Posted on 2010.12.01 at 22:00
So, Christmas is coming, and I had a just brilliant idea for what to get my sir, that won't cost my broke self any money, and will make him exquisitely happy.
I want to give him a striptease. I guarantee that this will make him a *very* happy sir indeed, which is of course my principle goal in everything I do with him. But because I am a somewhat analytically minded person, and certainly a practically minded person, I want it to be absolutely perfect. I've never given a striptease before, so I can't just throw myself at him and assume it will go well.
So I chose a good piece of music, and I looked up some tips, and I arranged an outfit, and I...started practising! And that's where everything is going wrong. Because the practise?
I look sexy. I feel sexy. I absolutely am sexy. And because of that, all the thought I put into what gets removed when, and all the practise at pawing myself and removing clothing...well, it's all making me *really* horny.
And I have to wait for weeks before I can resolve this! What's a poor slut to do?
Hmm, guess I better practise some more. You know, so I'll be really good. For my sir.
Posted on 2010.10.17 at 19:30
So, I've had fantasies (oft termed as daydreams) since I was very young indeed, many of which I have long since forgotten as my world twisted around and changed, and the boys who were oh-so-important then, become less so now.
Many of them are kinky --early me had a total thing for being watched, for being an exhibitionist, and most of all for being a naive young woman taken advantage of by the clever and evil gentleman. Very scandalous, I'm sure!
Now, like I said, many of these are long since forgotten. Occasionally I'll recall the rough shape of one, and see if my modern self still fits into it, a new twist on an old fantasy. And every once in a very great while, well, the world will twist *just* so, and all a sudden, there I am standing inside something I hadn't thought about in many years, yet decisively living a daydream.
Case in point, ShibariBoy just move into a new place, and is frantically trying to get ready for a convention. I asked if there were anything I could do to help in the couple of days before I visited, and he offered me the job of sorting out his library. Which pulled me straight back into ninth grade, when I had the elaborate daydreamed situation of how I would be the live-in librarian for a very rich young gentleman --who happened of course to be the current object of my affections. Hijinks (and true love!) followed of course.
I...I think I could be okay with being a slutty librarian for him! And it certainly is interesting to realize just where parts of that particularly thorough (and indeed, it is *rather* pervasive in my world) fetish came from --I've been a bibliophile for years, but the active librarian bit is a little different from what I'm used to.
Now, I seem to recall a fanfiction in which Hermione and Severus had sex on a charmed (to stay clean, of course!) stack of books. Let's see if that's at all doable anytime soon, hm?
Posted on 2010.07.17 at 01:04
I have a confession to make.
I have a *huge* soft spot for Omegle. Something about the random stranger nature of it appeals to me. That, and there are usually people willing to cyberfuck, whenever I log on.
...unfortunately, they don't seem to be any *good* at cyberfucking. I've yet to ever have a worthwhile example, and hell man, I've created a whole spare e-mail just in case. But thus far, all my searching has been in vain --the people who are willing to actually put their lust into words (and not just beg for a pic or my msn) tend to lack grammar and in all honesty, are just plain *boring*. I want something more in my life!
(That is, I suppose, the appeal. I know one day I'll find my perfect cybersex pal, and when I do...oh, heaven awaits! In the meantime though, I'll take what I can get. Ugh.)
That being said, I have gotten to do some interesting searches in pursuit of alleviating boredom. Like the one guy who, when we pic swapped (don't worry dear readers, I substituted a cropped picture of some other beautiful girl) took an awful long time to come back with a picture that took me maybe five minutes on google to discover was of a gay porn star. Yeah. That's classy.
Or just now when I raised my eyebrow in skepticism at a boy's claim he was nine and a half inches. Google remains my friend --according to this page
, I'm talking to a member of less than .1 percent of the population! I should be so fucking lucky, right!
(Of course in reality, a nine inch dick would be sent *straight* away, thankyouverymuch. I am a small woman, and I'd have to *really* like the boy to even think about it.)
At any rate, speaking of Mr. nine-and-a-half, at least I can't complain of his enthusiasm. Better get back to that. Oh what's that? You didn't think people could write livejournal entries during good cybersex?
Yeah, I don't think so either.
Posted on 2010.07.16 at 23:32
So, I am slowly beginning to see the appeal of this "tumblr" thing.
It started with Good Shit
. Erosblog linked, I followed, and I determined that it was *well* worth spending a few minutes a day there, admiring what pretties he had to unload. It was added to my growing collection of porn blogs that I read on a daily (or semi-daily) basis --one of the first picture based, rather than word-based things to do so (Besides ErosBlog
, of course, which really was my original sex blog, and I'm very fond of it).
After a while, I came to realize that the wonderful Erotiterrorist himself had a tumblr
. Shon Richards, whose tastes have come to somewhat influence my own, posting all the pretty pictures he finds in the world. I was willing to wander in and watch, and after a few goes of this, I found I had started to follow. Goddamnit Shon. You have far more sway over me than a simple porn writer ought to.
And then the other night, it happens! Bacchus linked to another tumblr he enjoyed, and, well, I really had to go poke around. For science, you know? Before I knew it, I had looked at all 49 pages of posts on Erectus
, and squirreled away more than a few favourites --you know, for future browsing?
It made me wonder a bit though. Perhaps it's time for me to get in on this tumblr craze, finally. I do see a lot of pictures in the world --perhaps I ought to share them, or at least have a place where I can find all my favourites again. After all, the whole point of this identity is being able to splatter my shameful secrets across the web without ever reassociating with myself. You can learn an awful lot about a girl by knowing what she finds sexy after all.
In the meantime though...well, I've already got this blog that I neglect plenty. Who needs another?
Posted on 2010.06.06 at 23:05
I think I just metasexualed my way into giving myself an musically based orgasm in the car on the way home from dance.
See, on the way *to* dance, I noticed how much I was enjoying the bass --it's one of those "better than sex" feelings, right in my chest, at my self-spot, where all my pain centers. So I decided to investigate, and see if I could manage to turn the bass up and turn the volume down a bit --protect my poor ears, after all. This improved things, so I went and danced in a merry mood.
It should be noted that I had an orgasm yesterday, and an orgasm the day before and am about to get *just* two or three orgasms I suppose, so I'm basically putting my body into horny-mode. But dancing was nothing special, and mostly I just wanted to get home and write.
In the car, I have the volume up to ear-shattering levels, like you do when you still think you're nineteen and immortal and get to drive alone. I was *definitely* enjoying the bass of the music, because it makes me feel really good. A song comes on, with a pretty good orchestration --strong bass, and the whole car just vibrating from the arc of the violin. It's wonderful, amazing, incredible, the sort of thing that is everything music *should* be.
Now, one of my favourite concepts in the world is the idea of a girl who has synesthesia linking hearing and touch --she "feels" music. I even wrote a short piece for her, describing how while most girls look for the perfect guy, she just wants the perfect song. I was just thinking about that, as I enjoyed the rhythm and the melody, when I realized something incredibly important.
I was wet. Wet and getting *wetter*, my pussy reacting to the movement of the song, as it made my body tremble. And as the song continued, building intensity, so did the warmth inside me, and all of a sudden, I was horny, I was ready, and this song was making me cum.
I mean, not quite then. But it was certainly making me shake, as I tried to deal with the sensation. I was squirming in my seat, probably quite noticeable to anyone driving by me --thankfully, I was mostly alone on the road, so I didn't much have to worry. Not that I would --I was so busy giving myself to the song, riding it out.
I had sex with a song. I don't think that's a claim many people would be willing to make.
At one point, I had a mini-climax, the kind of little gasping sensation that is just building to something bigger, and better. The song ran out, and I found myself breathing heavily, moaning louder than I ever have before --I am normally quite a quiet person. But the noise wanted noise and so I provided, increasingly loud gasps and whimpers.
The next song was just as good, even thumpier if not as well orchastrated, and as I pulled up to a red light, I found myself pulling up my skirt and pushing aside my panties. My hand remained between my thighs for the rest of the mile or so it took to get to home, and as I drove on a backroad next to a cemetary --thankfully no other cars behind or before me-- I found myself truly climaxing, my pussy squeezing tight around my questing fingers. I came to a full stop in the middle of the road, thanking all the gods I follow that the late hour meant empty streets.
I am now a little bit afraid to get back into that car. But oh holy shit. Whatever twist of mental fate let me pretend, I thank it. Really seriously guys --there are few things as awesome as aural sex.
Posted on 2010.05.28 at 15:00
I want a fucking hotel.
Fucking in this case should be used not as emphasis, but as description. I want a hotel in which people fuck. A lot. I want a hotel in which different floors and different rooms are devoted to different kinks. I want a hotel where some of the beds have cages under them, and others have restraints built into the walls.
And I want it to be mine all mine. Oh sure, friends can come and visit, and if there's any justice in the world I'll convince Frolicon to move to it, but in the grand scheme of things, it will be My Hotel.
And it will be quite a prestigious honour to be invited to work there. A rigorous application process will determine whether your oh-so-fuckable lips truly are, or if that perky ass is just gropable enough. Everyone, from maids to janitors to cook-staff and the receptionist will be selected on a mixture of practicality, skill, and fuckability. I do so appreciate a nicely fuckable maid, in a cute little outfit. Maybe invest in a proper uniform --short skirts all around, with ruffles! Sure, it's been done, but sometimes we must accept that there is a reason the classics are considered thus.
Perhaps I'll have to save some of these ideas for once I rule the world. Just think, once I have a gorgeous tall tower to rule from, perhaps this hotel could reside in eight or ten of the floors. Let's say...floors 18-27. Excellent, I'll get my architects right on this!
(Hmmm, sexy architects now there's an idea...I'll have to flesh out that one a bit later...just think of all the things you could do with the drafting tables alone!)
Posted on 2010.05.21 at 03:05
Oh my god.
Oh my god.
Oh my god you guys!
I have flights to and from the city in which ShibariBoy lives!
I'll be gone the seventh to the fifteenth of June, and hopefully my 750words account will not suffer *too* dearly from then. Here, at least, should be provided with plenty of incentive to write, and inspiration too!
I am so fucking excited!! I have no idea what's going to happen, what we're going to do. I recognize the ridiculosity of me visiting him two weeks before we're gonna see each other anyways, at the con we met at. I know full well that BestFriend is going to kill me, for barely spending any time at the place I grew up, and mom too.
But I don't care. 'Cause in seventeen days time...I'll be leaving on a jetplane and going to go have a just fucking *awesome* adventure.
Posted on 2010.05.07 at 00:24
This is the rough cut of a story I wrote at the end of March. I wrote about a thousand words of a second meeting between the characters today, and figured I might as well post this one as part of an incentive to myself to finish the other. Enjoy!
He watched hungrily as she entered the library. Through the stacks she wound, and he would lose sight of her as she ducked down one narrow hallway defined by the bookshelves or another. She stopped, most of the way to the far wall from his office, and he mentally calculated the distance. When it lined up, he smiled, and went back to his work.
After fifteen minutes, when he hadn't seen her come back out, he decided to take a careful stroll. He didn't have to ask what section she was is -one of the libraries best-kept secrets was the vast selection of pornography it kept tucked away on the fourth floor. So few people came up here, and fewer still actually bothered to look past the more mundane books they needed for class.
He stopped, three shelves away, and paused, holding himself completely still. He smiled as the image of a wolf flashed into his mind -his silent tread and predatory stance would make Tex Avery proud. He only hoped that the curvy girl he had spotted was amicable to being his prey.
As he listened, he heard the whisper of clothing moving over skin, a skirt being pulled up or a blouse pulled down. The girl was quiet as she worked, but her breathing was audible, and delicious --the occasional slight gasp punctuated breathes deep enough to make any bosom heave. If he listened hard enough, he could even hear the occasional slick noise as her fingers worked over her cunt.
He waited until the breathing took on an increased franticness and walked down the aisle to face her. She was turned slightly away, leaning against the closer set of shelves. Her eyes were half closed, an open book of fifties pin-ups lay gently discarded next to her. Whatever fantasy had her in its grips, it had to be a lovely one --he almost let her have her orgasm.
"And what's a pretty girl like you doing inside on a beautiful day like this?" She jumped, and her hand shot out from under her skirt like a flash. There was the faintest wet sheen on her fingers, and it took far too much willpower to not lean down and suck her fingers into his mouth, cleaning her of the fluid.
"I, I'm so sorry s-sir, gods, I didn't mean, I just got overwhelmed and it was so nice and I thought I was alone up here and didn't think anyo-"
"Shh." he said, in his best authoritative librarian voice. Her babbling cut off sharply, and he granted her the slightest turning up of the lips. "Good girl. Now then... whatever am I going to do with you?"
"Oh please, I didn't mean to cause any trouble! Don't get me expelled, please!" She looked as though she was about to cry, and he chuckled softly.
"Expel you for what? Reading a book? No, it's not university policy to punish students for taking advantage of the resources provided." He leaned over and carefully picked up the book, watching out of the corner of his eye as she visibly relaxed. "However, treating the books badly is certainly going to be a problem for you." He snapped the book shut, and shelved it in its proper place reverently. "I think I'll have to give you a proper warning, talk to public safety. And of course, I'll need to speak to your advisor about such naughty behaviour."
She shivered, and shook her head. "I didn't mean to! I normally treat books much better, oh please, I just dropped it, I got..." she hesitated, and he smiled. He had been careful not to directly mention her exhibition, there was such a thrill to a woman coming to the conclusion that she'd been bad all on her own.
"Yes?" he prompted, and was rewarded by a generous blush across the girl's face and chest. She had the delightful sort of fair complexion that marks easily, be it blush or bruise, and a generous sprinkle of freckles. Her sundress was a green that brought out her eyes, and was cut low enough that he was getting a delightful eyeful, standing above her as he was.
"I..." she looked up at him, and he gave his softest smile, the one that offered comfort rather than reproach. A nervous swallow, and her mind seemed to be made up. "I was looking at the pin-ups and got distracted. I really didn't think anyone was up here."
"Hmm, so distracted you had to frig yourself immediately?" Her blush deepened, and he patted her on the shoulder. "Relax. I'm not going to report you to your advisor or security for such." Her muscles started to relax, and he smiled, his favourite hunting smile. "I much prefer to take the discipline for such matters into my own hands."
She absolutely froze at that, her eyes wide and frightened. He patted her shoulder once more, and began to slowly walk back to his office. "I leave it up to you. My office is across from the stairs if you feel you've done anything worthy of punishment. Regardless of what you decide, I'd appreciate that you keep your hands out of your pants while you're in my library. At least, without specific permission." He walked the rest of the way down the hall, and casually shut the door.
Five minutes later, she knocked. Gods, how he loved this job!
When she had knocked on the door, it had taken all his strength not to leap for the handle, and haul her inside. Wicked glee would scare her off faster than contempt, and she was far too pretty to do such a cruel thing to. Instead, he finished writing down the proposal he was working on, carefully shut the laptop, and only after a moment's reflection, rose to open the door.
She was standing there, trembling slightly, and not daring to look up into his eyes. "I want to apologize, sir." she said, biting her lower lip. "I didn't mean to treat your books or your library with such disrespect."
"Apologies are mere words." This was the hard part, the part which required all the delicacy he required. "I cannot be expected to believe you are truly sorry without some form of... reparations." The pause was deliberate, should she be offended, she could easily take it as monetary.
And should she be intrigued, she could just as easily take it as it was meant to be taken.
"I...I think I understand, sir." she whimpered. "I must be punished for my naughtiness, to keep from ever doing such again." She looked up at him then, and a note of frightened strength came into her voice. "I have been a bad girl, and submit to your punishment."
He schooled himself to keep his face straight at the overwrought dramatics. The girl was certainly earnest, and probably had no concept of how ridiculous she appeared, a strawberry blonde in a sundress parroting the words made cliche by the world of black leather and latex. He opened the door further, and beckoned her in. His office was cramped, true, but he wasn't about to show her the library archives or the learning lab, not yet.
"What's your name?" His tone was conversant as he shut the door and dropped the blinds. Later, he would spank her with the blinds open, her facing across the hall to the stairway to see anyone else who came upstairs. He could beat her with the door open, warning her not to let her screams echo too loud lest she be discovered...he shook his head away from the train of thought, and smiled.
"I'm Lana. Lana Cole." she said softly, unsure of whether she should be acting submissive or friendly. He extended a hand, and she shook it nervously.
"My name is Mr. Hoffmann." he said simply. "And I do with I could say it was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Cole, but I'm afraid that's simply not yet true. It is never a pleasure to meet someone disrespectful of the book." She shivered, and nodded in agreement.
He moved his laptop, and a few stray papers off the desk, leaving it clear. "I'd like you to bend over, and rest your forearms there please." He pulled the chair aside, and waited.
She hesitated, studying him. He made no motion in that time, letting her decide all by herself whether he was dangerous and this was crazy. Ever so slowly, she took a step closer, and bent over.
His desk was specifically a few inches shorter than the norm, it caused her ass to rise in the air, and her sundress to pull up dangerously. She had a large ass, round and smooth and simply beautiful. He flipped the sundress over her back, exposing light purple panties that covered less than they revealed, and paused.
She flinched, but it was no more than reflexive reaction at the movement. Her feet and elbows stayed firmly planted, and he let a smile creep across his face. Inexperienced or not, she knew what she was doing.
"Miss Lana Cole, please state your crime."
He couldn't see the blush across her face, but he knew it must be there by the way she squirmed. "I...I am guilty of treating books with disrespect," she whimpered.
He set a casual hand on her ass, marveling at the delicious feel of the curve under his hand. "And?"
"And?" There was impertinence in her voice and that would not stand. He grabbed her hair suddenly, jerking her head back so that he could glare at her. She yelped, and started to move to fight him, but came to her senses, and pressed her arms back to the desk. "Good." he hissed, as she stopped moving. "And your other crime?"
"F-for masturbating." she stammered, her face scrunched against the pain. He released her hair, and her head snapped back forward, resting against the desk.
"That is correct." he said cooly, and without any warning at all, spanked her right in the center of her right ass cheek. The red mark blossomed in an instant, and he smiled. He had always loved girls who marked easily.
The next four smacks fell in a tight cluster around the first, and the pink in the center blossomed into a hurt red. She whimpered at each strike, and as she took a deep breath, he could hear the ragged edge of tears.
Switching to the other side, he gave her another four strikes, circling the left buttock. "I trust you will not behave in such an unseemly manner again, Miss Cole?" She nodded emphatically, and started to rise.
A hand firmly on her back, and he pressed her back into the desk. The last smack was the hardest he had dared on her virgin bum, and he was pleased to hear a moan escape her lips as the pain blossomed. He waited until she stopped trembling, before removing the hand from her back, and opening the door.
"You may leave now, Miss Lana," he said simply, "I have work that must be done."
Her mouth opened in protest, and he gave her a stern look. It snapped shut again, and she walked out the door, squirming slightly as she got used to walking with the pain. She turned at the door, perhaps to object to the lack of closure, beg for a release from how turned on she had clearly become.
His only response to her unasked question was to open his laptop, and resume work. With the faintest whimper, she turned, and walked out of his office and down the stairs.
He was looking forward to her return.
Posted on 2010.05.06 at 20:21
So, the other day on 750words, I mentioned to myself that perhaps it was a bad thing that I wasn't trying to blog my output. After all, sexy things are happening! I got tied to a flagpole on the roof of my school building and given a hand job! I have turned into an electrowhore, and have the further adventures at the science museum to prove it! I watched bike porn!!
The real point of my thought, however, was a matter of practicality. I wanted to be posting my daily output, simply so that I could adequetely tag my output. Then, when I wanted to look back and find something again, I would have an easy way of doing so.
There's another reason as well, that is becoming painfully evident the longer I faff about on this library computer. 750words does not play nice with Internet Explorer, which was all that I can access right now. This means that, the convinient archive of all my writing to use? Not so convinient after all. I really really want my dear sweet laptop to use --she's got the story I want to work on all cued up in a separate file, just begging for more. I do so love it when the stories beg for more, don't you?
And of course I *could* just walk home and use my computer there (after I get the school book I need, of course), but GingerRoomie and BralessHippie are having a study session together. I love them both, but, well...erotica does not like company. Erotica likes privacy, solitude...a place to wank, let's be honest here.
And if you think I can't wank in the school library? Oh, you are so wrong. And the memory alone was enough to turn me on to near desperate levels, just walking in.
So yes, take this as the hope for more posts. Toodles!
Posted on 2010.04.10 at 03:02
So, after my second orgasm or so, as we settle back into cuddling, ShibariBoy leans over to me and whispers those three little words that every girl so loves to hear:
"to be continued"
Oh, doesn't it just make your heart *melt*!?