May 22, 2012

This is when you say I’m a bastard.

You say it in your head, because you can’t speak.

You can’t speak, because you can’t breathe.

You can’t breathe, because I’m fucking the air from you.

Forcing myself deeper.

Slowly stretching you and holding it, until you give.

Until those toes curl and cramp.

Until I can’t tell the difference between my sweat and your come.

Until I hear those fingernails on the wood.

Carving marks that will make me smile.

At how beautiful wanton looks when I force you to wear it.

(Source: bigbadrntwolf)

361 notes

May 18, 2012

bendingsubmission:

When she returned I stripped her. Slid a hand slowly up her leg and found the day long ache. I played the edges of it with my fingertips, asking if she had been distracted since morning. She nodded, eyes closed. I lingered there and took a bite of her lower lip, falling back as she tried to kiss me deeper. I repeated these near kisses and near bites until her frustration and my cock both grew. She whispered a small plea for me to take her. To finish what I’d started. Instead I picked up where we left off that morning.

Her moans and quiet pleading to be fucked made me pulse. I held myself perfectly still, to let her feel it. Waiting until she was convinced I would end the ache. Instead I flexed, letting her feel my strands of precum fall to her legs. They grazed her skin lightly. In a way my fingertip can’t match. Like wet breath, hanging in threads that raised goosebumps as it cooled in the air. I relaxed and flexed again. Her nails dug into my hands. I held her shaking hips and slid down against her legs. She said I was cruel. I told her things could always get worse. As I slowly began to slide against her thighs, I told her I might silence the howl between her legs, but first I’d need to feel her need. She stood on her toes while I moved her like a doll, waiting to feel her truly open.

(via gunxplay)

88 notes

May 16, 2012

lets-blog-about-sex-baby:

ctboston:

A favorite of mine.

Filed under “things I need to do before I turn nineteen because I don’t want to wait forever for this.”

0 notes

May 13, 2012

My Story

I am a submissive. It took me a long time to realize this, and just a bit longer to come to terms with it.

I have been emotionally abused. The thought of being a sub was always terrifying to me, and it still scares me at times. I haven’t had successful relationships, sexual or romantic. I don’t have an easy time giving up control. My sexual needs don’t match up with my issues. I’ve had an irrational phobia of men for a few years when I was in middle school. The emotional abuse was doled out by male family members.

I don’t trust easily, which is why even sexual relationships have failed. I love being pinned, being bitten, being spanked, fucked hard and fast, and this all requires me to trust that I won’t be taken advantage of and raped.

I fear being raped. I’ve already been taken advantage of, and it was a crushing experience.

I can’t even fully submit. I can’t bring myself to perform oral. The idea of it stuns and freezes me. The reality of it makes me want to cry. I just don’t can’t. I feel as there’s something wrong here. It’s beyond dislike, it’s fear. And I can’t tell what I am afraid of. I wish I could go to a sex therapist, but I don’t have the money.

And now, there is a man in my life. It’s simple, because I love having him around, talking with him, sleeping with him, and fucking him. It’s complicated because he’s frightened of formal commitment and I’ll be leaving very soon, and won’t return for any long stretch of time. I can trust him to not (intentionally) hurt me. I haven’t felt I could do this with anyone in a long time. It doesn’t feel like the end, but if he’s scared to try, then it will be. I could cry, but instead I’ll ignore it like I always do.

I would just very much like to be held by him right now.