced me into a slow, hard rhythm, growling orders as we went. I breathed through clenched teeth as I tried to control my orgasms. He threw me off again and forced me on to my back. His hand went to my throat and I raised my legs high and spread wide. It was his turn to fuck me hard. He grabbed my legs together and my stripper boots knocked loudly as the steady beat brought me to climax. I was dripping now. Animalistic. I couldn’t control my screams. I just kept coming. Again and again. I was a mess on the couch. Then it was her turn. She started slowly, licking my throbbing pussy with her tongue. She slowly started to ramp up and before a few minutes, I was moaning again. Her tongue made me sopping wet. Spit and cum mixed as I came on her outstretched tongue.

But the first man got impatient. He turned me over and shoved his cock deep inside me doggy style. I rocked back and forth and, yet again, it took a man’s strong hand to slow my rhythm and calm me down. If I was going to cum again, it would be on his terms. He shoved my head down on to the couch and grabbed my hips, fucked me softly and allowed another orgasm before he got rough. Then he hurt me. He fucked me so hard, I felt barely human. I was a fuckhole – just like I like it. I lost all sense of time as he screwed me from behind next to the stranger who had been ramming me just moments before, in front of all those people. I couldn’t breath as I came again and again in to the couch cushions, he didn’t give a fuck. I was there for his pleasure. Nothing more. I didn’t think I could take any more and yet he continued. Harder and harder he pounded me until finally I felt his body tense. Then a shudder and a moan as he filled my pussy with his warm cum.

Good girl. One down, one more to go

 

Maybe you can’t dance by the fire forever. Maybe it’s just too hot to be close to for too long. Maybe as the weeks turn in to months and then fade in to years you have to admit to yourself that vibrant exposure to heat isn’t healthy. 
But maybe that’s ok. 

Moving through life with the person you love beside you is a privilege denied to many. There’s nothing that says the fire has to go out. I hope it never does. I’m just saying that sometimes you need to take a step back and enjoy something a bit less intense so that when you approach it again you can recognize what you have. 

A relationship can’t survive solely on sweat and bruises and cum (although it can’t survive completely devoid of those things either), a relationship needs quiet moments and Sunday cuddles and giant stuffed bunnies too. You need to have days when you look over at the person you’ve chosen while they push a grocery cart and think to yourself “this is it. For the rest of our lives. This is it” and you need to be ecstatic about it. 

It’s not what I usually write, I know. I’m all for the stolen moments and rock hard cocks shoved in to every available hole. I just don’t want to give the impression that’s all there is when there’s so much more. 

I know that I get readers from all stages of life and, I’ve said before, I am the queen of the relationship emotional roller coaster. So it needs to be said: there will be days and weeks and months when the love is stronger than the lust. There will be moments when intimacy is more important than the ball gag under the bed. That’s ok. You’re ok. Keep up the good work, enjoy the moments – all of them – and be open to new experiences. They will come.