Tag Archives: erotica

Charlie


Previously…

An almost inaudible sound came from his throat when I did it, and I knew I had him. I felt his cock straining against the fly of his pants, but when my fingers pulled his zipper down, he moved out of my reach. His fingers slipped out of me once again, and his other hand left my breast. My body felt absolutely bereft from the loss of his touch, and I couldn’t help the whimper that happened to come. I should have known better.

Charlie demands complete control- during fucking and everything leading up to it. Not that he’s into S&M, though he isn’t above a playful bite or spanking every now and then. I mean that every move, every act no matter how small, must be his decision. He will allow me to undress him, but I am only permitted to once he decides it is time. To so blatantly disregard this rule sets the mood for everything that follows. I’ll tell you a secret: I didn’t forget on accident.

I watched his face in the mirror; I saw him struggling with the thought of breaking his own rule, and I held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t. I felt a moment of relieved anticipation when I saw his jaw firmly set, but I was not expecting what happened next.

His hands were on the neckline of my dress, and the next second, a bold ripping sound filled the silence as he forcefully tore my dress from neckline to hem. My Urban Decay’d lips formed a surprised “o” as I and Charlie looked at my now mostly-nude body in the mirror. I felt gooseflesh run up and down my skin in the split second before Charlie’s hand pushed my upper body down against the table in front of me.

He entered me roughly, but I was ready. So ready. His very first thrust left him so deep inside that I cried out, from pain or pleasure, or maybe a little bit of both. He withdrew, then again thrust himself into me. His hands gripped my hips, not gently, and I felt the familiar pleasure already beginning to rise in me. My right hand pressed against the mirror, causing it to fog there, and I pushed my rump ever so slightly into Charlie. I was immediately reprimanded with a welcome slap on my rear, warning me to stay still. His cock buried so deeply inside me, and the thrill of his spanking heightened my excitement; I wriggled against him, inviting another smack. The second one stung, and Charlie drove himself into me again and again, not waiting for me to further taunt his itching hand.

With every thrust, he reached the end of me, and my pleasure blossomed. I tried to move in such a way to prolong it, but my lover held me firmly in place, and was unrelenting. He knew what he did as he repeatedly pulled himself out of me and then pressed himself in again, hard and at an unwavering pace. It was clear he meant to punish me for my slip with his zipper, and I relished every moment until he pushed himself into me once again and pressed my hips harshly to him. He was as deep as he could go, and he filled me so completely that my growing pleasure exploded, and I let out a heartfelt moan. Charlie shuddered, and spent himself inside me. From my bent-over position, I could feel every throb of his cock. I used my inner muscles to squeeze him, and he moaned loudly before pulling back.

“Damn you, woman.” He said it because rough sex hadn’t been what he was in the mood for, but I couldn’t help giggling when he said it, because of the irony of his words. I made eye contact with him in the mirror, and when I saw the amused sparkle there, I knew he wasn’t really pissed.

I stood up as Charlie put himself back together and assessed my torn dress. There was no saving it. Damn. I hadn’t even gotten to wear it out in public yet.

Charlie eyed me, reading my thoughts. “I’ll call Nina and get you another dress, ” he assured me, and I smiled, because it amused me that not only did this man know who the designer of my dress was- he also knew her well enough to call her up out of the blue. Yet another reason to adore Charlie.

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“Look At Me”


Earlier

 

Look at me,” he had said.

I looked, and was pleased.

Professor had introduced him to me only as Master, so that I might never make the mistake of addressing him otherwise. I did not know if it was his teaching he doubted, or my learning. After thinking on it later, I realized it was neither, but the stubborn streak in me he hadn’t had the heart to break that caused him to use such caution.

He had wanted me to look, and I did. For a moment, I did not think on rules and obedience; my eyes saw Master now simply as one would see a stranger. I saw from where I knelt first; his legs were clad in fine black suit pants, and my fingertips ached to reach out and feel the expensive fabric. Such forwardness would bring a merciless punishment indeed, but I tucked the thought away as I looked further. There was no hint of arousal from beneath the slacks, and I knew Master was indeed a man needful of being in control then. Above the Italian leather belt, there was no belly extended, but what I assumed was a well-taken-care-of stomach that was clothed in a rich blue button-down. Upon further inspection, I saw a hint of indigo within it, and mentally congratulated him on his fashion choices.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a hand twitch, just barely. I turned my attention to it. This hand would treat me kindly, if I pleased him, or deal unmentionable discipline were I to rebel. The fingers were long, but not thick and calloused as Professor’s had been. Instead, these were slender, but not too, and looked to be incredibly soft. I leaned my face into them before I thought about it.

It seemed there was an instant when Master was caught off-guard by my action- just a second, before my chin was gripped roughly by the delicate fingers. My inspection was over.

“I believe the Professor allowed you too many liberties.” The statement was issued, and rightly. I’d known Professor granted me more favors than he should have, and I’d grown accustomed to them. “We will rectify that predicament soon enough.” His silken voice dropped. “Now show me what that old fool has taught you.”

I tried to ignore the comment, but I had never before had ill words spoken of a master, and it took great self-control. I swallowed the words that threatened to pour from my mouth and concentrated on my training. Without a steady pressure on my leash, I found myself out of sorts, and found it impossible to center my thoughts. I improvised.

I straightened my back, and my naked breasts brushed against the front of Master’s legs. My face was now level with his manhood, which was still clothed and of no evidence of even existing. I pressed my face into the zippered Y of his pants, and blew out the breath I’d been holding through my mouth. The heat of it met my face, and I hoped a little of that heat had made it through the extravagant fabric. I raised my hand from behind my back and slid the end of the leather belt through the clasp until it was undone. Master’s fingers exerted pressure on my chin, and I remembered what he had said. I looked up into his eyes and saw mild amusement.

I feared Professor’s teaching was of little use to me as I slid the zipper down on Master’s pants and undid the button at the top. The state of my nerves was glaringly apparent as I fumbled with it, and I tried to keep the frustration from my face. I pushed the offending pants down, too eagerly, and then the silk boxers. I recall now that they were plaid.

Master stood half naked before me now, and I put my tongue out and touched it to the tip of him. I ran my tongue up his considerable length, and felt him begin to stir. This was the encouragement I needed. I took in the icy blue of his eyes at the moment I took him into my mouth, and I saw his beautiful jaw clench as I began my art. My hands of their own accord found his muscular hips, and slid further back to grip his ass when I took the entire length of him into my throat. The feeling of it caused me to inadvertently make a sound.

Master’s hand had slipped down to my neck, but just then he placed both hands on the back of my head and buried his fingers into my hair as he thrust himself deeper into my throat again and again; his eyes never left mine as he spent himself quickly and withdrew himself from me. He stepped back with a look of disappointment.

“The old man is getting lethargic in his teaching. Or perhaps he just had too many feelings for you, hmm?” Master pulled up his trousers and left the room without a backward glance, leaving me unsatisfied and uncomforted as my leash trailed loose and taunting behind me.

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It Is You


 

It is no one else  I see

except you

when I feel you stir inside me.

Your heated breath on my neck

sends shivers down my spine

and the placement of your palm

on my hip

ignites the fire deep within.

Because you know that,

to me,

sex is just sex,

The way your hand

gently guides my face

to look at you

as you ease yourself into me

again and again

endears you to me,

and I love you just a little bit more

as I gaze into your eyes

and watch you come.

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Blake Shelton, Your Penis is Popular (and Other Semi-Popular Posts)


Having posted a little over 500 posts, I decided it was time to highlight the most popular posts of my blog’s lifetime thus far. I am sure this will only further make popular certain men’s junk.

Now It’s Blake Shelton’s Bulge

With a whopping 2,830 hits, it’s clear that everyone is obsessed with Blake’s vulgar bulge. Everyone,  that is, except me. I wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole, because with this many people googling it, it most certainly has some undesirable virus.

Straight Smut

While I am dismayed that Blake’s netherparts are what have drawn so many readers to my blog, I am quite elated that a story of my own fictional creation has made it this high on the list. Doubtless my indecent  imagination is to blame. 🙂

Female 5-Oclock Shadow

Not one of my best posts, and probably not exactly about whatever it was all those pervs were googling about.

The Histrionic

I am pleased that anyone even cares to read about the man, er, the woman behind the curtain. Bless you.

My Great Loves

Too, that anyone would care to read about what I adore.

Joe’s Junk and Other Disturbing Search Terms

It really is fucked-up, the things people google. And it’s pretty bad when I think so.

Smut-R-Us

This one was a little ways down on the list, but I figured I’d give y’all a little treat. 😉

Enjoy. XOXO

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Client Privilege


In the beginning…

You might wonder what makes me any more special than Candy or Blake or any other Dial-A-Whore you might find on the back side of the local entertainment pages next to the ads for sperm banks and penis enlargement pills. To be honest, Candy is gorgeous, and the dickheads down at Winston’s refer to Blake as the “Hoover” when they know she’s not around to kick them in the balls. But have they ever been the Angel of Lust? Think about it- take every carnal desire you’ve ever had, every animalistic sensual hunger, and multiply it times a thousand , or ten million, or a billion, and you wouldn’t even have begun to scratch the surface of the chaste shell of God that’s encasing an eternity of wanton emotions. He gave you those yearnings on purpose; He created me on purpose. Everyone knows God doesn’t make mistakes. Maybe He just realized all that passionate voracity blinds people to almost everything else, so He told a few disciples and prophets it would be best to tell people to restrain themselves a little. Who knows.

Clearly, Charlie didn’t get the memo.

Charlie’s my most loyal customer. You’d think he was in his twenties, if you based his age on the amount of money he’s paid me in the last few years. Luckily, his twenty-two year old libido is matched up to his fifty-two year old perfectly- practiced gift for fucking. I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t do him for free.

He was here earlier. Normally, I don’t accept clients at my own place, but Charlie, well, he’s Charlie. Of course, he couldn’t teach me anything I wasn’t already designed to know, but after I knew Charlie for awhile, I kinda started wondering if Charlie wasn’t God’s male duplicate of me. Or maybe he’s just sexed his way through enough women that he’s got nothing else to learn. Thus his captivation with me.

When he gave his habitual rhythmic knock on my door, I was applying my Urban Decay lipstick in F-Bomb (my favorite). He opened the door without waiting for me to reply, and leaned against it after he closed it, just watching me. It’s my job to unnerve people, and I’m still not sure how Charlie can do it, but I watched him watching me in my mirror, and his intense ice-blue stare made me on edge enough that my lipstick slid right off my bottom lip.

“Fuck!” I whispered under my breath, hoping Charlie hadn’t seen, but knowing he had.

Before I had a chance to wipe it off, Charlie pushed his tall body off of the door and he strolled over to where I was standing. He said not a word, but continued to watch me in the mirror. His eyes never left mine as I felt the soft pad of his thumb trace my jawline before running along the outline of my lip, wiping the red stain away. Even with my peacock blue, five-inch heels on, he was a good nine inches taller than me, and I watched in the mirror as his hand slid from my face, down my neck, and under the neckline of my silk dress. Before his hand even touched my left breast, I felt it all the way south of my belly button, and I couldn’t stop the sound that escaped my rouged lips.

Ok, so let me explain a little bit about Charlie. He’s been married, numerous times, in fact, has enough money that he never has to work, and gets off on getting women off. A lot of guys don’t give one shit about whether their woman is turned on before they stick their dick in them, and couldn’t care less whether she orgasms or not, and probably wouldn’t be able to tell either way. Charlie is not one of those guys. I’m convinced he wouldn’t even be able to get a hard-on unless the woman he intended to fuck was dripping wet. Don’t ask me why he pays for sex, because even after all these years, he won’t tell me.

When he heard that sound, his fingertips squeezed my nipple, and my eyes slid shut, relishing the tingle that was running down my body. I leaned back against him, his toned body taking my weight easily, and ran my hand up his tailored pants, rubbing his cock through the fabric. As I did so, his hand enveloped my breast, squeezing just hard enough that it hurt. Another little squeal escaped me, and his grip tightened even more. My eyelids flew open, and my gaze met his in the mirror; his eyes had never left my face. His breath was on my neck, on my ear, and sent little shivers of pleasure across my skin. I looked into his eyes as he ran his free hand up my leg and under my skirt, and I noticed his dimpled smirk when he realized I wasn’t wearing any panties. His face in the mirror looked like a young man’s- a young man with a dirty secret- as his experienced fingers explored my most intimate places, as he discovered what his fingers and his eyes and his breath on me had done. I was encircled in his grip, and couldn’t move as he moved his fingertips achingly slow  in and out of me, in and out, in, and then out before bringing them up and sliding them between my F-Bomb-ed lips. He watched as I tasted the salty musk of myself, and broke his trance-like stare when I ran my tongue over and around his fingertips, and then sucked ever so gently.

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Freaks: Part 2


Here’s the rest of what I wrote yesterday.

There were books. Everywhere. Casey’s apartment had the exact same lay-out as his own, yet it was almost completely unrecognizable. The only furniture in the room were two barstools placed at the breakfast bar. Those and, Greg counted quickly, nine bookshelves. Not only were all the shelves full, but there were stacks of books lying intermittantly on the floor. There was no couch, no TV, or anything else for that matter.

“Holy shit.” The words slipped out of his outh before he realized he’d said them out loud.

“Welcome to my humble abode. Take care not to disturb the reading material.” Casey joked as she ushered him in, and Greg felt a thrill as she placed her hand on his side to guide him forward.

He turned to her. “You’re a freak. What’s with all the books?” He was certain he still had a shocked expression on his face. “It looks like frickin’ Barnes and Noble in here.”

Casey put a hand on her hip. “It’s my thing, so shut up. They’re beautiful. You’re a freak too, but I don’t go around telling you so. Who the fuck orders shit that comes UPS four times a week?”

Her sassy attitude snapped him back to reality and the books were forgotten.She looked so damn cute standing there with a furrowed brow as she admonished him, he decided to dive on in.

He stepped toward her, and as he did so, he realized this was the closest he’d ever been to here. He was startled to realize that he towered over her. As she looked up at him in confusion, he noticed her nose was squarely at his chest. How had he never noticed how small she was?

When he stooped to kiss those perfectly pouting lips, he heard her suck in a breath of surprise. As his lips met hers, he put his hands on either side of her face to keep her from retreating. For an instant, he was afraid she’d resist, but then e felt her lean into his kiss, and that was all he needed.

The last weeks of sexual frustration she’d created all came out as his hands slid from her face and he wrapped his arms around her. He clung to her like a man drowning as his tongue parted her lips and his kiss deepened. Casey moaned softly in her throat at this slight intrusion, and the sound had an almost physical pull on his prick. He felt himself straining against the fly of his pants as he grabbed Casey’s ass two-handed with a little more force than he meant to.

She had her hands in his hair now, tugging as her tongue did a sensual dance with his. Every pull was like a direct hit to his groin, and he pushed himself against her belly with need. His hand on her ass slif around to the front of her, and he was amazed to find she was wet enough already that he could feel her desire through her pants. She sucked in another breath when he found her clit through her paper-thin pants, and her hand slid over his as she oushed against it to create more friction. He pulled away from the kiss and watched her eyelashes flutter and her face flush as he stroked the most intimate part of her. Just her reaction was enough to make his already hard cock throb. He took her hand and placed it on his chest so she could feel his racing heart before he slid his hand down the front of her pants and slipped his finger inside her. She groaned when he did so, and her hand went from his chest to his zipper.

“Fuck.” He whispered into her hair before he captured her lips with his once again. She was so unbelievably wet! Her hand stroked over his naked erection, and he stilled to relish the feel of it. He hand on his dick was more than he could take, and he pushed her pants off and then tore off his own. He lifter her by the ass clear off her feet and drove himself into her as he pinned her up against one of the many bookshelves.

Casey let out a cry of pleasure when he slid himslef into her. The feel of her tight around him was exquisite, and he stilled once more.

“Fuck me. God, please fuck me.” Her fevered whisper was enough, and he pulled out and then drove himself into her again and again mercilessly.

Greg watched the flush on her Casey’s pale skin spread as he fucked her. Her eyes were closed and her head thrown back as he brought her closer to the peak. He was surprised at how easily she came when she squealed as he buried himself deep in her.

“Fuck!” Finally having her, and then listening to her come was enough to send him over the edge, and he pushed into her one final time while he shuddered in exstasy. Her arms were tight around him, and he secretly wished as the wave of pleasure subsided that she wouldn’t want to let go.

“It’s about time you got up the nerve to do that.” He grinned as she winked at him, because even a good fucking didn’t stop that smart mouth.

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Smut III


Part 3 of Smut 1 and 2

Linnea writhed in agony. A mewling sound escaped her lips, and Jess watched in amusement as Linnea struggled against her bonds. Tears of frustration seeped through Linnea’s blindfold, and the salty taste mingled with the remnants of Jess’s kisses on her lips.

“Perhaps you will think twice the next time you let your eyes wander, hmm?” From what Linnea could tell, Jess was across the room now, and even through her tears, she noticed that Jess’s accent had thickened as it did when she was impassioned.

“Is that what you want? A man?”

Though the question was asked harshly, Jess couldn’t keep the hurt from her voice.

“Do you think a man can please you better than I?”

Linnea’s voice broke as she denied the accusation. The man Jess had caught her watching was a stranger, and she had been attracted to him. She had wondered what it would have been like to have him fuck her. Linnea begged for forgiveness, begging to be untied so that she could show her devotion. She paused when she felt the bed dip slightly.

Then a cock was buried inside her, and the force with which she was impaled took her breath away.

Linnea was stunned. She couldn’t believe Jess would allow a man access to her body, but then she felt her hair being grabbed in a fist, and she recognized Jess’s grip. She realized that Jess was wearing a strap-on, and relief flooded over her.

“I hope you understand what it is you wanted.” The whisper was threatening, and then Jess began to move.

Her thrusts were so forceful, they nearly lifted Linnea off of the bed. Linnea cried out at each one, her pleasure mounting. She was unable to move; the scarves were still tightly knotted, and the grip Jess had on her hair was bending her torso back. She could do nothing but enjoy the intese pleasure coursing through her body.

When the long-awaited orgasm came, Linnea squealed in pleasure. Jess did not stop thrusting. Almost immediately, a second orgasm racked Linnea’s body; Jess plunged the imitation cock in harder.

Jess fucked Linnea without mercy. She had reverted to her native language of French, and though the words were foreign to her, Linnea understood their meaning. She belonged to no one else.

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