Date Night

‘Mmmmm, you taste like strawberries’ he said, raising his head from between my thighs just long enough to get the words out.

I laughed, then gestured to the nearly empty packet of strawberry-flavoured popping candy lying not too far from me on the living-room floor, carelessly discarded earlier in the evening after I had decided to try the ‘pop rock blow job’ the ever-amusing and informative Kat from snarkysnatch had mentioned (I had to google it – I had no idea what it was!) I was completely covered in come, with splashes of it predominantly on my red-satin-and-black-lace-covered breasts but extending down to my fish-nets and up past my head. The blow job itself has been fun, a novel experience during which H had smilingly commented that it felt like ‘vibrations’, though I had over-filled my mouth with candy and made something of a sticky mess! The strawberry flavour mixed in with my juices was what remained after the fairly lengthy session of intense, cramp-inducing fucking which had followed the initial blow job. At that point I had no idea how H found any energy to continue to pleasure me, but for some reason, in my slightly drunk and completely worn-out state I thought trying some pop rock cunt sucking would be a good idea. It wasn’t. It wasn’t painful, but it was a bit too sensitive on my over-worked clit to be considered truly pleasurable. Luckily the small remaining bit of candy popped itself out fairly quickly, and I could relax into the orgasms that followed without distractions.

Date nights used to involve dressing up smart and heading out. These days they are starting to involve dressing up like a tart and staying in – and I must say, it is rather enjoyable! Either way we’d still end up in the same place: the living room floor, the kitchen table, the sofa, or occasionally our bed; a little drunk, full of delicious food, and even more horny than usual. This way, however, we spend less money, don’t have to worry about finding a babysitter, are under no time restrictions, and I can wear minimal amounts of clothing at the dinner table!

I remained lying on the floor in a daze for what was probably only minutes but felt like half an hour, hearing Leonard Cohen’s deep voice filtering through from the music player in the kitchen, the smell of come filling my nostrils, and found my limbs too exhausted to move – sated, smiling and utterly satisfied, I wondered why we only have date night once a month.

Birthday Fun

Firstly, I must apologise to you all for disappearing for the past few weeks – I have been away without internet access, and on my return home have naturally found my inbox overflowing with all of your new posts, and even a few new likes and follows here on my blog! It is all very exciting, but it is likely to take me a while to catch up with you kinky lot. For now, just a very short post about last night as I desperately need to get some sleep… 

For my birthday, we got tickets to watch Les Misérables in London’s West End. Babysitter organised, we dressed up and rushed off in excitement, settling comfortably into out seats just as the curtain was due to rise and… the theatre manager came onto stage to tell us that the show was cancelled due to back-stage flooding. I burst out laughing that this one special, carefully planned evening together, so many years in the coming, could have gone so wrong (H just happy that it was laughter and not tears), and we rushed back out into the rain to find a movie theatre instead. 

Now H had promised me a few days before that for my birthday we could tick a few more things off our Sexual Bucket List, so I naturally asked for seats at the back of the theatre, and made my way to the ladies before the film started to slip my underwear into my handbag. With my shawl spread over our laps in the near-empty cinema, we began unhurriedly stroking and petting each other beneath its protection. H’s practised fingers stroked my thighs, parted the lips of my pussy and slipped inside, then used my own wetness to lubricate my clit’s pleasure. After I was purring with contentment and satisfaction, I turned my full attention to the firm bulge in his trousers, first releasing it from its restrictions, then sliding my hand firmly up and down his shaft. It wasn’t long before I could dip my head and feel the delicious hot, smooth spurt of his cum in my mouth… I sat back with the world’s biggest grin on my face – one very satisfied customer!

Warming Memories of a Photo Shoot

The rain is falling steadily in London this morning – not heavy but constant, and I stand here at a bus stop watching it form and reform mesmerising patterns in a puddle, little bubble rising intermittently only to burst seconds later. The song on my ipod, however, transports me away from this chilly morning, and even as my cold-clumsy fingers struggle with the small keys on my BlackBerry I can remember the warmth in them last night as they were tied behind my back with the black satin sash of my dress… 

‘You do realise how hot this is making me?’ I asked him, my voice muffled by polka-dotted cotton. He laughed, and I gasped then giggled – slightly drunk on smooth, red Portuguese wine – as he brought his hand down on my left butt cheek again, hard enough this time to bring a sting of tears to my eyes. I heard another ‘click’ of the camera shutter, then felt him pulling my thong down, stopping with it around the top of my thighs for another ‘click’, then they were down around my crossed ankles, leaving me feeling delightfully on display. I was amazed at how much it turned me on that he had recently begun to take control of these photo shoots – he was no longer trying to satisfy my desire to capture a particular image, but was finding his own triggers and creativity, experimenting with various angles, giving me the firm direction I had craved. I pulled against the satin restraint on my wrists, revelling in the taught resistance.

A couple of indulgent hours later I put my dress, soaked by our exertions and pleasures, into the wash basket, gently wiped my tender rear, and stumbled upstairs to bed in a daze, feeling happily satisfied after numerous orgasms and plenty of fun. I was more than ready for sleep when he appeared with his laptop and the memory card from the camera, but I cuddled up to him as we browsed slowly through the photographs. What a story they told, starting with me bending forward with tied hands, followed by the removal of the thong, gradually leading to close-ups between my wide-spread legs as I lay on the couch, then – my hands now untied to hold the camera – his head between my thighs as he led me into blissful release with his magic tongue, hands rough on my nipples or hooked around my high heels. I then took the camera with me as I knelt on the floor before him, his erection towering above me, my tongue on his glistening tip, before eventually burying his deliciousness deep, impossibly deep, between my thighs.

Once we had scrolled through all the photographs I was surprised when he said,

‘Won’t you suck on my cock, gently.’ Continue reading

Second time even more lucky

We had already had a great tumble in the kitchen a few hours earlier. After putting the kids to bed, I slipped into my small tartan fuck-me dress, and sauntered into the kitchen to find H waiting for me with port and cheese. The smooth, sweet alcohol seemed to be absorbed directly into my bloodstream, and I was feeling a little dizzy as he began slipping his hands under my rather minimal garment. Before too long I was on my back on the kitchen table being coaxed into multiple orgasms before hanging my head backwards off the end of the table and having my face fucked, followed by cum exploding all over my breasts and dress. It was gooooooood, and we both needed a shower to clean up the mess. Continue reading

Cheshire Cat

I rolled over and switched off the light, then turned back to snuggle into the comforting warmth of his body and said, ‘Goodnight love.’

‘Oh’, he replied, sounding disappointed. ‘I thought you were going to read me a story.’

‘Why would you think that?’ I asked in surprise. ‘We’re both exhausted; I thought you were too tired.’

‘I’m never too tired for that,’ he replied, ‘and I saw the book on the bed when I came upstairs.’

The book was a beautiful red satin-covered collection of erotic short stories which I had taken out to show to a friend earlier in the day.

‘Okay,’ I sighed, ‘but please understand that I simply can’t have any orgasms tonight. My poor clit is over-sensitive from the number I’ve had over the past few days, and it took me ages to get myself to cum earlier today while you were at work, although I was horny enough not to be able to stop until I was satisfied.’ He smiled. Continue reading

Entangled

Last night, our bodies shared new secrets.

I – drunk on the heady scent of your skin –

Explored each inch of you

In delighted fascination,

And my breath caught sharply in my throat

As your fingers teased electric currents

Up my thighs.

 

For us, no outside world existed.

You – high on the musky aroma of my longing –

Taught me new levels of delight.

With each gasp, each thrust,

Each shuddering release,

Your body spoke to mine intangibly,

Encoded signals for me only to decipher.

 

Together, plunging depths and soaring heights,

We – intoxicated by desire –

Embarked on a journey of discovery:

Pleasure our only goal

While our love and lust became

As entangled

As our exhausted limbs.