you give my soul a hard-on,
you make my heart erect,
my being throb and pulsate,
my very core erupt.
you make my psyche tingle,
you make my mind inflate,
my life force squirt and dribble,
my spirit ejaculate.
when i taste your flesh,
i want it all sticky.
when i kiss your breasts,
i want them all sweaty.
when you fuck my face,
i want you to stink.
when i lick your arse,
i want you to reek.
when i kiss your tits,
i want to taste your cunt,
and when i lick your lips,
i want to taste my cum.
you ride me. rising and falling with growing passion and vigour, feeling me drive deeper and harder into you, feeling your lust growing with every thrust
Stop it Kyle! I’ve got ppl here!
your pussy glows with a wet, hungry heat
I fucking mean it. Stop! I can’t touch myself right now!!!
but you will … your thighs tremble and your whole body tingles with delight as you reach down and tighten my collar by a single notch
you see the fear in my eyes and drink it in like strong liquor – your power magnifying your pleasure a hundred-fold – you stare deep into my soul and lap up the helplessness you find there, and you tighten the collar by another notch
I kinda hate you right now!
as my panic rises, you ram yourself harder and and faster onto me, my cock bulging like my eyes, your pussy so wet and hot, it burns. you know you shouldn’t, but you tighten my collar further still. your control over me, so thrilling that you cannot help but scream with such primitive and animal delight that it sets off several car alarms
I told you! I CAN’T touch myself right now!!!
but i know you are
the terror in my eyes is so intoxicating, it sends your mind to a whole new place. and as your orgasm crashes into you like a 100 mile an hour juggernaut into a brick wall, you know you will not let go until you are spent, no matter what.
I fucking hate you! Asshole!!!
did you come?
You know i fucking did!
so who really has the power?
I love you.
i stand naked in the middle of the room, blindfolded and with my hands on my head, as you asked. i hear you open the cabinet and take something out. i do not know what it is and my imagination starts to run wild. not knowing what is coming makes it seem far more frightening and you know this. i hear you slowly circle me, sometimes coming very close. minutes go by and i start to tremble with the anticipation. i think i feel something brush lightly against my skin but i can not be sure, my senses are playing tricks with my mind now. more minutes pass and despite my fear and the tears running down my cheeks, my cock is stiff and twitching. i swear i feel something touching it but i can’t be sure. i can’t even be sure which way up i am any more. you turn the music up and i know this is to drown out my screams and i tense up and start flinching uncontrollably. i can feel your hot breath on the back of my neck and smell your arousal. i can almost taste how turned on you are. i cannot believe that you would make me wait longer but you do, and it is not until you see that i am at the point of collapse that you finally do it. you kiss me.
tie me up
and use me,
abuse me, please.
find my edge
and then find yours.
take us both beyond
what we know,
we ever should.
make we wait,
make me beg,
make me cry
make yourself wet
with my pain.
disgust me the most
me do them
do all these things,
if you will.
do more than
you thought you could,
but do it
just one thing;
i will do it to you.
i want to write poetry for you
i want to come in my own mouth and for you to watch
i want to cook for you
i want massage your feet
i want to hold your hand
and make you tea
i want to feel my cock between your breasts and
i want to make you laugh and bring you breakfast in bed
i want to hear you giggle
i want to kiss the back of your neck, every time i see it
i want to tell you every time i get a hard on
i want to take a big magic marker and write filthy words all over your body and then
i want to take ‘tasteful’ black and white photographs of you and masturbate over them
i want you to strap on a vibrating dildo and fuck me in the ass with it
i want to ram my cock down your throat until you gag
i want to make the slowest love ever to you that anyone has ever made
most of all
i want to make you come
come so fucking hard that you can’t help but bite me
come so hard you forget your own name
i want to fuck you into a coma
share a winter’s day with me
shiver and chatter
watch frost and hail
share blankets and kisses
and fuel bills
have sex in front of the tv
In six score hours
we will finally kiss
for the very,
very first time.
will eventually meet,
although our hearts
entwined long since,
with magical words
that flew through space;
love at the speed
My soul gets erect
that i think
we will kiss,
in six score hours
High on a cold, stark, mountain top, lies a snow beaten research centre. It is so remote, that it can only be reached by helicopter. Inside instruments whirr and click, dials spin and needles dance. Its only two inhabitants a professor and a research assistant grab hold of each other and kiss deeply and powerfully. They have both wanted this for a very long time and their long suppressed passions rise up in them. They tear at each others clothes madly almost devouring each other with their wet, hungry mouths.
Behind them, needles scratch zig-zag patterns across scrolling graph paper and around cylinders, but right now their work does not matter to them, they are consumed with each other.
Deep beneath them, miles below ground, a magma flow courses through the earth.
He lifts her onto a bench and, jerking her skirt upwards, he pushes against her, feeling the heat between her legs with his hardness, ripping open her top and kissing her neck greedily, as though he had only moments to live. With the desire of a starving tiger, she tugs at his belt and trousers until she has him freed. He shoves her further back and she pushes instruments and beakers, and piles of documents, roughly out of the way. Paper flutters around them and glass shatters on the floor, chemicals hiss and steam. She raises her hips to help him, as he lifts her skirt and pulls down her already dripping panties.
Behind them needles twitch in their dials, climbing jerkily upwards towards red. Screens flash with data.
Below them the volcano is becoming aroused. Little jets of steam gasp and sigh from its surface. and boiling lava gushes through its veins.
A pen on a graph starts drawing faster, more frantic zigs and zags.
He pushes her over onto her back, sending more paper flying and a computer monitor crashing to floor and he bends forward and kisses her glistening pussy. “Oh yes!” she she half moans, half whispers; it has been so long since a man had done that to her. He continues; little kisses at first and tiny little tickles with the tip of his tongue but he is so crazy for her, and so wants to pleasure her that he is soon flicking hard and fast at her clit, responding to her every gasp and sigh, his engorged cock brushing against the cold hard steel of the bench, sending shivers up and down its length. He revels in her, filling his mouth with her erotic tastes and his nostrils with her inflaming odours. ‘Now!’ she shudders, “Fuck me now! Before I come! Fuck me!”
Sulphur spits from the volcano’s sweating flank and huge clouds burst in gasps from its gaping mouth. the ground trembles and a flock of birds take to the air.
Climbing onto the bench, he kisses her belly and breasts as he rises up her, until they are face to face, eye to eye, and his shaft hovering over her pussy, tickling it. She tastes herself as they kiss and she guides him into her. He fucks her fiercely and deeply, pulling back each time until he is almost out of her before plunging back into her with a strength that shakes her whole body, filling her, taking her breath away and drawing light screams of joy from her. The bench rocks under their frenzy and she digs her fingers deep into his buttocks pulling him as hard into her as she can.
The Magma rises faster now, deep below them, flowing thickly through the body of the mountain. Until it can take no more. Until it must find its release.
He rears up as he comes and bursts into her and she clings to him, their bodies in unison with his eruption, their orgasms shooting through every muscle in their bodies, their bodies pulsating in time with each other’s.
The molten lava rises and bursts from the volcano, shooting high into the air, a thick gushing hot liquid. It splatters the landscape around, in steaming great pools and it flows in great rivulets down the mountain’s sides. Over and over the volcano erupts in hot sticky squirts, covering everything before it, seemingly never ending.
After a long while, the professor gets up off the bench and looks around her, something is not quite right. She looks at a screen. “Fuck!”, she screams. her assistant looks at her,
“What?”, he asks. She looks back at the screen and his eyes follow hers “Oh holy fuck!” he murmurs. They both turn round, to the window and are just in time to see the pyroclastic flow before it engulfs them and turns them into dust.
She is totally feral, a child of the forest. Abandoned at birth and brought up by wolves and wild creatures, nurtured by the trees themselves, nursed by raw nature. She knows nothing of civilisation, and her language is her own, her nouns are bird calls, her verbs are chatters and howls. She eats berries and roots and sometimes, raw flesh.
She sits on a high branch looking down at the boy, fascinated. He has no idea she is there. He is clearly lost, and frightened, with no knowledge of the forest or her lore. He sits beneath her sobbing and calling out in his strange tongue, scared and lonely.
She has had dealings with the humans before. Once, their men captured her and caged her and prodded and poked at her with strange, ugly tools. Escaping from them was a cinch and she remembers how she scampered up one of their silly, closed in, little dwellings and how she threw her shit at them before leaping back to her forest home where her walls breathed with life and her ceiling glittered with starlight. She sniffs deeply, there is a storm brewing and she makes a little chirping sound in her throat, calling the rain, it is her magic and she believes the rain calls back to her – and maybe it does.
The boy is not like those men, he seems fragile and sad. He starts, violently when she drops from the tree, gracefully, almost silently, in front of him, his eyes wide and terrified at the sight of her. She is naked and filthy, her hair matted and locked, her body caked in the earth she grew from. She stinks. The storm grows closer and she calls to it again and stares, enthralled, at him, tilting her head from side to side, curious and aroused. The first drops of rain bounce at their feet and thunder makes a distant rumble and she responds with a guttoral chatter, telling the thunder where she is, how to find her. The boy looks scared at this, to him she sounds like a crazed monkey, but there is a greed in his eyes that is stronger than the fear. He is young and never known a woman or even seen one naked.
The feel of his hungry gaze on her breasts and belly excites her. The wild orphan takes a step closer to him and reaches out. Clothes are a mystery to her and she tugs clumsily at his shirt and trousers wanting to free him, driven by instinct and passion. By the time she has him naked, the rain is beating, in hard, heavy, drops onto them and around them. Animals scream loudly in awe at the growing tempest and the forest quakes at its power. The girl knows nothing of social mores or decorum and she licks at the boy and sniffs him, takes him in her hand and makes him take her in his.
Furious raindrops burst around them and lightning flashes across the sky and through their eyes and hearts and loins. She beckons him to enter her and he does so, hurridly with the virgin impatience of youth. She claws at him, her nails digging carelessly into his flesh and she howls at the black sky as the rain turns dust to mud and they drench themselves in it and each other.
When they are done, it is not for long as giant raindrops now batter their shaking bodies, not allowing their desires to rest, awakening every little nerve, every sinew, the thunder shaking the ground beneath them. Their eyes meet and lock and, for the first time, she smiles at him. She wants more and mounts him and they begin afresh, this time the rain beats so heavily on them that it is hard for them to breath and they spit and fire, dripping with animal fury. She likes this thing she will call ‘men’ she will seek out more of them and the idea of several of them at once fills her imagination, she wants to be smothered with these hands, full of their lust, covered in their disgusting pleasure. Lightning strikes so close that the ground beneath them jumps and she throws her head back and howls so primally that for that moment the entire jungle is quiet for her, even the storm itself hushes as she yells.
Sudenlly she senses movement nearby, there are others and they smell human and not like her boy, there is something ugly and violent to their stench and she forces herself away from her desire and glances in their direction. She cannot know that it is the boy’s father and mother and the ranger.
“There he is!” shouts the boys father.
“Christ!” screams his mother, “He’s being attacked by something! Do something!” she pleads to the ranger, “Do something!”
The ranger’s bullet passes through her feral heart and lodges in a nearby tree. She collapses, lifeless, onto her lover’s chest.
i have worked at the fitness centre for five years and know all the best places to hide and watch women changing or showering. i have never been caught before, but you are sharper than most and spot me in my hiding place and drag me out, in front of the other women in the changing room, to the accompaniment of much laughter and sneering.
most of you giggle at my naked form and twitching erection, a few of you look quite angry, although one or two have looks of genuine desire in your eyes. you ask me what i was doing and even though i can only stutter, you all know that i was jerking off, as i spied on you all changing. you demand that i continue, in front of you all, and this suggestion is met with a round of cheers and more laughter. i try to protest but you pick up a hockey stick and i can see by the steel in your eyes that you wouldn’t hesitate for a second to beat me with it. one or two of the girls, that were angered at my intrusion, pick up their sticks too, and i realise that i have no choice but to perform in front of you all.
i start to stroke my cock up and down. tentatively at first, closing my eyes against the giggles and jeers, but when i look about, i realise how beautiful the sight before me is. i am surrounded by women of all ages and shapes, in various states of undress, and i start to thrill to the whole idea. my eyes fill themselves and almost drown in ageing thighs and chubby arms, breasts, old and young alike define themselves through towels and underwear and i realise just how gloriously beautiful all women are, regardless of age or shape.
i hear one of you clap their hands together in delight as my cock squirts its first stream of cum and i shiver with delight to the sound of gasps and giggles, my knees trembling and cum dripping through my fingers and spraying into the air. afterwards you tell me that unless i want my boss to know about my sick little games, then i am to come back at the same time tomorrow, so that you can humiliate me further.
you called my name
in the pouring rain
and as i came,
you called my name.
i called you hon
as i made you come
with my flickering tongue,
i called you hon.
you called me mew
as you made my cock spew
all over you,
you called me mew.
i called you rose
in the orgasmic throws
of me squirting like a hose,
i called you rose.
So, she says she wants to do me in the ass with this giant strap-on with a vibrating gizmo at her end. Now, I like to please but this is a little bit outside my usual modus operandi, and I’m a bit wary, considering the size of this thing. “Okay?” I enquire, “How are you gonna make that feel good for me?”
“Tell you what,” she suggests, “how about, just before I come, I stop punching you in the balls?”
er… just curious, but how many boyfriends have you had before me?
it doesn’t matter, now is what counts
a lot then?
that’s okay, i’ve only slept with four women too
you’ve slept with guys that weren’t you boyfriend?
its not illegal
i know… how many? i won’t be judgemental… we should be honest with each other
you said we should be honest with each other
yes, but you’re supposed to halve the actual number to spare my feelings
er… i did
thanks to bearded ladies for the idea
our first kiss, at the arrivals terminal, was electric and aroused both our passions instantly to near boiling point, and as we squeezed onto the crowded Piccadilly line train you could feel my erection, through my trousers, pressing into your behind. there was only one spare seat, so i took it and you sat on my lap, piling your various items of luggage on your knees to make room for the throng of standing passengers. my cock pushed up between your soft, gently squeezing thighs. it was an end seat an the woman to our right was engrossed in conversation with the man on her right, and your bags and parcels made a perfect shield against any of the standers seeing as i inched your skirt slowly up over your ass, pulled your panties to one side and slid a finger deep into your soaking, hot pussy. you knew exactly what to do and lifted up while i got my cock out, draped from view by your flowing skirt, and when you sat back down it plunged deep into your waiting depth, making us both shudder and gasp uncontrollably.
there was no need for us to move, as the juddering of the carriage, as it hurtled down the tunnel, jiggled and shook you on top of me. it was quite an unnatural sensation but exhilarating as the train rocked and bounced you on and off my throbbing shaft. at some points the carriage would jolt vigorously and repeatedly, lifting you almost off my cock completely before slamming you back down onto it, at others, the train just shuddered and trembled, it was like sitting inside a giant vibrator.
we had waited months for this and we could have very easily come within a few minutes, if it weren’t for the fact that every couple of minutes the tube came to a halt at a station, teasing us and prolonging our ecstasy for nearly the entire hour long journey. we sat in those stations, sometimes on the very brink of orgasm, trying not to move or breath too hard, my prick deep inside you, pulsing as your dripping pussy squeezed it.
you realised that the stranger stood right in front of us had realised what we are up to, when you saw his trousers begin to bulge and fill and when you looked up, he stared right down at your flushed face and winked, he knew exactly what we were doing. his growing erection was only inches from your hands as they clasped the parcels on your lap, and you watched as it came to full mast and bulged forcefully against the thin cotton like a wild beast demanding release from a cage. you could so easily reach out and touch it.
the stranger allowed the swaying of the carriage to push himself nearer to you, brushing his impressive cock against your knuckles, it felt like something made of rock in there, and when more passengers board, he used this to squeeze closer to you and let his long coat hang down on either side, shielding what you did next from view. with me still pumping deep inside you, my fingers digging into your butt, you unzipped him and slid your hand inside, clasping his bursting cock greedily. it was magnificent, not particularly long but so thick and hard that you could barely get you hand round it.
we were only two stops from home when the three of us came, after a long series of powerful judders, that took us to an explosive and thick and deep climax. thanks to the screeching brakes we were all able to cry out undetected, except for the woman to my right who shot me a filthy look when the words “holy fuck yes!” escaped unbidden from my mouth.
the stranger got off one stop before us, his coat now buttoned to conceal the large stain, and we never saw him again.
anyway son, that’s why we called you Piccadilly.
the three of us are naked. you kneel on the bed, staring wide-eyed at us, in the middle of our bedroom, as our cocks begin to thicken and lengthen and twitch their way to fully and eagerly erect. you have, in your hand, a leather riding crop. you are not intending on using it, providing that is, that we both do exactly what we’re told. you remind us of this and tingle with pleasure to see us both get a little stiffer with your words.
exactly as you tell us, we step towards each other and kiss. tentatively at first but with growing passion, as we arouse to the sound of your soft moans and giggles of pleasure. i see, from the corner of my eye, your hand slip down between your legs as i press myself against him and feel the hot, throb of his cock against mine. you beckon for me to drop to my knees, his large, proud cock, bouncing less than an inch from my face. i know what you want me to do, even before you ask me, and i run my tongue, slowly and leisurely all the way up his magnificent, pulsing length, caressing the tip by lapping my tongue in tantalising circles around it, tasting his sweet, sticky pre-cum and embracing it with my open mouth and lips.
you have never done anything like this before and your voice trembles with excitement as i take him deeper into my mouth, my hands grasping his powerful ass cheeks and sliding up and down his thighs and back and sides. you moan with delight, and your fingers slip deep inside yourself as he places his hand on my head and, bit by bit, coaxes more and more of his steel-like length further into my mouth with each thrust of his hips. you slide your wet fingers over your taut nipples as you watch him come deep in my throat, ready for what is to happen next, moaning deeply with delight as his cum dribbles from my lips.
you lay back on the bed with us either side of you, two mouths and four hands gliding over every inch of your lightly quivering body, our hot pricks pressed and pulsating hard into your yielding flesh, tasting your glorious pussy as we lick at and suck your erect nipples. our fingers devour your soaking, wet delight, taking it in turns to either rub at your clit or slide in and out of you. your back arches with animal desire, your eyes closed in ecstasy and your mouth gaping, red and panting. you almost weep with pleasure when you feel both our fingers inside you anda raging, rock-like prick in each hand.
you can barely speak, for animal desire, when you tell me to fuck you, and as i climb onto you, thrusting your thighs fiercely apart, he positions himself behind me. i rub my bursting tip up and down the length of your begging pussy and he rubs his hot, sticky cock up and down my crack. as i position myself to enter you, he does the same, and in one primal, movement, i enter you and he enters me. the three of us writhe, a sea of thrusting members and deep red depths, limbs and hands everywhere, and in a frenzy of mouths and sweat and dirty words, we all come together in long, hard thrusts and fingers buried deep into flesh, filling you and me with hot, spurting juices.
afterwards we lay in a naked puddle of cum and giggles and kisses and satisfied smiles and he asks if he can deliver pizza to us again sometime.
So, I’m down this nice little boozer last night, down ‘oxton an’ that, an’ its proper posh, wiv decent grub an cheap lager an’a proper ‘ot fuckin’ barmaid an’ everyfin’, know what I mean?
I was ‘avin’ a right good night an’ that, except for this fuckin’ couple in the booth opposite us. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m all in favour of love and romance. I Fuckin’ love all that shit: bash any cunt’s skull in for my missus, I would, even when she’s in the wrong. I mean, I buy ‘er fuckin’ underwear an’ blow an’ fags an’ all sorts’a shit. I don’ even feel gay when we do all that kissy-kissy, foreplay bullshit; that’s ‘ow much I love ‘er. But this couple in that booth, well, its enough to make you wanna puke, know what I mean?
They’re doin’ all this “I wuv you honey bunny!” shit, an’ me an the missus are makin’ eyes at each uvver, like ‘get a fuckin’ room ya cunts!’ Next fing you know is, these cunts are feedin’ each uvver each uvver’s fuckin’ food. ‘Now, if you wanted chicken, fuckin’ biriani ya cunt,’ I’m finkin’ ‘then fuckin’ order it!’ know what I mean?
It’s when they start leanin’ over an’ fuckin’ kissin’, that I get the arse. I mean, the cunt’s tie is danglin’ in ‘is fuckin’ beer, the fuckin’ dicksplash! I lean under the table an’ tell the missus to stop suckin’ my cock, “I’ve ‘ad enough”, I tell ‘er, “We’re fuckin’ leavin!” I mean, there’s a time and a place for everything, know what I mean?
so anyway, i had unprotected sex with this prostitute the other week, and a few days later my cock turns purple. naturally, i go see my doctor and she tells me that it will have to be amputated. now, that seems a bit extreme to me, so i get myself a second opinion and go see this classy doctor on harley street. “my doctor says its gotta be amputated,” i tell him, “tell me that’s not true.”
“oh no.” he replies, “that’s totally unnecessary. give it two or three days and it’ll fall off all by itself.”
I don’t normally do book reviews but ‘In Her Own Words’ (part of the ‘Soul Destruction’ series) by Ruth Jacobs is such a moving and honest account of the sex industry that I simply had to give it a shout out.
Ruth studied prostitution in the late 1990s, which sparked her interest in the subject. Her novels dispel the ‘happy hooker’ myth and expose the dark world and the harsh reality of life as a call girl. She draws on her research and the women she interviewed for inspiration. She also has first-hand experience of some of the topics she writes about, such as post traumatic stress disorder and drug and alcohol addiction.)
Ruth explains what her work is about far better than I could:
In Her Own Words… Interview with a London Call Girl is the unedited transcript from an interview I undertook with a London call girl in the late 1990s. It is an enlightening and moving, first-hand account of a woman’s life affected by prostitution, exposing the emotional, psychological and social effects of living that existence. All royalties from this publication are being donated to Beyond the Streets, a charity helping women exit prostitution.
This charity publication and the cause is very close to my heart, partly because the woman I
interviewed was a very dear friend, a wonderful person, and who had a terribly sad life, with
childhood sexual abuse and then being pimped on the streets from the age of fifteen. As
she is no longer alive, this is the reason I wanted the royalties to be donated to Beyond the
The stigma a significant section of society has against prostitutes and prostitution is mainly
due to lack of knowledge. 75% of prostitutes have been sexually and physically abused as
children, 70% have experienced multiple rapes, and 67% meet the criteria for posttraumatic
stress disorder, which is a major cause of suicide.
With this publication, I hope to show the reality of life for women working in prostitution,
the effects it has on them psychologically, emotionally, in relationships with men, how they
are viewed and how they feel they are viewed by society as outsiders and outcasts, often
judged and looked down on. Seeing them as real people, with real feelings, and acquiring
an insight into their tormented childhoods and painful present lives, allows people who are
not in that life to gain an informed perception of who these women really are, and with that
knowledge, are less likely to judge but instead develop compassion.
Extract from “In Her Own Words… Interview with a London Call Girl”
From a young age, from like being fifteen, I’ve been hardened to it. The first…when I first
started doing it, I cried my eyes out every day and just scrubbed myself in bleach and…I felt
like I’d been raped. It was just…it really screwed my mind up. And there’s this feeling when
you get…when you’re with a client and it’s like sometimes when you feel like…you grab your
fists and it’s like, “Get off me! Get off me!” And it’s like…you know you can’t push them off
you, right? Because you know you’re getting paid for it. So it’s basically allowing yourself to.
be raped, right? But you can’t even fight them back or say, “Get off me.” It’s like…and you
cry while it’s happening and all this shit, and you go home and you cry yourself to sleep after
all that shit, and it happens to you a lot of times until eventually that feeling goes away,
and that feeling…you don’t get that feeling anymore. It gets less and less and less. And you
become hardened in your like…your heart and your soul to it, and this is when you get the
hatred for the men.
To find out more about Ruth Jacobs and her Soul Destruction series of novels visit
thank you audrina of audrina1759’s blog and Maarit-Johanna of history of the ancient world for nominating me for some award or other. normally i don’t do the award thing but i’m so flattered to be nominated by these women, as their blogs are just wonderful, that i will make an exception.
the rules are as follows:
- tell seven things about yourself
- nominate 487 other bloggers
- that’s it, i think
seven things about me:
- i haven’t had sex since february
- i haven’t had coffee since 9:30
- i fantasise about posting pictures of my dick on this blog but have never had the guts
- i know how to measure the speed of light with a microwave and some proccessed cheese
- i am going to masturbate to the gravatar pictures of anyone who likes or comments on this post – you have been warned
- minds turn me on more than bodies
- i sneezed so hard this morning that my glasses flew off and landed in the toilet bowl
- an ex once super-glued my hand to my cock in my sleep
- i have only recently learned that women get sexier and more beautiful as they get older
- i can’t count to seven
- three of these things are not true (but this might be one of them)
i’m afraid i can’t nominate anyone as i never actually read any of the shite you guys write.
from now on i will only be accepting nominations for awards if they come accompanied by pictures of the nominee’s bare breasts or cum drenched pricks – ideally both.
you are hard at work, in the kitchen, doing something on the chopping board. i don’t care what it is, i’m feeling horny and come up behind you and hold you, my hands cupping your breasts, my stiffie pressing into your back. “not now!” you tell me sharply, “i’m busy!” i don’t give a fuck, and i push my right hand down between your legs.
“c’mon love,” i implore, “just a quickie?” you spin round and glare at me. i ignore you and pull at your skirt, wanting to feel between your legs. you brush my hand away roughly and tell me to
“fucking grow up!” i slip my hand up inside your tee, grabbing a breast and ask, in my sweetest voice, for “a quick hand-job?” this seems to excite you and you smile and i feel your nipples stiffen and i grin back at you. if i had paid more attention, i would have seen that what you were chopping was half a dozen or so hot red chilli peppers, the burning juices of which now coat your fingers.
“you want me to wank you off?” you ask cheekily, and i nod like a demented puppy and grin. “what, right this minute?” you check. a question that is met by more enthusiastic nodding. you look down and i obediently drop my pants. i love the way you smile as you grab hold of my twitching prick and start to stroke generously up and down its whole length. you trace delicate little circles around and all over the head with the tips of the fingers of your other hand, which feels fantastic, and even more tingly than usual. you fondle my balls and even push the tip of your pinkie into my butt, you know how i like that. the mischievous look in your eyes makes it so much better.
then the heat hits me and i gasp in pain and you giggle. you answer the desperate questioning in my eyes by glancing over your shoulder at the pile of red chilli peppers on the chopping board. my eyes follow yours, widening in realisation as they do. i try to pull away but you keep hold of me for a second or two and kiss me. then you let go and i hop from one foot to the other, letting out little agonised whimpers, unsure what to do, pain scorching me from the tip of my dick to my ass. you laugh so hard that you can barely cross the kitchen to the freezer and find me a bag of frozen peas.
you are still laughing as you wash your hands and go back to preparing the meal.
You stand, backlit by a street lamp, in the doorway of a bar, taking in the heavy scent of liquor and testosterone, your eyes darting greedily across the scene before you. You need a man. Two dozen or so, line an L-shaped counter, forming a cacophony of rattling laughter and glass. Almost immediately you spot three likely candidates, and having visited two bars already without luck, you are growing impatient. Almost randomly you pick the tall, tattooed guy, with carefully messed-up black hair and a Guinness. Using his savage but delicate body art as a way to open the conversation, it takes you just over three minutes for you to get to the point; does he want to fuck you? The twitch in his pants makes his eagerness evident, and you are impressed with the cool composure of his response. “Sure, why not?” he barely smiles as he pays his tab and slings a battered leather jacket over his shoulder.
“My husband will be watching,” you tell him as you both make your way to the door, “that okay?”
“Fine by me,” he shrugs, “as long as I don’t have to touch his cock.”
“Don’t worry fella,” you reassure him with a smile, “the only thing you’ll be touching, is me.”
I feel my erection begin to grow, the moment I hear you both enter the house, and by the time you walk into the bedroom I am at full mast. He looks bemused but not phased as he stares at me, tied firmly to the wooden chair, with two dozen leather straps, unable to even wriggle, black ball gag in my mouth. He glances down briefly at my twitching member and then turns to you and you kiss. Almost frantically, you undress each other, tasting each other’s bare flesh hungrily as it becomes exposed, and once naked, he throws you roughly onto the bed and buries his head between your legs. You have been wet all night and your thighs glisten as he begins to lap thirstily at you, his fingers digging into your butt, your hips pushing fiercely into his face.
You turn your head to look straight at me, letting me see the pleasure on your face, telling me how good it feels and how good he is. My cock throbs with desire, in time to the animal thrusting of your hips, drawing desperate moans from deep within me, echoing those that you and he are making. I can tell how close to orgasm you are by how hard your fingers claw at the soft cotton beneath you. Just as you are about to explode, you push him back and, panting wildly, tell him to fuck you.
He has a strong, proud shaft, thick and pulsating, veins standing out like vines climbing a great tree trunk, and I wonder how it is that you always manage to find guys with such big dicks. You gasp so loud, as he enters you, that it is almost a scream, and you tell me just how big he is and how powerful and how wonderful it feels getting fucked so hard by him. Jealousy mingles with excitement in my blood, making my mind swim and my soul fizz. In between cries of pleasure and heavy breaths, you whisper something to him. I know what it is you are saying and my aching cock bounces in anticipation.
Your orgasm crashes into you like great ocean waves battering a deserted shore, washing over you, drowning your senses, bursting into you and through you in a series of long hard shudders and spasms. Just as you asked, he pulls out as he comes and long, thick streaks of cum shoot hotly and repeatedly over your glorious, quivering breasts.
Still trembling with the aftermath of your orgasm, you climb off the bed, stagger over to me and remove the gag. We kiss and you tell me that you love me. He is impressive and already stiff again. Glancing over your shoulder, you see this and bend over in readiness, steadying yourself with your hands on my shoulders. He stands behind you and holds your hips, the tip of his rock hard prick stroking up and down between your butt cheeks, making you giggle. His cock is still drenched with both your juices and your barely wince as he drives his full length up your ass. As he builds up speed and force, you press your dripping breasts into my face, and I lick and swallow and rub my face into your tits, tasting him, covering my face with him. He reaches round and starts to rub ferociously at your clit, pounding you harder and harder, my chair rocking dangerously back and forth, and as you both come, you push back into him lifting your head, so that you can see my cum splattered face. As he bursts into you with a series of loud grunts, I ask you to touch me but you just pant and smile and wink at me.
After he pulls out you kneel and kiss me, your mouth open, his taste on your lips, his smell filling your nostrils, and by the time you stop, the stranger already has his clothes on and is headed for the door. You see him out and I hear you take a shower, and when you come back in, you are dressed and have your coat. “Where are you going?” I ask.
“Thought I’d go find me another.” you smile, giving my cock a little slap and almost making me come.
12 hours ago
10 hours ago