Ordinarily, I don’t dream. When I am frustrated by one thing or another however…….
Like potters clay my body is molded to fit his form. His weight upon my chest is nothing, all that matters is the tantric pleasure he delivers. Soft hands dance across my flesh, cupping my breasts, spanning my ass, kneading my thighs. His tongue awakening nerve endings and stimulating my soul while thoughts of what I did to deserve this sinful pleasure tumble through my mind.
I fight to grab hold of me but I lose, and relax under his probing…..With a call he had beckoned me to his bed, his request simple, “Can I make love to you?” Six words woven together….a profound tapestry, and which woman doesn’t like the sound of her name on a man’s lips. As he approaches the door, I step back and drink in the sight of him, his presence, that smile. I fight the urge to have him just stand there and flex, nothing would have pleased me more than to see his body on show, just for me…at least for that night. In wife beater and jeans, barefoot, smoky…he was beautiful.
My approach was welcomed as I took his cheeks between my palms and brought my mouth down to get a taste of his. His immediate response was…unmistakable. Hypnotized by his bulging biceps, the cushion of his chest, the hint of cologne, the power he represented, I placed my trust in him to make me feel, and I knew he was equal to the task.
“I want to taste you.” Five words was all it took to un-dam the river.
As usual the first strokes of his coarse tongue on the pink, wet, delicate flesh were too intense… and he held my hips in place as I tried to wriggle free and up the length of the bed. “Stay”. A muffled threat, the “or else” needn’t be said.... Hungry he seemed, devouring and unwrapping the gift with expert ease. Each thrust in and out built a roaring lioness' groan but my climax was dashed each time for he wanted to prolong the wanting. Watching and waiting intensely as I rose my hips to meet his Cheshire smiling lips….Frustration sets in.
“More”, a low whimper, a plea really, escapes me and he cools the fire with his breath, blowing, soothing….I descend only to be hoisted once again. On the third attempt, when the abuse left swollen labia and clit I held his head in place….the power table shifts. I coach him with rotating hips, slow circular thrusts… "don’t fucking move…. let me fuck you” a whisper intended to eek out my full release.
I am afflicted by spasms and he doesn’t relent…a fight ensues to rip his pleasure trove away from my body...... “Ssstop….tttoo intense”. Him nodding no sends thrills to the pit of my stomach and another eruption charges free…I am spent. Convulsing uncontrollably, I flay my hands wildly until he shows mercy and leaves me be. Quivering, the heat from his hovering body teasing my nipples, I fight a losing battle for control again….Aaaaaaaaaahhh.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
Limits
A woman should always know her limits. This is the most critical element to your satisfaction in life. Whether its how much cream to take in your coffee, or inches you can handle...know your limits. For me, in sex its simple.....I like a man who sacrifices for my pleasure.
Because I think I was dirty, nasty slut in another life:) I tend to like my sex nasty mostly. You know, sweaty slapping bodies, nibbles and bites that just break the border of bearable, the smell of juices, saliva on and in every crevice, name calling (but for bitch), role playing and in general visual stimulation.
I like the sight of a black man's big dick, but I know I my limit is eight inches with two or so inches of girth. I know I like:
- being on top, on the bottom, on my knees, on my back
- being taken from behind in 6 inch heels with fish net panty-hose
- knowing that someone is listening to my groans and vulgar utterances
- tasting my juices on his dick
- hearing him moan, not like a bitch, but those little ones that escape him inspite of his tight grip on self ( that really turns me on - it makes me know that the pleasure is mutual and that strokes my ego, simple really)
- getting fucked in front of the mirror
- watching him do a strip tease, muscles rippling, his chocolate brown skin glistening and that pretty smile
- being teased to the point of utter frustration, this makes me more than wet
- searching for his sensitive spot with my tongue...wishing I could over power him, just once and have him feel how I feel when he teases me so
I like a man who fights the urge to lay himself down, bending instead to my will to look up at his face as I suck. One who caresses the bulge in my cheek with sweet force, a man who is attracted by my big eyes looking up at him with complete and absolute lust. A man who shows me in certain terms that I make him hard...no fluff, just unadulterated wanting, a limitless being when it comes to being pleased by the flesh, a maestro who knows that a woman does her best work resting on her heels. I like a man who knows that I like the weight of his dick resting on my face as I lick his balls and possibly his ass. I like a man who accepts that I am "touchy-feely" and will not mistake my caressing his body in the afterglow as an invitation to ravage me again, or to come into my heart.
Because I think I was dirty, nasty slut in another life:) I tend to like my sex nasty mostly. You know, sweaty slapping bodies, nibbles and bites that just break the border of bearable, the smell of juices, saliva on and in every crevice, name calling (but for bitch), role playing and in general visual stimulation.
I like the sight of a black man's big dick, but I know I my limit is eight inches with two or so inches of girth. I know I like:
- being on top, on the bottom, on my knees, on my back
- being taken from behind in 6 inch heels with fish net panty-hose
- knowing that someone is listening to my groans and vulgar utterances
- tasting my juices on his dick
- hearing him moan, not like a bitch, but those little ones that escape him inspite of his tight grip on self ( that really turns me on - it makes me know that the pleasure is mutual and that strokes my ego, simple really)
- getting fucked in front of the mirror
- watching him do a strip tease, muscles rippling, his chocolate brown skin glistening and that pretty smile
- being teased to the point of utter frustration, this makes me more than wet
- searching for his sensitive spot with my tongue...wishing I could over power him, just once and have him feel how I feel when he teases me so
I like a man who fights the urge to lay himself down, bending instead to my will to look up at his face as I suck. One who caresses the bulge in my cheek with sweet force, a man who is attracted by my big eyes looking up at him with complete and absolute lust. A man who shows me in certain terms that I make him hard...no fluff, just unadulterated wanting, a limitless being when it comes to being pleased by the flesh, a maestro who knows that a woman does her best work resting on her heels. I like a man who knows that I like the weight of his dick resting on my face as I lick his balls and possibly his ass. I like a man who accepts that I am "touchy-feely" and will not mistake my caressing his body in the afterglow as an invitation to ravage me again, or to come into my heart.
As you can see, there are several things I like but there are two things I can't handle....watching him trying to be my buddy and a man who confuses the slutty me when his dick is pleasing me with the me outside of his bed.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
All Things Bright and Beautiful
I enjoyed my weekend at the beach so much in my last post that I went back for a week. Aaaahhhh.....the blazing sun, the ash gray skies, on more occasions than our white guests would have liked, and the alcohol.....my new found drink is a Lime daiquiri...mmmm. I've never really appreciated the smell or taste of white rum, for a myriad of reasons including a father who didn't know when to say when, but DAMN...that drink is good.
Mi bruk out pan di beach, sang the nighttime bond fire songs with zest and zeal and learned how to "cock it, cock it, cock it up gal" (the dance...dirty minds:) Yep I was once again fancy free with my sister in tow and a girlfriend too. It was great.
The eye candy was wondrous and I learnt how to appreciate built bodies of different hues. One guy, unknown to him of course, teased me the whole week and were I not a sweet, trying to live right girl, I would have made my advances, but, he and his girl seemed quite into each other so I chilled and just admired his body on the odd ten or so occasions. Once, having jogged to the gym, sweaty and completly out of breath...I hate cardio...I bounced through the door to see him and the gym instructor who, were it not for his height challenges, would have also been a prime candidate for me...in another life.
The hymn "All things bright and beautiful..." played over and over in my mind as I soaked in the image of his dark skin, sweaty T, arms and chest bursting from the self inflicted abuse of the free weights, and I thanked God, the cycle machines over looked the tennis court instead of the ceiling to floor mirrors which gave me too inspiration to conjour up images of his body really pumping.
Now, this girl has been good for a good while or so, being hard up would have been more than an understatement, but I trusted myself to be good. I got into the zone very quickly and blocked the sound and thoughts of him out of my mind. My focus was so great that I barely heard when the instructor asked if I was alright....having noticed my eyes tightly shut and my legs rotating the pedals of the cycle like a possesed amazon being...Damnit, he broke my stride. I nodded breathlessly and he handed me a bottle of water to replenish my lungs and thighs.
Stepping away from the unit, to stretch for my second round, I glimpsed the Herculean arms from the corner of my eye. Mmmm...mmmm good, I thought as he effortlessly curled what seemed to be at least 40 bounds. Fleetingly, a thought of him on top of me and my lungs being crushed for a more pleasurable purpose, but I returned to my bike...now there was more than calories from the buffet at lunch that I needed to work off.
I lasted a mere 30 minutes and gave up when I couldn't feel my thighs and butt anymore. I smiled at the attendant and thanked him for the help and sustaining fluid and headed for a clothes change to hit the openish sea.
With a one piece on and a sarong covering most of me at least, I took the 20 steps to the beach. It was refreshing. I hailed my sister who was hoping to squeeze the last minutes of sun that remained and we had a swim and chat while while watching a few men watch her melon like chest bobb up and down to the rhythm of waves. Men are shameless....a feature I quite admire.
While the poolside filled with hungry being to be fed, and the local version of a Cabana boy came milling around, we packed it up for the evening and headed into the Bungalow for a shower and change. Its amazing how the vacation you abhors the thought of lengthy fabric clinging to your body. I opted instead for a simple dress, short but sweet. Accenting my curves and shaving a few years off my appearance I thought....I was ready for the thrills of the night.
Dinner was good....Hotels I find have a plethora of salads and protein to choose from...I was in heaven..ish. I couldn't shake the vibe of wanting to be in a mans arms, feeling him holding me tight and it didn't help to see couples at every turn. Grudgeful and badmind, my sister told me
and I agreed wholeheartedly.
With sustenance in us and an idle spirit to appease we sauntered over to the bar at the far side (the real adult section) and were entertained by the twisting mystery wiles of Storm and Hurricane.....lets just say that I now know why old men will always choose young girls. I soaked as much of the positions, gyrations and general expertise an had to concede that while I was sure I could out manoeuvre the Storm and win my man with intellectual mind games, she could in one felt swoop trap him each swing of her well shaped hips. The bitch.
.......
Mi bruk out pan di beach, sang the nighttime bond fire songs with zest and zeal and learned how to "cock it, cock it, cock it up gal" (the dance...dirty minds:) Yep I was once again fancy free with my sister in tow and a girlfriend too. It was great.
The eye candy was wondrous and I learnt how to appreciate built bodies of different hues. One guy, unknown to him of course, teased me the whole week and were I not a sweet, trying to live right girl, I would have made my advances, but, he and his girl seemed quite into each other so I chilled and just admired his body on the odd ten or so occasions. Once, having jogged to the gym, sweaty and completly out of breath...I hate cardio...I bounced through the door to see him and the gym instructor who, were it not for his height challenges, would have also been a prime candidate for me...in another life.
The hymn "All things bright and beautiful..." played over and over in my mind as I soaked in the image of his dark skin, sweaty T, arms and chest bursting from the self inflicted abuse of the free weights, and I thanked God, the cycle machines over looked the tennis court instead of the ceiling to floor mirrors which gave me too inspiration to conjour up images of his body really pumping.
Now, this girl has been good for a good while or so, being hard up would have been more than an understatement, but I trusted myself to be good. I got into the zone very quickly and blocked the sound and thoughts of him out of my mind. My focus was so great that I barely heard when the instructor asked if I was alright....having noticed my eyes tightly shut and my legs rotating the pedals of the cycle like a possesed amazon being...Damnit, he broke my stride. I nodded breathlessly and he handed me a bottle of water to replenish my lungs and thighs.
Stepping away from the unit, to stretch for my second round, I glimpsed the Herculean arms from the corner of my eye. Mmmm...mmmm good, I thought as he effortlessly curled what seemed to be at least 40 bounds. Fleetingly, a thought of him on top of me and my lungs being crushed for a more pleasurable purpose, but I returned to my bike...now there was more than calories from the buffet at lunch that I needed to work off.
I lasted a mere 30 minutes and gave up when I couldn't feel my thighs and butt anymore. I smiled at the attendant and thanked him for the help and sustaining fluid and headed for a clothes change to hit the openish sea.
With a one piece on and a sarong covering most of me at least, I took the 20 steps to the beach. It was refreshing. I hailed my sister who was hoping to squeeze the last minutes of sun that remained and we had a swim and chat while while watching a few men watch her melon like chest bobb up and down to the rhythm of waves. Men are shameless....a feature I quite admire.
While the poolside filled with hungry being to be fed, and the local version of a Cabana boy came milling around, we packed it up for the evening and headed into the Bungalow for a shower and change. Its amazing how the vacation you abhors the thought of lengthy fabric clinging to your body. I opted instead for a simple dress, short but sweet. Accenting my curves and shaving a few years off my appearance I thought....I was ready for the thrills of the night.
Dinner was good....Hotels I find have a plethora of salads and protein to choose from...I was in heaven..ish. I couldn't shake the vibe of wanting to be in a mans arms, feeling him holding me tight and it didn't help to see couples at every turn. Grudgeful and badmind, my sister told me
and I agreed wholeheartedly.
With sustenance in us and an idle spirit to appease we sauntered over to the bar at the far side (the real adult section) and were entertained by the twisting mystery wiles of Storm and Hurricane.....lets just say that I now know why old men will always choose young girls. I soaked as much of the positions, gyrations and general expertise an had to concede that while I was sure I could out manoeuvre the Storm and win my man with intellectual mind games, she could in one felt swoop trap him each swing of her well shaped hips. The bitch.
.......
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Innocent Vacation at Home
At the bequest of a dear friend last weekend I got some well needed R&R at the Royal_Decameron_Club_Caribbean-Runaway_Bay_Jamaica....it was great resting for a change...real rest I mean and at a reasonable US$70 double occupancy and $140 single Occupancy (resident rates) it was easy on the pocket.
We listened to the interpretations of Bob Marley's "One Love" by more than tipsy visitors to the island, we ate fruits and vegetables with the odd piece of pastry here and there, there was no ackee and slat fish though (bummer) but it was fun.
The sun burned brightly in the morning blue sky and the sea breeze was heady in the night as the waves crashed against man made reefs.....it was beautiful. Yes I would have preferred sharing the moment with a red blooded male who could teach me a thing or too as we explored and blessed the quaint cottage without fear of being heard, but there'll always be a next time. Who knows maybe I can find a man I can trust to not make the weekend all about sex, and one who will be strong enough to not let my Evelike character lead him into temptation and ultimate destruction...yeah right. It would have been nice though to sit and watch the sunset with a good bredren in whose arms I could curl up and relax and do one or two tequila shots, and simply exhale.....ah well.
We went to greengrottocavesja.com and learned a little about the WhiteWitch of Rose Hall but nothing compared to the simple chillaxing on the beach. Our stop at the Ultimate Jerk Centre was good too...talk about real Jamaican jerk chicken, not "pan foul" it was delightfully hot and spicy and the bammy and festival hit the spot. Sometimes it pays to vacation in your back yard, there's so much of this beautiful island I've not seen. I am heading back next week and I'll tell you all about it:0)
We listened to the interpretations of Bob Marley's "One Love" by more than tipsy visitors to the island, we ate fruits and vegetables with the odd piece of pastry here and there, there was no ackee and slat fish though (bummer) but it was fun.
The sun burned brightly in the morning blue sky and the sea breeze was heady in the night as the waves crashed against man made reefs.....it was beautiful. Yes I would have preferred sharing the moment with a red blooded male who could teach me a thing or too as we explored and blessed the quaint cottage without fear of being heard, but there'll always be a next time. Who knows maybe I can find a man I can trust to not make the weekend all about sex, and one who will be strong enough to not let my Evelike character lead him into temptation and ultimate destruction...yeah right. It would have been nice though to sit and watch the sunset with a good bredren in whose arms I could curl up and relax and do one or two tequila shots, and simply exhale.....ah well.
We went to greengrottocavesja.com and learned a little about the WhiteWitch of Rose Hall but nothing compared to the simple chillaxing on the beach. Our stop at the Ultimate Jerk Centre was good too...talk about real Jamaican jerk chicken, not "pan foul" it was delightfully hot and spicy and the bammy and festival hit the spot. Sometimes it pays to vacation in your back yard, there's so much of this beautiful island I've not seen. I am heading back next week and I'll tell you all about it:0)
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