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Four stories about the ex-boyfriend July 26, 2011

Posted by Leah in Boyfriend, Retrospective.

— 1 —

We had been lovers for quite some time, but had only been officially dating for four months when I took him home to meet the parents for Thanksgiving. It was a full house. In addition to my brother, my sister, and my sister’s boyfriend, we had one set of grandparents, two pairs of aunts and uncles with an assortment of cousins from early teens to college age, and my Dad’s graduate students. In the mid-afternoon, as final touches were being made on dinner, I went to my bedroom upstairs. The boyfriend intercepted me on the way down.

Pressing my body against the wall, he kissed me with a hunger. Instinctively, I kissed him back the same way. He extracted his penis from his pants and had me lift up my dress for him. Nudging the panties to the side, he entered me. The straps of my dress snagged against the brick. It skinned my shoulders. I struggled to keep silent. Violent kisses stopped my gasps. The fear of being discovered by anyone at all filled me with absolute dread. This was a quickie fuck. The sex couldn’t have lasted more than five minutes. During the meal, my boyfriend’s come leaked from my cunt and soaked through my underwear.

— 2 —

I had on a black ankle length dress and a white top. In a playful mood, I teased my boyfriend throughout Sunday’s football games. Going to my knees before him, I lipped his penis through the jeans. The press of a thigh over his groin raised the erection. I sat atop his lap and did a grind against his cock while I whispered seduction into his ear. This went on until he lost patience.

He threw me to the floor. A Swiss army knife stabbed through the fabric of the dress and slit from top to bottom. He cut until the dress was only rags on my body. The blade then sliced through the tank top. He snipped the red bra with greater care, and the cups fell from my breasts. After rolling the sharp and cold blade over the lips of cunt, he poked a hole through the front panel of my panties, then ripped. The rent he made was large enough for his cock. I was so immensely turned on. I was his rag doll. He pounded me while I was clothed in tatters.

— 3 —

He tied me to a tree in the woods in Maine when we went camping during Fourth of July weekend. Stout rope bound my arms high above my head. It wrapped my chest and waist. When he penetrated my pussy, one of my thighs rose to the jut of his hip. My leg vined down behind him. My shoulders and back experienced the coarse textures of the bark of the tree trunk. The sound of sex echoed in the humid air. We sweated profusely under the heat of an unforgiving sun. Perspiration stung my eyes. When he released me, he cut a shoot from a much smaller tree, stripped it bare of leaves and branches, and crafted a switch, which he applied to my ass and thighs. No one was there to hear me howl in the woods in undistilled hurt. No one was there to hear me scream in all encompassing pleasure on the previous autumn’s leaves while I was thoroughly fucked once more.

He and I skinny dipped in the lake to wash away the dirt and the grime. The frigid water refreshed and revived me in the heat. We dressed, cooked a meal at a nearby campsite, packed, and shouldering heavy backpacks, resumed our traipse through the woods.

— 4 —

Because of the open relationship, I sometimes saw evidence of sex in our bedroom. There were blindfolds stained with another girl’s mascara, dirty sheets wadded up in the laundry basket, toys drying in the dishwasher, used prophylactics in the trash can by the bed. The niche in the shower contained bottles that weren’t mine and weren’t his. When I kissed him on returning home, I might have tasted his lover on his tongue. Of course, none of this bothered me. I had the reverse of the coin as well. Other men dominated me in our bedroom. I submitted my body to them.

At night, we shared our stories. Hearing him tell me how he had spanked, then fisted, then fucked another girl while I held his penis in my mouth left my pussy sodden. When I told him about my adventures, invariably, he would slap my pubis. Who owns this cunt? he would ask. You do, I would answer. When his erection reclaimed my pussy, which was also his pussy, the force of orgasm was intense. We used condoms with our others. Only he came inside me. He came only inside me. For the final act, I lapped the semen that had spilled from me, onto the sheets. It made the wet spot on the bed even bigger. I liked falling asleep on top of it.

The silence March 17, 2011

Posted by Leah in Anilingus, Boyfriend, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Fucking.

The boyfriend surprised me by appearing at my door two Saturdays ago. He flew in for the weekend because he thought it necessary to talk in person about the status of our relationship.

I wish I could say that the discussions that followed were a total shock to me.

The truth is that long distance has been challenging for us. The interlude in the States this winter rekindled the fires in part, but over the last several weeks — that is to say, since my return to the UK — the e-mails we have traded and our conversations over Skype have been lazy and inadequate. One of us misses an appointment because stuff happens, and the other, after rearranging the schedule and juggling plans, winds up solo and disappointed and annoyed. The internet goes down over here or over there. There is a five hour time shift with which to contend. We discover that we cannot connect when we absolutely need to talk with the one person who, at this particular instant in time, knows us most comprehensively. We find ourselves increasingly frustrated and vexed. We don’t bother to rearrange plans anymore. We talk less than we should, less than we did, far less than we must. Because of geography, the two of us drift apart: slowly: inevitably: like the continents.

We had the difficult conversations throughout the weekend. Power games set to the side, we had fond and unhurried sex. I sought to commit his scents and tastes to memory, the flavor of his semen, how he touched me and the way I touched him back, those kisses, that tongue flickering inside my pussy and my anus like a flame. I compressed the muscles of my vagina about his shaft, raised the pelvic floor, and listened to the inflection in his voice as he wavered on the edge. I allowed the rictus of his face to consume my vision. His enormous brown eyes swallowed me up. When the paroxysm seized my body, I blinked away tears. He enveloped me in his arms and cradled me in the aftermath of the orgasms. He held me through the catharsis of sobs which followed. The side of a finger scooped up the semen that had leaked from my pussy. He pushed it back inside again. I giggled, and then he did, too.

We have suspended the relationship.

The love persists. So does the friendship and the affection. He and I still share an apartment in Boston. When I return to the US at the end of the summer, we can reassess and maybe revise our standing based on where we find ourselves then.

In the meanwhile, life proceeds. We have agreed that the two of us may not only fuck others, we can actively date. Falling in love is a risk we take. I am not looking for a partner for the long term. It could happen though.

Spring is a new season.

I feel liberated in this city. I feel so terribly alone.


Amadeo cooked dinner last night. We ate by candlelight. The brooding Sagrantino di Montefalco left me tipsy. Listening to Bartoli, we made out, but did not fuck. I went home so that I could sleep in my own bed, alone, with not even a sex toy for company.

I haven’t bedded with anyone since the ex-boyfriend. The physical urge is there, an omnipresent shadow. Frame of mind, mood, and disposition: these are lacking.

This remains a sex blog. I have no intention of altering that. The stories will resume once the laying does. This will happen — probably soon. Until then, I will go into a state of hibernation.

A candle in my cunt October 12, 2010

Posted by Leah in Boyfriend, Masturbation.

I prop myself on my elbow in bed. My hands squeeze my breasts while the boyfriend relates the adventures of the last week. She was on her knees and bent. Her back arched like an extended bow. He had the arrow poised. Her jeans were still fastened, but they were halfway down her thighs along with her panties. She hunched over the backrest of the passenger seat while he fingered her tight little hole. His middle finger insinuated itself to the knuckle, and he slapped her ass. They pushed the chair flat. The car shook in the parking garage while they fucked.

Another day. Another pussy. He led her around the apartment on a leash, made her fetch and sit up and roll over. He had her rehydrate herself after sex with a bowl of water set on the floor. Arms made fast behind her back, her tits were whipped. His bitch gave him a blowjob without hands while he pinched her sore nipples. My boyfriend took his lover to our bed. He teased her for an hour with a vibrator buzzing against the clit and his tongue and fingers toying with her pussy. He brought her to the brink of orgasm many times before finally giving her permission to come. She thanked him with her body. This girl is my friend: I introduced her to the boyfriend nearly two years ago. I know how she tastes. My finger runs along my slit. I smear the wetness over the sentinel standing watch above the valley beneath.

The dildo is to my side. The boyfriend asks me to plug my pussy with it. The knob is the thickest part. I press it against my lips and add a twist. The toy is ten inches long perhaps, ridged on the sides, with a red patterned swirl frozen into glass. The shaft sinks in, an inch, half an inch, a bit more each time, until I swallow two-thirds of its length. The knob doesn’t vacate the petaling of the pussy as I raise my hips from the bed. The glass is cool against the muscles to start, but the temperature equalizes with its surroundings. The wetness in my cunt, the pleasure of being penetrated, the words spoken in Boston encourage my arousal. My knees are peaked on either side and well separated. My fingers diddle the clitoris as I fuck myself harder and faster. The muscles clench and release about the transparent dildo. I wish it was a cock — one cock in particular.

The webcam points to my face. The boyfriend sees my head rolling from side to side. He hears my moans, the imprecations: Oh, shit! Oh, yes! Oh, fuck!

“Your cunt belongs to me,” he intones, and I believe him deep in my synapses.

After I have creamed, I take a good look at myself. My thighs are sticky. The pubis is slick. There is a wet spot on the quilt below my cunt. He instructs me to clean the dildo with my mouth. I look into the webcam and suck the false penis like it’s his cock. My tongue swirls around the knob. I lick my juices from the sides of the shaft. The surface of the glass is thick with my spendings. I hold the dildo vertical, lift my head, and accept it into my throat. My cunt tastes salty and sweet.

I take a deep breath. Finally, I sit up. Legs crossed, thighs resting atop the balls of my feet, with a sad sigh, I tell the boyfriend I should go, that I will take a shower and then do some reading. He asks for another half hour of my time. He wants me to fill up the tub and bathe instead. He will join me, he informs.

I position the laptop on the lid of the toilet and incline the screen at the tub. The curtain to the bath is open. I bring a waterproof vibrator and a red candle with me. I have the faucet running, so he can’t hear me from across the ocean. But he can see. I squat over the edge of the tub. With my legs planted far apart, I push the candle into my pussy until only the top two inches stick out. When I stand upright, it looks as though I have a small, erect penis.

I leave the lamp above the sink on, turn the ceiling light off, and slip into the tub. He can’t see what I am doing, so I tell him. I fuck my pussy with the candle. The circumference is thick as a cock. It reaches about six inches inside me.

I light the wick.

My feet are perched on either side of the taps. The pussy tilts up, supporting the candle. I rotate it inside a little further. The water splashes my body. Movement extinguishes the flame, so I relight it. The fire hovers an inch above my pubis. I feel its soaring heat in my nerve endings. The wax spills over the edge and dribbles down the sides. It catches the sensitive labia. The wax is hot, but not painful on the flesh. I press the vibrator against my clit and watch the fire dance.

The boyfriend tells me he is masturbating, too. The room is dark. The gradient of the screen is such that he looks ghostly. I lean across the railing and blow him a kiss.

My fingers have a careful hold on the tip of the candle. I jostle it horizontally. The shadows on my thighs and belly are fantastic.

He asks me to drip the wax onto my breasts, and I oblige. I attempt to paint a cock over my chest. Eventually, I abandon the candle and spin the knob on the vibrator to its maximum setting. I piston it in and out while I direct the hot water stream from the showerhead at my clit. The orgasm is glorious when it arrives. My boyfriend’s voice completes the experience.

The world is too much sometimes September 3, 2010

Posted by Leah in Boyfriend, Cunnilingus, D/s, Fellatio, Fisting, Fucking, Gallimaufry, Masturbation, Repeated hookups, Spanking, Urine.
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A reader asks: are you there?


Life has a way of generating complication. I had one set of deadlines at the end of August. A second set in the middle of September looms. While I was dealing with school, I didn’t have the ten hours a week to spare for blogging. I realized this as I was writing day five, which I never got around to proofreading until today. In any case, during a string of all-nighters, there isn’t much time for sex.

Here are some stories from the past weeks that I am not going to tell you about in any detail.

Day six: The boyfriend finds the spot deep in my pussy that makes me fountain. He presses his lips against my clit while I orgasm. Afterwards, he fists me. The memory of his hand inside and how it turns leaves me wet for days.
Day seven: The boyfriend has too much to drink. Deciding that putting his clothes on and walking to the shared bathroom is too great an effort, he uses me as a toilet. Twice he wakes me. He pisses slowly so that I can swallow his beery urine. In the morning, I wake him with a blowjob. He chases the semen with his full bladder, moaning his pleasure while I drink.
Day eight: The last spanking is a caning. It leaves red stripes on my ass. The skin eventually turns a deep purple.
Day nine: Sneaking into the men’s bathroom to fuck, we share a quickie at the airport. While his plane is in the air, I am at home. I smear the residues of semen over my clit and masturbate.

Three times since the boyfriend left and most recently yesterday, Frank spent the night. As always, the sex was inspired, but also conventional. I prefer more complexity. Claire and I are thinking of ambushing Frank together to see how he reacts.

Last Friday, Dr. Williams e-mailed me. I hadn’t planned to see him again, but he caught me when I was feeling particularly horny. I went to his office. I spent an hour under his desk, sucking his cock and licking his feet while he conferenced on the computer with his colleagues in Canada. It was fun to bring him close to orgasm and ease him away while he had to conceal the sensations and talk shop. I felt powerful at his feet. I pressed his heel against my pussy and used the friction to masturbate myself. We fucked. I pretended to be his student. We started on the easy chair and ended on his desk, which is piled high with papers. My legs were up in the air. He covered my mouth with his hand to stifle my screams. The neighboring offices probably heard me anyway.

So that’s the sex life. Now, it’s back to work for Leah. I will see you when I see you.

Day five September 3, 2010

Posted by Leah in Anilingus, Bondage, Boyfriend, Buggery, Collarme, Cunnilingus, D/s, Fellatio, Fucking, Sapphic, Spanking.

We hastily dress when the intercom buzzes. By the time she walks up the stairs, I have put on the boyfriend’s button-down shirt. It just covers my ass. I am naked below. He has pulled on his jeans and a t-shirt and is combing his hair in the mirror. I met her through Collarme. She is 20, from the south, new to her submissive identity, and still in the process of exploring the possibilities of that role. The girl — she wants me to call her Claire — has never been in a threesome before. We have been writing back and forth for about two weeks. She talked to me first on Tuesday (day four) and then to the boyfriend over the phone. I told her about my blog. She read through it and called us back. She is eager and enthusiastic to play. I want to give my boyfriend a threesome. We arranged a date. We educated her about safewords and promised her that we would go as slowly as she needed.

The photos do her no justice at all. She knocks on the door softly and stands shyly when we open. The hair falls on her face, and she blushes. She is wearing a black sequined skirt and a blue and silver top. Her legs are athletic. The muscles of her thighs have such perfect definition. I remember that she said she plays footie and runs. I want to lick my tongue along the lines and the shadows of her legs.

We get her a drink. She and I sit on the couch while the boyfriend sits in the chair opposite. We talk awhile — two of us adoring her accent — and then I ask if I can touch her body. I lower the top slightly and brush my fingers over the curves of her breasts. My hand runs along the inside of her thigh while we kiss. I undress her. I pull the tie on the halter in back and remove the top and the bra. As I help her with her skirt and panties, I notice the boyfriend rubbing his erection through his jeans. I point this out to Claire and suggest that we blow him together.

He pulls off his pants and shows us the erection. Claire goes to her knees at once. I kiss the boyfriend on the mouth and follow. My fingers raise her hand up his thigh to the snarl of the pubis. The two of us are on either side of him. We kiss around the shaft. Her tongue touches mine as we press our lips together. One of us moves up the left side as the other moves down the right. I hold her hair out of the way while she sucks my boyfriend’s cock full on. I lick his ass while she takes him into her throat. There are wet sounds front and back. The boyfriend makes noises like he is drowning.

He didn’t come at all the day before. He has semen to give. I ask Claire if she wants him to deposit in her mouth. She says yes.

I know the boyfriend has been holding back. The double blowjob might be his favorite act, at least visually. I lower my head between his thighs and use my lips to tug on his balls while Claire sucks him. When I sense the orgasm approaching, I squeeze my index finger past the sphincter, which I have made wet, and press it against the prostate. My grip tightens around the base of his cock and steadies the shaft. He spews into her mouth, convulsing between lips that have clamped down upon him. I fall on top of Claire and chase the come with my tongue. We roll on the floor, kissing as we trade the semen back and forth. I lick the white spots at the corners of her lips. I take my fair share from her mouth, show my lovers the spunk that coats my tongue, and swallow ostentatiously. After that, the three of us retire to the bedroom.

We play in many ways over a mostly sleepless night. The condom frustrates us. He can’t fuck us both, one after another. I lower myself below Claire and lick her clitoris while he slams her from behind. My legs are open. Claire contorts herself to moan into my pussy while her cunt is filled. When the boyfriend fucks me, I am on top of the shaft. She is seated beside me on the bed. She kisses my breasts and diddles my clit while I bounce my body over the familiar penis. Adding and removing condoms helps make the sex last. He chooses to come inside her instead of me. I like that he can enjoy a new girl this way.

Between his orgasms, the boyfriend ties Claire’s body to mine. We sixty-nine for his pleasure and ours. Her waters have the taste and consistency of syrup. The wetness flattens her bush. My cunt, by contrast, is waxed and polished. I suggest to the boyfriend that we shave her bare. We use his shaving cream and razor to accomplish the task. I am careful not to cut her. Soon she is smooth like me. I like licking the bare skin. I like the taste of her sweat mingled with the secretions of her pussy.

The boyfriend concludes I owe him another spanking as Claire is one more lover on my list. He has her do it with the hairbrush on my ass. Claire doesn’t go easy on me. She doesn’t go slowly. She doesn’t soothe and caress the skin between the blows she delivers. I am red and hurting when she finishes. At the end of it, she volunteers to take the same punishment from me. Claire doesn’t know what she is asking. I demur until the boyfriend demands it of me. I give a more careful spanking than what she has offered me. But I don’t pull my punches either. It hurts less to be spanked than to spank. I make a face and flinch each time she does. I am sympathetic to her pain. Fingers on her pussy help her endure it.

The boyfriend pulls a condom on and tells me to prepare Claire’s ass. He wants to come in her body in all the ways. There’s a look of trepidation in her eyes. She confesses to us that she has only ever put a vibrator in there. I reassure her with kisses and murmurs. I lick her anus so that the spit coats the entry and squeeze lube inside her asshole and smear it on the walls with my finger. Suppressing my reaction to the taste of latex, I suck the cock to hardness and run lube over that as well. Prying her cheeks apart, I place the head against Claire’s opening. She winces at the entry. The boyfriend shifts his hips and presses forward an inch at a time. When he is embedded halfway, he drags his length out and sinks it back in again. Over the span of minutes, he muscles his way deeper, until he has penetrated to the balls. It hurts her, but there is pleasure also. I hold Claire by the shoulders and kiss her while she is fucked. I support her weight and tell her to play with her pussy and her clit. Soon discomfort and pain are the lesser sensations. I am toying with her nipples when she creams. It is her second orgasm that sets my boyfriend off. He roars his semen into her and passes out on the bed soon after.

We giggle at him. The night continues for us. Claire and I huddle in the bathroom and perform our ablutions. We snuggle together on the sofa and drink and mess around some more. I show her my toy collection and have her try out assorted implements. We tongue each other to new orgasms. Eventually, the boyfriend wakes and joins us for one more go. Again, we swap the condoms on and off. He comes in my cunt this time, without protection. Claire smothers me with her pussy at the end. My nose is crushed. I breathe through my mouth while I tongue her lips. I feel her weight on top of my face. There isn’t as much semen as before, but what the boyfriend leaves leaks out. Claire licks me clean of his spendings and my own juices. She sucks my cunt and clit until I come again. I can’t get enough of her taste, so when she finishes, I start on her immediately.

Day four August 24, 2010

Posted by Leah in Boyfriend, D/s, Masturbation, Spanking.

We are in the kitchen cooking together. The boyfriend can’t make anything more complicated than a salad. He is cutting vegetables for me. He is my sous-chef.

The roles are reversed momentarily, or so I believe, until he hands me a cucumber and tells me to pull down my jeans. He goes to his knees and deftly slices away the front panel of my underwear. Taking the cucumber from me, he rubs it over my pussy lips and tells me to fuck myself with it. I take it in hand and squeeze the tip past the entrance. I bend at the knees and push more of it inside. I turn the vegetable in my grip and lower my weight until it is halfway in, then extract and repeat on the other side.

He washes the carrots in the sink, peels off their skin, and passes them to me one after another. I press each into my pussy. The vegetables are longer than his cock and more slender. My juices coat the surfaces. Once they are out, he shaves and cuts and slices them for the salad.

I waddle around the kitchen, pants pooled at my feet, stirring the soup on the stove and readying the meal.

I hand him a baguette and ask him to spank me with it. He thwacks me with the bread, once on the ass, swinging it like a baseball bat, then uses the wooden spatula, twenty five times on the insides of my thighs. It reddens the skin, leaving it warm and stinging.

Later, he places the handle of the knife in my cunt, so that the blade points up. The erection I wear is obscene. He steadies the blade from below and cuts cherry tomatoes in half on the knife’s edge. It takes him several minutes. I am pouring wetness. It drips onto the floor. He notices and smears the tomatoes over my lips. Extracting the knife, he touches the point to my clit. I clench the counter and close my eyes. I trust him. But the point is sharp. The metal is cold. My hands are clammy. There is the rush of fear. I cannot look away. He meets my eyes looking down and pulls the knife back. His fingers touch into my pussy. He has me clean them. His tongue flicks against mine as I lick between his fingers.

There is balsamic dressing on the salad when we eat, but I taste hints of myself as well. I asked him to come in the leaves of the lettuce, but he declined, preferring to save his semen for later.

I tell him about my fantasy. I think about us hosting a party. Our guests eat a salad like this, flavored with pussy juice and spunk. The whole meal is spiced in a similar manner. Our friends comment on the novel tastes of the food we serve. They have second helpings. They enjoy our sex. The very thought of it makes me squirm.

Day three August 16, 2010

Posted by Leah in Boyfriend, D/s, Fellatio, Urine.
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We shower together in the morning. I drink the water that falls from his prick.

Day two August 16, 2010

Posted by Leah in Boyfriend, Buggery, D/s, Spanking.

A birthday spanking is traditional. I am now more than a quarter of a century old.

He decides he will spank me fourteen times on this trip, once for each lover I have taken in the city. Each spanking will be composed of twenty-five hard hits, which are defined as the ones that he feels, and as many small hits as pleases him. I must ask fourteen times for my spankings.

I begin at once.

He has me undress. I am naked while he remains clothed. He sits me on his lap. His feet hook around mine and force my legs apart. He wets his hand in the waters of my cunt and spanks my clit and pussy. I screw my eyes closed and wince at the initial blows. After that, he takes his time. He plays with my lips and transfers the arousal to my breasts. I ease into the touch of his fingers and rub myself against the hand. When they arrive, the slaps take me by surprise. They are an overpowering loudness in the room. Tears sting my eyes before we reach the halfway point. I hear the soft hum of the refrigerator and concentrate on that sound. I count to thirty-six, but his tolling is the one that matters. His fingers pull and pinch and twist the swollen lips of my pussy. He masturbates me to orgasm after the spanking and has me lick up what I have sprayed.

At night, I ask him for two more spankings. He takes the switch to the bottoms of my feet. He pulls me over his thighs and reddens my ass with his bare hand. I kiss the heel of his hand and his fingers when he finishes. I run my tongue over his palm. Anal sex after a spanking is my favorite.

Day one August 16, 2010

Posted by Leah in Bondage, Boyfriend, Cunnilingus, D/s, Fellatio, Fucking.
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He arrives at my door in the morning. As soon as he is inside, he has me against the wall. The kisses have a ferocity born of hunger and yearning. When there is a moment to breathe, I slide down the wall and fall to my knees. I press my lips to his cock, breathing on the head through the pores in the denim. The flesh stirs against my open mouth. I feel it becoming rigid. If it were up to me, the clothes would come off now. He would mount me from behind. We would fuck on the hard kitchen floor, heedless of the roommate who is still asleep in her bedroom. I would scream my orgasms into the early hour and shake the foundations of the building down.

It is not up to me. He hauls me to my feet.

We spend the day touching and talking. We are tourists at the museum, holding hands. We share an umbrella as we stroll through Regent’s Park. We sit at the café and catch up. My legs are propped over his while we talk of friends and work and home. His hand smooths over my thigh under the table at the pub. Over dessert, he tells me about his new lover. She is inexperienced. He is only the third man who has been inside her cunt. My foot brushes his as he speaks.

At night, the roommate crashes with her fiancé to give us a measure of space and privacy. There are no obvious tie points in my bedroom. The boyfriend improvises. The ropes slip under the mattress. They wrap my legs and my breasts. He binds me tight and takes me as he pleases. His tongue is intimate between my legs for a full hour before he undresses. He bites my clit. The vibrator presses into me as I am eaten. I beg him for his penis. He fucks my face so that I taste him in my throat. He fucks my cunt, which aches for his cock. Semen spills into me and spills out again. The orgasms on my side belong to him already. He takes that which is his.

We are staying in my apartment. We are sleeping in his bed.