Friday, June 30, 2006

Friday Night Teaser

I'm breaking from my new self-imposed schedule to just jot down a few little memories of mine, I promise you wont care that I'm breaking the rules with this little bit of anarchy.

  • Davie / I told him that I didn't care that he had an agenda, I told him I didn't care for his masculine mumbo jumbo and all the bullshit seduction forms he learned from other masculine animals to get into a girl's pants. I told him not to give me any bullshit because I didn't care what his imposed personality was like, nor what his mind was like. He had cute lips and cute eyes, and thick shoulders...that was all I cared about. When he pinned me to the wall, his cock so deep inside of me that my chest hurt from the intensity of the thrust, he told me I was gorgeous...and I knew he was telling the truth.
  • James / "I don't like when you look at me like that, your eyes needing so much. I don't like missing you when you're gone so far away and I don't like when you grab me and hold me so hard after we fuck, my shoulder pinned under your sweaty chest. I cant breathe. I like when you hold me and I love your sweaty body, but don't hold me so close, so tightly. You'll break me. No, I don't have an intimacy issue, I just cant breathe."
  • Spring Break Lick / He ate me out for over an hour, his tongue slick and never tiring, ever plying at my clit, my inner lips. I love when they hold me down, by the hips or by the thighs, or by the ankles, I just want the restraint so I can have the freedom to just orgasm so hard brought by their tongues. If they hold me down, my thrashing is quieted somewhat and if they keep licking away at my clit, Ill come a second time. My blood rushing so powerfully that my body feels its the end, my chest and hips so tight that they may not even exist. My body becomes oblivion and endless space, ozone.
  • Gadget's Cock / I love to lick his cock, to feel its silken tip at the opening of my throat, so softly plying at my tissue. I like to lick softly and then quickly, followed by the slow lowering of my mouth over his entire cock, down through my whole mouth to my throat. I love the soft feeling of the surface of my tongue trailing up and over his balls, the thin skin there and the sparse hair. He smiles, his soft laughter at the tickling feeling of my tongue, both amusing and arousing him. Ive never enjoyed feeling my lips and tongue on and around a cock as much as I do with A, his response is so incredible, his senses so open and reactive. A smile resides behind my eyes when my face is hovering over his willing package, my breasts touching the insides of his thighs. I breathe hotly on the little patch of groin between his thigh and his balls....he likes it.
This teaser was brought to you by Libido; Libido makes the world goes round.


Thursday, June 29, 2006

Love Lines #3

Another round of Love Lines for you little panty monkies. You know you love it....

I love when the rain just begins pouring down and you're caught in it, your hand clasped into a man's strong hand, protected. The rain bubbles passion up in my skin and makes my fingers need to be in contact with flesh and pounding pulses, pounding hearts pressed close together.

I love a pie piece of warm bread and a cup of tea with vanilla soy milk and honey. I love old world things stuck into a modern stretch of living, my petite hand wrapped around a delicate tea cup, my legs curled under me as I hum and look out onto the water view in my backyard.

I love when I tap my fingertips to my lips, smoothing lipstick into a stain on their rosebud surface. Its so intimate, such a personal caress. You can touch your kitten or your nipples but your lips are so personal yet so public and fair game. Yet another entrance to my inner self, they sustain me and give my essence to those who pry at them, through voice or through kiss. They are mine and they belong to everyone.

I love when a tattoo needle comes close to your skin, though not yet touching. The air it moves and its subtle presence, the need for the tension to end. The dig of the needle and the press of it as you center yourself with deep breath and deep concentration. I feel a passiveness that I only achieve when I step into a church, when I feel the presence of the time that has passed through the devotion of kinds that called so deeply into the abyss of their faith. I just love ink.

I love when water beads on the outside of a glass of iced drink in the outdoors. I like trailing my fingers along the heavy drops and then dripping them nearly unconsciously on my collar bones, the water heating and sometimes slipping down my chest, a secret race of droplets on my skin.

"Love is paramour to the sky; deep and wide and ever expanding toward both perspectives of light and dark. You both ache for the sky and ponder its mysteries with an open mind and heart; how much further can it go, how much more can I see and how much more can I push my actualization of reality?"


Monday, June 26, 2006

Interlude With My South Beach Sex God

Dating opens up so many possibilities to meet so many awesome and interesting people.

Having recently broken up with the old boyfriend, I found myself dating again and filled with doubt and perhaps a little less than a full bucket of confidence. Last week was filled with phone conversations with a guy that I met by chance that developed into a request for a date. Although I'm somewhat of an internal sex goddess ((to myself!)), I get so nervous about meeting new guys and facing that whole set of little pimping anxieties that come with being around a new face, and body for that matter.

I always try to reason with myself and be a good little country club daughter by forming little sets of rules. Pre-set limits I try to set on the physical development of any new relationship or venture. Suffice to say, most of of the time for me, the pre-set rules go out the window and my lusty point of view bubbles up behind the prim little girl who wears pearl and a charming, proper smile. Women have been puzzling over these kinds of things for as long as women have interacted with men. Can you put a limit on a new and building passion?

I have my father's chin and my grandmother's French lips.

For me, if Im actually interested in a man when I start dating him, I will not by any stretch of possibility kiss him on the first date. Ever. Not really wanting anything in future with someone is quite different though, kissing and sex are possible on the first encounter for me.....nutty how that works, huh?

When I first saw Gadget**, I was extremely nervous though my reasoning resonated with a glint of hope. I know being a rampant and wandering sex goddess can be something extremely fun and adventurous and Ive found a lot of memories in doing just that, being that image. Though for once I think I would be deeply satisfied making new memories with just one person and pushing that to the very edge. As he told me many times, trust is what's needed to make something worth while and make it all it could be. Id love to make sex all it can be for once, instead of just a passionate abandon of mine, a sort of entertainment, if you will.
**: denotes name edited to conceal the not so innocent.

I think for me, my fantasies and amorous adventures have all been somehow rooted in this unreal place, this soft and fuzzy bit of my mind when they never really felt as real as other events. I remember them, but sort of like I was watching them from another's perspective, like a film. When I write all of them down ((which doesnt happen when I concoct erotic stories)) they pop out in all of their vivid moments and sensations though still they hold onto that element of unreal fantasy. It's as if my mind was saying; Oh my goodness, did you actually do these things!?

Sex is a way to clear my mind and get in touch with the deeper part of my personality, a way of escape that still be connects and interlocks me with another human being. I am after all, A very social being. I like to share myself with those I feel deserve that sort of depth and who I have a lusty and intellectual connection with. Lust is always sexy, but lust for the body and the mind is always my favorite connection.

I knew that I liked Gadget by the sheer fact that I wanted him to kiss me instead of me kidding him and also by the fact that I wanted to wait. After our first date in a wannabe-Mediterranean cafe by the water and watching the new "Omen" remake, I was smitten. I got home and danced around in my panties and my halter top, brushing my hair and smiling to myself before laying down with my teddy bear and fighting off the urge to touch my kitten to a deep finale. I was so joyful that we hadn't kissed! God, women are so strange.

Im always nervous about what guys are thinking after a first or second date when you're first getting to know them. I just want to pop a little trap door and read all that there is to know on the subject of myself that's written in their mind. When he called for a second date I was happy, but in a very reserved sleepy way, then the moment I saw him I felt a flutter and wanted to giggle. Why does attraction make my age drop back down to an adolescent level?

After a drive-in movie and a revealing late night dessert run at D&B, we came back to my place and went to the backyard to look out in the river and the sky. For being very close to the city, I actually have a view of some stars which Ive needed since I was a little girl. Standing on the dock, I felt vulnerable though safe as he put an arm around my back to my hip, we looked at one another and kissed. His kisses were not as I had imagined they would be. But in a very very good way.

I pretty much thought I had typed personalities to their kisses down to a science. He broke the mold and surprised me with soft fluttery feeling lips and a soft, slick and patient tongue. Days before I had already imagined the way he might kiss. I had thought perhaps rough and rogue-ish. Perhaps timid though involved and conscious. Perhaps with a strong tongue and gentle nipping at the lips. In case you were wondering, yes, I do think too much. A kiss is a very personal and developed thing to most people and to me as well, on a very deep little stretch. I can imagine myself f*cking someone, but then not wanting to kiss them. Oh the debauchery of it all.

As we sat looking down into the dark river from the deck of my family's docked boat, our conversation was replaced by his soft and amorous adventuring hands over my various curves and generous feminine charms. My breathing became hard to control as I tried to resist just flipping into ravenous kitten mode. As I sat in his lap, his arms and hands circling me, I felt that lovely feeling of being right where I should be. Little things charm me, little moments and little words tweak my butterfly kissed brain and make it susceptible to charm and sauveté.

Something Im not used to is a man touching my face, touching my lips with his fingertips. He disarmed me with his honest venture that my body provoked him to take. His hands slid up and down and over my hips, around my thighs, up over my stomach and to my breasts, his lithe fingers slipping smoothly into the hard shell cups of my bra. His large hands cradled the intimate flesh of them, my nipples darkly pink in the darkness with his fingertips goading them to wake up, becoming pointed and alert. My breasts belong in large, strong hands....this fact cannot be denied. His voice caught as he spoke,

"You don't know what you're doing to me, you're driving me crazy. Wow."

The night around me cradled us as much as he cradled me, adoringly speaking to me, his voice constant and smooth. His tone truthful, honest, exposing. I can't help but to be irresistibly and essentially female, I apologise. But not really.

I love when men complement you on the things that normally aren't complemented on, the little things, the little things they notice that light your eyes. I love myself and my body, in fact I'm my most constant lover. Though my confidence isnt 100%, especially since Im not as fit as I was a little while ago and thus Ive been feeling a tiny bit less than a perfect vamp. Compliments seem amazing to me, especially if they're mused by parts of me that I really don't find much passion for. For instance, it seems remarkable to me that Gadget loves my arms which have always looked a little too muscular and built beneath my slightly broad shoulders. Its also remarkable that he finds such a way with words about them, and other bits of me as well,

"I can't get over how appealing your arms are to me. I mean yes they're muscular, but I love that. They feel so good to me."

Sitting on the deck in the extremely early morning, the stars and the color of my neighborhood reflected on the river's surface was making me sleepy and amorous, my skin lit with both heat, bodily contact and the dark air. But soon it became late and he left me with a soft kiss at my door, to a drive and to bed and then to work the next day. As I tiptoed through the dark house to my room, my lips softly cooed with happiness, a smile once again radiating there. In my room after peeling off my tight and sleepy jeans, I lay on my silky bed in my thong and my camisole. My hands trailing over the tops of my thighs, over the tops of my hips and my stomach, moving any fabric they came across.

When my fingertips found their inevitable way to my kitten, I sighed and imagined so many brilliant things. My fingers slid all up and down the slit of my slick lips, seeing all the things I wanted and his touch had provoked in me. I imagined his soft lips, so smooth and gentle on my skin, on my face and my hair. I daydreamed his palms move down over my hips and my legs. I tried to imagine his breath on my skin, his lips touching my inner thigh before intimately caressing the inner folds of my slick kitten.

I felt so heated and passionate and so lit with the need, not just to orgasm and be touched, but to be taken and filled, possessed. When I came I bit deeply into my bottom lip, a soft cry in my throat as I writhed under my silk duvet. My body calmed and I was still, my hand rested on my kitten inside my thong with the other lying quietly on my chest, my fingertips gently resting on my breast.

I drifted off to sleep softly and in a cloud, my body still hungry, still needing to be owned and possessed, if only for moments. Peace can be found in little moments, in little words, with people who can surprise you and bring out the best in you. We all live for the short moments that give us happiness and peace, fulfillment.  

I was waiting for my fulfillment with a mind that was not quite as quiet as my body nor my sex drive.

Continued here!!!!

Thursday, June 22, 2006

A Kiss of Rosé Part Two

This entry begins here. 

My pulse raced as if I had run around the world and not taken a break, I was completely enthralled.

Her hands were lithe on my hips as they pulled at my tee, gentle but ever so needy. Her fingertips were oddly soft to me, so smooth and goading as she pulled my tee up over my bra and over my shoulders, my hands clinking together for just a moment while my arms were slightly bound by the tee. Our knees and ankles pressed together as we sat crossed legged facing each other, What to do next?

My bravery got the most of me as I reached slowly behind Ellie, while at the same time multitasking with my lips against hers. My fingers found the clasp of her bra and with deft fingers unlocked it to spill forth the divine prize of her lovely breasts.

I bit my lips as I watched the two shells of her bra slip away from the pale skin of her small breasts with their tiny, bright pink nipples. As I pointed out before, she was a very petite and somewhat boyish pixie type girl with breasts that were small and sat high on her chest above a prominent and softly curving ribcage.

To me, it was all alien territory. Whenever I had been with woman in the past, they were always like me, very womanly with abundant curves and breasts. This was like finding a strange treasure that exists in familiar territory.

In a quick moment she had unclipped my front-closure bra, her eyes wandering over my breasts, my darkly pink nipples. We sighed as once again our lips met, and slowly we laid on our sides, hands interlocked, lips interlocked. Her hands warmed up as they slid over my stomach, the curve of my hips, my arms. But always she avoided my breasts, when she giggled at my apparent distress she let me in on her plan.

Dont worry mon petite, Im building the tension. How I do love your tits.

I giggled as she began kissing me with increased fervor, my hands spilling all over her body. Her shoulders seizsed and shook when I softly pinched one nipple, her breath catching. She stretched out cat-like as my mouth replaced my fingertips, my tongue swirling softly over her nipple. My hands slid deftly along her stomach, over her hip and to her thigh as they existed with such heat.

Her legs spread gently in anticipation as I slid my hand up along her warm thigh under her skirt, my lips and teeth softly teasing her flesh. The heat from her wet kitten was penetrating her black cotton panties, the dampness evident even inches away. I watched her flushed face as I slid them off, my fingers wrapped delicately around the hip band.

Whenever my face is close to a woman's body in an intimate moment, or even just cuddling platonically with my close chick friends, I love to smell their skin. Its not just a sense, you can smell the warmth and the original scent of them, the underlying scent thats just behind the perfume and scented soap.

Of course women embody the essence of sugar, and the added perfumes and soaps are so intoxicating....but I love the down to earth scent of a chick. A woman's kitten can in no way hide it's sweet and intoxicating scent, it breaks through to your senses like little whispers of secrets.

I pressed my lips to her inner thigh and let my senses become overwhelmed with the sweetness of her perfumed skin and her secret scent. I closed my eyes slowly, my eyelashes fluttering over her thigh, her long hands clasping at my hair gently. I clipped little kisses along the inside of her thighs, drawing ever closer to her secret center.

My lips gently lowered onto the outer lips of her kitten, my face and lips feeling her heat and need. Her back arched with anticipation when my warm lips came into contact with her now dewy kitten.

A little trail of her lubrication trickled down between the lips of her swollen kitten and trailed between her little ass cheeks. I let my tongue slid up the outside of her lips, from the bottom all the way to where the two little folds meet neatly at the top.

My tongue hid itself in the cleft made by her swollen cuntlips, my senses slipping sweetly as her scent and her taste washed over me. At first I teased, a soft tongue sliding gently over every part of her kitten except her brightly pink and swollen clit. Her breathing told me that this was just what she needed, that naughty little kitty.

I love the sight of my small and delicate fingers with their glossy, painted nails gently parting the lips of a girl's kitten. Its something I indulge in every time I find myself in the valley of a woman's parted legs. Also, for me, art and sex have always been intrinsically matched, ever playfully dancing around and inside one another.

I bit my lips when I beheld this same sight between Ellie's legs, my delicate and softly prying fingers so close to her center, so softly giving pleasure. With my fingers gently parting her kitten, my tongue delved with a purpose, circling around her opening and venturing its tip inside of her. The texture of my tongue on the textured inside of her kitten felt like a slippery fruit, so hot and sweet to my taste buds.

Small panting breaths escaped Ellie's mouth, her hands sliding over my scalp and through my silky hair, tousling it. My body recognized her responses and my tongue and lips worked against her hot flesh to bring her to orgasm. I let the flat of my tongue slip over her clit in succession, quick moments so harshly repeated. Here is a little sex tip for you dudes out there: repetition of a heated action will always bring your woman to climax.

When I could feel her body begin the rapture of her pounding orgasm, my lips wrapped around her clit and sucked gently at it. From her mouth issued such screams and moans with her body in a torrent of uncontrolled spasms and rapture.

When at last her body had quieted and her mind was in the cloud of orgasmic euphoria, I slid up and laid my head on her lower stomach, her hands idly sliding through my long hair. I felt the air enter her lungs and also leave, such a movement of calm.

Like the ocean a woman's body is, the waves sliping in and out in calm existence with the rest of the world. Her orgasm is like a hurricane, washing over the expanse of her and sweeping the world with it into a rapturous storm.