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?