This is a growing collection of my stories. I appear to favour writing about sex and death, not always together. I'm also writing two books. Some days it feels like most other people inhabit a world where you can aimlessly wander into vendor-created wonderlands and purchase things you never knew you needed - for entertainment. The mind boggles. I believe it's because I wasn't allowed to watch television as a child. I just don't get some things. I'm ok with that
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Elise palmed the other man away from her in an instinctively feline response to being over-stimulated. Harry stepped away obediently and began tracing his own hard cock with his fingers. Harry ran his balled-up hand along it’s length. Carrying on, she supposed, from where he would have liked her to have taken over.
Elise couldn’t have cared less. For the moment her attentions were drawn elsewhere and Harry was the least of her concerns. She concentrated on the delicious feeling of being taken from behind by the substantial scotsman currently holding onto her hips with his ham-like hands. God it felt good to be ridden by this man. Her lover was so powerful, so beautifully, sturdily made. He bent her easily as though she was play dough and he ploughed her depths with youthful, unrelenting, enthusiasm.
His cock was thick and as he stroked in and out, steadily building the pace. It was all she could do to remain on her feet, holding on to the back of the baroque sofa, swaying with the intense motion of being taken again and again. Rhythmically his pole slid in and out. She moaned, fit to purring, loving every precious inch of the pounding and feeling her orgasm building. Her legs trembled, her belly twitched
“Ooooh Yes. Yes”
Aiden’s large hand slapped her arse.
“Thaaaaat Feels. Soooooo. Good.”
She swayed and her hair fell across her eyes. In front of her, Elise could make out the frenzied movements of the other man. Harry was clearly enjoying the show. She was surprised at just how much. As Aiden injected himself into her wetness once again she closed her eyes in bliss. He stroked, Harry came on her face.
She had almost been able to forget him in her present impaled luxury and the spurt of hot man-juice forced her to open her eyes. His pink sword was hanging a little limper now, still sliding pleasingly between him slippery fingers. Elise smiled up at him. Wiping the jiz from her cheek with one hand, she braced herself with the other. Aiden continued his glorious work. She was about to lick her finger and help Harry out with a bit of a show when all of a sudden the thrusting stopped.
She turned in dismay. Aiden kissed her full on the mouth, slithering his tongue inside her searing, sensual mouth, teasing her more. It was an impromptu embrace, laced with passion and which pleasantly surprised Elise, increasing her lust. She panted and he sucked on her lips, kissed the fine sheen of sweat from her nape, cupped her breast with his massive hand, sharing his heat. Their exchange heightened to fever pitch. Her pussy ached, her mind reeled. He firmly kept a distance between them, his burly forearms keeping her at arms length though she writhed in the air between their bodies, craving his embrace, pushing her pussy closer, unfulfilled.
He gently set her to one side. Harry flopped into the couch, watching them. Elise was breathing hard, cheeks flushed. Aiden grinned. He ran a hand over the length of his impressive cock as though feeling it’s worth, appraising his tool.
“Talk dirty to me”
It wasn’t a question. In his thick brogue it was a caress and she happily obliged. Elise licked her lips. She crossed the small room and took a seat on the foot stool in the far corner.
She planted her beautiful bottom provocatively, arching her feet and pointing her toes. Her sex opened, in full view for both the men. The wet flesh glistened with her juices. Elise watched Harry’s eyes widen and his dick renew it’s salute. Praise enough for the silent gift she lay before them. A little grin curled the sides of her mouth.
Elise licked her thumb, she wet her digits . Then she used her fingers to play gently with her nipple, tracing the areola and causing the pink peak to bud. The cleft between her thighs throbbed. She let out a breath. In a voice made soft and husky by desire she began.
“Aiden I love your cock. I fantasise about it’s girth pushing at my folds. I fantasise most about the moment when your beeauut” at this point she pinched her nipple and wiggled her hips.
Aiden took a step towards her, unable to help himself, his engorged member bobbing before them as he stepped. She met his eyes in silent command and he stopped. Aiden let out a groan but he smiled, tense with desire.
“...beautiful cock head, taut and hot, pushing it’s way into my pussy hole. The way it feels when you’re about to enter me. You make me want to beg to fuck your pole forever...”
Harry looked interested, but Elise’s keen eyes noticed the pleased grin that slipped from his lips. Her intake of breathe was audible.
“Harry” She sighed as she slipped a finger down her middle, tracing a path to her muff quickly.
She shoved an enthusiastic finger into her slit, more for his benefit than hers, then two, and moaned at the pressure she caused. Elise licked her lips.
“Harry you make me... So. Hot.” she panted.
Elise left the comfy spot on the footrest and reluctantly disentangled her hand from her pussy. She started to close the distance between herself and Harry, giving in to the feline, empowering pleasure of crawling wantonly towards him, her pretty arse in the air. Aiden looked sorely tempted but he stayed where he was, feet planted firmly on the carpet, legs apart. He watched her as though his eyes would devour her and she savoured every second.
To Harry she continued “I want to stuff your cock into my mouth or my arse and use your pleasure pole to make me cum. You want me to cum don’t you Harry?”
Elise was between his knees. Harry looked down at her in delight. She reached for his now fully-erect cock and ducked her head. She took the tender head in between her lips and traced the helmet with her tongue. Harry quivered and shook. As Elise worked at covering his whole cock with saliva, she felt Aiden shift behind her.
Elise stifled a grin through a mouthful of man-meat and continued. These boys knew what she liked.
Elise began to use her mouth and her hands in a steady rhythm, cajoling Harry’s penis. Harry grunted with delight and ran a hand through her hair, assisting her head to take more of his cock. He rocked her mouth gently further and further down his pole. Elise hummed and Harry ‘Ahh hh’ - ed. Her work would be nearly done.
Aiden shifted his weight to his knees and once again positioned himself behind her. He guided his massive girth to the entrance of her pussy and Elise stopped. She held Harry’s cock in her hand a moment and wriggled her luscious arse on the dick at her rear.
“I want you to Aiden” She reassured him.
Aiden played with the puckered pinkness of her arse hole. His fingers began to work their way inside her. Elise tingled. She took one look at Harry and saw the hunger in his eyes. Without words she resumed her job of sucking him off. He grunted, running an appreciative hand down her back.
Elise could feel the enormous cock head bearing down on her anal entrance. He was slow and careful but Aiden was huge and at first it burned. He waited. Elise licked Harry’s length and cheekily pushed back a tiny fraction on her haunches. Aiden followed her invitation and insinuated more of himself into her tight little arse hole. Elise moaned in pleasure. Aiden surged forward and patiently waited for her muscles to relax. Then, instead of stroking he shifted his weight and reached around to her clitoris.
He pumped, lightly teasing her core with his finger. The world shifted off it’s axis.
“Oh . God.” Elise let the words out onto the cock in her mouth.
As Aiden established something of a punishing rhythm behind her, Harry held her head and surged. Great drops of cum shot down her throat. She pulled away and more landed on her lips, still more in her hair. She giggled but the noise was cut short by a stroke from Aiden.
Harry slithered down from his perch on the couch and came to meet her on the carpet. She let him kiss her cum soaked lips, fondle her breasts and lovingly, he took a nipple into his mouth as he made love to her other breast with his palm. Aiden was groaning now and she thought she might burst. With a carnal roar he took his cock from it’s cosy holder and shot his load down her back.
They slumped together, panting.
“Well how about that then?”
Elise wiped her face, blue eyes glinting with mischief. Aiden sat on his haunches at her back and she shifted her weight until she her thighs rested on his. Somehow, her giant lover manoeuvered them both so she sat on him, on the carpet. He cradled her slight body in his tree trunk arms. Harry joined them, reclining at her side, somehow managing to remain a part of their intimate embrace. They were silent a moment.
“I needed that” she said “You guys fuck like Gods”.
Elise grinned, sated.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
I saw a man wearing a black and white t-shirt today with a stylized wedded couple on the front . She with a veil, he with a tux. The caption beneath read 'Game Over'.
I am recently married so maybe that's why the hackles went up. I thought it was a juvenile way of thinking and that he just didn't understand, or was pretending to misunderstand - the benefits of an a committed, loving, (functioning) relationship.
And then I went on to think about it, perhaps too much. It's funny how a single incident has managed to stay with me all day.
In my experience living with another human in a partnership is about ebb and flow. Lately there has been a lot of the ebbing and not so much of the flow. That said, when it works it's magic. Some days though, the house feels like a vacuum not a sanctuary.
I know, I know, these things take time and it's a new house, a new neighbourhood, a state away from all we know and love. There is a lot of pressure on this thing we call 'our love'; our 'married life'.
Still on the ebbing - some days we just don't feel like friends. We are wrestling with each other, as we know we must, to keep a defined sense of the individual - the stubborn, changeable, forthright, independent individual which I could have sworn was the reason I fell in love with you in the first place.
Some days we argue a lot. Or rather, you sit in the kitchen, typing and gaining knowledge via the world wide web whilst I talk at you, occupying the same actual space but moving about in a different time and place. I think you want me to be there, you just don't engage or make me feel special. That's what I'm in need of, you know. I want you to make me feel indispensable, it feels a bit like necessary foreplay - for life.
Why do I love you? For all the reasons that frustrate and perplex me at times. I love your silence and you're understanding. I love your willingness to do whatever it takes to learn new things and make them happen, I love that you have your own projects and hobbies and you don't need me and my approval. I love that you participate in a whole world of your creation just beyond my reach.
It would be awful were we joined at the hip and enjoyed all the same things. I am too selfish and childish for you, much of the time. I want, I want, and mostly I just want your undivided attention, which is ridiculous because your creative independence is one of the main reasons I fell in love with you in the first place.
I just need to relax, essentially and to learn how to become a student of the universe. Learn, find, interact and discover all on my own. I suppose it's for this reason I've created this blog, it's not about you, or at least it never has been, until today.
We had a fight recently and I said that one day you will look up from what you have been working on with that damn computer, look about the kitchen and I won't be there. You will notice for the first time that I have social engagements that don't involve you, a calendar with meetings and friends you haven't met and that we will have run out of time for each other. Only belatedly will you discover I have left and kept swimming off into the world without you. Some days this seems likely.
It seems more probable that this horrible future might eventuate if neither of us chose to make the effort to stay connected. I have a growing desire to learn and be lead by those older and wiser than myself, to seek out new things and find ways to engage with those around me. I'll never be a skirt twirling, sandalwood burning, washed out middle-aged lady going to silence retreats. (I hope) but I do feel the pull of more knowledge.
So what does that say about us? I know I love you. I am reminded of your greatness and your kindness as a human on a daily basis. I know too that anyone that reckons relationships are easy has never been a fly on the wall at our place.
I wouldn't give up the great chat and the awesome sex and the strange feeling of creating the building blocks on which we will perch the rest of our adult lives. It's simply that I am part of something that baffles me. Continually, in this new set of circumstances, I am confronted by and I marvel at; love.
I have found something with my man. Something that many humans will spend most of their lives searching to attain. Which leads me back to the guy and his shirt. How dare you try to belittle my fragile new world in bold font on a white t-shirt.
What is marriage? Is is a dirt track down which you fling yourself willingly, to be buffeted by extraneous circumstance and the will of another?
Is it a road down which few of my peers wish to tread, as an outdated, ill-conceived notion of forced monogamy that threatens to be a hindrance not a help?
When I realised I wanted to marry you I also realised that I was more Grown Up than Little Girl. I knew what I wanted. I also knew that marriage was a decision about life in an adult world.
I have not lost my sense of wonder. I'm not completely all grown up and hope to never be. I still love puddles and dress ups and screaming into the wind. By the same token, gratis of the passing years and my growing wisdom, I am not mistaken in my understanding of adult decisions. They are not final, people change and I know there is no happily-ever-after. There is, however a powerful need for an individual to feel loved.
I have no doubt that I am.
For that simple fact, I will always be amazed and grateful.
Monday, March 7, 2011
I rewrote it, I like it heaps better... it's got more suspense and more lust
At last, Isobelle sits in the expensive silence of Ezra’s car. Her freshly shaven thighs peep out from the short hem of her favourite dress. On her body the fabric pools like liquid.
“We’ll go to my place”
Ezra glances at her. She is not relaxed. Good. He likes it when he has the upper-hand.
At the high rise, Ezra uses his keys and a security pass, leading her through the foyer and up the lift. It’s up and up. From the balcony Isobelle can see the city sky - line. She stands outside, enjoying the warm air, whilst he gets the drinks. Eventually he stand s in the doorway, silhouetted by the kitchen lights. Isobelle’s pulse races. It’s real. Her legs begin to tremble. She turns from him to the view, trying to rekindle her strength.
“So lovely” Ezra’s voice comes from behind her. Does he mean her or the view?
In a lazy movement akin to seduction, Ezra closes the distance between them, rubs his palm up her back, his full lips descending on hers. It’s a fierce first kiss, possessive and brief.
“What is it that you’re looking at?” He curls an affectionate finger on the warm, soft flesh of her upper arm. Isobelle can’t think.
She clears her throat, unable to read the sardonic promise in his glittering eyes. She licks her lips for the sweet taste of champagne. Ezra eyes her, experiencing a jolt of lust .
He chuckles. “I’ve got ideas about you and I.” He speaks softly. "Things I wouldn’t want to do in a train.”
It’s the timber of his voice. Isobelle thrills, between her thighs, her swollen pussy is lush and wanting. Lost in the moment, Isobelle starts to take off her clothes. Ezra ’s admiration is written on his face. The slippery fabric of her dress descends to the floor and beneath it, her light curves are coated in black. A balconette bra hugs her breasts and presents them, below it, her knickers are tiny and lace.
As he surveys his prize, Ezra can see the pulse in her neck. It’s an act of bravado from this nubile, sweet lady. Her racing heart beat giv es her away. His keen eyes take in the scene and his cock begins to throb. There will be no misunderstanding tonight . Preamble has shredded with her dress.
Ezra remains motionless. His silence gives him a n air of r oyalty and Isobelle plays along. Parting her lips in anticipation, she pads sensually towards her stranger. His blue eyes take in the scene, his dark skin glows in the lamp light and for now, her gaze is focused on his full mouth. She is close enough now to brush his chest with her hand . She reaches up and plants a kiss on the firm skin of his neck. He smells of salt, faint, expensive cologne and sandalwood.
Gently easing her tongue from her mouth she tastes his flesh and stands on tip toes, planting another soft kiss near his ear. Ezra can hear her breathing as it changes. He is no fool and knows his power but she is coy and hesitant . Her frame too slight , her actions too gentle and yet, Ezra finds his interest in this beautiful creature intensifying. Tonight he could take her innocence and the thought rouses his senses to fever pitch.
Isobelle takes a series of breaths to steady herself . She is shaking. She kisses the corner of his mouth, offering a suggestion. Still, he does not respond. Isobelle takes a step back. Blinks, taking in the rising bulge in his expensive trousers.
Ezra imagines her tight, virginal pussy closing in around his proud cock. A jolt of electricity fuels his veins. He kisses her lips, gentle at first, insinuating his tongue into her wet, inviting mouth . She responds and leans into his kisses, straining for more. Ezra dips his hand down to cup a breast, burning a path with his mouth to the protruding flesh of her breasts. One hand strokes the skin on her flat stomach and Ezra can feel her quiver in answer to his touch.
She wriggles and presses herself closer inadvertently rubbing her almost naked form on his growing erection. He groans, corners her against a wall and allows his cloth covered cock to nestle in the inviting hollow of her thighs while his fingers trace the material of her bra, setting her sensitive skin alight. Isobelle whimpers as Ezra releases the catch, bending an eager head to suckle. Her puckered, pink nipple glistens from his caress. Isobelle runs her feverish fingers through his thick, dark hair. He looks up from lavishing attention on her moist breast. Ezra takes in the scene. Her skin is flushed, breathing unsteady and her eyes are desirous pools.
“I want you to place your hands on me”
“Fuck me.” She says softly “I’ve dreamed of you for days”
He chuckles, a sound that is soft and dense like wood and clover.
“What would you do?”
Air between them hangs heavy and empty a moment too long.
“I would take you in my hand" Isobelle flexes her slender finger for effect “I want to take your velvet steel in my mouth
“Velvet steel?" Chuckles.
Isobelle tugs at his pants with shaking fingers, his cock bounces free from its cloth cage.
She licks a finger and a thumb and slides her digits down from the head of his smooth, almost purple shaft to midway down it’s length . His cock is t hick, with a heavy head and a slight bend. It makes her pussy ache to claim him. She resists, drawing out the tension.
Isobelle sinks seductively onto her knees, s he hesitates only momentarily, eyeing his tool. It’s obvious she is unpracticed. Audibly, Ezra sighs. He makes ready to hide his member and lash his rampant need for her pussy.
“No no. It’s alright. I want to”
Ezra’s cool blue eyes are expressionless .
She takes the tip between her lips.
Then, as she takes more of his length into her hot, wetness , he bucks against the intense pleasure in surprise. Isobelle slurps and smiles as much as she can, shift ing her weight on her knees and tuck ing into her task. Soon his ample pole is slick with saliva, Ezra face-fuck ing in and out of her pretty lip s. A repeated, unrelenting action that succeeds in stirring his blood. Her innocence is replaced by eagerness. He grunts in approval and tries not to cum.
“You’re a good girl”
Pre-cum dawns on the eye of his cock, she can taste the salty, heavy drops. As he thrusts and grunts she can tell it won’t be long.
He stops . Pushing her from him, looking down at her dishevelled hair, her swollen lips .
“You are too good at that”. More gently now. “Maybe that is enough for tonight”. His tone is ragged but his reason is firm.
“I want to enjoy you like the treat you are ” Ezra rakes a hand through his thick, dishevelled hair. “Perhaps, for tonight, you should leave”
Ezra reluctantly begins to button his pants around his extended, aching pole. She sits dumbly on the floor in confusion. From the corner of his eye he watches her, hopes she is crazy with lust and will let him bury himself in her. She has to come to him, it has to be her choice. He retrieves her dress and thrusts it at her. She looks at him pleadingly.
“But you have undressed me with your eyes for weeks”
Her voice is soft.
“You are not even sure what it is you ask of me”
In her eyes he reads disbelief.
“I want you”
“What do you want?”
Quietly. “I already did”
“Say it again. I need to hear it”
“I want you to fuck me”
Ezra ceases to adjust his clothes, he teases the bush at the cleft of her legs and sinks two digits into her folds. Isobelle’s lips part in surprise. He rubs the delicious wetness, finding her clitoris. Her knees almost buckle.
“Is this what you want”
“No” and then mildly, between gasped breaths. “I want cock.” She smiles dreamily, her whole body alive and humming with need . “You can tell I want it . Ca...an’t you? ” Isobelle gasps as he thrusts his digits inside her. He continues to pet her in a steady rhythm that brings her closer and closer to ecstasy. He glides his finger over her clit, teasing the nub gently. She lets out a little moan.
A heart beat.
“Do you like my mahogany table?”
Ezra’s tone is dry. She nods.
“Go over to it. Lean over so your breasts touch the wood. Show yourself to me”
Isobelle does just that. She leans across the table. Her plump pussy faces him.
“Spread your legs”
Isobelle is aware that if she shows him her sweetness he will see the pearly sheen of desire on her flesh. He will see for himself that she is ready and aching to be plundered. With a sigh she spreads her thighs.
In the glow of the lamps on the sideboard, Ezra can indeed see evidence of her enthusiasm. He makes no effort to go to her, keeping the distance.
“I want you to lean forward, stretch yourself across my table”
Isobelle inches her torso further onto the table. Her pert bottom automatically pushes further into the air. She breathes in slowly, trying to keep the intake of air steady so Ezra won’t hear how aroused it makes her. She fails.
“What would you like me to do?”
She takes the erotic silence as a cue and looks over her right shoulder at him.
“I want you to do what you were doing before. Touch me”
Ezra sees her wiggle her delectable rear in anticipation but he makes no move to go over to her. He takes a sip of his drink. The moment stretches. Isobelle looks over her shoulder at him once more . Her expression is flecked with annoyance. A smug smile plays on his lips.
“Why don’t you do it yourself?”
“I know you have been masturbating, you practically said so yourself. Show me”
Ezra is measured in his movements. He places his glass down on the side table, unbuttons one and then another of his shirt buttons at his collar. Finally, deliberately, he is closing the distance between them. Isobelle makes as if to turn and greet him for a kiss. He places a palm firmly between her shoulders and the small of her back. It keeps her at her position.
Ezra releases his cock once more from the confines of his clothes. He throbs. His prize is so beautiful. He stands behind her with the head of his manhood nestled on the warmth of her sex. Isobelle takes frequent, shallow breaths.
“You won’t touch yourself for me”
“No.” Her voice is uncertain.
Ezra removes his gift. Still facing the table, she feels the loss of his cock. The moment had been almost momentous. Isobelle’s small frame is caught in a slump. Ezra braces himself.
In a swift, calculated movement he guides his cockhead into her dripping folds. Taken by surprise Isobelle is tight and on his first thrust Ezra experiences a heavenly sensation. Isobelle too, cries out.
Ezra strokes once more. Now they are finally connected the feeling is tenfold, the anticipation has been too great. As his pole glides in and out of her pussy Isobelle revels in the new sensation. His large dick fills her slick passage, exploring and retreating in a ever-increasing rhythm.
Isobelle lets her breasts slide against the finely polished wood of the table. As he pushes into her, she can feel her pelvic muscles as they quiver from the inside, Isobelle hears him groan. A sound of pure, gut-wrenching lust. Almost a smile on her lips now as she feels her body take her up over the crest of a mind numbing orgasm.
“I’ll teach you. You are mine" Ezra’s voice in her ear.
His pace is so fast and deep. One foot on a chair thrusting. He still feels good, sliding in and out of her, but Isobelle feels the slow come-down from her first orgasm. Behind her, the always-composed Ezra, with his pants around his ankles, his shoes still on - is clearly lost in the moment. Isobelle’s giggle becomes a squeak as she feels him grow even harder. Eagerly, Isobelle pushed back and Ezra at last finds his release.
Ezra finds himself pliant and sated as she turns, hips first, and plants a heated kiss on his unsuspecting face.
“That was my first. You were mind blowing. Promise me there is more?”
Ezra raises an eyebrow.