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Marshall one more time September 7, 2011

Posted by Leah in Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Fucking, Repeated hookups.
2 comments

I sat on my shins, straddling his thighs, and during the kisses, I sucked his bottom lip softly and also his tongue. Between us, the only article of clothing we had on was Marshall’s necktie, which I wore in a loose knot; the end reached past the delta and dangled between my legs. His hands smoothed over my back and shoulders, and mine spidered over his chest. Occasionally, I gripped his cock, but most of the time I was content to touch only above the waist. We may have remained nearly naked on the sofa making out for close to half an hour — I was in no hurry to stop.

In bed, he laid on his back, and legs stretching in the bay between his, I laid prone over his chest. While my labia dragged over his abdomen and my hand on his cheek angled his head to one side and his hand on my leg opened up my thighs and fingered my pussy, the kisses continued without pause. Before I took his cock into my mouth, the flat of my tongue swabbed the underside and his balls; the point followed the lines of his groin to where they met his thighs.

I lowered onto the penis, on hands and knees, and he fucked me from below. From above, my body must have looked so small on top of his, a tiny girl clinging to a big man, clenching his shoulders with her hands, his cock with her cunt, constantly moaning. I pushed off the bed with both hands and thrust my pussy up and down the length of his shaft. His arms wrapped my back, and he held me down with his penis embedded deep inside. The tip of his index finger found its way into my asshole and wiggled in to the knuckle; I liked being full front and back.

Later, he took me with my feet in the air. His body slammed onto mine from a height, and he used the sinews in his arms to lift his weight off me as he withdrew.

Still later, he fucked me in doggy fashion. My calves extended beneath the arch of his thighs. He gripped my hips and powered the penis into my vagina, the glans prodding muscles and membranes far in the interior as the balls connected with my body with a loud clap.

I laid on my side in a bend, and Marshall fucked me from behind, so slowly, so softly. The penetration was less deep than before, but my cunt felt more stretched out as the shaft slid against the walls in a molto adagio tempo.

Facing away, facing his feet, I watched us in the mirror on the wall. Like Norman Foster’s gherkin on the city skyline, his penis had a long silhouette and a rounded edge. I balanced myself on top, and as I made an unhurried descent, the muscles of my vagina compressed about the shaft. Marshall had me by the hips, and he raised and lowered my body over his.

The first time I came, I stood on the floor, bowing at the waist. My hand gripped the side of the bed. Marshall had one hand in my hair, and he hauled me backward by the thigh against his pelvis, which drove the other way, improbably fast, impossibly hard.

Somewhere in between — I no longer remember precisely when — Marshall folded my legs open and sucked my pussy. The cream from my cunt had left his condom white. Holding a hand and a breast, he lapped the same wetness from my folds.

The next fucks had a similar shape: we constantly changed position, each seeking to experience our partner in every conceivable manner, desperate to enjoy the totality of the experience, to make it last. I met Marshall so late: this was all we had.

Last Thursday’s date September 6, 2011

Posted by Leah in Anilingus, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Fucking, Repeated hookups.
12 comments

We were in front of his bed, kissing. Our hands roamed over each other’s bodies. Mine traversed his broad shoulders and his muscular back and torso. His were in my hair. He tilted my face to improve the angle of lip lock. He also gripped my ass and hooked his hand under my leg to lift my thigh against his hip. I stood on tiptoes to bring my pubis into contact with his groin. As he kissed the side of my face and my throat, both of my hands worked under his short sleeved white shirt and smoothed over the hot skin. Once I had unbuttoned, my lips progressed intimately down his bare chest. Fingers stroked the tent in his trousers.

I went to my knees, unzipped the fly, and pulled the briefs down to his knees. I commenced fellatio. Marshall bundled my hair in one hand and held it out of my way while I gave suck. Rotating my face, I swallowed two-thirds of the shaft. My hand applied pressure to the balls. Fingers clutched the base of the penis and spun. Tightening on his ass and hip, I made an effort to inhale more of the cock. To my disappointment, I was able to ingest only three-quarters of his length. The glans stretched my throat. I appreciated the weight and the heaviness of the shaft over my tongue. My lips strained on the girth. Because I discovered that Marshall was especially sensitive even to the lightest touch of teeth, I made an effort to avoid any contact. My hands reached far above my head to cup his male tits. Pulling the cock from my mouth, I held it in front of me and addressed it from the side. My lips and tongue floated on a cushion of silky saliva down and back up the rounded edge. I kissed his hairy groin.

Marshall placed both of his hands on the back of my head. His pelvis thrust out, just as it had while we were dancing earlier, and he fucked his cock through my lips.

I held the penis vertical and sunk my head to his hanging balls. I sucked them individually and dragged my tongue back up the underside of the shaft and took the head into my lips again. With fingers in my hair or a hand on each shoulder, Marshall was content to let me suck him for long minutes. I took as much as I could, and whenever I needed air, I mouthed the penis from the side. The tongue concentrated especially on the parts at the bottom that I could not fit into my mouth. Stroking his erection, I covered his lower abdomen with a carpet of soft kisses.

He sat on the edge of the bed and let me undress him fully. On my knees hunched over a thigh, I held his balls and concentrated my attention to sucking just the head of the cock.

Marshall lifted my top off and unhooked the bra. Bringing me to my feet, he also stood and sucked each of my breasts. His mouth covered the areolae. His tongue flicked rapidly over my nipples. As he nursed, his hand tightened on the lower part of the breasts. I held on to his cock.

I wore a pleated black skirt — short — with a silver thong underneath and black leather boots that reached to the knees. Marshall unfastened the buttons at the side and hauled the skirt down my legs. I sat on the bed and shimmied out of my panties. I aimed the thong at him like a slingshot. When I let go, it tumbled in the air, struck his chest, and bounced to the floor. He pushed me flat over the mattress and unzipped the boots. Latching on to the darker cap of my thick gray socks, he tugged them free of my feet. Save for earrings and a necklace, I was naked.

He lowered his weight onto me. I wrapped my arms about his shoulders and gripped his body tight as we kissed audibly. His hand grasped one of my breasts. I held his thigh and scratched lightly with my nails. The cock prodded me from below. Marshall tongued each tit thoroughly. His lips descended slowly to where my legs met. The tongue lapped the navel in promise of what would follow. He teased me. His lips and tongue traced designs upon my thighs and over my smooth pubis. He cupped my breasts. He didn’t touch the pussy for long minutes.

Marshall lapped my cunt until I came. He licked the slit. Tongue squeezing past the labia, he dashed it wetly just inside the opening. His lips sucked hard over the clitoris. His teeth nipped gently at the swollen pussy lips. His nose mined into my pubis.

I spread my legs wide to encourage his explorations. My hands gripped the sheets tightly. I squeaked moans of pleasure into the night.

The pressure of his hand behind my knee lifted one of my legs. His mouth lowered to lap at the perineum. I felt the spit flow down to my anus. Grabbing hold of the lips again, his head shook from side to side. He was a dog chewing. And then he was a jungle cat patiently licking. My thighs compressed about the sides of his head. I gripped his hair to hold him to me. My orgasm exploded on his face. Blanketing my body with his, Marshall kissed me softly. I tasted my cream on his chin and his lips.

It was his turn. I urged Marshall onto his back and draped myself over his body. As I kissed him, my fingers renewed their acquaintance with his cock, which had remained hard. Just as he had done, my lips smooched his chest as I lowered. I noted the reflective sheen of sweat over the beautifully delineated pectoral and abdominal muscles. The skin had a touch of salt to it. Marshall’s hand stroked my back.

I kissed his glans. The tip of my tongue traced the veins on the bottom surface of the penis. I sucked on each hemisphere of the scrotum and felt the testicles moving under the skin, moving under my tongue, moving under the suction. My hand shucked over the shaft.

I asked Marshall to lift his legs into the air. My fingers prised the ass cheeks open. I lapped at his perineum and anus. Alternating between mouthing the balls, during which time my fingers layered spit over his asshole, and rimming those sensitive surrounding folds extravagantly, I listened to the sound of his groans. His sphincter embraced the tip of my tongue. The muscles had a velvet grip. I fell into the hole. My face buried itself in his ass.

When I took Marshall’s cock past my lips again, I saw tension in his musculature. I hollowed my cheeks and sucked hard on the shaft. My fingers rubbed his anus. My tongue rasped on the underside of the cock. My lips tightened their seal. My hand squeezed and released over his balls.

His body bucked from the bed when he came. The penis cocked and discharged. The recoil caused my lips to slip upward, but I clamped down below the glans. As he spewed, my index finger wriggled past the sphincter and applied pressure to the prostate. His muscles contracted around the finger. Semen flooded my mouth. This was a heavy orgasm. I tried to swallow it all, but some of his come escaped the corners of my lips. He tasted clean. The scent of the ocean filled my nostrils.

Since he had just come, it would be several minutes before he could fuck. But I knew he would last in my pussy once he was inside. I had him turn onto his belly and overlaid my body atop his and kissed the nape of his neck and the joining of his shoulder and throat. My hands massaged the muscles of his back. My tongue followed the ridges of the shoulder blades. I lifted his arms up and kissed his flanks. My mouth made a transit over the middle region. I dragged my cunt lips along the valley of his spine. They left a trail of moisture and settled at the small of his back.

Marshall edged me off his body. I knelt to his side and stooped to kiss him once more. At once, his hand stole between my legs. He fingered my pussy from below. The junction remained sticky from before. Droplets of arousal coated the labia. It was time for us to fuck. I extracted a condom from the box on the floor next to the bed, placed it over the top of the glans with my lips and rolled it down his erection.

He took me doggy style to begin. He commented that his thick cock had compelled my opening to stretch wide. I was tight inside. I was so wet for him. He held me by the buttocks as he stood on the floor, knees bent, and muscled his way into me. I moaned and told him how much I loved having him fuck me this way. Looking backward, I smiled and laughed with the pleasure of having him within.

We turned around. I was on the bed with arms up in the air, thighs splitting on either side of his hip, calves folded over his legs. His hands reached below my body and lifted me up toward him while his pelvis made a spin and a thrust. His cock was in me nearly completely. He withdrew only a small part of the shaft. I rolled my head on the pillow and raised my buttocks each time he fully lowered. The movement of his hips was a pulse that propelled through my skin. It made my breasts wobble. He sucked on my tits. I closed my eyes. Letting my weight sink into the mattress, I verbalized my approval of the things he was doing to me. He perspired heavily. I experienced the slide of Marshall’s body, slick with sweat, on top of me.

To make my pussy even tighter for his cock, he pressed my legs together. Holding them at the knees, he brought the legs up so that they were vertical and fucked me with metronomic precision. He groaned each time he thrust. I answered with a softer moan.

As he fucked me, I heard the ticking of the clock in the bedroom, his heartbeat, and my own. I placed my small hand atop his larger one. Marshall’s cock left me replete.

I came when he fucked me again in doggy fashion. This time he knelt behind me on the bed. The balls slapped against my pussy. The impact of his thighs upon mine set my ass to rippling. I knew because he told me. The muscles of my cunt wrung his cock. I bit my lower lip to forestall screaming. He kept driving the penis into me, which extended the orgasm.

Afterwards, he turned me around and fingered my post-orgasmic sodden pussy while kissing first my breasts and then my lips. Bracing his body mass with his arms, he sat on the edge of the bed. I mounted the penis. My forearms pushed off his shoulders, and I rocked myself over his cock. The muscles of my thighs directed the fuck. The sound of cock in pussy was liquid.

We ended with him on his back and me on top. I hunched myself over him. He held me by the ass and launched his cock deep into me at a frantic pace. Marshall had me coming constantly. He groaned throughout while I shrieked at the feeling of fullness in my pussy and the glorious sensation of getting fucked so very hard. He made an unintelligible utterance. It had the sound of speech at volume and a rising pitch. It was not English or Dutch or any other language. It was the raw expression of joy, an ancient pronouncement, ageless, ingenuous, candid, potent, sincere. He came in my cunt. The cock popped out during his intense convulsions. He shoved it back in where it belonged, and I tightened about it. After orgasm, he continued to thrust, softly now. He lifted me off his body after a while. I rubbed my slick pussy over the latex on his penis, then rolled my weight off him. With a pair of fingers inside me, his lips latched on to mine. He gave me his tongue.

Cunnilinctus August 29, 2011

Posted by Leah in Cunnilingus, Repeated hookups.
3 comments

Frank and I spent Sunday afternoon wandering the Notting Hill Carnival. I had been invited to a party in the evening to which Frank would certainly have been welcome, but I wanted to spend time with him alone. I know I will see him again before I leave, but he can’t make it to Paris next weekend, and my hours with him are so limited. I wanted to make them last. We made it back to my place before dark.

Frank pushed me into a chair when we arrived. My leg hooked about his trunk, the ankle kicking off the small of his back as he lowered. I clawed his t-shirt from his shoulders as we kissed. To keep his mouth pressed up against mine, my fingers darted through his hair and clutched the back of his head. Desperate for further contact, my hands flitted from his broad and powerful back to the valley of the spine to the rock solid shelf of his hip. Squirreling into his jeans, they gripped his muscular buttocks, dug into the flesh, and clenched.

Frank winged one leg over the armrest of the chair. His fingers stumbled over the belt and the buttons and dragged my jeans off. The panties I wore were a thin white mesh. My cunt showed through. As the kisses continued, his hand lowered to the delta of my legs and fingered my lips. My wetness seeped through the fabric. We stopped kissing just long enough to remove my top. I undid the hook of the bra and gave him my breasts to suck. Arms wrapping my back, his mouth followed the line of my throat from the chin to the shoulder. Strong hands kneaded my breasts. As he sucked hard on a nipple, his hand smoothed over the inner surface of my thigh. Finally it slipped under the leg hole of the panties. He kissed me aggressively while rubbing my pussy and clit. I breathed heavily and moaned into his open mouth.

Frank tugged the panties from my legs and placed me slouching in the chair with one thigh draped across each of the armrests. He went to ground and burrowed into my cunt.

Frank’s tongue lapped over the opening of the pussy. The moisture that escaped wet his chin and his cheeks. I had both hands in his hair, tightening on the scalp to immobilize his head between my thighs. His mouth was in constant movement, traversing the small distance from vagina to clitoris. His lips sucked hard on the swollen clump of nerve endings. The bony chin rode against the labia as he did so.

Frank looked up at me. I smiled down and tilted my head backward into the cushion of the chair. Face tightened in a grimace of pleasure, I squealed my ecstasy aloud, with volume. My hand fumbled around at my waist until it latched on to his. I tightened around his fingers and brought them to my tits. I was a river inside. The pussy was all mush. The nerve endings were so sensitive. Whenever the angle of contact adjusted or he shifted the center of his attack, new synapses activated. I screwed my eyes shut and focused on feeling. I felt lightheaded.

Frank fed on my wetness. My thighs attempted first to guillotine and then to strangle him. The pressure of his hands forced my legs apart to give him room to maneuver. His lips snapped up the labia. He tugged and twisted his face. Flattening the lips, the tongue poked inside and circumscribed the interior wall. The membranes of the vagina were slick with arousal. Salacious words encouraged him to keep licking me, to suck harder, to use teeth. “Don’t stop” became my rallying cry. This needn’t have been a worry. He wouldn’t.

Frank squeezed two fingers into the cunt and fucked them in and out while we kissed. I tasted of the Caribbean spices from lunch. It was the fingers rubbing insistently at my clit that supplied my first orgasm. I broke the kiss and shrieked exultation.

Frank dropped to the floor and licked like a dog, using the flat of his tongue after I had come. The press of fingers on the pubis stretched out the skin surrounding the pussy. His nose gave my clitoris eskimo kisses. He lifted a leg over his shoulder and kept tonguing me. Within minutes, I creamed again. His face dug into my cunt as I wrapped my legs about his back in a state of frenzied excitement. My head rolled from side to side. My heel kicked off his shoulder. I let myself go. After the incipient orgasm had shattered the dams of restraint, it was so easy. He licked. I came. Orgasm splashed on his face.

Frank barely used his fingers. It was all his mouth. He nibbled. He sucked. He lipped. He lapped. He bit. He spit. He feathered. He nosed. He tongued. As I don’t know how many more times we will hook up in this lifetime, I exerted myself to commit every touch to memory.

Frank, after all this, ate me harder, if that’s even possible. He dragged me from the chair onto the carpet. With my legs hitched over his back, he sunk to a low crouch on the floor. The iron grip of my fingers compelled his head between my legs. I must have left indentations in his skull. I wriggled on the ground, in death throes. My back arched up off the floor. The blood vessels in my neck stood in relief. My screams echoed in the room. I balled my hands into fists and beat at the floor. When I came, I seized his fingers and hauled myself partway off the ground. My knuckles turned white. I clung to him in order to remain anchored to this globe.

Frank had a smug smile on his face when I sat upright. I tugged his arm and pulled him to me. He toppled over my body. He tried to tickle me, and we wrestled for leverage. He is bigger and stronger, so he won, pinning me down. My legs scooted open, and he occupied the space they had made. As we kissed, he squeezed my breasts. His hard cock prodded my belly through his black jeans. I would do something about that next.

The Marshall plan August 26, 2011

Posted by Leah in Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Fucking, Repeated hookups.
10 comments

Marshall and I went out on Thursday night and got thoroughly wasted. The pub we were at closed at midnight. The two of us decided to walk to his place since it was nearby. He also had a stash of booze.

We fucked, drank, then fucked again. Around 2 am, when he could no longer raise an erection despite the ministrations of my lips and tongue, Marshall contented himself with rubbing his half hard penis over my sensitive areas. We kissed and cuddled until slumber enfolded us.

I awoke in the morning with his face between my thighs. Orgasm countervailed the modest hangover. After the initial gush of my pussy, he kept right on going. I came a second time and then a third.

I coaxed the erection from his penis and lowered a condom over it. He fucked me in the missionary position. The cock stretched me open. The tension in the shaft established vibrations in the walls of my vagina. Legs spread wide, they made a W over his thighs. His arms cradled my body and wrapped my shoulders and back. I screamed my fullness in his ear. His Dutch accented obscenities turned me on. The perspiration that coated our bodies added a glide to the movements. At times his lips crushed mine. At times the contact was barely there. Every kiss was an instant of perfection.

I died and revived in the jolt of the climax.

Between my legs, my cream had turned the condom white. Loosened up by orgasm, I clawed at his biceps and spread my legs ever wider for him. I begged Marshall to come in my pussy. He fucked me harder. Only his hips moved. He knifed the cock into me with the propulsive strength of his thighs. Balls full of sperm slapped below my pussy. One wave of orgasms rolled into the next.

Marshall’s endurance had limits. His cock twitched and jerked against my vaginal walls. The orgasm set me off again. I imploded around his explosion.

I took the tube to the university, wearing a dress shirt that I had stolen from his wardrobe knotted about my midriff along with a t-shirt many sizes too large and the ratty jeans from the day before. The train was crowded. We squeezed into one corner of a car. My hands clasped about his waist for balance, I perched on the ledge by the door. As the train accelerated and decelerated below the city streets, my legs bounced against the backs of his. His delectable tight ass rode against my pubis. I kissed the nape of his neck and the center of his back.

We plan on another date next week.

Names I have been called August 25, 2011

Posted by Leah in Bondage, Cunnilingus, D/s, Fisting, Fucking, Masturbation, Repeated hookups, Spanking.
6 comments

Bitch, bitch dog, bitch whore, ass bitch, bondage bitch, dirty bitch, filthy bitch, fucking bitch, little bitch, mongrel bitch, submissive bitch, well-trained bitch, blowjob bitch, cocksucking bitch, cocksucker, cock slave, mouth, cunt, fucking cunt, greedy cunt, little cunt, owned cunt, silly cunt, stupid cunt, pussy, used pussy, twat, scrotum licking twat, fuck puppet, fuck-toy, sex toy, favorite toy, plaything, glove for his fist, slit, slut, anal slut, ass slut, beautiful slut, goddamned filthy slut, good little slut, horny slut, kinky slut, Miss Slut, piss slut, pain slut, come slut, submissive slut, superslut, willing slut, urinal, whipping post, sub, whore, whore mouth, dirty whore, purchased whore, piss drinking whore, shameless whore, slutty whore, willing zero pound whore, ass, arse, asshole, dirty asslicker, little girl, naughty girl, bad girl, good girl, idiot girl, sub girl, three holes, come catcher, come receptacle, place where he comes, territory, marked property, possession, his body to use, his, all his.

These are some of the terms he uses for me — the descriptions in English anyway. The names are endearments. Amadeo may have unloaded half his arsenal of expletives on me last night.

He wrapped scarves about my wrists and ankles, looped a noose of yellow rope about the red silk on each limb, and tied me to the four corners of his bed. Once I was spread-eagled this way, he whipped my breasts and toyed with my pussy, using fingers, a vibrator, kitchen implements, and his tongue. The ball gag muffled my screams. The fisting was exquisite agony. The tension in my arms and legs when he smothered me with his body and fucked my long tormented and cock deprived cunt was unendurable ecstasy. I soaked his sheets.

Not cricket August 23, 2011

Posted by Leah in Craigslust, Cunnilingus, D/s, Fellatio, Fucking, Random hookups.
6 comments

Over a month has elapsed since I enjoyed a new cock. This weekend, I had three.

~

Friday

I went clubbing with various friends from the orchestra. My halter dress dipped into cleavage and ended mid-thigh. I danced dirty with the guys, some of whom I knew and some of whom I met during the night in Soho. Around two, I left with a cute English boy, who invited me to watch him play cricket the next day. A tiny hovel of a basement apartment in Canary Wharf served as our destination. We had sex: half a blowjob, a bit of pussy eating, then his cock inside me. Inebriated as I was, I have little recollection of the particulars. I doubt that I came.

Spending a full day on a game whose logic I don’t comprehend while cheering for a guy I met while most of the way sloshed didn’t appeal to me. I tiptoed out of his room and, dressed wholly inappropriately for the bus and tube, made it back to my place early in the morning to sleep off the hangover in my own bed.

~

Saturday

Deciding to blow off work and other vexations this weekend, I replied to an m4w casual encounters ad from a dom looking for a sub. After a few e-mail exchanges plus the usual picture swap, we met at a wine bar in Covent Garden close to his hotel. As he didn’t look or act like a troll, I made a safety call and followed him to his room. Once he hung up the “Do Not Disturb” sign and closed the door, the first thing he had me do was strip naked. I placed my neatly folded clothes on top of the dresser. Then he had me crawl to the bathroom behind him.

The incipient erection made his trousers bulge. After I had unfastened the belt and loosened the top button, I tugged the zipper down with my teeth. The boxers and the pants descended to below his knees. He lifted up his polo shirt to show his penis, which sprung to wakefulness. I looked up at him, and without comment began to suck. I deepthroated easily. Though the girth of the erection didn’t increase, its rigidity and extension did. With fingers wrapping about the shaft at the bottom, the base of my hand pushed up against his groin and scrotum. The lips made a seal, and I bobbed over two-thirds of the penis. My head pitched to the right on the way down and straightened as I retreated. Tongue rasping along the underside of the cock, I filled my mouth up with spit.

His hand cupped the side of my head, above one ear. As I swallowed back the gag reflex and opened my throat to his knobby glans, the grip of fingers in my hair toughened. Saliva escaped my mouth and fell to the floor in a rope. He took his shirt off. The tiles of the bathroom floor bit my knees. This new lover groaned his satisfaction as I pushed one hand off each of his thighs and fucked my face over his penis.

“Look at me,” he directed.

The view from the floor was this.

From my vantage point below, his body was foreshortened. A wooly fleece covered his torso, the sparse white hairs contrasting with darker whorls, and thickened over his belly. He had a slight paunch. He looked down at me. Spectacles at the tip of his prominent nose distorted the features of his eyes. Both hands had an iron grip on the back of my head. They compelled me down to his root, then held me there. I struggled backward, spit the cock out, and took draughts of air.

He steadied my head, his perspiring palm against my left cheek, and slapped the right. He waved his cock at me, and I sucked him again. My jaws spread wide open while his pelvis did a twist. The cock rooted around halfway down my throat. My spit ran onto his balls. I made gulping sounds.

After this, he hauled me from the floor and propped me on the sink. Pausing for the condom on which I insisted, he entered my pussy. One foot dangling from his shoulder, he wrapped both of his arms around the thigh and used the leverage to pump himself into me hard. It felt good, but the orgasm came too swiftly.

What followed was tame. His idea of kinky was to blindfold me in bed. I did not orgasm there either. Neither did I spend the night.

~

Sunday

Since mid-May, I have been flirting with this buff, athletic guy who works at a café near campus. He gives me the occasional free drink and has lent me some of his music. Last week, when I mentioned that I was leaving London soon, he asked me on a date. We had uncommonly gorgeous weather and spent the afternoon at the Southbank. We found a tapas restaurant in Vauxhall for dinner. Rioja lubricated the conversation. It was light; it was convivial; my legs brushed his under the table. I thought his quick wit negated the myth about the Dutch humor gene, but it turns out that, while he did spend most of his life in Holland, he emigrated there from Suriname. By the end of the meal, the two of us sat on the same side of the small booth with his arm extending behind my back and shoulder. His head dipped to kiss me. I invited him back to the flat to mess around.

I had worn tight fitting denim shorts, a white tank top, and the usual sundries underneath. He had worn khaki trousers and a blue and white checked dress shirt whose cuffs he had rolled up to the elbows. Kind of Blue played on the stereo. A bottle of Lagavulin and two tumblers sat on the small coffee table. I hooked my leg about him and straddled his thighs. His hand caressed over my ass and stroked my leg from the shorts down to my knee. We kissed unceasingly.

He knew just how to do it. Our heads were in constant slow motion. Lips applied a perfectly judged amount of pressure. His tongue followed the line of my smile and, with its curling tip, teased out anticipation. My deep breaths took in but a little air. When I touched my tonguetip to his, we circled in a slow dance. A loud smack, and we moved apart a millimeter, then made contact again. He sucked on my pouty lower lip. Suddenly his tongue darted between the rows of my teeth. My forearms framed his head. Compressing the sides of his face, jaws nibbling, I sucked on his tongue and offered him more of my mouth to explore. As the kisses deepened, his fingers trailed along my spine.

With my eyes closed, I unbuttoned his shirt during the kisses that followed and sat on his lap frog like, thighs on the outside of his and flush with them, two hands at his waist, untucking the fabric from his pants. Then, fingers spanning the broad muscles of his chest, lips descended his throat. Down the line of the sternum they went, shifting laterally to his masculine tits. This excursion was fleeting. I could not long resist the allure of his eyes and mouth or the taste of whisky on his tongue. My lips fastened to his. His hand slid under the small of my back, snuck into my panties, and palmed my buttocks. The kisses continued unabated.

I crossed my arms and lifted the shirt from my shoulders. The bra was next. His hands touched softly over my bare breasts. I lowered my body onto him, and then I turned and sat on his lap. My back slanted against his solid chest. He kissed the hollow of my throat while his fingers traversed the expanse of my torso and reconnoitered my cambers and bends. The pads of his fingers skimmed the breasts where they rounded and slalomed through the valley between them. Their lightest touch sketched designs over the abdomen, where it indented. He skated along the depression of the navel, circling the border, hooked two fingers into the empty belt loops, and tugged my shorts up. When I sucked in a deep breath to collapse my stomach, his hand slipped under the waistband and wriggled between the denim and the satin panties. The other hand was a presence everywhere. He weighed the breasts. He tickled my flank, the side of his finger floating downward from the underarm to the waist and proceeding to the meeting of my thighs on the outside of the shorts. He fingered the slit through blue jeans. My cunt dripped.

My hands held the sofa back and the back of his head. I gyrated my ass over his pants, lap dancing to Miles Davis’s improvisations on trumpet. His hand stroked my neck as we kissed. My body undulated as I did my grind. His erection prodded me from behind like a tree branch.

He snapped open the buttons of my shorts one by one. His hand sunk into the gap and made an arch under the denim. He worked into the panties this time. The tip of a finger stroked the furrow. His tongue traced the shell of my ear. I spread my legs. My touch strayed to the midpoint of his trousers. While I clenched and unclenched my hand over his slacks, his fingers flicked over my labia as though leafing through paper. A lone finger reached inside me, extracted wetness, then pressed vertically over my lips, shushing my mouth. He silenced the unconscious moans this way. When I crossed my eyes to stare at his index finger, he crooked the digit past my lips. I tasted piquant and zesty.

I got off his lap and alerted him that he was overdressed. He did not take care of this problem at once. Instead he kissed me. He cupped my cheeks in his palms and pointed my face to his. The angle shifted constantly while we osculated. My nose hopped over his, and the kisses oscillated back the other way, slowly. His tonguetip sliced from side to side against mine, did a sudden twist below, then somersaulted back to the top, vaulting my tongue in the maneuver. I puckered my mouth and sucked.

I shoved his chest lightly to push him backward, stood, and squeezed my ass out of the shorts. Once I had kicked the panties from my feet, I bent at the knees, splayed my pussy lips open, and displayed my cunt. The clit stood at attention. My fingernails pinched the flesh and teased the hood down. I asked if he wanted to be inside me.

He regarded me rapt and groaned assent. Once he had wriggled free of his shirt, I snailed my tongue from the armpit to the nipple, then back up again, grinning as the low baritone moans informed me that this provided a direct linkup to his loins. Going to my knees, I undid the belt. He lifted his ass from the sofa and pulled his pants down. My fingers spidered down his abdomen. Taking the cock in hand, I placed a wet kiss over the glans. There was a slight tang of precome. I made a pathetic joke about the Netherlands. Deciding that the bed would be more comfortable than the sofa, we proceeded there. We sixty-nined. Because I wanted to fuck, I didn’t care to prolong this phase. But I was delighted to learn that his skills at kissing translated to amazingly proficient cunnilingus.

His cock pinned me to the bed as though I was an insect in a museum display. My legs started in the air, feet waving like tiny wings, but I lowered them around his buttocks and kicked my heels over his thighs. His arms on either side of me supported his weight. My arms wrapped his shoulders and compelled his body onto me. His mass flattened my chest. I barked each time that his cock bottomed out. This fuck sent me careening from one orgasm to another. On our second effort, I swayed on hands and knees while he pounded my pussy from behind. The pendant on my necklace swung pendulously and ricocheted from my chin. With his cock in me, I could not stop coming.

When we weren’t rutting, we were kissing, or I was slobbering over his penis to make it hard for my cunt. We punctuated the few hours of sleep with fucking. He said he had never been with anyone who orgasmed so much. I asked him to make me come some more.

I ran out of condoms. In the morning, we went out for breakfast, replenished my supply of prophylactics at Boots, and adjourned to the flat for one last round. He didn’t leave until noon, making me late for work. Though I am short on weeks in London, I want to hang out with Marshall again before I go.

A spontaneous date August 16, 2011

Posted by Leah in Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Fucking, Repeated hookups.
11 comments

I desired a cock last night. I sent Frank a text: “Wanna fuck?” There wasn’t a response. I gave him a call, got voice mail, and hung up without leaving a message. I thought about Gi, who I saw a few weeks ago, but concluded that the two of us have reached the end of the line. The sex satisfies, but we don’t talk enough. His casual chauvinism is off putting. I don’t like his lack of inquisitiveness. He also lives in a part of town that is inconvenient for me to visit.

I received several calls from the States yesterday, but I figured that everyone who would telephone had already done so. I decided upon a visit to my local in order to seduce a random guy for the night. Buying myself a pint, I insinuated myself into a group of Germans who were standing near the bar. Two of the men in particular chatted me up, but neither interested me much. Another pint, and I latched on to a conversation on American politics. The guy from California who flirted with me wore a gold wedding band. He did not move away when I touched my hand to his arm. The two of us went up to the bar to replenish drinks for the table. Though the pub was sparsely populated on a Monday, we waited for the bartender to take our round of orders. I stood close to him, and while we chatted, my ass brushed his thigh. When I returned from a visit to the toilet, I noticed his friends (a couple) whispering to him conspiratorially. The colloquy subsided to an abrupt silence as I approached. Once my half pint glass of lager was empty, I made a move to the door. The California guy sat there. I hoped he would follow, but he didn’t.

Oh, well, I thought. Good for his wife.

I checked my phone. Frank hadn’t responded. He is spending most of the summer in Oxford. I didn’t see him this weekend when I knew he was in town because I had to entertain a friend from graduate school who was passing through London on her way to Lahore. It was a shot in the dark.

On the way home, I stuck my head into the bar by the youth hostel. No one in there attracted me enough to stay. I decided to call it a night, masturbate, and go to bed. My shoes clopped on the pavement as I mused over whether to do it in the bathtub with the waterproof vibrator or in bed with the dildo while viewing porn.

I checked my phone again. An SMS from Frank: “Tonight you mean?

Two fingers instantly tapped out a reply. “Yeah.

Give me 1 hour.

Ok.

The roommate is out of town this week, so the flat was mine. Once I returned to the apartment, I undressed, took a quick shower, and slipped into lingerie: a fishnet black slip that hid nothing and left the cheeks of my ass hanging out. I poured a glass of wine and waited for Frank in the living room.

I sent another message to emphasize my desire. “Where are you? You need to be in my pussy.

You need to drink my cum.” He never could spell that last word as I preferred.

The door buzzed five minutes later. The preliminaries were brief. He followed me into the bedroom and stripped.

Lips nibbled the foreskin. The head peered out tortoise-like. I coaxed him out of his shell, not that he needed much persuasion.

“It’s my birthday,” I announced. “I need to blow out a candle.”

I sucked him. I stretched out on the mattress on my belly and, slurping loudly, inhaled cock. Before long, I had the crown in my throat. I breathed around the shaft and through my nose while I extended the point of the tongue to touch his balls. Fingernails scratched through his thick nest of pubic hair. Hands gripped Frank’s tree trunk thighs. At the start of this blowjob, Frank steepled his fingers together and rested them atop my head in a blessing. Once his penis shined with saliva, he reached between my legs and manipulated my pussy from underneath my buttocks. His fingers splashed my interior wetness over the labia. I was conscious of how pervasive my scents were.

Frank held the cock vertical, and I pressed my mouth against the heavy balls. While my lips fastened on the testicles and tugged, my fingers replaced his on the shaft. My palm applied a bit of force to the underside. It rolled against the tumescent flesh while I licked the sensitive frenulum and nipped the apron of foreskin first with lips, then with teeth. Fisting the shaft, I stroked from bottom to top extremely slowly. Lowering spit over the head to lubricate the movements of my hand, I decelerated the rise and fall even more and added a slight twist. Though the tempo slackened, my grip did not. I jerked him off this way, fascinated by the changes in the patterns of his breathing, the minuscule shifts in the density of the flesh, and the palpable tow of desire in his hisses.

His speech was barely intelligible. He enunciated the desire that I should go faster. Ignoring him, I maintained the so slow rhythm. My left hand smoothed over the face of his sac. The balls contracted under my touch. Tightening my closed hand about the stem, I felt the surge of semen below the soft velvet skin and the pulsations of the nerves within. Shucking my right hand to the bottom, two fingers from the left pressed hard against the base of the shaft. A ribbon of whiteness flashed before my eyes and striped my cheek. Quickly, I captured the head in my lips and sucked forcefully.

The penis shuddered in my fingers and hopped against my lip. The ejaculate came out in rapid fire bursts. I drank his come. My tongue washed around the crown when he finished.

Frank’s index finger swept over my cheek and collected the first explosion of his semen. I lapped it from his hand.

We kissed for a bit, and then Frank was ready to go again. I extracted a condom from its wrapper and rolled it over the penis. He laid down on the bed. I gripped the shaft in the middle, placed the head at the entrance of my cunt, and lowered my weight on top. As always, the slide of cock felt exquisite. My vagina tightened about the erection.

Frank let me bounce over him while he squeezed my breasts through the fishnet. I hunched forward and fed him one of my tits. He pressed the mesh taut against the breast, slipped the nipple through, and snapped it up with his lips. He nursed wetly. The slurps he made were loud. We kissed mouth to mouth. Frank gripped my buttocks and took over the pace and the direction of the fuck.

He flipped me onto my back, stood on the floor, and clasped my legs where the knees folded. I slid downward across the silky sheets onto his erection. Pussy was impaled by penis. The thick cock pummeled me after that. My fingers rubbed energetically over the clit.

He wanted to switch positions again. I could tell from the concentration in his brow that his orgasm was imminent. I gripped his arm. “No. Keep fucking me,” I said. I wouldn’t come before him this time, but that was fine; I could wait. He panted during his final moments and grunted each time that his cock spurted.

Frank and I huddled in bed. He ran his fingers through my hair and feathered his hand down my shoulders. I nestled myself in the crook of the arm which wrapped around me. He fingered my tits idly. While we chatted about nothing in particular sometimes his fingers would stray to my pussy. I invited Frank to go with me to Paris the first weekend in September as my date to the roommate’s wedding. He said he wasn’t certain about the date — he would consult his diary and get back to me. We kissed for long minutes.

Technically speaking, it was no longer August 15th. Frank sang “Happy Birthday” to my cunt anyway, then went down on me. My fingers interlaced with his while his lips and tongue worked my clitoris over. I like that he always makes certain that I orgasm, too.

My limbs were heavy after coming. Sleep claimed me.

We didn’t fuck again till morning. It was sex in the missionary position, a quickie because I had no time for more. We are hosting a conference at the university. I had seminars to attend and could not linger in bed. As it was still early, Frank decided to have a lie in and let himself out after I had departed.

I have been around the sun twenty-six times now. The twenty-seventh circuit has started well.

Hard and pleasant use August 5, 2011

Posted by Leah in Bondage, Breath play, Buggery, Cunnilingus, D/s, Fellatio, Fucking, Masturbation, Repeated hookups, Spanking, Urine.
7 comments

Because of work commitments, I only had sex once this week, with Amadeo. It was another hard session. This is how it went.

• Amadeo tied my panties about my ankles and had me kneel on the sofa. I bent over the couch with my arms stretched horizontally along the back while he flayed my buttocks with his belt. I screamed through the ball gag.

• While I squirmed over his lap, he held my wrists firmly in one of his hands, forced my legs apart with his thighs, and spanked my pussy. As I haven’t waxed since before my vacation, I have a soft cushion of hair on my pubis. Amadeo used this as an excuse to spank me ten extra times.

• We employed restraints that passed over the door to bind my arms above my head. Amadeo attached nipple clamps to my breasts and whipped my tits as they had so far been left out.

• Finally, he slipped his fly open to expose his cock. I sat on the edge of the coffee table and sucked him off. I was conscious of the ache in my chest and how my ass smarted while I fellated him. Holding the sides of my face, he used my throat for a cunt. The saliva ran in rivers over his cock. The fluvial excess left puddles on the carpet.

• Amadeo didn’t come in my mouth. He peeled off his clothes and fucked me in the ass. I was on the floor, on knees and the balls of my toes with breasts flattened against the cushions of the sofa. He had me hold my cheeks apart for him as he battered his way into me. My buttocks were an angry red. He slapped them again with his bare hand as he fucked me. He told me that he liked to see the flesh ripple.

• A few fingers of whisky, and we were ready to go again. I slouched on my back with my head propped up against the back of the sofa. My feet hooked around his waist. Amadeo squeezed my tits as he probed my cunt with his cock. He jabbed his fingers into my mouth. I brought his hand to my throat. He clutched my windpipe and slipped his tongue past my lips. I enjoyed the kisses as much as I enjoyed his cock.

• He flipped the condom inside out and tipped the semen into the cup of his hand. I lapped the come from his palm. I played with it, stretching long strands between my fingers and breaking them as the triumphant runner tears the tape at the end of a race.

• After all this, Amadeo rested. He reclined on the sofa with his head cushioned by throw pillows against the side. My naked architect leafed through the correspondence of Vincent and Theo Van Gogh. He read aloud to me while I sucked softly on his scrotum and penis. We set the alarm on his iPhone. He wanted me to continue in this way for an hour. As he had come twice, a shifting touch of fingers and lips allowed him to last so long. My jaws were sore. I looked up at him as he finished himself off by masturbating.

• He shot his sperm into my panties. He took the semen wet cloth and rubbed it over my face. He anointed my forehead with his come. It moisturized the pores on my cheeks. To consume the leavings, I sucked hard on the fabric and twisted it until I could taste no more of Amadeo. I decided I would wear the same panties in the morning.

• He ordered me to masturbate in bed. I did so using the steel dildo that I keep in his apartment. He rubbed ice cubes over my breasts. He licked the melted water from my nipples. After the orgasm, he had me do it again because I had climaxed without seeking and acquiring his permission. He kept me going without coming for minutes after I asked, until I begged. Taking the dildo from my pussy, he slipped the ice cubes into my cunt and lapped the slit. When he told me to come, I did so on command. He bit my clitoris. The sharpness of his teeth fused pleasure with pain and augmented the intensity of the orgasm and the volume of my screams.

• In the bathtub in the morning, he blasted the shower at maximum heat and full pressure at my clitoris. I diddled myself until I climaxed, remembering to receive his consent first. Afterwards, we fucked in the hot stream. I went to my knees and drank the contents of his bladder. He hosed me down with it, my face and breasts. I spread my thighs so he could aim the flow at my cunt. I washed it in my hair as though it was shampoo.

• He drove me to the university and sent me to work wearing a buttplug in my anus. It remained in my ass until after lunch.

Fingered to orgasm July 30, 2011

Posted by Leah in Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Masturbation, Repeated hookups.
5 comments

I had on white denim shorts and a bright blue tank top. Thin beige bra straps left lines on my shoulders. Gi wore the t-shirt of a band he likes, an incongruously loud pair of shorts, and red socks. Neon Bible played at low volume on the speakers.

We nestled together on the sofa. I lifted his shirt and deposited kisses on his chest. I mouthed the nipples, sucked and licked until they were hard pebbles. My tongue followed the line between the ribs, up from the belly to the midpoint of the torso and back down again. The kisses were audible.

Gi had me raise my arms and removed my top. He struggled with the hook on my bra but succeeded in freeing my breasts, which he then proceeded to suck. Lips on top of the areola applied pressure while the tongue flicked over the nipple at high velocity.

I gasped at the attention.

My hand reached for the tent in his shorts. Having outlined the extension of the shaft through the cotton, I pressed the heel of my palm against the cylindrical bulge and rolled over it.

Gi continued on my breasts. I pulled his head up for a kiss. I inclined my body backward, and Gi lowered on top of me. I liked his body heat as our bare chests made contact. Our tongues fought a boundary skirmish between lips. Occasionally, one of us made incursions through the gap between teeth, only to be chased out.

I loosened the shorts and reached into the boxers to extract his cock. The head stuck out the top. I bent at the waist to lower my lips onto the swollen crown.

Gi smoothed his hand over my shoulders and back. A hand slipped through the dip at the small of my back into my jean shorts. Gi feathered his middle finger into the cleft of my ass. He cupped the buttocks possessively.

He didn’t let me suck him long. He pulled me up for a kiss. His tongue lapped at the saliva on my chin.

I undid my belt buckle and tugged the buttons of my fly open. The yellow panties I wore had a mesh panel in the front. My arousal had seeped into the fabric. Gi placed his hand on top. The fingers made a curve as he followed the depression in the center. I bent my right leg at the knee and pressed it flush against the cushioned sofa back. Hooking my left leg between his, I separated my thighs as far as the denim allowed.

The tips of the fingers tweaked my pussy lips, which were thick and swollen and still sensitive after the workout that Amadeo had administered two days before. Gi rubbed the digits along the slit. The mesh abraded lightly along the flesh. It made me squirm.

I had one arm behind his back. My hand tilted his face down to meet my lips. He gave me his tongue to suck.

The hand slipped under the elastic waistband of the panties. He extended a digit to hold a long note on my slit. The flesh of my pubis sloshed from side to side like a liquid as he shook his fingers laterally.

I moaned with the pleasure of it through open mouthed kisses.

As he stroked my cunt, I reached for his cock so that I could hold some part of him. My fingers tightened over Gi’s scrotum and massaged it through his shorts. I gripped the short hairs on the back of his head as the already intense kisses became still more so.

At moments, a finger dipped past the lips into the entrance of my vagina. Mostly, he stroked the labia and circled the clit. The movements were slow and steady, but they were firm. My leg twitched.

As my need became more urgent, I stopped kissing him. My eyes screwed shut, and my cheeks winched up. Knowing that I would come, I grimaced at the acuteness of the sensations below. My buttocks pressed against Gi’s thigh as my body shifted nearer to him. The wetness leaked from me. My pussy made soft sucking sounds.

My eyes flashed open, and I saw Gi looking down, staring intently at my face. A loud sigh escaped my lips as he touched a sensitive nerve exactly that way.

He rubbed me harder. He took hold of a tit and covered the nipple with his mouth. I squeaked and giggled with the pleasure of it. My body wriggled from my waist down to my toes.

I squeezed my breasts and compacted my legs about his hand. The clit shuddered. The pussy imploded and turned inside out. The orgasm exuded out of me. It wet my thighs and left my panties moist. His hand was slick in my spendings.

Gi kissed me once I had finished writhing. He went to the floor and removed the shorts and the panties and feasted on my cunt. Before long, his tongue and lips had me coming again. My fluids drenched the cushions of his couch.

Flogged and fucked July 30, 2011

Posted by Leah in Bondage, Cunnilingus, D/s, Fucking, Repeated hookups, Spanking.
8 comments

A reader e-mailed me to ask what it feels like to mix pain with sex. I thought I might use my latest meeting with Amadeo to elaborate on the experience.

The two of us were naked in his bedroom. After eating me out until my juices dripped from his chin, Amadeo used cords of hemp rope to affix my left wrist to my left ankle and my right wrist to my right ankle. With my knees propped up, I laid diagonally on the mattress with my back flat. A pillow supported my head. The blindfold negated my vision. My nipples were swollen from the clamps he had employed half an hour before. He trailed the end of his belt softly along the inner surfaces of my thighs. The touch of leather over the pubis was feather light, gentle, very nearly inconsequential. It floated over the pussy lips, barely making any contact with them. It almost tickled. Then he brought the end slashing down.

A searing pain began in the labia. Circles of hurt radiated outward as the nerves responded. I winced at the blow. My knee pulled up and my body twisted over to one side. The abrupt and angry activation of the nerve endings set me to shaking. Chest heaving, I swallowed gulps of air.

He gave me a few seconds to gather my composure. I let my weight sink into the mattress and spread my thighs open for him in acquiescence. I remembered that he had turned my ass purple the last time we had played.

This time the belt landed directly over my clitoris. After the cunnilingus, the area was excruciatingly sensitive. The hood may have been down. It would have offered feeble defense even if it were not. I screamed. There weren’t words to the bellow. It was a loud confession of pain and rage. My pubis burned with a fiery ache. I squirmed on the mattress. Deep, tearless sobs wracked my body. By exertion of will, I forced myself to take large, steady breaths. I stretched open again and waited for the next sharp blow.

Anticipation stretched out in the silence of the room. My muscles were tense. There was a tightness in my respiration. When the blow came, he struck my clit again.

I called him a motherfucker and a bastard. I wriggled against my bonds and curled one of my thighs protectively over my cunt.

Amadeo very gently eased me to lie flat on the mattress again. A slight, but insistent pressure against my knees extended the chasm between them.

He hit my thighs at the crease where they met the pubis and continued over the legs, leaving my cunt alone. This hurt, but far less than before. When he mixed in the occasional blow to my pussy, I could tolerate this pain. The sensation was not as intense as what had transpired previously.

Amadeo spit on my cunt twice and rubbed the saliva over the lips with the knuckles of his hand. I knew that the next blows would hurt. I gripped the bonds between my hands and my feet, steadied myself, and waited. Indeed, he struck the labia as I had known he would. He missed slightly, so it was a glancing blow rather than a direct hit. He corrected for the mistake, compelling my knees open, flashing the leather down from immediately above. This one really scorched. I sobbed under the blindfold without actually crying and shrieked my fury at him. He folded the belt over and strapped me again. Quite deliberately, the sting landed in exactly the same place as the one before. I spit at him — it was the only thing I could do — but as I was blind, missed badly in my attempt. The globule of expectorate arced onto my breasts. He hawked in my face to show me how it should be done and slapped each of my cheeks.

He traded the belt for the cat-o’-nine-tails. He swung this instrument more freely and fiercely, with less precision than before. The multiple falls meant that several places would hurt at once. But the ache induced was also more diffuse. Additionally, I had gotten used to the whipping; the nerve endings became partially sensitized to the pain. He applied the tails to the thighs more than to the cunt. He lashed my arms, my belly, and then my breasts. I squealed impotently as the cat thudded against my tits. I heard the wooshing sound, the brief movement of air, the momentary breeze on my perspiring skin. Then came the hard landing and the needles shooting pain into the dermis.

At the last, he used the riding crop. “Bastinado,” he said, and he beat the balls of my feet. “Boobs,” he said, and slapped the breasts from the sides. “Ten over the cunt,” he said and made me count. In order to alter the direction of impact, I heard him change sides every few numbers. His hand soothed along the inside of my thigh and coaxed my legs apart. He whispered reassuring words. The gentleness stopped at speech, however. He didn’t moderate his strength.

Whipping is an exercise and an assertion of his power over me. That is the heart of its appeal. I am tied up. He can do what he wants. I surrender my body to his violence. I do this of my own accord. By refusing the security of the safeword, I volunteer to accept the next hard blow. I embrace the pain because a man to whose dominant character I have acceded gives it to me in his generosity. I wear his marks willingly over my skin. I feel so alive as the hurt is administered to me. This is my submission.

The tears started at three. My nose went runny at five. There aren’t words to describe the agony and torment I experienced at seven, eight, and nine. Ten impacted me as a blissful release. The suffering was finally over. Amid the bawling and the howling and the sniveling beneath the blindfold, I also laughed aloud at the completion of the whipping. An overriding sense of accomplishment accompanied the conclusion of the act. I had endured. The pain had excited the nerves. It made me feel awake to the moment. It echoed still. The flesh thrummed in tempo with my pulse. I hurt in places I could not name. This aroused me.

Amadeo kissed me and filled my open mouth with wine. This aroused me, too. He unknotted the rope that bound me. When both hands were free, I plucked the blindfold from my face and threw myself at him. I bit his lower lip and gave him my tongue, taking his. Large paws cupped my tits as we made out. The outside of my cunt throbbed. The muscles in my legs were suffused by ache. My shoulders smarted from being tied for so long. My ankles and wrists were raw from straining against the rope. Small, parallel welts crisscrossed the insides of my thighs. (Evidently, he had applied the cat with greater vigor than I had supposed.) My pussy lips were battered and bruised, deformed and sore. These were minor discomforts now.

“I want you to fuck me,” I told him. I stroked his cock, which was mostly hard.

He fumbled for a moment with the packaging of the condom, then gave up and bit the wrapper open. Once he was sheathed, he leaned his weight against my chest. Opening my lips for his, I fell backward. My legs spread, and his body occupied the room that I had made. I grabbed hold of the shaft and placed it at the entrance of my pussy. Gravity took care of the rest. Amadeo penetrated me, sinking all the way in all at once. I sighed in relief and happiness at the sudden fullness of my cunt. The presence of cock gratified me. It was the axis of my globe. Raising the pelvic floor, I collapsed the muscles of the vagina around the shaft. My ankles hooked about his buttocks, and my arms wrapped his back to compel him closer to me. He fucked me with energetic movements of the hips and pelvis. His lips told me with kisses and words how beautiful I was. His fingers combed through my hair, which was soaking wet. He had not come yet. I had barely touched his penis during foreplay. He did not last long inside my much abused pussy. He lasted long enough to have me convulsing about his erection in the half minute before his own climax.