Last Night

Despite being exhausted from work this week, last night was a perfect storm (post-“shark week” + watching Masters of Sex = give me all the sex!). I mentioned this to M while we were showering and getting ready to head to bed. While he was still in the shower, and I was on my way to the bedroom, he asked if I was going to put some spandex on. “Maybe,” I said.

That maybe was, in fact, a “yes.”

When M came to bed, I said something about taking care of myself if he was too tired, and I grabbed a spandex mask and the Eroscillator. I pulled the mask over my head, applied lube, and flipped the switch. M let me play with myself a bit, but of course he took control.

It’s a little bit of  a blur now. A grin on my face all day kind of blur. He barked orders at me to place my hands where they belonged (the top of the bed frame) and not move them. He teased me with the vibrator, with his cock, with his fingers, and with his tongue. He made me beg to come. Really fucking beg. And after I came, waves of pleasure crashing over me, we laid quietly for awhile.

I asked, just above a whisper, if I was allowed to worship his cock now.

“Yes,” he said, “But you need to wear gloves.”

He helped me into the latex gloves before I crawled between his legs and began kissing and teasing and putting everything I had left into pleasing him. At one point he demanded I get on top of him and ride his cock.

“Sit up. Hands behind your back,” he demanded. I obeyed, of course. He unzipped the front of the spandex suit and roughly grabbed my nipples and breasts, torturing my tits. “Beg for more,” he said. And I did.

It felt amazing. He stopped short, though, and allowed me to crawl back down him to continue where I had left off.

It’s important to know how much I love sucking M’s cock. Whether topping or bottoming, exhausted or energized, I would suck M’s beautiful cock just about anywhere or anytime. In fact, it’s a bit of an exhibitionist fantasy of mine not to have sex in public, but certainly to suck M’s cock in front of other people. When I ask permission to worship his cock, I truly do worship it.

When he came, I kept him in my mouth as he went completely soft, lips gently wrapped around his cock, my cheek pressed to his thigh. I didn’t move till he asked me to come up and lay next to him.

We both agreed it would have been even better with latex and some restraints (M later confessed to almost breaking out the bondage mittens), but it otherwise hit just the right note for having some fun on a school night and satisfying my craving for sex.

In the Moment

M and I talk about writing stories. Recounting past exploits and imagining future ones. We send each other snippets of fantasies, and talk for hours about what we plan to do to each other. Or, even more dangerously, what we want done to us. They say the largest sex organ is the brain, and we certainly don’t ignore that.

It’s difficult, though, to remember the details. It’s hard to recall and put into words exactly what was happening the night before. So many of the details blur together, only a few very specific things standing out in stark relief.The thrill as he tightened the straps on my arms, pinning them behind my back. Closing the Kali’s Teeth around his hardening cock and snapping a lock on it. The sweat dripping onto my face as he fucked me on the floor. Brushing my hand over his tender nipples, captured by clover clamps. Begging for more, begging to be punished. There’s so much between these snapshots. Lust and fear and trust and the desire to push ourselves, and to push each other.

He comes home from another business trip, this one longer than anticipated. I’m dressed up and waiting for him, restraints ready, mask over my head, on my knees. The anticipation nearly kills me as I hear the key turn in the lock, waiting for him to set his bags down and shove his hard cock in my mouth.

Another night I replicate the “science experiments” I ran while he was away. But this time he restrains me and takes the control box, tweaking the settings, adjusting the speed and intensity of the electricity. In no time he has me begging for mercy.

I do the same to him another night. Zipped up tight in the sleep sack, chained to the bed. I take the box into the other room, playing with the settings to remind him I’m still there, giving him a jolt now and then. But I want to watch him, and I want to push his buttons, so I end up sitting on the floor by the bed, adjusting the settings, eventually making him come.

For a long time, neither of us felt the need to use our safewords. We had them, but rarely uttered them. Lately, though, it’s almost as if we’re daring the other to say it. Trying to push each other into crying “red”. It’s a boundary that we need to push, but we’re pushing it together.

Random text messages

B: You have two options when you get home tonight. a) nothing, and I mean nothing, will happen, b) you’re mine a soon as you walk through the door.


M: Clearly we need to formulate a special kinky Gatorade that quenches thirst but is slow to release


B: I might have been planning that. I might be wearing gloves so you don’t feel any skin


M: Ha like you haven’t gotten me hard already?

No Sleep Tonight

We swore we were going to be good. It was late when we got home, and even later by the time we crawled into bed. Weeks of sleep deprivation had tapped our energy reserves and we’d been running on fumes. We should have known better.

Talking in the dark, the heat of our bodies radiating against each other, we took turns pushing each other a little further away from any innocence that night. At one point, his hard cock pressed into my lower back as I fought to not touch him. It was a slow, dangerous simmering of desire.

I finally twisted around to face him. I swore I would be good tonight. Anything that happened would be his doing. He was the one who had to be at work in the morning.

His head dipped down to capture my mouth in a deep kiss and any semblance of control I had left cracked. My hand ran up his chest to his shoulder, pushing him back against the bed so I could slide on top of him, pinning him against the mattress.

But we didn’t fuck, even though we wanted to. After kissing and grinding and teasing, some modicum of reason crept back into our brains. “We shouldn’t do this,” he breathed heavily.

“I know.” My head dropped to his shoulder with a sigh, “We need to sleep.”

I rolled off him. Settling back into the bed, I took a deep breath and tried to clear away the fog of arousal with little success. My right hand eventually slipped between my legs and was immediately slick with fluid. I was mostly annoyed. We needed to sleep badly, but my body had other things clearly in mind.

“I’m really, really wet,” I said. He just chuckled. After a pause, I continued: “Would you mind if I…”

“If you want.”

My fingers easily slipped into place, slipped into a rhythm. I started off slowly, quietly, almost imperceptibly. After a minute or two of laying in the dark, I propped one of my legs up and quickened the pace of my hand, a sigh escaping my lips.

He shifted in bed next to me, closing the gap between us, his body brushing against mine. He now knew I hadn’t been bluffing in my intentions.

His arm slipped behind my neck and I expected his mouth to find mine. Instead his hand quickly slipped over my mouth and held tight, while his other hand grabbed my unoccupied one and brought it to his cock. My fingers wrapped tight and began stroking him while my other set of fingers pushed harder and faster against my clit, slipping back and forth. I took a deep breath through my nose before he pinched it shut for a few seconds. I exhaled in a rush, and sucked air back in quickly before he did it again.

Trusting him with that level of control gave me a rush, and suddenly I wanted to get off immediately. I tried to keep pace with both of my hands as he continued to control my breathing. But after a few frustrating minutes, my hands stopped and his hand fell away from my mouth.

“I can’t come,” I admitted. I was close, but I just couldn’t quite reach the edge. I was hitting a wall.

He paused, the gears turning in his horny brain, coming up with a solution. He got up and straddled my chest, pushing his cock past my lips and teeth and deep into my mouth. One hand pinned the arm that had previous been stroking him, while the other dug into my hair and pulled gently.

“I left a hand free for a reason,” he breathed.

I whimpered and began to suck him while digging my fingers into the hot, slippery skin around my clit. Saliva began to build up, making my mouth wet and inviting. He thrust gently, tugging on my hair. His cock pushed in deep enough to temporarily stop the flow of air, forcing me to time my breath with his thrusts. Several times I had to pull back, allowing him to slip entirely out of my mouth, and take several large gulps of air.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he said with a dangerous growl, pushing back into my mouth.

It was finally enough to make me come. My body convulsed, the orgasm tearing through my exhausted muscles, fogging my brain with a flood of hormones.

He had slipped out of my mouth, and shifted to kneeling on my left side, giving me a brief chance to come down, to catch my breath.

His cock was still hard as I moved slightly to face him and he pushed back into my mouth. The angle was awkward for me to move much, and he had all the control over the depth and pace as he fucked my mouth. I sucked, flicked my tongue, and offered hints of teeth. Eventually I slipped my damp hand around the base of his cock, adding to the pressure and friction. His balls were tight against his body. He was close.

He came with a grunt and a whimper, his come running over my tongue and pooling in my cheek. I sucked gently, swallowing carefully and running my tongue over his softening cock to capture anything that might have spilled. He comments about my extraordinary cleanup frequently, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint.

He fell back on the bed with a sigh. I kissed his hip and ran my hand over his stomach.

“This is really bad.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Really, really bad.”

So much for sleep.