Cooling Down

In the aftermath of last week's decision to not "love so hard," I feel weird.  How can you turn down your feelings for someone?  Unfortunately i'm not a faucet - things don't quite work that way.  

On some level, I feel at peace with our decision because I do believe it is what we both need. However, the prospect of actually implementing a cool down is scary.  What does it mean?  Does it mean that eventually we'll roll into friendship? Or less, since the majority of our relationship is emotional.  The stolen time we share is spent talking, eating and rarely sexing.  We kiss, we hug, we keep it relatively light and just enjoy each other's company.  

If I look at this objectively, we can still be good friends.  The dynamics will just change - not seeing each other as often or calling as much.  Not having such great expectations that are relationship-esque like expecting multiple calls a day, checking-in, dates, etc.  

So one part of me is welcoming of the prospect of having more time and space to focus on me and the things I've let go over the last few mos.  The other part of me is mourning the death of my relationship.  Well I guess only time will tell how this all plays out.  

Ever had to "cool down" your love for someone? Howdya do it?

I just wanna fuck

I. just. wanna. fuck.

I dont want to have any discussions about fucking.

Definitely don't wanna discuss hypotheticals about what could hinder our ability to fuck and how that could fucking hypothetically affect me.

Fuck all of that fucking talk.

Let's wait 'til we're in the fucking moment.

If we can fuck at that time then great.

Else we'll just have to move the fuck on.

MEN can be fucking annoying!


Have you ever just wanted to avoid the drama and fuck???

The Bitch In You...

"You're the type of woman who likes to be in control, yes?" "What makes you assume so?"
"I can just tell. You have this thing about you...."
"I'm a take charge woman, yes."
"So tell me, what type of situations have you been in where you 'take charge'?"
"Oh, I'm asked to do all sorts of things. Use strap-ons, mmf threesome, cuckolding..."


I went on to explain that cuckolding was when a man sits and watches as another man fucks his woman. He may just watch and beat off, or if open to it, he can participate by assisting, touching or licking both while in action. I also explained my thoughts about not necessarily believing that just because a man likes anal penetration performed on him by a woman, doesn't mean that he's homosexual. I told him that I enjoy pleasing my partner and if he is pleased by having me fuck his ass or by sharing a blowjob, then it pleases me.


"Hmmm...I bet you're wondering why I'm still sitting here and haven't bolted out of the bed yet, huh?"
"Actually, no, I'm not." I'm actually surprised he hadn't rolled over onto his stomach, to be honest.


One thing I've learned since I've been involved in this lifestyle is that if you give a man enough trust and space to believe that you won't judge him, the tiny little bitch inside him will come out to play. From some of the beefiest, most masculine men to the bisexually repressed, I've had some very "hetero-questionable" requests made and fulfilled.


Men live their lives with the expectation of being a strong, protecting force, of behaving in a "manly" way and assuming the role of the aggressor when it comes to sex. But behind closed doors, he wants to be controlled. Willing to submit, they want to be man-handled sometimes, only by a woman.


And I am only happy to oblige. Because though I represent myself outwardly as a "lady," I am more than willing to fuck the shit out of the bitch in you.

Have you ever exposed your partner's inner bitch? Tell us about it.

I'm Crushin On You

If you have not noticed but I come by your desk daily
Just to smell your sweet fragrance
Some days, I find peaches and
Other days, I smell a jasmine
Those fragrances make me long to roll around tangled by your arms, legs, and hair
I fantasize about our first time together, your sweat smelling and tasting
so yummy




If you have noticed but when we talk
I am staring in all the wrong places
I consume every inch of your curves-hoping to get lost
I admire your plump breasts
I imagine myself licking your hard nipples
Hoping that a little milk will flow onto my tongue





Other times I stare at your luscious lips
I find myself matching my breath to the beat of your lips moving
I'm thinking that those lips need to meet
my lips and tongue
I'm thinking that those lips want to suck and lick on my
dong; it's large, purple, and wants to make love to your lips (both sets)
I desire to make you tremble, scream in ecstasy, and long for me even more



If you have noticed but when we hang out
I make every attempt to touch you ever so slightly
I need my skin to touch yours
Your skin is deep brown suga
In fact, water makes your skin glisten like
caramelized apples ready for me to bite
I want to devour you.



If you have noticed but when we were together last Saturday night
I try with all my might to be the center of your attention
In fact, did you not peep my efforts to make you laugh
Or whisper in your ear so you would lick your lips
Knowing I hit your zone
I even sat close so my hand could
Linger on your thigh
I noticed that you did not move my hand
You even shifted it up real close to the
Honey spot



If you have noticed but I have a crush on you
And I'm too shy to tell you
Do you have a crush on me?

Water Pressure

Water.

Wet, warm, pulsing water.

You aren't really into astrology, but whenever you're in a situation like this, you remember you're a Cancer. Water sign. Drawn to water.

Drawn to this water. This Jacuzzi tub in this hotel in the middle of Texas. The conference has been long and boring and draining, and you're relaxing in a huge Jacuzzi tub alone. Candles. Bubbles. Music.

Water. Pulsing, warm, wet.

The jets are sending tiny bubbles cascading over your nipples, and they grow hard, aching from the pressure. You idly run your nails along the inside of your thigh, just enough to draw an angry line of pink, to draw a shiver down your spine despite the steam coming off the water, coming off your body.

You relax into the water more, arching your back and biting your bottom lip. Your hand moves from your thigh up your body to your nipple, pulling just a little bit.

Moving your hips juuuuust right, you catch one of the spray jets from the Jacuzzi at the ohmyfuckingghodsyes perfect angle, and that warm pulsing water hits your clit, hard, steady, unrelenting.

You close your eyes, your thoughts drift over old lovers, recent hookups, current partners. Soon your mind is nothing but a montage, a calvacade of images of cocks, nipples, pussies, asses, of you and others cumming over and over, as your hips buck against the steaming scented water in your hotel Jacuzzi.

The jet is unrelenting, the world's most persistent lover, and you almost bite through your lip to keep from screaming as you cum over and over again, the heat from the water and the endorphins from all those orgasms making you feel light and dizzy when you finally reach over and press the "stop" button on the jets.

Afterward you rub down with lotion, slip into your silk robe, and recline on the bed. You text your partner. "Had a bath. Much more relaxed now. Phone sex?"

When was the last time you floated away on your own bliss?

Oh Jada!!

I am not ashamed to admit that I am a lover of porn. I’m pretty sure in my next lifetime I will be a porn star or a stripper or probably both. I’m ok with that. I’ve paid my moral dues to society so I can be an all-out bad girl next go round. Anyway, I’ve seen A LOT of porn in my lifetime and I have found that I am pretty picky porn watcher. I love interracial scenes. I love public scenes. I love threesomes, foursomes and lesbian fuck-fests. I love a good MILF scene or a teacher vs. student flick. Ok maybe I’m not as picky as I thought I was. :-) What I really, really, REALLY love about porn is my favorite porn star—Jada Fire! See I have this thing where I can only watch porn with attractive people. Seriously, if I’m watching and the bodies are disproportionate, someone’s hair is a hot mess, or I’d rather see their face masked, I simply can’t watch. I remember seeing Ms. Fire in a scene a few years ago. I was fast-forwarding through some wack ass ridiculousness with a bunch of gross-me-out men with smaller than average dicks and women who needed an immediate trip to the nearest weave shop when she popped up on the screen. She wasn’t what I would consider a BAD woman, but she was definitely cute and her smooth chocolate skin was enough to make me put the remote down and watch for a bit. She danced around on the screen flaunting her plump tits and peach-round ass. She pulled out a bottle of baby oil and poured some down the front of her body. The glistening oil on her smooth black skin made my lady parts start to tingle. In walked the co-star. Nice body. Decent face. Horse dick. I’m watching. Jada immediately got on her knees and opened her mouth to take in his huge cock. “OMG she has braces on her teeth!” I’d never seen a dude get a blow job from a chick with a mouth full of metal. I was all up in the TV screen watching her every move and I quickly realized that Jada’s head game was OFF. THE. CHAIN. I couldn’t figure out how she was sucking dick better than I’d ever seen while maneuvering her braces AND tongue ring, plus managing to talk the most shit all at the same time. This was before the days of the “like” button but damn I liked what I saw. Every time she opened her mouth my pussy got wetter. It was the combination of how wet she had her partner’s dick, the way she stroked it between sucks with one hand, then two hands, then shoved his entire cock down her throat after passionately demanding that he fuck her face. Amazing. I mean, I’d seen great dick sucking before and I know for a fact that my head game is nice as well, but this was next level shit. Horse Dick couldn’t even contain himself. He yanked Jada by her well-done weave and made her stop sucking so he could get it together and put his cock in another hole. She made him lay on his back and promptly climbed on top to ride like her life depended on it. SHE. WENT. IN. She rode and talked more shit while he grabbed her ass and tried to hold on and keep up. She was in control and there was nothing he could do but lay there and take it. He moaned, groaned and grunted then attempted to hold her still while she pumped from below. I was definitely impressed by his persistence as Jada was making him work for every cent he was earning that day. Then it happened. She pulled up and got into a squatting position right above him. She smacked her clit a few times and proceeded to squirt all over him and the couch they were fucking on. Have mercy. Cum drops on the camera lens and all, I was all in. Jada gained a new fan that day. I was so caught up in the details I forgot about rubbing my own clit and the pile of toys I had sitting next to me. I didn’t want to miss what Jada was going to do next.
Since that day I have watched countless Jada Fire films. She seriously puts her everything into every scene she stars in and trust me, she does it all. Not only is she my favorite adult film star, I’ve been told that she is my porn twin. I’m sure it’s just our chocolate skin but I like to think I wreak just as much havoc in the bedroom—and out—and she does.

Do you have a favorite porn star or a porn twin of your own??

My name is Pink, and...

God grant me the serenity...

I'm currently 2 years in recovery from my Cocaine addiction and although we're in the middle of his annual Memorial Day weekend visit to Miami, I'm holding strong to my convictions. Ok, well, its not so much because I'm so strong as it is that Cocaine is a bonafide asshole. In the weeks leading up to his visit, we had spoken on the phone about seeing each other. He seemed to have come a little ways from the unnecessarily cocky abuser that he had been described as in my initial post about my addiction to him. It was almost like the good old days, when I met him 7 years ago and it's possible that I may have relapsed, had our text exchange on his first day in town not put a sour taste in my mouth.

9:59 a.m.

Cocaine: On my way to Florida. What's good?

Me: Totally forgot you were coming today. At work now. When do you get here?

(There was no response until 1:03 p.m.)

Cocaine: Just landed in FLL

Me: Welcome

(He didn't respond again, and I assumed it was because he and his cohorts were getting situated and he would hit me up later. I finished work, got home, went on about my evening and heard nothing else from him until I got--what I hope was an alcohol-induced--text at 11:11 p.m.)

Cocaine: What happened to my BJ?

(I didn't reply to this fuckery immediately, because I was trying to give him time to shoot me a "my bad, I'm fucked up" text. But it never came. So at 11:52, I replied)

Me: You already know that you sealed your fate with how you just came at me. Blow yourself.

Cocaine: Smh. You always find a way to act up. Whatever.

Me: Fuck you. You hit me with a text that you were here. Then texted me about a bj. C'mon man. You don't think you need to come better than that? Doesn't matter anyway. Get bent. I'm sure you'll get your bj. Though it won't be from me. And you'll wish it was. And that makes me smile. Asshole.

Cocaine: Shut up chump! Little crying ass. All you said was welcome.

(I snickered to myself reading this. Did this fool expect me to blow him up all day trying to chase him down and suck his dick. Get the fuck outta here. Joker.)

Me: Not gonna argue with you, G. I'll be that, but you'll still be getting sub-par head this weekend. So who's the chump?

Cocaine: Ok

(yeah. checkmate, bitch.)

...to accept the things I cannot change...

To be honest, I wasn't surprised. Why would things be any different this time? Sure, he read the blog post and perhaps he felt bad...for a minute. But drugs are tricky like that. Just when you think you are being comforted by your dependency, reality comes and kicks the shit out of you. Thank god I got that text message before I took a hit this time.

...courage to change the things I can...

So, though I almost slipped off the wagon again, Cocaine was able to remind me via textversation that a) no matter how kinky I am, there is some modicum of respect that I require-and deserve-from anyone I suck, fuck or otherwise and b) His shit is good, but I'm better.

...and the wisdom to know the difference.

The next day came and went with no apology text. I didn't really expect one, but I was hopeful that this guy who I had known for a while now had a little more respect for me than the text-4-bj interaction. He didn't. Oh well.

I wrote the first blog about him expressing a realization of how little I was actually getting from my exchanges with Cocaine. Though there is something innately sexy about him, the ugly way in which he treats me should be enough to keep me sober.

My name is Pink, and I'm 2 years in recovery. But I will always be an addict.

Can you remember a time when you had to give up someone or something, not only because it was right, but because you would respect yourself a lot more for it?

Whoop That Trick

My lover of the moment, QT Geek, continues to surprise me. We recently reconnected after a 2 week hiatus.

---
I receive a text.

          "It's time for your punishment".

Of course, I'm curious as to what punishment means. Should I envision myself getting spanked? Will I be handcuffed? Am I able to give punishment, too? My mind wanders right up until I arrive at his house.
As I pull up, I receive another message.

          "I'm the punisher and you will do as I say."

Okay, now my mind is going wild with imagining. I enter and we commence with pleasantries; he offers drinks. He initiates good conversation. We move from his living room to the kitchen. We continue our pleasantries....

"You are here to serve me!"

Within a few short minutes the roles and rules changed. I attempt to leave the kitchen and QT Geek blocks my movement. I give him the side eye.

           "I did not give you permission to leave."

What? Before I know it, he's grabbed my wrists and is holding me against the wall. He stated that

           " When you walked into the door, you assumed the role as the submissive and I am your master."

As he talked, a slight smirk formed on my face. Shit! This was turning me on.

He leads me downstairs. He commands that I drop to my knees. As I bend down, he pulls my face up and tells me to look into his eyes. He tells me to trust him. He tells me that pain is pleasure. Over the next thirty minutes, we go back and forth between my dick sucking and him suckling of my breasts! As his lips and tongue tease, kiss and bite my nipples, my pussy is throbbing and soaking wet!




He instructs me to bend over. He holds my arms behind my back and spanks me with his Omega paddle. With each swing, I felt both. Pleasure. Pain. As promised. He commands me to respond to any questions or comments, "yes-master". He tells me that he will not accept "no" for an answer. As each minute passes, I become more and more his submissive.

Finally he commands me to rise. And then he slaps me. He slaps me real hard across the face.

There are no more commands, just silence.

He walks me to my car, wishes me a good night and promises to check in later in the week.

My mind is scrabbled. What the fuck just happened? I liked the pleasure of pain. I enjoy the fact that I've found someone who enjoys my kinks. I am thrilled with the idea that I finally met a man who takes care of things- a HNIC! So why am I feeling dirty? Why are tears running down my face? Did he cross a line? Am I actually willing to lose control by any means necessary?

To Pieces

In this place. There is a part of you I can't touch. Can't reach. That's just beyond my finger tips. It is perhaps the part I miss the most.

It seems simple. To think of us chatting.
Laying side by side.
Shoulder to shoulder.
Laughing.
Body parts lazily intertwined.
And then the inevitable irresistibility of you. That would make me. Touch you. Somewhere warm. And wet. And welcoming.

It strikes me that we are so different. Physically.

My dark. Your light.
The constancy of tone in my skin. The playful freckles on yours.

The warm brown of my hair against the deep dark auburn of yours.

Yet it hasn't ever been the contrast that I found most interesting. Touching you. Loving that. Has always been about the response. Your response to my 'call'.

And even to say response. Is to suggest it is aggressive. Overt.

It isn't.

A taking in of breath. A shift in position. A giving in that let's me know I'm welcome. Wanted. Craved.

My face next to your mouth as I'm touching you. Your breath hot and rushing into my ears. The softness of you.
The fleshiness.
My teeth on your chin, neck, shoulder.

Sometimes I look at you.
When I'm touching you.
And your eyes are mostly closed.
And your face is beatific. A look of satisfaction, bliss, openness.

It's almost stopped me. A few times. Looking at you.
Wondering if I deserved all that surrender.
Unsure if it was real. Was I really making you feel that good?
There have been times, when I was nearly certain just the sound of you would make me cum.
Just the sounds you were making. The sounds I was making you make.
The hearing and doing all at once. Would be enough. To push me over the edge.

The giving has been a gift.
Your giving.
The taking an almost spiritual practice.
The finding. The learning. The knowing.
Where and how and which place on your body to touch, caress, kiss, lave - it's been a revelation.
A discovery indebted to your selflessness.

I miss you.
All parts.
The lips I never could have known I'd long to kiss. The curve of your collarbone, its dips and curves. The sway of your back, an alluring and nonsensical tilt just like mine. The stiff pink peaks of your nipples, their implicit invitation to suckle. The softness of your backside, more than enough to grab. The thick wet sweet folds between your legs, the very best I ever ate.

I miss ALL of you. ALL.
Every piece.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Allow Me To Introduce Myself...

Now, there are open-minded people, and then there are OPEN-minded people. I, dear readers, am OPEN! Not only am I a friend to fellow kinky bitches Sheba and Pink Vixxxen, I have also been reading (and getting off to) The Kink Chronicles since it started. Through the past few years, I have shared some of my experiences with the girls and they finally convinced me to join the fold. I started out my sexual journey pretty submissive, following the guy's lead as to how nasty I got. It ended up being that same modus operandi that lead me to the freaky tales I'll be sharing with you.

When I was in my mid-20s, I met an older guy who turned me on to some newshit. New shit that a-I didn't even think I would like and b-Had no idea how many straight men were into. The guy was an former arena football player, which doesn't mean shit except to say he was a man's man. By all outward appearances, that is.

Don't get me wrong, he had always been a freak--a monster pussy and ass-eater, to be exact--and I was always happy to let him indulge. But one day, during a freaky phone session, he kicked things up a notch. He asked me what did I think about using a toy on him, anally. I surprised myself by the lack of hesitation when I replied, "Sure baby, I'll fuck your ass. If that's how you want it." And it was. He stroked himself to an orgasm as he described how he wanted me to fuck him in the ass, slap him and talk dirty to him. He wanted to be dominated, and although it was something new for me, I've never been one to back away from some new shit. After his orgasm(and subsequent drifting off) I hung up the phone and kept masturbating long into the night as I anticipated my first step into female domination, or femdom.

The next time we met up, he had suggested we go to an adult store and pick out his toy. I made sure to embarrass him in the store by asking him loud enough for others to hear, "Is this one was big enough?" or "Do you think you can take all of that?" as we sorted through the selection of dildos. Finally, we settled on a beginner-sized 6 inch dildo with a slight curve and a bottle of Astroglide. I walked to the car and made him pay alone. He was flustered, and visibly horny as he made his way back to the car. I took a deep breath as he approached. There was no turning back now.

I was so excited that I rubbed my pussy the whole ride to the hotel. I stayed in my seat and waited for him to open my door. He did. We got in the room and I told him to take off his clothes and kneel in front of me. He did. I had no idea how this was all coming to me so easily, but hey, I watch a lot of porn. So, I just went with it. While he was kneeling, I walked over to him and lifted my dress. I pressed his face into my pussy and he tried to get into a good position to lick it properly. I stepped up on my toes a bit and he held my ass and sucked my pussy to a screaming orgasm. Good, I thought, at least I got mine squared away. "Get on the bed. On your back," I told him. He did. I pushed his legs open and started to suck his dick. I was scraping my nails all over his thighs, making him writhe in pleasure beneath me then I reached over and grabbed the lube we'd just bought and smeared it around his asshole. He closed his eyes, and as I continued to suck him, I started pushing my finger in. He tensed up, but started to relax and moan as I pushed and twisted my finger in deeper. He tensed up as I got knuckle deep and I told him that if he couldn't take my finger, he definitely wouldn't be able to take the toy dick. I started moving my finger in and out, and he was moaning and grinding onto my finger as if he would cum any minute, so I stopped.

I asked him if he was ready for me to use the toy on him and he just moaned. I slapped him straight across the face. He was stunned. "I asked you a question," I nearly growled. "Are you ready to get fucked or what?" He said yes. "Yes, what?" I asked. "Yes, Mistress." Shit, I liked the sound of that. And he did too, his dick was rock hard and leaking a stream of precum. The Mistress shit got in my head and you would have thought I was a pro the way I quickly lubed up the fake dick and started to ease it in. I made him pull his legs up to his chest and I slapped the back of his thighs as I pushed the head in and started talking shit. I told him to stay still and take this fucking he had asked for. He stopped trying to back away from me and started to buck his hips and stroke his dick while I fucked him. By now, his lubed up ass was making sloppy sounds and I would tease him about a nasty boy he was and how I was going to fuck his ass until it was raw. When I started speeding up the fucking, I leaned over and sucked his dick on the tip of his dick, then sat back up and stared into his face while he seemed to drift off into ecstasy. I stopped only long enough to reposition myself onto his face so that he could suck this pussy while I finished him off. I sat on his face and leaned over him, fucking his ass faster as he licked and sucked my clit.

I came in his mouth, and his dick started pulsating, letting me know he would be right behind me. I lifted off his face and used both hands to simultaneously fuck his ass and stroke his dick. He was moaning like crazy and just before he came he clamped his mouth back onto my pussy and moaned the most delicious orgasm into my pussy...and all over my hands. As I sat up and let go, the toy plopped out of his ass and he let out a big sigh. I laid down next to him, reveling in this new experience (for me, at least) and wondered if he had enjoyed himself. "So, this isn't the last time we doing this, right?" he asked. I guess I got my answer. With this experience, I had opened Pandora's Box and since then, I've definitely expanded my dominating repertoire. Now, any poor schmuck to come my way doesn't stand a chance!

I am Poison Ivy, that's Mistress Ivy to you. Wasn't it a pleasure to meet me?

The Shop Is Closed!

I know you may have been wondering what the fuck happened to me lately...Trust me, the story is a long, repetitive one. I'll give you the deal though, in a nutshell.

After ending my on again, off again relationship with Mr. Boombastic for the last time, I decided to evaluate my most recent team roster and see if there was anyone worth keeping around. There wasn't. Boombastic and I had a great sexual vibe and we liked hanging out together, but the line between fuck buddy and girlfriend started to get blurred. That may not have been a bad thing, but for the fact that there are fundamental issues between he and I that make a "real" relationship pretty impossible.

Now Hood Willy, aside from being dim as a 40-watt lightbulb, disrecpected me and my home last time he came by. The dick is good, but not good enough to trump respect and compensate for his ignorance. Gone.

There were also a couple guys on the bench that I really wasn't "dealing" with on that level, and since they were never interesting enough to make the starting lineup, I cut them too.

There is no shortage of men in Miami, I guess just a shortage of men I want to fuck with. Having come to this conclusion, I have decided to take a break from fucking until I run up on something "special". Ha! Let's see how this goes.

Especially since Cocaine's annual Memorial Day weekend visit is just around the corner...

So tell me, have you ever needed to take a celibacy break? How long did it last?

All of It

I was thinking yesterday.

I was marveling. At how much it kept getting better. Over time.
I was wondering what I missed about it.

If I had to pick a thing. If I just couldn't say...EVERYTHING.

Is it your moaning?
That I miss most.
Or the tight pink peak of your nipples when you're aroused.

Is it the trashing?
Or the lightly red hair there. The musky smells. The sweetness. The simple joy in just laying my face there. Before I even taste you.

Is it the tension, deep in my belly? As soon as I put my hands on you. The wetness that forms between my own legs, as I begin to run my hands over your hips.

I wonder if it is the first breath I take when you're laying in front of me. Or the tiny bites up your thighs.
The first touch. The first moment my tongue touches you there. And I stop. Breathing deeply. Because it never disappoints. Because it's always better than the last time. And then the deep tasting. My eagerness. As though there won't be enough of you for me to have.

Is it burying my tongue there? Nibbling. Holding you between my tongue and upper lip. Keeping my hands on you. Touching you places where there is more of you to enjoy than meets the eye.
Is it how my tasting dispells myths. How you like to be laved everywhere. EVERYwhere. The outer and inner spaces. The space between. Your shivering, and writhing beneath my mouth. The sound of you...the rhythm of our call and response.

Is it putting my fingers inside as I'm tasting? And feeling you there. All of you. Incomprehensibly tight and open at once. Wet to dripping, wanting. Giving me so much in your surrender. More than I knew to find there. More than I knew to take. More. Than ever.

I don't want you less. I haven't forgotten. I remember. All of it.

What is one to do? When memories are like torture and the future lays ahead without solutions?

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

The Drought is Over

"I'll spare you the details but the drought is over."

My heart skipped a beat as the meaning behind his words begun to register. Things with his girlfriend had been rocky over the last few months and intimacy was almost non-existent. But now, now things had changed. I tried hard not to think of the details but I couldn't help it.

I imagined him slowly undressing her, as he had done me. Pushing her long curls behind her ears, cupping her face and slowly kissing her lips. Kissing all over her face. Returning to her lips and tonguing her.

Freeing her boobs from her bra with a quick hand motion, as he had done with me. Slowly sucking and licking each nipple in ways that I am not quite capable of describing. But the feeling was heavenly and brought instant wetness to my lower region.

I painfully imagined him making his way to her secret area and using her legs as earmuffs as he fed...

ENOUGH. No more imagining for me. It was too hurtful to further imagine. It's just that I view what WE share as sacred and special. Something that should not be shared with others. The irony of me not wanting to share is that he is not mine. Not fully. As I am the other woman, she is unknowingly sharing him with me. I guess I'm fine with this because it benefits me but I have a problem sharing. I don't want to share him. I want him all to myself. I love him, he loves me but it's "complicated."

A few hours after our phone convo, I was able to compose myself and give the situation some greater thought. I sent My Guy a text message, "I'm not gonna give you grief baby. I understand. Really I do. The platonic side of me is very happy for you. You deserve peace at home. You deserve to look fwd to going home. You deserve to be desired by your primary. You deserve to have sex initiated. You deserve to spend the night making luv and being made luv 2. You deserve a strong connection - mental, physical and emotional. I won't begrudge u these things baby - I won't. "

It seems I need to accept that these are the feelings that come with Reticent Love. :-(

What do you do when you have no right to feel how you feel?

Geek Sexual Adventures

I pride myself on my adventurous tastes in terms of sexual partners. I enjoyed so many different flavors, and tastes but I never had a geek for a lover. I define a "geek" as the guy wearing glasses, talking computer code for come-on lines, and obsessing over the latest tech gadget or software. They find more pleasure in talking to the computer than talking to people.

So imagine my surprise when I encounter a handsome African-American geek hosting a fight party at his home. I'll name him "QT-Geek". Throughout the night, I spied QT-Geek eying me and I doing the same to him. A few times, he caught me in a corner and sparked crazy conversation about his current work project (computer jargon I failed to understand). As the night wore on, I found myself the last to leave. As I gather my coat, he says, "could you stay so I can get to know you better?" As a sweet southern belle, of course I complied. We talked for hours about various topics. He was well versed in politics, television (we shared a mutual love for True Blood), and sex. As night turned to dawn, we ended the night with a wet kiss and exchange of digits.

For the next few months, we encountered each other at events all over town. So, on Superbowl weekend, we ran into each other again and decided to expound on our conversation physically.

First, QT-Geek is a sloppy kisser. He explores the mouth with his huge tongue that sometimes gets out of control and licks the face. Second, QT-Geek pulled several tricks out of his sleeve when we proceed to sexual pleasures. He teased my nipples ever so gently then began biting so hard that I actually came. He sucked my nipples, breasts, and gave me several hickeys. (Who still gives hickeys in 2011?). QT-Geek was somewhat rough when he removed my clothing. He pulled my jeans down, slightly ripping my thong, and with slight force bending me over so he may insert his penis into my anal canal. While he grind my anal jewels, he held my arms behind me and instructed me on when and how to moan. I was not sure if this was the same guy who entertained me with tales from his work at a computer giant or made me laugh with some of his corny jokes.
Next, I found myself bound by his firm grip on the floor with my nipples gripped by his teeth. He continued to suck, bite, and pull my nipples until I came again. Whenever he came up for air, he instructed me to "stop wiggling" or "be still". He told me that resistance leads to further "punishment". This "punishment" continued for several hours between anal sex, doggie style play with my pussy, and titty punishment.
Once I said "uncle", he released me. QT-Geek took me into a bear hug and planted kisses on my lips and face. So, I received pleasure and pain in one night from a geek gentleman with a large kink sex drive.
So dare I say, I found my kink match....
Should this sweet southern belle continue to receive punishment from QT-Geek?
Do we need to establish rules to continue this "punishment' play?
Since I enjoyed this sexual adventure, am I still a southern belle?

Anal Play and Slay

Big Sexy (BSx) and I were spooning on the right side of the bed and I got aroused. My body immediately began to gyrate, my ass pressing into his groin. Soon he was pinching my nipples and I was uncontrollably rocking back into his crotch. "Give me a kiss," he said in his gruff voice that was too capable of melting me. Maintaining my spooning position, I turned my head around, looking deeply into his eyes and began to tongue him. All the while I was still grinding my ass into his crotch. He pulled away from our kiss, reached down and shimmied down my lace boy-shorts panties. I assisted by kicking them off.

I grinded deeper and deeper against his fully-erect manhood and he pushed into me. "GASP." He was at the entrance of my ass and not my pussy. He spooned me tighter and I felt the pressure of his tip against my asshole. Between the effects of gravity on his 250lb muscular body and the width of his control-taking cock, I was really feeling the pressure. He pushed harder and harder, going slightly deeper and deeper with every stroke. Because I was mentally relaxed and excited, my anal muscles were relaxed, allowing for easier entry. I gasped through every stroke, caught at the crossroad between pleasure and pain. I just knew that my nails would destroy the bed linens because I was grabbing and digging into them so tightly in order to cushion the anal blows that Big Sexy was inflicting with every stroke.

BSx: "You okay baby?,"
Me: Yeeessssssss," I managed to moan.
BSx: "You don't look like you're alright baby. You don't look like you're okay."
Me: "I am," I quivered as he slowly penetrated me further
BSx: "I don't think so baby. I'm gonna stop."
Me: "NOooooo, I want to continue," I said. I really wanted to experience this with him and this was as a good a time as any.
BSx: "I'm not going to move. I'm going to stay still and you do what you can – what you're comfortable with."

His concern for me and lack of selfishness was a turn on. I wanted to give myself to him wholly. Thus my response to his question was not verbal but physical. I shifted my weight onto my upper body, planting my arms firmly into the mattress, slightly lifted my ass of the bed and pushed back onto his cock, taking it into my ass as deep as I could. I slide up and down a few times so his tip could penetrate me further and further. Soon, I felt his cock break my initial anal barrier and my muscles wrap around his shaft.

After BSx saw that I could handle him, he switched to deep strokes. He slew me like I was a bull and he was a matador. I thoroughly enjoyed my anal death. Moans and mutterings from him like, "Your ass feels so fucking good baby," made me wilder and encouraged me to push into him deeper. I bounced by butt cheeks off his crotch and cock like a rubber ball.

I enjoyed every aspect of the experience with Big Sexy. Can't wait to do it again!

When's the last time, you were anally slayed?

Pretty Boy Blue

Pretty Boy Blue

didn't know what to do

when he got to Pinkvixxen's house

So he took off his shirt

and flexed his tattoos

then proceeded to eat her out...


Now Pretty Boy Blue

was a scholar in bed

but that's about where the brains stop

He had a good job

but fucked it up with fraud

and now works as a factory cog...


Pretty Boy Blue

and his blue collar dick

have Pinkvixxen giddy with glee

'Cause brains or not

if that dick hits the spot

then his dumbass is straight with me!




When it comes to lovers, how important is intellect to you?

I'm Sayin' Doe!

I love a man who can hold up his end of a stimulating conversation, has a college boy vibe and an open mind. Mr. Clean Cut can turn me on with his entrepreneurial prowess, articulate speech and cultured social life. He's good in bed, and likely a freak, but often times a girl gets bored with Mr. Clean Cut, he's nice, but every now and then a girl needs to get her hands dirty!

-Enter Hood Willy-

I have becoming increasingly unhappy with the current "relationship" that I'm in, and recently decided to open up my options and find a possible new buddy. It always seems as if just when one man fucks up, another one lucks up, and little did I know, I would run up on someone new sooner, rather than later. I reconnected with this old friend of mine, we go way back to grade school. He's a cutie. Nice full lips, caramel complexion, nice package...and straight up hood fabulous!! He lives in the heart of the inner city, but he's smart, and his family is educated, but he chose to rebel and run the streets, even dabbling briefly in pharmaceuticals and other unsavory dealings. He has a "Fuck the World" attitude, Miami-hood drawl and about 13 tattoos on his body, including a full head shot of his mother's face on his chest, with her name in cursive underneath. How sweet.

Hood Willy is a thug. He drives a car that screams, "Dope Boy," with it's blacked out tints and driver's seat leaned all the way back. He is always rocking a fitted cap and his LL-esque habit of lip licking keeps his gorgeous pink lips unusually moist. He is actually very cute, his pretty boy face belies the thuggish lifestyle he lives, but as soon as he opens his mouth. Oh yeah, homie is definitely from round the way.

Immediately, there was a mutual flirtation, which led to an invite to come by and "catch up," and within the First 48 ;-), we were sitting on my couch, sipping cognac, laughing and reminiscing on the old days--minutes away from fucking. He has a slick sense of humor, and kept me laughing and blushing, as this was only turning me on more. Did I mention, how cute he was? After the conversation slowed down to more suggestive subject matter, I peeped his bulge start to grow and he started rubbing circles on my thigh. It seemed like homie was scared to make the first move, so I stood up and asked him if we were going to do the damn thing or what? It didn't take a second before he was up on his feet and following me to the bed. I laid down and he licked his lips and then got between my legs to start to lick mine. He had mentioned to me how much he had liked to eat pussy, which typically raises alarms that he may have a small dick, but upon further inspection, it wasn't bad at all. It wasn't ginormous like Mr. Boombastic, but shawty knew how to work it!

Hood Willy ate my pussy for a long ass time. He made me cum over and over and every time I cam to enough to open my eyes, I caught his eyes locked on me. He hadn't stopped looking the whole time. You may remember me mentioning it before in a previous group post, but Mellow used to do that, and drive me fucking crazy! Hood Willy kept going at my pussy for about 3 orgasms and then starting moving his lips up my body, kissing my thighs, stomach, stopping to suck my nipples with a hungry man's voracity and then up to my lips, where I could still taste myself on his breath. Mmm.



Then he commenced to fuck.the.shit.out.of.me. No, seriously, I had truly underestimated this guy. I never thought that I could be pleased by a dick less that 10 inches. Hood Willy proved that he could get it in. And in. And in! He had your girl gone. At one point, I think he was fucking me so hard, some of his ghetto transferred to me and I yelled, in my best 'Shanequa' accent, "Oh shit! I'm FINNA cum!"

When I rode his dick, he pulled me down to lean over him so that he could return to assaulting my nipples. We kissed deep and sloppy and then I sat up, bucking my hips and riding his dick like a pro. I was working it so hard, when I looked down at his chest, his mother's face seemed to be raising her eyebrows at me, as if to say, "You better not hurt my baby, hussie!" I tried to tune out his mother's stern-looking stare as I brought the last one home and collapsed onto his chest.

After we finished, we lay there catching our breath, both surely wondering how we got from two 3rd grade friends to this. But who cared? I threw him a towel and he wiped off his balls-region and got dressed. I threw on a shirt and we had one more drink before I sent him home. Before he got downstairs to his car he was already texting me about when would be the next time he could come lay it down.


It was great, and did I mention....I'm Back!!

Have you ever had a craving for some "thug passion"?

Opening up

I'm sick. Cared for. Fed a hefty medicine cup full of Nyquil, covered in a methol-eucalyptus rub, tucked under blankets and asleep. Then I'm not. I'm awake. And I can hear them on the bed next to me. Her whispering. He asking. A call and response I know well. A year ago I might have smiled. Turned over. Joined. A year ago, I would not be listening or wondering, calculating the meaning behind the hushed words.

It was my idea. My request. It was I who convinced him four years ago, that our relationship should be open. Me. Soaked in Deborah Anapol, Dossie Easton and Tristan Taormino. Arguing the perils of monogamy. Me. No longer willing to allow a dominant discourse to dictate the way I lived my life. No longer willing to be a victim of infidelity. Choosing, I felt, mind over matter. The power of my intellect to rule my heart. Believing a higher understanding would to guide us to a place where we could truly be happy. Committed. And free?

He believed me. I believed myself. We soldiered forward. I laid in our bed watching him, devour our first, then second, third. I knew finally, for certain that I was okay. No longer theoretical, it held. Then a girlfriend. His. Mine. His. Mine. Almost ours. It was as I envisioned. Mostly. Ego intact. Loving just as deep. Free?

Next to me on the bed. View obscured by the edge of a pillowcase I hear them. Heart beating loudly in my chest, breath caught, I can feel the sensation awakened in the pit of my stomach, dormant so long, yet familiar and always unwelcome. Fear. Jealousy? Is there a meaning here I can't see? Wrapped up in their words, in his thrusts, in her moans, in her acquiesce to everything he utters, in her words, is there more? A question to which the answer is known. Yes.

They are finished. And he turns toward her, twists his body into hers. Legs covering, head on chest. Sighs. She gets up and walks into our bathroom. I have held myself still. Now. I turn. Grab a glass of water. Drink. Lay my head back down on my pillow. Close my eyes and beg for sleep. Did I do that so that I could take a breath? Did I do that so he would know? I heard?

In the morning, feeling his hands on my thighs, pulling down my pajama bottoms, stroking me, asking permission in his way, I ask myself. Is it a sense of fairness that propels him? Or. Is it because he craves me? Is It wanting?!And I cannot believe at once, that the question was asked. I cannot. And more, I cannot believe that the answer is unknown.

I betrayed my husband. And now he loves his girlfriend. As I love mine. And everything. Is different.

How do you find your way...when everything is lost?




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

We Crossed the Line

So I tried and failed to be just his friend. We'd been spending too much time together talking, hanging out and discussng the problems in his relationship. I lent him my ear and then unfortunately my tongue.

Two weeks ago, on a Tuesday, we were driving home and he put his hand on my leg. I felt a jolt of electricity shoot through my leg and I just knew we were going to exchange our first kiss. "Ring Ring," the phone rang and it was his girlfriend. I took that as a sign and we didn't discuss this exchange on Wednesday but each day things seem to get progressively worse in terms of crossing the line. Last week Thursday, while hanging out, we crossed the line in a major way.

After, he asked me how I felt? I didn't know how to respond. I honestly replied that I enjoyed it. Yet there was something a bit unsettling.

I don't know what to think. We might always want to do this.

Will he think of me differently? Will he think differently of the friendship potential? Can we go back and act like this never happened?

We crossed the line. I'm in shock.

I feel guilty. Can I still rationalize that we haven't had sex? This is not fair. This has got to stop. Definitely. Maybe.

What am I afraid of? I'm afraid we've crossed the line of no return. I'm afraid our friendship has been jeopardized. I'm afraid he'll enjoy this portion of our connection so much he'll seek it elsewhere (think jumpoff vs girlfriend); I'll be out of the loop and our "relationship" will suffer. I'm afraid I've pushed him into an uncomfy zone - one where he'll need to back away while he figures things out. I'm afraid I may have jeopardized a good-on-its-way-to-great relationship.

I'm afraid to share these feelings with him because I don't want to increase his load. I know my role as the Other Woman and I'm not sure it allows for this level of emotions and relationship-esque dealings. Last night I misted up and felt a wave of sadness when he said we would not and could not have sex because he could not go that far. I don't have the right to have these kind of emotions and place demands on him. The fact that I do scares me.

I may need to back away while I figure things out and allow for him to do the same. To be clear, I'm not referring to backing away from the friendship just the benefits.

I wonder how he feels.

The Other Woman

Being the other woman is not easy. It is a lonely existence. Most people don't understand and are not willing to be open-minded. I don't blame them, I used to be on the same page until I crossed over.

My guy is not MY guy. He belongs to another. Our casual friendship spans about a year and our deeper friendship, a few months. Things are getting heated. While we have not crossed the line, we are certainly in emotional cheating territory because he has a girlfriend.

Even as just his "friend," I feel I am playing the role of The Other Woman. He lives with his gfriend and I can't text or call too late or too often. This should not be a problem because we are just friends. We ARE just friends. We are supposed to be just friends. I think if I say (write) it enough it will be true. I hope.

As adults we are expected and empowered to make decisions that can change our lives and impact the lives of many. Some decisions as simple as going to work or others, like deciding not to encroach on another woman's relationship.

On one hand, I feel it's my duty as a black woman, Christian and a person who believes in the Golden Rule, to steer another woman's man in the right direction. At the minimum, to not help him have an affair. Definitely not to be the person he has an affair with. It shouldn't matter that the couple may be having problems, or that my intentions are "innocent," or that neither of us are "looking for something serious." On the other hand, is HIS relationship really my problem? I'm not trying to be disrespectful - I'm just living in the moment. Our friendship makes my days just a bit brighter.

What would I like done to me? Probably not what I am doing. How do I separate my moral beliefs from my carnal desires? I don't know.

He is sitting next to me as I blog. I feel an electric connection.

My pussy yearns.

My heart skips a beat.

Although, I take deep breaths. I can't breathe. Can't get enuf oxygen.

I just want to hug him. Hold him. Kiss him. Taste him. Make love to him. Fuck him.

"Breathe," I tell myself as I type feverishly in an effort to get this all out.

I will be his friend. I will be his friend. I will be his friend.

I will try to be just his friend.

Have I lost my mind!?!?

Happy New Year!

One of my resolutions is to be more communicative on this blog. I'd like to learn more about our readers and reconnect with my fellow bloggers. It is with this spirit that I share my dilemma and ask for your advice.

I think I have lost my f'ing mind. My relationship with one of my coworkers, has truly crossed the line. We are sharing inappropriate text messages and images. We are even planning an "outing" to two local swingers clubs so we can "observe" and laugh at other people.

My recent nickname for this coworker is Teddy because I imagine his body, especially his developed muscles, wrapped tightly around me.

Thus far, Teddy and I have been platonic, though his live-in girlfriend has vehemently expressed discomfort with our closeness. Funny enough, Teddy and I only hang out at work (though sometimes for hours after our official days have ended), talk on the phone and text each other. We haven't kissed or caressed or done anything physical. Well nothing short of me coping a feel by poking or shoving him.

Truth be told, what I really want to do is hug my "Teddy" bear tight, kiss his neck, lick his ear, slide my hand up his back to behind his ear and then push/pull his head closer to mine for a kiss and much more. I'm at a dangerous stage of desiring to spend a long night or better yet, a weekend with him.

Whereas in the past, I just wanted him to eat my pussy. I didn't wanna fuck. Wasn't interested in any other foreplay - no nipple pinching, no kissing, fuck caressing. Nothing, nada but straight pussy feasting. I used to get moist just thinking about his hands brushing against my hips as he stripped me of my panties. All I wanted was for his face to be buried deep in between my legs - slurping, sucking, tugging, licking my walls CLEAN. Leaving no trace of my sweet nectar. When I was done and had nothing more to give vaginally, I wanted him to plant a loud kiss signaling the end of his vaginal meal, followed by him orally engraving his name on my thighs using sweet kisses and nibbles. Though very appealing, these sexual thoughts are bound to get me in trouble!

The problem is that I have a husband and Teddy has a girlfriend. Though my partner and I are open, I don't want to bring this to him....just yet. As open as we are, I can't imagine hubby approving the outings to two swinger clubs that Teddy and I have planned. So instead we both plan to hide this from our partners. I feel (know??) that I am kidding myself - "everyone knows" how this story is likely to end but MAYBE Teddy and I will be able to just "observe" and talk shit all night.

Ever been on a slippery slope that you know will most likely only lead to trouble?? Did you manage to get off? What should I do??