It's time for me to stop writing. This blog has reached its natural conclusion and will no longer serve any purpose. It's been cathartic.
See you soon. And forever.
Friday, 5 February 2010
Thursday, 4 February 2010
Liber ist...
Love is in the inspirations, the touch and the whisper. Love can unite and free you. If you can love the unlovable, you will feel the power of it. If someone doesn't love you, that's ok, love them anyway.
Foetal Imprisionment
I am plugged into the machine. Can you hear me? I have been living all my life inside a cocoon I had no idea I was in this corpsen shell. I head the clamouring outside but the dark, ebony waters dulled the noise. I could think, but I was trapped, which no amount of thumping could free me from this prison.
Days, weeks, months had gone by now. How long would I have to wait? Who would come and help me escape? Holy shit if I could just breathe! SOMEONE LET ME OUT OF HERE! but still nothing. Why do they laugh everytime I try to push my way out? Oh shit...
The walls are caving in. She, the walls are caving in. What the fuck am I going to do. The walls made of flesh, like an acid burned alien and filled with rotted fluid. Where am I anyway, how did I get here? I can't remember... I can't remember where I was before this hellish prison appeared.
Here it comes, I can here it coming. At the same time every day pulped food enters my body through a tube, I think they put that in me when I was unconscious, or wherever the hell I was before I got here. Wherever the fuck I was I must have done something terrible. Maybe I killed someone. Maybe I killed a newborn child or fought in a war and speared some guy because I was seriously pissed off.
I'm going to die in here. I'm going to die. The walls, they're caving in, they're coming in around me. God I really, really don't want to die in here. Oh no, NO God no, what the fuck is happening. The walls, the walls! SHIIIIT I'm out, fucking thank fuck I'm out! Waaaaaaaah!
Fuck, I can't speak. I can't talk any more. I can't talk, why can't I talk? The fluid's damaged my cornea I think. My senses seem dulled. I think they let me out but I'm not sure what the fuck they're going to do to me. The laughing, the inscesent laughing.
After a few days my body stops aching. I think the fuckers wrapped me in dough or some shit. I think they gave me narcotics, I can't move properly. I must have been in that fucking prison for ages.
Okay, my eyesight seems to be returning, I can hear a little more clearly. I can grab at things, I can hold onto a huge finge... shit, I'm a baby. I a goddamn motherfucking baby man. How the fuck did that happen? Wow! It's like I... I... wait, hang on a second. Fuck, that means that every time I die I'm actually... What was I saying. Oh yeah, I... What...
[blackout]
E. Pulman©2010
Days, weeks, months had gone by now. How long would I have to wait? Who would come and help me escape? Holy shit if I could just breathe! SOMEONE LET ME OUT OF HERE! but still nothing. Why do they laugh everytime I try to push my way out? Oh shit...
The walls are caving in. She, the walls are caving in. What the fuck am I going to do. The walls made of flesh, like an acid burned alien and filled with rotted fluid. Where am I anyway, how did I get here? I can't remember... I can't remember where I was before this hellish prison appeared.
Here it comes, I can here it coming. At the same time every day pulped food enters my body through a tube, I think they put that in me when I was unconscious, or wherever the hell I was before I got here. Wherever the fuck I was I must have done something terrible. Maybe I killed someone. Maybe I killed a newborn child or fought in a war and speared some guy because I was seriously pissed off.
I'm going to die in here. I'm going to die. The walls, they're caving in, they're coming in around me. God I really, really don't want to die in here. Oh no, NO God no, what the fuck is happening. The walls, the walls! SHIIIIT I'm out, fucking thank fuck I'm out! Waaaaaaaah!
Fuck, I can't speak. I can't talk any more. I can't talk, why can't I talk? The fluid's damaged my cornea I think. My senses seem dulled. I think they let me out but I'm not sure what the fuck they're going to do to me. The laughing, the inscesent laughing.
After a few days my body stops aching. I think the fuckers wrapped me in dough or some shit. I think they gave me narcotics, I can't move properly. I must have been in that fucking prison for ages.
Okay, my eyesight seems to be returning, I can hear a little more clearly. I can grab at things, I can hold onto a huge finge... shit, I'm a baby. I a goddamn motherfucking baby man. How the fuck did that happen? Wow! It's like I... I... wait, hang on a second. Fuck, that means that every time I die I'm actually... What was I saying. Oh yeah, I... What...
[blackout]
E. Pulman©2010
Wednesday, 3 February 2010
I don't like the drugs but the drugs like me.
I'd like to wallow in self pity if I may:
Fuck! These drugs are horrendous. Well, not the drugs, they were nice, but the withdrawal from them is heinous. I'm itching and restless, tired but can't sleep. In pain but so disgusted with these painkillers' effects that all I can do is toss and turn and get up and smoke more cigarettes.
Day 1 of not smoking weed: Meh, whatever. I'll have one when I have one.
Day 1 of not taking Tramadol: twitching, aching, restlessness.
Day 2 of not smoking weed: Yeah, I'll have an egg butty.
Day 2 of not taking Tramadol: Emotionally erratic, serious twitching, restlessness, aching etcetera etcetera.
I even tried wanking, which usually solves most problems let's face it. And for a few blissful moments I was realised from this nightmare of suffering. Wank number two was the same, and that's usually the one to send me off to a blissfull night's sleep.
That made me segway into thoughts about how men think they have exclusive rights on the word wank. Ha!
And fuck for that matter. Fucking does not require a penis to enter the vagina, despite what the rape laws say.
Oh, I dunno. Maybe I need an egg butty.
Fuck! These drugs are horrendous. Well, not the drugs, they were nice, but the withdrawal from them is heinous. I'm itching and restless, tired but can't sleep. In pain but so disgusted with these painkillers' effects that all I can do is toss and turn and get up and smoke more cigarettes.
Day 1 of not smoking weed: Meh, whatever. I'll have one when I have one.
Day 1 of not taking Tramadol: twitching, aching, restlessness.
Day 2 of not smoking weed: Yeah, I'll have an egg butty.
Day 2 of not taking Tramadol: Emotionally erratic, serious twitching, restlessness, aching etcetera etcetera.
I even tried wanking, which usually solves most problems let's face it. And for a few blissful moments I was realised from this nightmare of suffering. Wank number two was the same, and that's usually the one to send me off to a blissfull night's sleep.
That made me segway into thoughts about how men think they have exclusive rights on the word wank. Ha!
And fuck for that matter. Fucking does not require a penis to enter the vagina, despite what the rape laws say.
Oh, I dunno. Maybe I need an egg butty.
In search of The Light Bringer
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Korean_mythology
http://www.satanservice.org/graphics/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Japanese_mythology
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hindu_mythology
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hindu_mythology
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heruka
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Azazel
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cherub
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Euthyphro_dilemma
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christian_mythology
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hermetica
http://www.conjure.com/COG/lore.html
http://www.frostydrew.org/observatory/courses/myths/booklet.htm
http://uncyclopedia.wikia.com/wiki/Atheism#Atheist_Mythology
http://www.satanservice.org/graphics/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Japanese_mythology
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hindu_mythology
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hindu_mythology
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heruka
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Azazel
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cherub
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Euthyphro_dilemma
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christian_mythology
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hermetica
http://www.conjure.com/COG/lore.html
http://www.frostydrew.org/observatory/courses/myths/booklet.htm
http://uncyclopedia.wikia.com/wiki/Atheism#Atheist_Mythology
Tuesday, 2 February 2010
You were
You were the one and you left me.
You were the one and then you cut my heart in two.
You were the one who told me love could never feel this good,
You were the one who showed me beauty in the stars.
You were the words, you were the music, you were the chaos and the pain.
You were my cataclysmic love and you left me in the rain.
You were the one and then you cut my heart in two.
You were the one who told me love could never feel this good,
You were the one who showed me beauty in the stars.
You were the words, you were the music, you were the chaos and the pain.
You were my cataclysmic love and you left me in the rain.
Moments after a binary joke.
010010000110000101101000011000010110100001100001011010000110000101101000011000010110100001100001011010000110000101101000011000010110100001100001011010000110000101101000011000010110100001100001011010000110000100100001
ईन्तेर्मिस्सिओन (अ ब्रेक फ्रॉम perversity
What the fuck is that, Hindi? Anyway, it looks fucking nice so it's staying there. What was I talking about now? Oh yeah, cyclic universe theory.
So, scientists have been waffling on about the universe again (physicists like doing that).
I have no qualifications in quantum mechanics, or physics, or fucking anything truth be told, so this is pure speculation, supposition and conjecture. But nevertheless I'm going to spew forth my own ideas about what the fuck is going on in this (I hesitate to use the word but for lack of a better one I must) universe.
So, let's start at the very beginning, it's a very good place to start. There is no beginning, can anyone fathom that? The fact that the universe never began, it will never end. Yeah, this is starting to sound a bit like tree-hugging hippy shit but bear with me.
For the universe to have had a finite beginning it must have had a causal moment, for that causal moment to occur that in turn must have had to have had (cool grammatical loopage there Em) a preceding cause. Which means nothing in existence can ever have been brought forth from nothing. There must always be a cause, it stands to reason and is both logical and infallible.
And so, what is left is a never ending series of explosions, exponential energy, atrophy, gravity and resultant explosion of force created by the cataclysmic forces in space. Not just once, but over and over again, in multiple catastrophic explosions, on an atomic level and a universal scale. Like circles in a pond from rainfall.
What does this mean? That life is not linear, time is not linear, the universe is not on a straight path from beginning to end. Life is forever in a violent process of explosion, expulsion, expiration and expelled. It means that by the first law of thermodynamics it has always been, will always be in an exchange.
But strangely enough...
So, scientists have been waffling on about the universe again (physicists like doing that).
I have no qualifications in quantum mechanics, or physics, or fucking anything truth be told, so this is pure speculation, supposition and conjecture. But nevertheless I'm going to spew forth my own ideas about what the fuck is going on in this (I hesitate to use the word but for lack of a better one I must) universe.
So, let's start at the very beginning, it's a very good place to start. There is no beginning, can anyone fathom that? The fact that the universe never began, it will never end. Yeah, this is starting to sound a bit like tree-hugging hippy shit but bear with me.
For the universe to have had a finite beginning it must have had a causal moment, for that causal moment to occur that in turn must have had to have had (cool grammatical loopage there Em) a preceding cause. Which means nothing in existence can ever have been brought forth from nothing. There must always be a cause, it stands to reason and is both logical and infallible.
And so, what is left is a never ending series of explosions, exponential energy, atrophy, gravity and resultant explosion of force created by the cataclysmic forces in space. Not just once, but over and over again, in multiple catastrophic explosions, on an atomic level and a universal scale. Like circles in a pond from rainfall.
What does this mean? That life is not linear, time is not linear, the universe is not on a straight path from beginning to end. Life is forever in a violent process of explosion, expulsion, expiration and expelled. It means that by the first law of thermodynamics it has always been, will always be in an exchange.
Energy can neither be created nor destroyed. It can only change forms.
In any process in an isolated system, the total energy remains the same.
energy systems have a tendency to increase their entropy rather than decrease it.
As a system approaches absolute zero, all processes cease and the entropy of the system approaches a minimum value.
But strangely enough...
Absolute zero is the temperature at which entropy reaches its minimum value. As implied by the laws of thermodynamics, absolute zero cannot be reached by artificial or natural means because this would require a system to be fully removed from the rest of the universe.
Monday, 1 February 2010
Timeline - 33.5:
| I need the rush of adrenaline pumping through my veins. I'm probably what Chuck Palaniuk would call a sex addict. I wonder if most women are and for some strange reason society thinks we don't think about sex every 3.5 seconds like men allegedly do. I haven't met a man who thinks about sex more than I do, and Paul is no exception. The first time we met I made him fuck me eight times that night and another four or five the following day. I was at a metal/goth l club dancing alone. Usually what happens is some bloke comes up and shoves his crotch in my arse and starts to grind, I turn around and walk away. This happened about five times that night, it's a good job I didn't wear the PVC dress I was going to or I'd have found myself in the middle of a bukakke party. My friend turned up with a rather tasty young thing, and knew it too, which is fun. We danced like we were on the set of some hideous metal video, both of us thinking we were the sexiest things since Dita and Marilyn. Anyway, I'm sure this isn't what you wanted to hear. "Take me upstairs and fuck me", were my words. He turned around and smiled, half shock half amusement. He spat out a "What?" through a laugh. I just got up and he followed. Have you any idea what it feels like to have a big cock thrust into you, especially with a few shots of tequila, a couple of beers and fuck knows what else? It takes your breath away. It feels so fucking amazing you want time to stop and if you stay still the feeling just lingers there in the pit of your stomach until you move again. He got up at one point and say on an armchair at the bottom of the bed. His cock was thick and hard as fuck and inviting me to lower myself down onto it slowly. As I did my eyes closed and my head fell forward in sheer ecstasy. I love that feeling when it first slides in, feeling the entire length inch its way inside, fuck it blows my mind. I can tell when it's good sex or really fucking amazing sex by how wet I get and I was an ocean at this point. The squelching noises mixed with the smell was a heady cocktail and the way he grabbed huge handfuls of my arse as he bounced me up and down on his cock made me gush all over him again and again. Back on the bed I got on top and just used his cock to make myself cum. CAT posture makes me orgasm without fail every time. I just push my clit against his pubic bone and fuck til my heart's content. I held on to the bed frame and slid myself up and down his shaft until I came all over him. I fucked him again and again all night and all the next day too. A cock like that only comes around once in a while and I wasn't sure when I'd get something that good again so the poor thing was ridden into oblivion. I'm happy to say he's still alive and being used as my little fuck toy regularly. |
Timeline: unaltered
Arms spread against the wall, legs wide and his hands gripping my hips pulling me back onto his cock hard and fast. Nothing feels this good, nothing in the world. It felt completely animalistic, it made me feel like every atom in my body was spinning in absolute pleasure.
Something else I'd forgotten about was just how good a big cock felt pounding into me, how dripping fucking wet it gets me. I looked back over my shoulder and watched him hammering into me. His legs supporting his weight with him just thumping against my arse. I imagined what his view must have been like, watching his cock slide in and out of me, my arms outstretched and nails trying but failing to dig into the bathroom wall.
Sex like this doesn't last long, this is the perfect position for a fast, hard fuck and I love it. I don't know where this thing about men having to last hours comes from, I get such a huge rush from knowing he's turned on so much he can't hold himself back. And most men are fairly quiet when they fuck except for that delicious little grunt that escapes when he shoots his load inside me. Fuck, that feeling of warm cum dribbling down my thighs!
I scooped up globs of his cum and licked every drop off my fingers. Legs shaking uncontrollably and both our breathing like we'd ran a mile. There's nowhere to relax after a fuck up against the wall so you just have to rest your head against the wall and bathe in this bliss.
Timeline: Hadaen Period
Soft whispers of tongue delicately lapping at the silken skin of his cock. Gentle whimpers as I glided like a leaf falling from a tree onto him. Waves running up and down his shaft and then plunging him into me like waves against a rock. Working up to heavy blows. Cock thick and hard and ready, like a pillar of stone in my mouth. And him, sweetly licking over the delicate little nub of my pleasure. Trying desperately to focus on him but getting lost in the summer meadows of his tongue.
Unable to hold back my urge to feel him entirely inside me I mounted him on lowered myself down, down, edging, resisting, slowly, down. And then... bliss. That moment when mind and body become one. That moment when the whole universe disappears and all that exists is feeling. The sheer ecstasy of two bodies in union. In this moment I feel like death itself. That beautiful shroud everyone is so scared of covers me and envelops me. I am one with nothing right now, just this moment and then...
It is released.
A cascade of hot, burning energy fills me, washes over him, explodes like a gushing volcano all over his ever thumping galvanised cock.
Limp, he urges me on. Exhausted I fall to his chest and shake, but he needs to keep going. I turn around and guide him into me from behind. Again I feel my breath being ripped from my stomach as his massive dick slams into me. Thrust against the wall and pounded again and again. Then, fluttering tiny little jerks into my as I feel him gather in my chest. I can feel him coming in my own body. A magnificent shock of pleasure explodes as he hammers the last few stabs into me.
Now we're both spent, knees shaking, hearts racing, shattered and warm. Sperm oozing down my leg and pooling on the floor. I love the smell of his seed.
Waking Dreams
The pressure against my flesh, parting my labia, forcing itself into me, widening me, tearing at my not yet ready cunt. And then, oh, breathlessness as I'm impaled fully. He pushed himself into my sleeping hole and pulled my hips back onto him.
I buried my head half into the pillow and muttered a soft, "shit" with intense pleasure. I wasn't sure if this was still a dream, I had this feeling like I shouldn't be doing this, that whatever was happening to me at that moment was something I wasn't prepared for. Dazed and sleepy my body was just being taken and then, I realised this was completely right. As I came around I had words floating around in my head, this is yours; take it, So I did.
Fuck, there's nothing like the feeling of having yourself filled just before you wake up. I remember the first time it happened. I woke up to the feeling of a soft, wet tongue parting my lips, sucking gently on my clitoris and his tongue dipping into my cunt. I had no control over my reaction, but the surprise of waking up to sexual pleasure released a low, resonant "Yes" from the pit of my stomach. He just sucked slowly on me, delicately and rhythmically. Literally seconds from orgasm he just flipped me over onto my stomach and pulled my arse into his face.
I fucking loved the way he was so carnal and raw. There were no worries about being freshly washed, he just loved those smells of a woman's body in the morning when she smells natural and sweet and ready.
He probed his tongue into my arse and forced a high pitched squeal from me. Mentally begging him to push his cock in there, but not wanting this to stop just yet. And then he took me agonisingly slowly, inching himself into my saliva moistened arsehole. Every inch just tantalisingly painful. God I love that feeling, I could just die right there and then, in utter fucking bliss and pain, anal sex is like a really fucking good oxymoron; blissfully painful.
I don't know about most women, I expect I'm probably a little different in that I get such a sexual kick from a man shooting his sperm inside me really quickly. Knowing he's really fucking aroused and only able to thrust a few times before he empties himself inside me. I can feel his orgasm myself, it turns me on even more than my own orgasm. I know when a man makes a woman come it feels that way for him, the base explosion and expulsion of orgasm flowing all over his cock. That's how it feels for me, feeling his thick liquid spurt and ooze out of me slowly. I fucking love it and I have no idea why any woman wouldn't. To know your body has made him surge and expel his seed inside you is such a rush.
The other night after I'd sucked Paul's cock until he shot his load down my throat he told me to climb on top while he was still really sensitive and held my arse up while he pounded into me until he came again. Two fucking delicious loads in both ends within a matter of a minute or two, now that's the shit for me, that's what makes me feel like the most sexual animal ever.
What the fuck was I talking about? Oh yes, being woken up being fucked. Wow, I didn't even mind that the thin skin of my inner labia was being ripped a little, the sharp sting was well and truly overridden by the extreme pleasure of feeling his cock thundering into me at five in the morning. Sometimes we just wake up and fuck and fall back asleep all wet and exhausted.
I think I'll wake him up later with my mouth wrapped around his fucking beautiful cock and try to make him cum in my mouth before he wakes up fully. I think I have found a niche in the market of alarm clocks here.
You know who you are III
You're not like the bee drinking my nectar,
You're the fly around my shit.
You're not the apple of my eye darling,
You're the arrow shot right through it.
You're not the butterflies floating in my stomach,
You're the bile I can't throw up.
You're not the man of my dreams sweetheart,
You're the nightmare that I fucked.
Your words don't make my heart delight,
You're the poet I want to hang,
You're not the one, the only one,
You're the song I screamed not sang.
So fuck you now and evermore,
And fuck you for all time,
Here's to you my fucking love,
My poisoned cup of wine
You know who you are II
I used to hate the caw of the magpie, I used to fear the raven, until last year it came to my chamber and sat on Pallas' bust outside my window. In flight it looked majestic, those black wings stretched far across the sky, shimmering a neon green. I wasn't sure if this was a real bird or whether it was Huginn or Muninn come to tell the raven-god of tales. Venus pierced the night sky like a neutron explosion in a thimble, a heron flew over and winter cast its shroud of bleak beauty. I used to hate the winter, I used to hate the caw of the corvis, I never knew the beauty of the broken winged window dweller.
And now Nevermore is nevermore, no more rapping on my chamber door, no majestic flight in the misty winter's sky. And revisiting it in my mind only brings with it the pain of its absence. But who knows, who knows? Perhaps the bird has returned to Odin to tell tale of what it saw, and one day it might return to soar over my chamber once more.
I saw them flock around the castle gates, I saw them dance and chatter and laugh. Are they omens, are they pagan god's messengers, or are they just obsidian scavengers? If I told you he was mine at night, if I told you ours was the cold, winter's sky, and the snow, and the wind, and the roaring coal fire inside, could I ever go back?
Never will I turn back the seasons, never can I call him back to me, never will Poe or Dylan write another line for me to reference when he's not there. One eyed hanged man bring him back to me, put on your woman's garb and cast your powerful spell, or heal that which is broken and dry up the rivers that flow still.
Fantasies
I read The Secret Garden when I woke up today. It’s supposed to be sensual and erotic fantasies women have but I flicked through a few stories and the only things that did it for me ever so slightly weren’t the fantasies but the accounts of actual events. This one woman has this elaborate fantasy about being taken by a room full of men, strangely she tells of her husband touching himself in the bed next to her, sometimes for a hour she said. He says, “open your legs” and fills her full of cum then goes to sleep. I have no idea why, but that turned me on more than these imaginings of these sexually frustrated women.
As I read I asked myself what my sexual fantasies are and no matter how much I scanned my databanks I just couldn’t think of something. Then later I remembered I have this fantasy, it’s so strong I’m not sure if it’s going to compel me to actually do it. I’ve imagined doing this for years, and I’ve come close to it but I just don’t think I’d have the balls to go through with it now.
My fantasy is to be a sex worker, a very, very good sex worker. There’s no specific scenario that goes with it, it’s just a recurring thought that I’d like to get paid for something I really enjoy doing, and do quite well. I’ve imagined being a stripper too, so I went to a strip joint to see what it was like. The girls were sexy but the biggest kick was watching the men in the room drool over women dancing for me. I’ve fantasised about hiring a male prostitute too. What more could you ask for than a man to turn up at your door, no flowers, no chocolates, just a pocket full of condoms and for him to do everything you ask for.
I’d take him upstairs and tell him to strip, slowly, very slowly and look into my eyes as he did. Then I’d lie on my back on the bed and pull my frilly, pink baby doll knickers to one side and order him to eat me out, have him lick me slowly in circles and run his tongue down to my slit and back up to my clit. Then tell him to take my labia majora in his fingers and nibble all along them. I’d tell him to put a condom on and slide into my cunt very slowly and when he’s all the way in I’d tell him to stop moving and just stay still for a while. I’d lie there for an age just drinking in that amazing feeling when a cock penetrates you for the first time. Pumping my pelvic floor muscles around his rock hard cock and looking at his body hovered over me.
When I feel fully aroused I’d roll over and tell him to suck on my arsehole and push his tongue inside me and then have him spit hard on my anus and cover me in lots of spit. I’d tell him to push against the pursed kiss of my arse with the tip of his cock and slide inside me extremely slowly and when the head is in and my sphincter pops to just hold it right there. I’d squeeze my arse muscles tight and release them and pump them hard. I’d have to bury my face in the pillow and grunt. I’d say, “Okay soldier, fuck at will”. And feel him hammer my arse hard.
When I’m about to orgasm I’d tell him to change his condom and fuck my cunt again and stick three fingers in my arse and push deep while he pumps his cock hard at a forty five degree angle so he bangs against my g spot. I’d have him fuck me like that for a while, until I’m almost coming and then (as previously requested) ask him to put the nipple clamps on me. They’d have a long chain that went around my back and have him fuck me like before with his fingers in my arse and his cock pounding my g spot, pulling the chain harder and harder. Then I’d tell him to stop and sit on the edge of the bed and kneel over him and have him spank my bottom really firmly, right in the middle so it bangs against my sphincter muscle and feels delightfully painful.
I’d have him do that all night, but I’m paying for this by the hour, so I get him to fuck me again and then have him stop, I’d turn onto my back and wank while straddled over me and watch him cum all over my ample breasts. Since this is my fantasy he’d have taken Viagra so he remains hard and I tell him to lick it all up, every last drop and spit it into my mouth.. I’d spit it back into his and we’d swap it back and forth as we took turns going on top. While I was on top I’d slide up to his mouth and hover over his face and rock my hips back and forth and keep his spunk in my mouth making my tongue feel numb. It’s called the fluttering butterfly. I always thought that was such a beautiful metaphor. It suggests a beauty and a delicacy and a wonderfully tender dance on my clitoris. Then I’d lie on my back and lift myself onto my shoulders while he plunged his cock into me from above and have him stand legs open wide with his feet pinning my outstretched hands down on the bed. Again, taking me to the brink of orgasm but just as I’m about to I’d motion for him to lay on his stomach and spread his legs. I’d part his cheeks and gently lick his arse, circling the tip of my tongue on his smooth, tight skin and push his own cum inside his arse as deep as I could with my tongue.
Both of us covered in his cum I’d tell him to make me cum now. So he gets a strip of white lace and covers my eyes with it, another ties my writs to the bed above my head and opens my legs wide and ties each ankle to the furthest slats of the bed frame. I’m blind, exposed, bound and spread wide open and he pulls the duvet over himself and lower himself down onto me and slides his cock into my arse once again. He thrusts slowly but rhythmically and pushes his pubic bone against my clitoris and runs the flat of his tongue all over my breasts. Taking one nipple between his lip covered teeth and the other between his index finger and thumb and rolls it in time with his mouth on the other nipple. Everything in perfect synchronicity he works my whole body exquisitely and asks me to cum for him. Over and over again and it draws out a build up of energy deep inside my cunt, the pit of my stomach, my chest, my throat and my head. My cheeks are burning and flushed, my chest is washed with a scarlet rash and he just keeps grinding with a perfect tempo. My orgasm spills over and I leave my physical body for a few moments, Floating in pure sexual energy in a formless heaven for what seems like an eon, then he brings me back with his cock slamming into me hard. He’s thundering into me like an animal with his hand pressing down on my lower abdomen. My orgasm doesn’t wane and he thrusts against my swollen g spot over and over again. I feel a sensation like I’m going to piss and after several more hard slams into me I begin to wail like a young widower at her husband’s funeral and he pulls out fast and shifts his head between my legs and I cover his face in my stream of spurting ejaculate.
This time he puts his hand under my head and cradles it sweetly as he trickles my own juices into my mouth and rubs his lips on me, slides his tongue into my mouth and kisses me softly, sensually, adoringly. He lifts the blindfold off my eyes and smiles. We look into each others eyes and he says, “Thank you”. I’m in sheer post coital bliss and utterly relaxed. He unties me, covers me with the duvet, kisses me on the forehead, takes his money from the side table, scoops up his clothes and leaves. I fall into a lovely deep sleep with a huge smile on my face.
As I read I asked myself what my sexual fantasies are and no matter how much I scanned my databanks I just couldn’t think of something. Then later I remembered I have this fantasy, it’s so strong I’m not sure if it’s going to compel me to actually do it. I’ve imagined doing this for years, and I’ve come close to it but I just don’t think I’d have the balls to go through with it now.
My fantasy is to be a sex worker, a very, very good sex worker. There’s no specific scenario that goes with it, it’s just a recurring thought that I’d like to get paid for something I really enjoy doing, and do quite well. I’ve imagined being a stripper too, so I went to a strip joint to see what it was like. The girls were sexy but the biggest kick was watching the men in the room drool over women dancing for me. I’ve fantasised about hiring a male prostitute too. What more could you ask for than a man to turn up at your door, no flowers, no chocolates, just a pocket full of condoms and for him to do everything you ask for.
I’d take him upstairs and tell him to strip, slowly, very slowly and look into my eyes as he did. Then I’d lie on my back on the bed and pull my frilly, pink baby doll knickers to one side and order him to eat me out, have him lick me slowly in circles and run his tongue down to my slit and back up to my clit. Then tell him to take my labia majora in his fingers and nibble all along them. I’d tell him to put a condom on and slide into my cunt very slowly and when he’s all the way in I’d tell him to stop moving and just stay still for a while. I’d lie there for an age just drinking in that amazing feeling when a cock penetrates you for the first time. Pumping my pelvic floor muscles around his rock hard cock and looking at his body hovered over me.
When I feel fully aroused I’d roll over and tell him to suck on my arsehole and push his tongue inside me and then have him spit hard on my anus and cover me in lots of spit. I’d tell him to push against the pursed kiss of my arse with the tip of his cock and slide inside me extremely slowly and when the head is in and my sphincter pops to just hold it right there. I’d squeeze my arse muscles tight and release them and pump them hard. I’d have to bury my face in the pillow and grunt. I’d say, “Okay soldier, fuck at will”. And feel him hammer my arse hard.
When I’m about to orgasm I’d tell him to change his condom and fuck my cunt again and stick three fingers in my arse and push deep while he pumps his cock hard at a forty five degree angle so he bangs against my g spot. I’d have him fuck me like that for a while, until I’m almost coming and then (as previously requested) ask him to put the nipple clamps on me. They’d have a long chain that went around my back and have him fuck me like before with his fingers in my arse and his cock pounding my g spot, pulling the chain harder and harder. Then I’d tell him to stop and sit on the edge of the bed and kneel over him and have him spank my bottom really firmly, right in the middle so it bangs against my sphincter muscle and feels delightfully painful.
I’d have him do that all night, but I’m paying for this by the hour, so I get him to fuck me again and then have him stop, I’d turn onto my back and wank while straddled over me and watch him cum all over my ample breasts. Since this is my fantasy he’d have taken Viagra so he remains hard and I tell him to lick it all up, every last drop and spit it into my mouth.. I’d spit it back into his and we’d swap it back and forth as we took turns going on top. While I was on top I’d slide up to his mouth and hover over his face and rock my hips back and forth and keep his spunk in my mouth making my tongue feel numb. It’s called the fluttering butterfly. I always thought that was such a beautiful metaphor. It suggests a beauty and a delicacy and a wonderfully tender dance on my clitoris. Then I’d lie on my back and lift myself onto my shoulders while he plunged his cock into me from above and have him stand legs open wide with his feet pinning my outstretched hands down on the bed. Again, taking me to the brink of orgasm but just as I’m about to I’d motion for him to lay on his stomach and spread his legs. I’d part his cheeks and gently lick his arse, circling the tip of my tongue on his smooth, tight skin and push his own cum inside his arse as deep as I could with my tongue.
Both of us covered in his cum I’d tell him to make me cum now. So he gets a strip of white lace and covers my eyes with it, another ties my writs to the bed above my head and opens my legs wide and ties each ankle to the furthest slats of the bed frame. I’m blind, exposed, bound and spread wide open and he pulls the duvet over himself and lower himself down onto me and slides his cock into my arse once again. He thrusts slowly but rhythmically and pushes his pubic bone against my clitoris and runs the flat of his tongue all over my breasts. Taking one nipple between his lip covered teeth and the other between his index finger and thumb and rolls it in time with his mouth on the other nipple. Everything in perfect synchronicity he works my whole body exquisitely and asks me to cum for him. Over and over again and it draws out a build up of energy deep inside my cunt, the pit of my stomach, my chest, my throat and my head. My cheeks are burning and flushed, my chest is washed with a scarlet rash and he just keeps grinding with a perfect tempo. My orgasm spills over and I leave my physical body for a few moments, Floating in pure sexual energy in a formless heaven for what seems like an eon, then he brings me back with his cock slamming into me hard. He’s thundering into me like an animal with his hand pressing down on my lower abdomen. My orgasm doesn’t wane and he thrusts against my swollen g spot over and over again. I feel a sensation like I’m going to piss and after several more hard slams into me I begin to wail like a young widower at her husband’s funeral and he pulls out fast and shifts his head between my legs and I cover his face in my stream of spurting ejaculate.
This time he puts his hand under my head and cradles it sweetly as he trickles my own juices into my mouth and rubs his lips on me, slides his tongue into my mouth and kisses me softly, sensually, adoringly. He lifts the blindfold off my eyes and smiles. We look into each others eyes and he says, “Thank you”. I’m in sheer post coital bliss and utterly relaxed. He unties me, covers me with the duvet, kisses me on the forehead, takes his money from the side table, scoops up his clothes and leaves. I fall into a lovely deep sleep with a huge smile on my face.
You know who you are.
That I didn't break,
That I didn't shatter.
That I didn't die
That you don't matter.
That you never won,
That I wasn't beat.
That you couldn't run,
That I made you weak.
That we both meld,
That we seemed to fit.
That you're not mine,
That I felt shit.
That once it was,
That's never more.
That you walked out
That one way door.
That broke the spell,
That little sip,
That devil's cup,
That made me sick.
That memories fade,
That time will heal.
That fucking lie,
That death toll peel.
That I didn't shatter.
That I didn't die
That you don't matter.
That you never won,
That I wasn't beat.
That you couldn't run,
That I made you weak.
That we both meld,
That we seemed to fit.
That you're not mine,
That I felt shit.
That once it was,
That's never more.
That you walked out
That one way door.
That broke the spell,
That little sip,
That devil's cup,
That made me sick.
That memories fade,
That time will heal.
That fucking lie,
That death toll peel.
Timeline 26:
The bathroom door was open and I stood there at the kitchen sink in my tiny two up-two down gazing at him. I could not take my eyes off him for a fucking second. He looked like Jesus, all wet with his long hair and beard. He was honestly the most beautiful thing I had seen in my motherfucking life, full fucking stop.
His head tilted to the side as he rubbed his curly locks. Sheer, wet perfection; my heart just stood still for an eternity. That tight feeling in my chest gripped me fiercely. God, I wanted him instantly, I wanted him to completely devour me.
I just love it when shy men feel comfortable enough to go for it, so when his piercing blue eyes flashed me a look that told me he was coming for me I almost fell to my knees right there and then.
I didnt know what he was going to do, and the element of utter surprise shot a blot of excitement right through me. He walked over to me without taking his eyes off me for a second and wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and pulled me sharply to his mouth. No tenderness, no gentility, he forced his tongue right into the back of my mouth and kept it deep inside and he forced my head to an angle and his in the other direction. His mouth gaping wide, my lips stretched to the maximum while he stabbed his tongue further and further down my mouth.
His hand smacked against me and cupped my vulva firmly. My knees shook as he ripped my jeans down in urgent, needing tugs. His foot kicked my leg to the side and opened me up, in one powerful move he stuffed his index and middle finger inside my cunt and yanked me towards him with them and then pushed me away. With as much strength as one would use to push a person away from you or pull them close he pressed against the front wall of my extremely swollen vagina. Well, to say I howled would be the understatement of the fucking century. Birds rose in flocks from the trees outside, I'm sure the earth quaked and the sound muffled, still smothered by his tongue penetrating my mouth, screamed in shocked bliss down his throat and through my nose. Thunderbolts slammed through me, shooting waves after wave of furious desire throughout me, epicentering in the pit of my stomach. Weep by Skunk Anansie played in musical accompaniment, her raspy voice screaming the feelings tearing through my body at that very moment.
Blow after stunning fucking blow he pounded his fingers back and forth, my cunt just oozing sweet juices all over his hand. I was willing my body to orgasm, I had never felt the need for release so strongly. Continually roaring into his throat in almost unbearable ecstasy. Thumping against my engorged G-spot, my body trembling and that's when my knees gave way. I slowly slid down to the floor and he just kept pounding, pulling my hips clean off the floor, he ordered me, "come for me now Emma, now!"
And that was it, his command dragged that galvanic orgasm out of me like a dynamite blast. One hand gripped down onto the hard, cold floor under me and the other one gripped a huge handful of hair and tore his head away as a deep, resonant earsplitting roar broke into the air. It lasted fucking ages, one incredible, long excruciatingly heavy, body wrenching climax shattered through every single fucking atom of me and plateaued as I peaked and I floated in formless, perfect acquisition of a fierce aftershock that held me there for what seemed like forever.
Completely spent I collapsed every muscle and fibre of my being and lay there quivering. He kissed me incredibly delicately and whispered, "good girl", and one final jolt of electric pleasure discharged from my stomach into my chest. I felt wholly his.
His head tilted to the side as he rubbed his curly locks. Sheer, wet perfection; my heart just stood still for an eternity. That tight feeling in my chest gripped me fiercely. God, I wanted him instantly, I wanted him to completely devour me.
I just love it when shy men feel comfortable enough to go for it, so when his piercing blue eyes flashed me a look that told me he was coming for me I almost fell to my knees right there and then.
I didnt know what he was going to do, and the element of utter surprise shot a blot of excitement right through me. He walked over to me without taking his eyes off me for a second and wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and pulled me sharply to his mouth. No tenderness, no gentility, he forced his tongue right into the back of my mouth and kept it deep inside and he forced my head to an angle and his in the other direction. His mouth gaping wide, my lips stretched to the maximum while he stabbed his tongue further and further down my mouth.
His hand smacked against me and cupped my vulva firmly. My knees shook as he ripped my jeans down in urgent, needing tugs. His foot kicked my leg to the side and opened me up, in one powerful move he stuffed his index and middle finger inside my cunt and yanked me towards him with them and then pushed me away. With as much strength as one would use to push a person away from you or pull them close he pressed against the front wall of my extremely swollen vagina. Well, to say I howled would be the understatement of the fucking century. Birds rose in flocks from the trees outside, I'm sure the earth quaked and the sound muffled, still smothered by his tongue penetrating my mouth, screamed in shocked bliss down his throat and through my nose. Thunderbolts slammed through me, shooting waves after wave of furious desire throughout me, epicentering in the pit of my stomach. Weep by Skunk Anansie played in musical accompaniment, her raspy voice screaming the feelings tearing through my body at that very moment.
Blow after stunning fucking blow he pounded his fingers back and forth, my cunt just oozing sweet juices all over his hand. I was willing my body to orgasm, I had never felt the need for release so strongly. Continually roaring into his throat in almost unbearable ecstasy. Thumping against my engorged G-spot, my body trembling and that's when my knees gave way. I slowly slid down to the floor and he just kept pounding, pulling my hips clean off the floor, he ordered me, "come for me now Emma, now!"
And that was it, his command dragged that galvanic orgasm out of me like a dynamite blast. One hand gripped down onto the hard, cold floor under me and the other one gripped a huge handful of hair and tore his head away as a deep, resonant earsplitting roar broke into the air. It lasted fucking ages, one incredible, long excruciatingly heavy, body wrenching climax shattered through every single fucking atom of me and plateaued as I peaked and I floated in formless, perfect acquisition of a fierce aftershock that held me there for what seemed like forever.
Completely spent I collapsed every muscle and fibre of my being and lay there quivering. He kissed me incredibly delicately and whispered, "good girl", and one final jolt of electric pleasure discharged from my stomach into my chest. I felt wholly his.
Timeline 33.5:
I've given massages before and I've given some really shit wanks before, but after I watched a video for lovers I just had to see if I could apply the massage techniques I'd seen to a cock. God I know how much I'd love someone to do something similar to me.
When you massage someone you don't just squirt the oil from the bottle directly on their skin, although the cold shock could be quite exciting on the groin. I wanted this to feel warm and sensual so I poured the baby oil in my hands first and warmed it to body temperature. And then, just like with a back massage I placed the flat of my hands about an inch away from his flaccid cock. The fact that the heat from your hands meets with the heat of his gentials before your skin touches makes it feel much more progressive, if that's the right word. There's nothing too sudden and no movement is too quick.
Millimeter by millimeter I pushed my hands toward his already growing, beautiful cock and covered his entire scrotum and penis with a soft, warm, delicate touch. I smoothed my hands around the base of his shaft and my thumbs gently under his balls and glided my thumbs ever so tenderly over his balls until both of my hands circumferenced the thick base. Then I drew one hand up the length of him in one slow, smooth motion. Up tof the head with a deft loose twist my hand was upside down and over the glans and all the way back down. Just as my right hand reached the bottom I began moving my left in exactly the same way. My grip was firm, but responsive to his turgidity. I thought about the pressure I like against myself and measured it similarly. As my fingers swept down his broad stem I pushed the pads of my fingers into his frenulum to add just a little more pressure into his sweet spot, that delicious quarter of and inch of string-like skin that joins the foreskin to the glans. I kept a perfect rhythm and speed for a minute and then took my left hand off very slowly, poured more oil onto him. I'd wedged the bottle between my thighs as I knelt between his opened legs so it was warm straight from the bottle now.
This time I used my thumbs tracing semi circles the the top and ringing my middle finger and thumb around the base of his head and gripping very loosely I twisted my hands in opposite directions. when I saw this I thought it looked like a Chinese burn but when I heard the slow moan he made I knew it felt fucking amazing. And then ever so tenderly drawing the back of my nails in feather like strokes up to the tip and drumming tiny humminbird wing taps all over the head and back down.
It was luxurious and silky, feeling his cock sliding through my fingers, throbbing in spasms as he responded to my touch. His head had long given up watching my hands dance around his cock like a ballerina pirouetting and cupping his balls too and pulling on them lightly, cushioned in a pillow he lay with his eyes closed and his mouth open.
I could feel his member begin to twitch so I poured more oil over him and worked his cock, spinning my hands quickly up and over, stepping up the tempo to a beat poet's metre. Feeling him build up inside my chest, knowing he was about the spill all over my hands in glorious eruption and then it gushed, flowed, spewed, pulse after pulse. Hot exquisite liquid all over my thighs, my arms, wrists, hands fingers. Fucking oceans of the stuff everywhere as he cried his primal scream into a pillow he'd curled around and bit into. I drew his forskin over his head to a rest and gave him a good couple of minutes just resting there.
There was spunk everywhere, which I cleaned up thoroughly like a kitten lapping milk. He didn't move after that and fell into a wonderfully deep sleep. I woke him up in the morning, but that's another story.
When you massage someone you don't just squirt the oil from the bottle directly on their skin, although the cold shock could be quite exciting on the groin. I wanted this to feel warm and sensual so I poured the baby oil in my hands first and warmed it to body temperature. And then, just like with a back massage I placed the flat of my hands about an inch away from his flaccid cock. The fact that the heat from your hands meets with the heat of his gentials before your skin touches makes it feel much more progressive, if that's the right word. There's nothing too sudden and no movement is too quick.
Millimeter by millimeter I pushed my hands toward his already growing, beautiful cock and covered his entire scrotum and penis with a soft, warm, delicate touch. I smoothed my hands around the base of his shaft and my thumbs gently under his balls and glided my thumbs ever so tenderly over his balls until both of my hands circumferenced the thick base. Then I drew one hand up the length of him in one slow, smooth motion. Up tof the head with a deft loose twist my hand was upside down and over the glans and all the way back down. Just as my right hand reached the bottom I began moving my left in exactly the same way. My grip was firm, but responsive to his turgidity. I thought about the pressure I like against myself and measured it similarly. As my fingers swept down his broad stem I pushed the pads of my fingers into his frenulum to add just a little more pressure into his sweet spot, that delicious quarter of and inch of string-like skin that joins the foreskin to the glans. I kept a perfect rhythm and speed for a minute and then took my left hand off very slowly, poured more oil onto him. I'd wedged the bottle between my thighs as I knelt between his opened legs so it was warm straight from the bottle now.
This time I used my thumbs tracing semi circles the the top and ringing my middle finger and thumb around the base of his head and gripping very loosely I twisted my hands in opposite directions. when I saw this I thought it looked like a Chinese burn but when I heard the slow moan he made I knew it felt fucking amazing. And then ever so tenderly drawing the back of my nails in feather like strokes up to the tip and drumming tiny humminbird wing taps all over the head and back down.
It was luxurious and silky, feeling his cock sliding through my fingers, throbbing in spasms as he responded to my touch. His head had long given up watching my hands dance around his cock like a ballerina pirouetting and cupping his balls too and pulling on them lightly, cushioned in a pillow he lay with his eyes closed and his mouth open.
I could feel his member begin to twitch so I poured more oil over him and worked his cock, spinning my hands quickly up and over, stepping up the tempo to a beat poet's metre. Feeling him build up inside my chest, knowing he was about the spill all over my hands in glorious eruption and then it gushed, flowed, spewed, pulse after pulse. Hot exquisite liquid all over my thighs, my arms, wrists, hands fingers. Fucking oceans of the stuff everywhere as he cried his primal scream into a pillow he'd curled around and bit into. I drew his forskin over his head to a rest and gave him a good couple of minutes just resting there.
There was spunk everywhere, which I cleaned up thoroughly like a kitten lapping milk. He didn't move after that and fell into a wonderfully deep sleep. I woke him up in the morning, but that's another story.
She got legs.
I saw her legs before her face, before her body, before her smile. Long, shapely legs, one crossed over the other which elongated the one that dangled. She was wearing tights. The colour of her legs didn’t match the tone of the rest of her skin. Fuck, I wanted to brush my hands over them, feel the nylon and the shape of her legs. She caught me looking and looked at out of the window. A knowing smile edged onto her face and although the smile wasn’t directed at me, I knew it was mine. She stroked her hand down the length of her leg and back up again, took a long sip from her wineglass and got up.
My heart began to pound. What if she was coming over? What the fuck would I say? She was obviously out of my league, but maybe she’d toy with me and then laugh and walk away. Shit, she started walking over to me. Fuck, fuck, fuck. And then she walked past me to the bar, left a twenty on the till and walked out of the door.
I catapulted out of my chair, put on my jacket and took one goodbye swig from my whiskey. I motioned to the bartender and threw some money onto the bar and began to follow her. Those legs moved like a cat, elegant and deft. With a glance behind her she turned the corner a few moments later I made a left into where she’d disappeared. “Fuck!”.
“You’re following me”
“No, I… I “
“Yes you are, don’t let cowardice set in now, not when you’ve been such a brave little tiger.
The bitch was arrogant, and beautiful and utterly desirable. She made me feel like I was fourteen again and weakened by my chemistry teacher in high school. I think that’s where this came from, this aching lust for women in stockings, Ms Smith, Bambi-like Ms Smith, with her dulcet tones and silken long blonde hair, a completely different creature than the one before me now. This vixen was a predator through and through and half repulsed half intrigued I just felt a compulsion to touch this huntress’ long hosiery covered legs, to smooth my hands up to the top of her thighs and feel the humidity of her cunt breathing through the material onto my skin.
Fuck this shit, I thought. This xanthippe wasn’t going to make me feel like some kid, not when she’d enticed me here to obviously toy with me. I threw her up against the old brick wall of the alley she’d drawn me down, her back slammed against the wall and her breath escaped from her lungs with a shrill. My hand didn’t smooth those luscious legs, they spun her around, lifted up her pinstripe pencil skirt and tore a hole just big enough to force my cock through and into her cunt. She wasn’t exactly ready so I had to spit on my hand and push a glob inside her, covered my cock in another slaver and forced my way in. My foreskin felt that tiny rip it does when a woman’s either dry or young. My fist grabbed a mound of her hair as I pulled her back onto me in short, sharp jerks. The rise of orgasm well inside my balls and the throb preceding the burst of semen pulsed. One enormous wave of pleasure later and I spilled my entire load deep inside her, wiped my cock on her panty hose and walked away with a smug grin on my face.
That bitch had the last laugh though, two weeks of antibiotics later and the gonorrhea was finally out of my system. Still I suppose it was worth it, those fucking legs were like gazelles’ wrapped in nylon.
Inside the mind of a pervert
Timeline 16:
Mediocre experiences with mediocre men. Something was missing, excitement, chemistry, fireworks and mind blowing sex. I suppose I had to find my stride, but at sixteen you’re about as sexually vibrant as a bowl of chicken soup. I was masturbating like, well, a teenager, but I wasn’t getting anything from men. So I tried something completely different. She was beautiful, olive skin and full lips, like something you’d see on the cover of a magazine. I felt much more confident with women. I felt like a predator around women, I had a confidence with them I just didn’t have with beautiful men. I ate her all night and she came again and again, but there was something missing again. Although I felt a power it was inside me, not because of her. She felt like masturbation, comfortable and pleasant but utterly devoid of passion. I needed something raw and base and carnal, something to make me feel like my body and mind had become something formless and explosive.
Timeline 24:
And that’s when it happened. This man was utter filth, he was everything I’d been waiting for. He was the man to rip out orgasm after orgasm from me and still make me feel like I could fuck him again and again. Our first night together wasn’t extraordinary, but the more time we spent together the more we found each other’s sweet spots. Mine just happened to be deep inside my arse. The first time I felt his cock inside my rectum it felt like I should have been on the toilet squeezing out a huge turd, but after that, and every time since it was the most exquisite, delicious, painful thrill. I was finally wet, oozing with sexual arousal, screaming and growling. The soft pop of my sphincter as the tip of his cock slid slowly into my arse made me take fistfuls of the bedsheets and roar like an animal. Nothing my body had tasted before was like this. Blindfolds, gags, hands tied behind my back, my hair in his fists ripping back my head and arching my body in sexual crescenticity. He was a fucking lion, he tore me to shreds and I reciprocated every line of blood drawn. Teeth and nails and aberration inflamed with the temper of a storm I felt like every atom of my body had been not only set on fire but sent to the depths of hell and back. If death was anything like this then I would have died with my arms outstretched and blood dripping from my body, crucified in carnal sacrifice.
I didn’t love him though, not until he left. And that sweet agony of longing when he’d gone was the only thing I had to remind me of that sweet, delicious torment. My flesh had become as well-versed as a living Rumi poem. All my future liaisons were to be measured by this man, nothing less than earth shattering would do from this point on. Never again would I just settle for the mundanity of a man thrusting away for his pre sleep orgasm. My body knew what it wanted now, and my mind was set free.
Mediocre experiences with mediocre men. Something was missing, excitement, chemistry, fireworks and mind blowing sex. I suppose I had to find my stride, but at sixteen you’re about as sexually vibrant as a bowl of chicken soup. I was masturbating like, well, a teenager, but I wasn’t getting anything from men. So I tried something completely different. She was beautiful, olive skin and full lips, like something you’d see on the cover of a magazine. I felt much more confident with women. I felt like a predator around women, I had a confidence with them I just didn’t have with beautiful men. I ate her all night and she came again and again, but there was something missing again. Although I felt a power it was inside me, not because of her. She felt like masturbation, comfortable and pleasant but utterly devoid of passion. I needed something raw and base and carnal, something to make me feel like my body and mind had become something formless and explosive.
Timeline 24:
And that’s when it happened. This man was utter filth, he was everything I’d been waiting for. He was the man to rip out orgasm after orgasm from me and still make me feel like I could fuck him again and again. Our first night together wasn’t extraordinary, but the more time we spent together the more we found each other’s sweet spots. Mine just happened to be deep inside my arse. The first time I felt his cock inside my rectum it felt like I should have been on the toilet squeezing out a huge turd, but after that, and every time since it was the most exquisite, delicious, painful thrill. I was finally wet, oozing with sexual arousal, screaming and growling. The soft pop of my sphincter as the tip of his cock slid slowly into my arse made me take fistfuls of the bedsheets and roar like an animal. Nothing my body had tasted before was like this. Blindfolds, gags, hands tied behind my back, my hair in his fists ripping back my head and arching my body in sexual crescenticity. He was a fucking lion, he tore me to shreds and I reciprocated every line of blood drawn. Teeth and nails and aberration inflamed with the temper of a storm I felt like every atom of my body had been not only set on fire but sent to the depths of hell and back. If death was anything like this then I would have died with my arms outstretched and blood dripping from my body, crucified in carnal sacrifice.
I didn’t love him though, not until he left. And that sweet agony of longing when he’d gone was the only thing I had to remind me of that sweet, delicious torment. My flesh had become as well-versed as a living Rumi poem. All my future liaisons were to be measured by this man, nothing less than earth shattering would do from this point on. Never again would I just settle for the mundanity of a man thrusting away for his pre sleep orgasm. My body knew what it wanted now, and my mind was set free.
FUTURELOVE SEX SLAVE
She had an itch to scratch, that's the way with candida. If she could find some blunt, organic instrument to rub against she'd be half way to pacifying this cutaneous irritation. Since the 1940's men had become nothing more than an embryotic storage in a cryogenic bioshphere. Men were a rare commodity these days, so to have an infection due to sexual contact was like a pathogen only found in one in a billion case studies. No matter how rare it needed to be contained and studied. "Fuck that" she thought, if this is what the results were she's need to make a good core sample group. Following the trail of wasted GHBers in the allyway she knew she'd find something she could fuck down here. Even if it meant having to contain yet another example of this strain she'd be willing to make a scientific sacrifice.
There he was. Tall, long and tattooed and as vulnerable as a daisy in the rain. She walked up to him and brushed her nose against his neck. He smelled of sweat, and fear, and man. Fuck, the smell of man had been something she hadn't inhaled for more than three months. He quivered like an arrow in bow ready to shoot. Men were fearful of women since they all but raped and killed their species about half a century ago. She pushed her tongue hard against his neck and his knees buckled. Something as powerful as she might just eat him like a chocolate chip cookie and leave no crumbs. He couldn't remember why he was there and she cared even less. He was a hare caught in the headlights and she was the fucking 4x4, bull bars and all.
He could smell that overpowering smell of woman he smelled everyday whilst trying to hide in some nuances of the dark crevices of the underpaths. She could smell his tentativeness mixed with his inquisitiveness. She wanted him to abate her irritation, he wanted to satiate his primal lust. Given that woman had long surpassed man's ability to dominate he knew she was almost akin to a huntress and it's prey.
She just took him, almost devoured him. She began by just forcing her tongue down his throat. Pulling his hair back like a puppeteer with his strings. His head drawn back and his mouth opened agog. Her nails ripping traces of scores of blood in his flesh. His back a scrabble board of openings. She found his cock almost immediately with her hands. Opened his trousers and grabbed his turgid phallus in her fist. She drew her hand the full length of it two or three times before she decided she wanted this thing to satisfy her needs. She traced the semi-hard cock along the line of her labia till it found the dip of her vagina. She pushed it a little until it popped into her like a skimmer breaking the surface of a pond. She was engorged and deep and everything he needed to feel. She couldn't catch her breath. It was suspended in some time/space continuum she couldn't find the formula for. Maybe if this had have been a physicist she'd have been able to find the reason for her result. But fuck that, this was biology now, something physics couldn't equate. Something chemistry would overrule.
There were visceral experiences felt by them both that couldn't be expressed, but the feeling of him pounding into her and the feeling of him thrashing against her cervix would be something neither could describe in words to another or any other. Fuck describing this, this was something only the body would understand. Something only the mind would comprehend. Fucking wet and hard and satiating. She came like a thunderstorm. Every particle in her felt overwhelmed by electrical impulses. Every part of him was a primordial soup of expulsion. They'd looked into each others' eyes and saw that core of energy that only an atom trace hints at.
Sliding over him in long, deep, thrusts she massaged his cock to to precipice of him spewing inside her. Again and again he pounded into her thrusting in her like some juggernaut on a path it could not sway from. She could feel every inch of him inside. Usually she could feel the width of a cock, most cocks could measure her width but this one was long, reaching the very top of her cunt. He felt almost like a pure electromagnetic field of feeling, she could only feel him, his cock, nothing else. Spent; they bit each other momentarily and separated. She felt pacified. For now. He felt almost like a pawn moved by the chess player. Till another game. She'd had her fill of him. She looked into his eyes like a wolf caught in the act and fled. She eat him next time.
There he was. Tall, long and tattooed and as vulnerable as a daisy in the rain. She walked up to him and brushed her nose against his neck. He smelled of sweat, and fear, and man. Fuck, the smell of man had been something she hadn't inhaled for more than three months. He quivered like an arrow in bow ready to shoot. Men were fearful of women since they all but raped and killed their species about half a century ago. She pushed her tongue hard against his neck and his knees buckled. Something as powerful as she might just eat him like a chocolate chip cookie and leave no crumbs. He couldn't remember why he was there and she cared even less. He was a hare caught in the headlights and she was the fucking 4x4, bull bars and all.
He could smell that overpowering smell of woman he smelled everyday whilst trying to hide in some nuances of the dark crevices of the underpaths. She could smell his tentativeness mixed with his inquisitiveness. She wanted him to abate her irritation, he wanted to satiate his primal lust. Given that woman had long surpassed man's ability to dominate he knew she was almost akin to a huntress and it's prey.
She just took him, almost devoured him. She began by just forcing her tongue down his throat. Pulling his hair back like a puppeteer with his strings. His head drawn back and his mouth opened agog. Her nails ripping traces of scores of blood in his flesh. His back a scrabble board of openings. She found his cock almost immediately with her hands. Opened his trousers and grabbed his turgid phallus in her fist. She drew her hand the full length of it two or three times before she decided she wanted this thing to satisfy her needs. She traced the semi-hard cock along the line of her labia till it found the dip of her vagina. She pushed it a little until it popped into her like a skimmer breaking the surface of a pond. She was engorged and deep and everything he needed to feel. She couldn't catch her breath. It was suspended in some time/space continuum she couldn't find the formula for. Maybe if this had have been a physicist she'd have been able to find the reason for her result. But fuck that, this was biology now, something physics couldn't equate. Something chemistry would overrule.
There were visceral experiences felt by them both that couldn't be expressed, but the feeling of him pounding into her and the feeling of him thrashing against her cervix would be something neither could describe in words to another or any other. Fuck describing this, this was something only the body would understand. Something only the mind would comprehend. Fucking wet and hard and satiating. She came like a thunderstorm. Every particle in her felt overwhelmed by electrical impulses. Every part of him was a primordial soup of expulsion. They'd looked into each others' eyes and saw that core of energy that only an atom trace hints at.
Sliding over him in long, deep, thrusts she massaged his cock to to precipice of him spewing inside her. Again and again he pounded into her thrusting in her like some juggernaut on a path it could not sway from. She could feel every inch of him inside. Usually she could feel the width of a cock, most cocks could measure her width but this one was long, reaching the very top of her cunt. He felt almost like a pure electromagnetic field of feeling, she could only feel him, his cock, nothing else. Spent; they bit each other momentarily and separated. She felt pacified. For now. He felt almost like a pawn moved by the chess player. Till another game. She'd had her fill of him. She looked into his eyes like a wolf caught in the act and fled. She eat him next time.
Timeline cont.
Timeline 16:
Lights flashed like aurora borealis, voodoo-like drums thumped before a roaring fire of people. Arms were raised and pounding the sky in feigned exhalation. And I felt his breath on my neck, turned around and saw his eyes. Neon blue disks softly wrapped around silken white eyes and eyelashes so thick if this were just a photograph of his eyes they could be mistaken as a woman’s. I couldn’t tear my eyes away and as he bent down to say something into my ear, my body became extremely aware of how intimately close he was. My stomach began to freefall, even before he’d said anything, in half nervousness, half sexual arousal. What on earth was I supposed to do now? I could hardly breathe let alone reply to any questions. I needn’t have been so terrified, he just commanded me, “Follow me”. And I did.
The room was dark, there was a television flickering shards of light into the room and all I could see was him, bathed in flashes of red and blue. I had lost all of that fear now, all that was left was a delicious anticipation. He walked over and smoothed my hair away from my neck, the softness of my hair brushed against my delicate skin. Oh fuck, I just wanted to rip him apart right there. I wanted to get his belt and tie him to the wardrobe door and take off my underwear and gag him with my sodden, pink baby doll knickers. But I didn’t.
He took me over to the bed and lay me down gently. The usual sexual strategy is, kissing, oral, penetration, fin. And it followed that age old pattern like dominoes. But I collapsed, I was entwined and cascaded. The bed, the floor, up against the wall, over the bed and then we collapsed into that French little number like spoons, side by side, and just ate each other all night.
As the dawn sun rose and kissed the sky amber I left. I didn’t know his name, I didn’t know if I’d ever see him again, I didn’t care. I had what I considered the most erotic experience of my young and sexually receptive life. I was made to feel the deliciousness of just saying yes.
Lights flashed like aurora borealis, voodoo-like drums thumped before a roaring fire of people. Arms were raised and pounding the sky in feigned exhalation. And I felt his breath on my neck, turned around and saw his eyes. Neon blue disks softly wrapped around silken white eyes and eyelashes so thick if this were just a photograph of his eyes they could be mistaken as a woman’s. I couldn’t tear my eyes away and as he bent down to say something into my ear, my body became extremely aware of how intimately close he was. My stomach began to freefall, even before he’d said anything, in half nervousness, half sexual arousal. What on earth was I supposed to do now? I could hardly breathe let alone reply to any questions. I needn’t have been so terrified, he just commanded me, “Follow me”. And I did.
The room was dark, there was a television flickering shards of light into the room and all I could see was him, bathed in flashes of red and blue. I had lost all of that fear now, all that was left was a delicious anticipation. He walked over and smoothed my hair away from my neck, the softness of my hair brushed against my delicate skin. Oh fuck, I just wanted to rip him apart right there. I wanted to get his belt and tie him to the wardrobe door and take off my underwear and gag him with my sodden, pink baby doll knickers. But I didn’t.
He took me over to the bed and lay me down gently. The usual sexual strategy is, kissing, oral, penetration, fin. And it followed that age old pattern like dominoes. But I collapsed, I was entwined and cascaded. The bed, the floor, up against the wall, over the bed and then we collapsed into that French little number like spoons, side by side, and just ate each other all night.
As the dawn sun rose and kissed the sky amber I left. I didn’t know his name, I didn’t know if I’d ever see him again, I didn’t care. I had what I considered the most erotic experience of my young and sexually receptive life. I was made to feel the deliciousness of just saying yes.
Genesis
It’s just you, and me, and this white page filled with black words. That’s all that is linking my mind with yours right now. So let these words act as a conduit between my world and yours and allow your mind to fill mine for a while. We are connected.
Timeline aged 0-5:
Zero input.
Timeline 5-7:
Flashes of images: E.T., a pool of tears in a step mother’s apron. Sexual abuse. Medical examinations, best friends and domesticity.
Timeline 7-10:
Systematic sexual abuse. Fuck, I am not really sure where to take this. I think this is where my life ended. This is the point at which I realised I was really, seriously unhappy. I felt something missing but didn’t know what that was. A void inside me that I couldn’t identify nor fill. It was also the time of my sexual awakening. Lines of boys chasing me to kiss me, boys fighting over me, kisses and first sexual feelings. I remember being chased down a back entry by a gang of young boys, being caught and thrust against a wall, and each boy took turns kissing me. My first feelings of, “holy shit that’s fucking good” emerged at that point. The last boy was a neighbour, he was a scruffy thing and strangely attractive. I loved the colour of his skin, his dark eyes and hair. Dark being the zeugma in that last sentence. Did you have to Google that? The way he kissed me. God. He slid his tongue inside me mouth and thrust his groin against mine. If this had happened five years forward in Timeline I’d have been fucked right there in that energy, I mean entry. That’s really rather delicious to remember.
As I write this I’m beginning to realise this is really a documentary on my sexual history. It’s winding, exciting, thrilling and at times utterly outrageous. Sweeping my preheperal memory databank I see lots of fun and yet always just one step away from yet another tragic end. I suppose I should change the name to protect the innocent, but fuck it, this is me and you and I should be as honest as I can. And that’s, what I’ve just heard, is the key to great writing. So forgive the bad grammar, or lack of any professional writing skills. After all, I have some crazy thing to say and the desire to say it, coupled with you still reading this, we have a perfect combination.
Timeline aged 0-5:
Zero input.
Timeline 5-7:
Flashes of images: E.T., a pool of tears in a step mother’s apron. Sexual abuse. Medical examinations, best friends and domesticity.
Timeline 7-10:
Systematic sexual abuse. Fuck, I am not really sure where to take this. I think this is where my life ended. This is the point at which I realised I was really, seriously unhappy. I felt something missing but didn’t know what that was. A void inside me that I couldn’t identify nor fill. It was also the time of my sexual awakening. Lines of boys chasing me to kiss me, boys fighting over me, kisses and first sexual feelings. I remember being chased down a back entry by a gang of young boys, being caught and thrust against a wall, and each boy took turns kissing me. My first feelings of, “holy shit that’s fucking good” emerged at that point. The last boy was a neighbour, he was a scruffy thing and strangely attractive. I loved the colour of his skin, his dark eyes and hair. Dark being the zeugma in that last sentence. Did you have to Google that? The way he kissed me. God. He slid his tongue inside me mouth and thrust his groin against mine. If this had happened five years forward in Timeline I’d have been fucked right there in that energy, I mean entry. That’s really rather delicious to remember.
As I write this I’m beginning to realise this is really a documentary on my sexual history. It’s winding, exciting, thrilling and at times utterly outrageous. Sweeping my preheperal memory databank I see lots of fun and yet always just one step away from yet another tragic end. I suppose I should change the name to protect the innocent, but fuck it, this is me and you and I should be as honest as I can. And that’s, what I’ve just heard, is the key to great writing. So forgive the bad grammar, or lack of any professional writing skills. After all, I have some crazy thing to say and the desire to say it, coupled with you still reading this, we have a perfect combination.
Timelines
Timeline 11-13:
This was the age of awakening, truly. The first time I felt wet, the first time I spent all day kissing in a field of poppies and daisies. Mark Costigan, my first real boyfriend. God how I felt such lust for him. I’d have shit myself if he’d ever touched me below my budlike breasts, but oh how I oozed for that boy at such a young age. He was obsessed with that scene from Dirty Dancing when he lifts her arm up over his shoulder and strokes the back of her arm. I used to love it when he did that to me. I was feeling things way beyond my capabilities. He eventually left me. I can’t remember why, but when you’re 13 you don’t really have reasons.
Timeline 14 – 16:
Sex, for the first time. Paul Motimer. Roadie for a rock band. Cute as hell but knew it. I didn’t say no, but I wanted to. I didn’t really know how to. I had sort of been conditioned by then to just let things happen. I didn’t have anymore of that sex shit for two years after that awful introduction. He really the wrong boy to lose my virginity to, I didn’t love him, I just felt honoured that someone so beautiful would fuck me. I was the quiet girl in school, the boys paid attention but didn’t really make an effort to be with me. Some were interested because I must have exuded a sexuality men can zone in on at twenty paces. Some just aren’t attracted to weird pre emo girls (we didn’t have emos back then but I’d be one today if I were back at school.
Next up my first fantastic sexual explotion.
This was the age of awakening, truly. The first time I felt wet, the first time I spent all day kissing in a field of poppies and daisies. Mark Costigan, my first real boyfriend. God how I felt such lust for him. I’d have shit myself if he’d ever touched me below my budlike breasts, but oh how I oozed for that boy at such a young age. He was obsessed with that scene from Dirty Dancing when he lifts her arm up over his shoulder and strokes the back of her arm. I used to love it when he did that to me. I was feeling things way beyond my capabilities. He eventually left me. I can’t remember why, but when you’re 13 you don’t really have reasons.
Timeline 14 – 16:
Sex, for the first time. Paul Motimer. Roadie for a rock band. Cute as hell but knew it. I didn’t say no, but I wanted to. I didn’t really know how to. I had sort of been conditioned by then to just let things happen. I didn’t have anymore of that sex shit for two years after that awful introduction. He really the wrong boy to lose my virginity to, I didn’t love him, I just felt honoured that someone so beautiful would fuck me. I was the quiet girl in school, the boys paid attention but didn’t really make an effort to be with me. Some were interested because I must have exuded a sexuality men can zone in on at twenty paces. Some just aren’t attracted to weird pre emo girls (we didn’t have emos back then but I’d be one today if I were back at school.
Next up my first fantastic sexual explotion.
Perfection In Motion
"What is it you want?"
"I'm not sure, but I just know I want you"
"Why?"
"Are you always so full of questions?"
"Now you're doing it"
"Okay, let's begin by taking off those clothes"
Slowly, I peeled off my clothes, I couldn't look him in the eye. Shame, fear, I don't know what it was. I was terrified. His confidence was so powerful, I hadn't been wanted so strongly before.
"Look at me"
"I.."
"Look at me now!"
My eyes tore themselves from the floor and met his. He sat on the cream leather couch holding a glass of wine, sipping it slowly and looking over the brim at me. I was still wearing my underwear but already felt naked and exposed. My heart raced and tried to beat itself out of my chest, my knees almost giving way could hardly support me. I'd met him three weeks earlier in a bookshop. I was leafing through a Lovecraft and felt him looking at me. I wasn't dressed in anything great, just a long grey coat and a neck scarf, my hair was snatched up in a ponytail and I had my thick rimmed blue glasses on. Everyone told me they were too heavy for my face but I liked them. The presence of him was like a strong musky smell, intoxicating and arousing, I felt too self conscious to look up at him but I wanted to. I waited until he was engrossed in the synopsis of the back of a graphic novel and snatched a look at him. Fuck, he was nice. Wearing the same black, thick rimmed glasses. They'd always done it for me, and his dark hair too. I loved that look, it just screamed intelligence. And although I was intimidated by him I was also extremely intrigued.
"And the bra"
"Can dim the lights?"
"No, you can take off your bra and stop pretending to be so fucking bashful"
I forced a laugh.
"I'm not pretending"
"I've read your stuff, I know you're a minx"
"That's not really me, I mean it is, but it's just an embellished me. I'm not that sexually predatory really"
"The bra Emma, stop stalling".
Right, I have to somehow find that persona and become it. I have to pretend I'm this sexually confident vixen and... shit, what have I created? I tried to imagine what me in my stories would do, how would she behave in a situation like this? And then it came to me. Although I hated my own body, or at least parts of it, if I didn't look down and just looked into his eyes I could pretend, at least, to be something he wanted.
I unhooked my black bra and slipped the straps down slowly, letting them fall, and then sliding my arms out I dropped it to the floor. My eyes now fixed on his, the wine had been left for the last few moments. I walked over to him slowly and took the glass from his hands and placed it on the floor next to him. I leaned over and ran my tongue over his top lip and around to his bottom lip, his tongue met mine and they swirled around each other in slow, mouthwatering circles. It dipped inside my mouth slowly and swept in deep thrusts into the back of my mouth. My moan seeped into his mouth and I took a sharp intake of breath. I kissed his cheek delicately and slid my tongue around the back of his ear and then closed my teeth gently around his lobe, drawing it through my teeth.
He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head to the side, pulling me off balance I fell on his lap, he took my jaw in his hand and pulled it down to open my mouth wide. Determinedly he forced his tongue deep into my mouth and sucked my bottom lip into his mouth hard. My stomach reacted instantly in surges of concupiscent delight. My moaning grew into a high pitched whimper, my whole body relented and I felt myself swell and lubricate instantly. My thoughts stopped, nothing but roaring emotions exploding inside me billowing like a summer storm. The next thing I felt was his fingers inside me pressing against the front wall of my gushing cunt and forcing out another high pitched wail from deep within my gut. He takes out his fingers and sucks them clean.
"Sweet".
Oh god, another cataclysmic blast in my gut. I wanted him to rip me to shreds right there. I wanted him to fuck me so hard I'd be feeling him inside me for weeks. He was so fucking sexy my teeth clenched and I growled with animalistic lust. But then he stood up held out his hand and brought my to my feet, swept me up and carried me up the stairs to the bedroom. He laid me on the bed so gently, I thought of flower petals, and knelt on all fours as he bent down to kiss me. All that bravado changed to a beautiful tenderness now, his tongue brushed softly along my lips and into my mouth, nudging inside and massaging my tongue against his. He kissed my neck, running his tongue down my neck, making my whole body shiver and covering me in goosebumps. My nipples hard and wrinkled to the point of a wonderful stinging pain. And then as my mind focused on the sensations in my breasts his lips wrapped themselves around them and the flat of his tongue swept across and around them in soft laps.
I noticed the silence of the room, the silhouettes of our bodies in the darkened room, outlined by the light from the hallway creating a luminescent aura around him. It was probably one of the most beautiful sites I've ever seen. The contours of his body, the light, the quiet, it was perfect and delicate and ours.
"Roll over"
I did as I was told. I love that feeling of a man taking me in his power and controlling me. It makes me feel weak, out of control, completely had. And then I felt his tongue tracing lines on my skin, along my back and up to my neck. I felt the tip of his cock ever so slightly brush against the crack of my arse, it made my hips move to push out my bottom and will him to come inside. Feeling his tongue trail over my skin was wonderful, sending electric shivers all over me.
"Spread your legs"
His command was heady, his baritone voice had an intense effect on my senses, I couldn't flow anymore than I was. By now this was a heavenly torment I half wanted to end with the first touch of the tip of his cock, but also delighted in and would happily endure hours more. And there it was, the glans met my slit and kissed it delicately. Roses, freesias, lillies, the velvet wisp of union and I was gone. Slowly, ever so slowly I felt him glide into me with the grace of the first brush of an artist's brush on freshly prepared canvas. Oh, the pleasure. A thesaurus of synonyms swept through my mind,
all, carefully, completely, conscientiously, efficiently, from top to bottom, fully, hard, in and out, in detail, inside out, intensely, intensively, meticulously, painstakingly, remarkably, scrupulously, strikingly, sweepingly, through and through, unremittingly, up and down, wholly.
And then I could hold back no longer, and perfectly neither could he. There's nothing, nothing in this world that can compare to two perfectly timed orgasms. Few things as beautiful, rarely does the universe bring moments so completely sublime you have to wonder if perhaps you fell into a dream without realising. With a kiss that felt like a droplet of rain on the back of my neck he lay beside me and smiled.
"Kiss me, now"
And he did.
"I'm not sure, but I just know I want you"
"Why?"
"Are you always so full of questions?"
"Now you're doing it"
"Okay, let's begin by taking off those clothes"
Slowly, I peeled off my clothes, I couldn't look him in the eye. Shame, fear, I don't know what it was. I was terrified. His confidence was so powerful, I hadn't been wanted so strongly before.
"Look at me"
"I.."
"Look at me now!"
My eyes tore themselves from the floor and met his. He sat on the cream leather couch holding a glass of wine, sipping it slowly and looking over the brim at me. I was still wearing my underwear but already felt naked and exposed. My heart raced and tried to beat itself out of my chest, my knees almost giving way could hardly support me. I'd met him three weeks earlier in a bookshop. I was leafing through a Lovecraft and felt him looking at me. I wasn't dressed in anything great, just a long grey coat and a neck scarf, my hair was snatched up in a ponytail and I had my thick rimmed blue glasses on. Everyone told me they were too heavy for my face but I liked them. The presence of him was like a strong musky smell, intoxicating and arousing, I felt too self conscious to look up at him but I wanted to. I waited until he was engrossed in the synopsis of the back of a graphic novel and snatched a look at him. Fuck, he was nice. Wearing the same black, thick rimmed glasses. They'd always done it for me, and his dark hair too. I loved that look, it just screamed intelligence. And although I was intimidated by him I was also extremely intrigued.
"And the bra"
"Can dim the lights?"
"No, you can take off your bra and stop pretending to be so fucking bashful"
I forced a laugh.
"I'm not pretending"
"I've read your stuff, I know you're a minx"
"That's not really me, I mean it is, but it's just an embellished me. I'm not that sexually predatory really"
"The bra Emma, stop stalling".
Right, I have to somehow find that persona and become it. I have to pretend I'm this sexually confident vixen and... shit, what have I created? I tried to imagine what me in my stories would do, how would she behave in a situation like this? And then it came to me. Although I hated my own body, or at least parts of it, if I didn't look down and just looked into his eyes I could pretend, at least, to be something he wanted.
I unhooked my black bra and slipped the straps down slowly, letting them fall, and then sliding my arms out I dropped it to the floor. My eyes now fixed on his, the wine had been left for the last few moments. I walked over to him slowly and took the glass from his hands and placed it on the floor next to him. I leaned over and ran my tongue over his top lip and around to his bottom lip, his tongue met mine and they swirled around each other in slow, mouthwatering circles. It dipped inside my mouth slowly and swept in deep thrusts into the back of my mouth. My moan seeped into his mouth and I took a sharp intake of breath. I kissed his cheek delicately and slid my tongue around the back of his ear and then closed my teeth gently around his lobe, drawing it through my teeth.
He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head to the side, pulling me off balance I fell on his lap, he took my jaw in his hand and pulled it down to open my mouth wide. Determinedly he forced his tongue deep into my mouth and sucked my bottom lip into his mouth hard. My stomach reacted instantly in surges of concupiscent delight. My moaning grew into a high pitched whimper, my whole body relented and I felt myself swell and lubricate instantly. My thoughts stopped, nothing but roaring emotions exploding inside me billowing like a summer storm. The next thing I felt was his fingers inside me pressing against the front wall of my gushing cunt and forcing out another high pitched wail from deep within my gut. He takes out his fingers and sucks them clean.
"Sweet".
Oh god, another cataclysmic blast in my gut. I wanted him to rip me to shreds right there. I wanted him to fuck me so hard I'd be feeling him inside me for weeks. He was so fucking sexy my teeth clenched and I growled with animalistic lust. But then he stood up held out his hand and brought my to my feet, swept me up and carried me up the stairs to the bedroom. He laid me on the bed so gently, I thought of flower petals, and knelt on all fours as he bent down to kiss me. All that bravado changed to a beautiful tenderness now, his tongue brushed softly along my lips and into my mouth, nudging inside and massaging my tongue against his. He kissed my neck, running his tongue down my neck, making my whole body shiver and covering me in goosebumps. My nipples hard and wrinkled to the point of a wonderful stinging pain. And then as my mind focused on the sensations in my breasts his lips wrapped themselves around them and the flat of his tongue swept across and around them in soft laps.
I noticed the silence of the room, the silhouettes of our bodies in the darkened room, outlined by the light from the hallway creating a luminescent aura around him. It was probably one of the most beautiful sites I've ever seen. The contours of his body, the light, the quiet, it was perfect and delicate and ours.
"Roll over"
I did as I was told. I love that feeling of a man taking me in his power and controlling me. It makes me feel weak, out of control, completely had. And then I felt his tongue tracing lines on my skin, along my back and up to my neck. I felt the tip of his cock ever so slightly brush against the crack of my arse, it made my hips move to push out my bottom and will him to come inside. Feeling his tongue trail over my skin was wonderful, sending electric shivers all over me.
"Spread your legs"
His command was heady, his baritone voice had an intense effect on my senses, I couldn't flow anymore than I was. By now this was a heavenly torment I half wanted to end with the first touch of the tip of his cock, but also delighted in and would happily endure hours more. And there it was, the glans met my slit and kissed it delicately. Roses, freesias, lillies, the velvet wisp of union and I was gone. Slowly, ever so slowly I felt him glide into me with the grace of the first brush of an artist's brush on freshly prepared canvas. Oh, the pleasure. A thesaurus of synonyms swept through my mind,
all, carefully, completely, conscientiously, efficiently, from top to bottom, fully, hard, in and out, in detail, inside out, intensely, intensively, meticulously, painstakingly, remarkably, scrupulously, strikingly, sweepingly, through and through, unremittingly, up and down, wholly.
And then I could hold back no longer, and perfectly neither could he. There's nothing, nothing in this world that can compare to two perfectly timed orgasms. Few things as beautiful, rarely does the universe bring moments so completely sublime you have to wonder if perhaps you fell into a dream without realising. With a kiss that felt like a droplet of rain on the back of my neck he lay beside me and smiled.
"Kiss me, now"
And he did.
Ode to a bowl of mould.
O mouldy bowl, O bowl of mouldy mould.
Mouldy and bowly, O bowly mould.
Where for art thou goest O bowl of
Mould.
Show us O mouldiest of bowls.
Bowls and bowels of mould,
And mould in bowls, bowls in shrouds
Of mould.
For bowls of mould are wonders
To behold. O mould!
Mouldy and bowly, O bowly mould.
Where for art thou goest O bowl of
Mould.
Show us O mouldiest of bowls.
Bowls and bowels of mould,
And mould in bowls, bowls in shrouds
Of mould.
For bowls of mould are wonders
To behold. O mould!
Virgin, whore or hag.
I've found myself doing a bit of personal investigation into the historical figure Mary Magdalene because of a very interesting encounter in a Christian bookshop. My journey began, I suppose, with my preoccupation into this woman called Mary Magdalene. I was always fascinated with this figure who had been a prostitute (albeit false, but that was the myth I'd been brought up with and had believed unquestioningly) and then walked beside a man who was basically pretty fucking amazing. The way I see Jesus is this political dissident who fought for the abolition of hypocrisy in the Jewish clergy, NOt the Jewish people or practioners. Then again, he was also a rabbi himself, and was a clear example of perfect conduct whilst preaching faith in a god I don't subscribe to. I know even less about the woman at his side.
When, out of curiosity, I ventured into a Christian bookshop and glanced at the biography section. Naively thinking that amongst the St. Paul what got an Apistle and Francis Aggasi, who played amazing tennis, there would definitely be a book about the woman, nay the PERSON regardless of gender, who walked beside the historical figure Jesus of Nazareth and was probably the one person who was worthy of the nomenclature "disciple". Nothing, not a fucking notebook of quotes or references to her on any title.
I asked the shop keeper if they had one and she looked at me as though I'd just asked her for a copy of the Karma Sutra.
Buddhism is full of this bullshit too. Thousands of years of stories about Mahasiddhas and Masters, all Yoda/Luke Skywalker affairs. Religious historical figures off the top of my head: Joan of Arc, Lady Jane Grey, Mary (the mum), Mary Magdalene, then I draw a blank unless I go into the limited Buddhist/Hindu religious history I know of. There's Tara, who isn't a follower/disciple of anyone but a symbol of a compassionate mind and swiftness of action, speach or thought. Vajrayongi took on many disciples, but from what I can recollect these were all men. Women throughout history seem to have this ghostly lack of female/female student teacher spiritual relationship. Vajrayogini and Mary Magadalene draw some parallels too. The red flame hair, the sexual associations and the compassion and wisdom. However, wereas Vajrayogini is worshipped and reveered as possible the most powerful deity Mary is depicted as a servant, falsely accused for the last 2000 years. Another parallel is the fact both have demons associated with them. Although Vajrayogini's symbolise her ability to supress inner and outer obstacles to perfection, Mary's literally were her own delusions. Miraculously Jesus was able to cleanse her mind of them and she became nothing but a ghost in history. I suppose if you teach the men to write and the woman to bear children then you get a world full of people and a history full of men.
Negation
Fuck Facebook
Fuck Bebo
Fuck Microsoft
Fuck Bill Gates
Fuck The Sun
Fuck Michael Jackson
Fuck eating dead bodies
Fuck having mediocre sex
Fuck pharmaceutical companies making a huge profit from horrific drugs
Fuck modern art
Fuck psychedelia
Fuck Patty Smith
Fuck Joey Ramone's voice
Fuck Boswer
Fuck lesbian porn
Fuck institutionalised religious guilt
Fuck media pressure on women to be sticks
Fuck pressure on men to hide their emotions
Fuck sexual repression
Fuck guns
Fuck bombs
Fuck war
Fuck Jet Li (may I please!)
Fuck not having flaws
Fuck not making mistakes
Fuck not being able to be who you are
Fuck Freud
Fuck Hitler
Fuck Churchill
Fuck your ma
Fuck fear
Fuck hopelessness
Fuck hatred
Fuck me
Fuck you!
I'd like to call this poem Covalent bondage.
I wanted to write you a poem about how our love is like a double helix, but I could find no rhyme but Felix.
So the nucleotides of our love shall go unmentioned, transcription factor passion silenced, however well intentioned.
And so I submit what's left to say, is I love you like we're DNA.
And all things found in Quantum Theory, could not astound nor eyes left bleary.
Compared with trying to find the wonder, of our ligand binding-like paroxysist thunder.
I love you like Euclidean space, our absolute values in exponential embrace.
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