Thursday, January 2, 2014

A new year, a new post, heading in a new direction. Stay tuned!

Hello, everyone! Thanks again to all of you who come here to read my story. I know it's been a long time since I've posted here, and there are many reasons for that, including a lingering illness. However, I'm going to try to be more consistent in the future. There still is a lot of story to tell.

And I will continue to tell the story of Jack and I. Except, and I hope you all know this by now, it's really my story. What it means to me to be submissive. Why I think I feel this way, and how it has affected my life, sexually and otherwise, and how it continues to do so. Jack is such a huge part of that story, it's true. He has shaped so much of who I am, who I want to be, and who I don't want to be. 

But ultimately, this story is about me, as a woman, and how my sexuality affects my life. In good ways and in bad. And really, I hope you readers see that it's in some ways about all women. A woman's sexuality is a powerful thing, not to be taken lightly, or taken advantage of. Whether you yourself have submissive leanings, I hope you see yourself in some of the things I want to talk about. I hope that's why some of you keep reading. 

It's a new year, and I'm going to be taking the blog in a slightly different direction. I will continue my story, and I will continue talking about Jack. But I may veer off in slightly different directions, exploring new topics and approach my story in different ways, as the mood strikes me. 

I'm also going to try to set up a way for you to subscribe by email to this blog, so that you will be notified when there is a new post. That way you won't get discouraged when you check back and there is nothing new, and you also won't miss anything when there is. I've been amazed and overwhelmed by the readership to my blog, and I'm happy you're all here. I always appreciate comments, if you care to leave one, and I appreciate those of you who have given me feedback in other forums.

--shea




Tuesday, June 18, 2013

mad dirty crazy sexy love

Writing this blog, and starting with the early relationship between Jack and I ... I find that there are some memories, whole days, full conversations, that burst to the front of my mind, fully remembered, as if they had been waiting just off stage left, waiting for their turn to shine.

But other moments come to me as bright flashes of sensation, a touch, a taste, a whisper in the dark. When I try to remember the minutes before or after, it's a dreamy haze, but that moment, or string of moments stands out so clearly, and they are some of my favorite memories from that long ago summer.

Flash!

I'm on my back  the twisted sheets of Jack's bed, a light sheen of sweat covering my tanned, naked body. Jack is moving above me, thrusting into me, slowly, slowly, all the way in and then all the way out, my legs are wrapped around his waist, our skin damp where it slides together. My arms are up above my head, my sweaty hands gripping the headboard of his bed, I can feel the roughness of the wood against my fingertips. Jack is relentless, torturing me with the the slow, languid movements of his beautiful cock ... all the way in ... all the way out ... over and over until I want to scream, the friction feels so good. Droplets of sweat fall in slow motion, dripping off of his body and onto mine, and oh how I love that ... every part of us mingled together, our sweat, the sticky slickness between my legs and against his groin, but the sweat, l love the feeling of his sweat dripping on me. I'm moaning and arching my back against the bed, feeling the build-up, all that sweet friction, and if I were to look up over my head I would see my thumbs turn white against the brown wood of the headboard. I want Jack to fuck me like that forever, just the two of us in that small hot room forever wrapped in the smell of sweat and sex and the noises I am making but more than that I want him to touch me ... my little clit is so engorged and aching and I feel like if he would just touch me ... I want to beg him, please! please! please! I want to beg I want to beg and I don't know why so I don't say anything at all I just increase my grip on the headboard until I'm sure it will crack. Jack is looking down at me with that evil smile and his eyes have gone so dark as he stares down at me, helpless beneath him. And I still want to beg but I can't so I just gasp and moan, Jack ... Jack ... oh my god ...  And after, Jack lays his full body on mine, and we slip and slide against each other and try to catch our breath but Jack is making me laugh, telling me he was worried I was going to rip off the headboard and bash him over the head with it, and my smiling, bright-eyed Jack is back and I've forgotten about the begging ... for a little while ...


Flash!

On the floor at Jack's house, in the dining room. (why were we on the floor, practically under the dining room table?) I'm on my back, and Jack is kneeling between my legs, his hands around my wrists, holding them to the carpet over my head. We're both laughing as I playfully struggle. Jack asks if I want to play "around the world" but I don't know what that is. He smiles mischeviously and promises I'm going to like it. He lets go of my wrists and quickly pulls my Umbros off, sliding them easily down my legs and over my bare feet. Next go the panties, tossed to the side with my shorts. I squeak a little in surprise. His brother Scott is downstairs with his girlfriend. I start to protest, but Jack gives me a look and tells me to be still. So I am still. I start to shiver a little in anticipation as Jack takes off his own shorts and we are both in just our t-shirts, bare from the waist down. Jack slides in between my legs and I instinctually wrap them around his waist, hoping to draw him closer, closer, always closer. He tells me, this is around the world ... he slowly pushes his hard cock into me and I gasp at the sensation, it's still so new to me, that feeling of being filled up ... I raise my hips to meet his strokes as he thrusts into me 3, 4, 5 times, pushing in deeper with every stroke. Now you start to turn, he says, like the world turns, into a new position ... Jack takes my right leg and crosses it over my body, so that I am almost turned on my side. He barely misses a beat as he now pushes into me in this new way, his warm hand on the back of my leg, keeping it in place. I gasp loudly in surprise and pleasure and Jack smiles.  I love that it feels so different, his cock inside me from this angle. 

Suddenly, the phone rings and Jack quickly pulls out of me. Jumping back into his shorts he says, don't move an inch. Points a finger at me and looks stern. Then hurries off to answer the phone. What? Here I am, on my back on the carpet of the dining room in nothing but a t-shirt. Exposed. Vulnerable. The rational thing would be to put my panties on, but Jack said not to move. (Can you hear that? The whispery sound of that seedling of submission, growing and growing and reaching for the sun?) Then I hear it. Footsteps on the stairs.  Scott  to his credit, does not come all the way up. Just enough to look into the living room/dining room area. I tilt my head back and see him, his head is level with the floor. I flush when it registers that I have no idea how much of me he can see. He could possibly see that I'm mostly naked. I am ashamed to realize this gives me a little bit of a thrill. Shea? What are you guys doing? Hmmm ... that is an excellent question. Nothing, just hanging out, I smile from my awkward position on the floor. We're watching a movie, if you guys want to come down. Ok, I say, maybe we will in a minute. He disappears back down the stairs and in a moment, Jack returns. His smile is almost triumphant when he sees that I have not moved, as instructed. 

Back between my legs, he brushes a finger along my pussy, making sure I am still wet for him. I am. And he is still hard for me and I feel the whole length of him thrust into me again. You feel so good, he whispers ... now turn. And I know what is next, though it is another new positon for me. With Jack's hands on my hips I swivel so that I am face down on the floor, and Jack moves with me so that he can stay inside me as I turn. His hands are still on my hips so he pulls me up and back a little and now I'm on my knees, the carpet scratchy against my elbows, and oh oh oh my god I have just discovered my new and forever favorite position and Jack groans behind me because maybe he felt something deep inside me, a clenching of my muscles, a rush of wetness, or maybe he just likes me like this, totally helpless and under his control. I can feel his balls lightly slap against my thrumming clit and the sensation of friction in this position is almost more than I can bear. I start to gasp and moan, but I put my fist against my mouth because I don't want Scott to hear. 

I so so love this amazingly delicious postion, but Jack's hands are insistent and he moves me to my other side, this time with my legs together and curled up to my chest. He manages to stay inside me again as I move, and I presume that he has done this before. I briefly wonder with who, but then thoughts are erased with the feeling of Jack's hand on my thigh, pushing my legs even further up into my chest, and that is doing interesting things to my insides as Jack fucks me. The skin between us, mine and his, has become wet and sticky with the juices of my arousal. I'm sweaty, moaning, getting louder and I don't know what to do with my hands, I need something to clench, to squeeze, so I grab Jack's supporting arm and I look up at him. I can feel the muscles tense under his skin and I squeeze his forearm, hard. Something in my face makes his eyes go all dark and he suddenly pulls out, grabs my legs and spreads them wide. He looks down for a moment, and I flush hot when I see that he is looking at my pussy ... what does he see? Shining moisture caught in the damp curls of my dark pubic hair, pink flesh turning red with use? Whatever he sees makes him growl and he falls upon me, and rams his cock into me so hard I cry out but god, I want it, I want him to devour me, to consume me and he does, sucking my neck, smashing his mouth against mine, biting my lips as he hooks his arms under mine, his hands curled around my shoulders for purchase and slams into me over and over and I can feel how much he wants to own me, can't he see I'm already his? 



Flash!


We're walking towards the back door when suddenly he pulls me into the tiny downstairs bathroom and locks the door. Without saying a word he pushes me up against the narrow sink console, his hand on the small of my back. I quickly grab the sides of the cold porcelain to stop myself and even as I do, his hands are up the front of my t-shirt, pushing up my bra, running his hands over my breasts, feeling, I'm certain, my nipples harden against his palms. He is pressing into me from behind, and the edge of the sink is pressing into my hips so that I am trapped. Before I can do more than catch a breath his thumbs are hooked into the waistband of both my shorts and my panties, and he pushes them down to my knees. I instinctively push my hips back and out, pressing against him, and I feel the silky slide of his shorts against my ass, the back of my legs, sliding down down down and then it is just us, skin to skin. Where most times he is gentle, now he is not, and I gasp when he pushes into me hard and fast and somehow I know, though this is the first time I've been fucked standing up, to brace my arms and lock my knees and push back against him but not too much so as not to disturb his intense rhythm. Where at first I am surprised and a bit dismayed if I'm to be honest, suddenly a feeling washes over me, and I feel so hot, so loose on the inside, like everything is melting, and I'm so suddenly wet that he starts to glide into me more than push, farther than he ever has. And this position, god I can't get enough of it, him behind me, I can feel him in my lower belly and I start to tingle all over. My legs start to shake and my knees are banging against the wooden cabinet doors with every frenzied thrust, and I'm sure someone must hear it. I tighten my grip on the cool edges of the sink and throw my head back, god I'm so hot and I catch sight of myself in the mirror above the sink. Who is that girl, with the cheeks flushed dark pink, wide dark eyes, lips shining and parted ... tendrils of damp hair stick to my neck and I'm transfixed by the look on my face ... desire, arousal, pure ... ravishment. Seeing this look on my face, was this the beginning of my voyeuristic leanings? Watching myself in the mirror being ravished by this man I love so much? Watching my face in the mirror, panting, moaning, gasping makes me want more more just more and I wish I could see his face, too, I love to look at him as he's fucking me but his mouth is clamped on my shoulder, the soft spot where it joins my neck and all I can see is the curly dark top of his head. 


I feel the jolt of electricity before I register his fingers pressed between my legs, finding my hot spot and I jerk forward and I see it on my face, oh my god, I wish I could describe that look, seeing myself so turned on turns me on even more, I feel like liquid sex, I feel like something is blooming within me and ... I'm becoming ... and suddenly I can't take it anymore, his fingers and cock together finding the molten center of me and I'm rising and the orgasm is building and I can't even look at myself anymore because I have to lower my head and my hands start grasping and clutching at the sink and the faucet and I inadvertently turn on the water. I run my fingers through it and it's so cool I touch my hand to my face and the water drips down my pink cheeks down my neck damp with sweat.  I look in the mirror again and I see the droplets shining on my ecstatic face and I gasp, "oh my god, oh my god" and I wish I could preserve this moment forever because something has changed and Jack has still not said a word but now he looks up from sucking my neck and our eyes meet in the mirror and I know he sees it, he knows, he wraps his arms around me, so strong, and that invisible silver wire that connects us wraps a little more tightly around my soul.


Flash!


We're downstairs and we've just come back from dinner and I'm leaving soon for college so I'm putting on a brave face and trying to mirror his cheerful disposition but I'm crying on the inside because he still seems perfectly happy to let me go. Really let me go. 
 He sits down on the couch and pulls me towards him so I'm standing between his legs, holding his hands. You look really hot tonight, Shea, he tells me. He looks up at me with a look on his face I can't read. I smile because I planned this outfit for this special night. A short but full skirt that twirls around my long tan thighs as I walk. A cropped tank top that shows my midriff. And a cropped cotton jacket that matches the skirt. Powder blue to show off my tan. Jack leans forward and grabs my ass, pulling me closer towards him. He presses his mouth to my bare stomach and I shiver all over. Just that small amount of contact is enough to set off sparks inside me and that lovely tingling sensation starts between my legs. He continues to kiss my skin, and then puts his hands under my skirt to stroke the backs of my thighs. It's like there is an electrical current that runs from his hands to the muscles under my skin and I jerk forward from the spark in his touch. Jack looks up at me with those dark eyes as he hooks his fingers into my panties and pulls them down. I step out of them and he pulls me onto his lap. I'm straddling him, my arms around his neck, my fingers in his hair and I marvel at the feeling of his erection pressing into my naked pussy through his cotton shorts. It always gives me a thrill when I feel him like that ... I love the rock hard proof of his desire. I wish, I wish, I start to say, but Jack's mouth is on mine, stealing my words. His kiss is soft and gentle, like our first kiss, and I wonder if it will be one of our last. His fingers grip my bare ass and I can feel each finger separately, like he is searing his fingerprints into my skin, marking me, possessing me. We kiss deeply, taking our time, he pulls on my lower lip with his teeth and I touch my tongue to his and we explore, lick suck until our lips are swollen and the whole time I'm rubbing myself against his bulging erection, through his shorts, my hips moving in the tiniest of circles. He slides his hands down my thighs, then pushes me back just a bit so he can reach between my legs to feel how wet I am. I'm still kissing him, tasting, tasting when he slides his fingers into me. Ahhh ... I moan into his mouth, ah ah ah I love that feeling, being taken that way, in hand, in his hands ... I want to melt into him, I want to curl up around his madly beating heart, my back resting against the curve of his ribs. To become a part of the way he breathes, so that he can't live without me. Then this feeling, it rises in me, it's a feeling I haven't experienced before. In my blooming submissive little heart of hearts, I have always reveled in the feeling of being fucked by him. Of being ravished by him. But now, I want to fuck him. I want to make him feel what I do when I am under his power. I unbutton his shorts and pull them down to his knees so that his cock springs free under the circle of my skirt. I press closer to him and grip the back of the couch with my hands to steady myself. I lower myself onto him so that the tip of his cock just barely pushes into me, and I stay like that for a moment, for just a few heartbeats, my body aching to take him all the way in, but instead I raise myself up and off for a few heartbeats more, and back down again, giving him a few millimeters more, but just barely. My flushed cheek is pressed against his and I can feel his breath against my ear and hear how it catches just a bit every time I rise off. It fills me with this incredible sense of power in my femaleness, in my own burgeoning sense of sexual self, in my ... fuck that it makes me feel so good making him feel good that I can barely restrain myself. But I do, oh the restraint I show as I lower myself inch by excruciating inch, and rise up and completely off every time I give him just a little bit, a little bit, a little bit more of the hot slick velvet of my insides. Now we are both breathing heavy, getting sweaty and I'm still teasing teasing teasing my legs trembling against his sides when he can take no more. Fuck! he growls and grabs my hips on my next upswing and pushes me down hard, impaling me on his cock so roughly we both cry out and he's all the way in up to the hilt all at once. And though he lets me stay on top he takes back control, moving me, his hot hands on my hips, my thighs, up under my tank, mauling my breasts, squeezing my ass and I hold on tightly to the back of the couch and move with him, against him, for him and our bodies are slapping together and my thighs are slick with sweat and all I feel is that insane friction and his hands on me the strength in his hands. He pushes his head back into the couch when he cums and I press my forehead against his and ride it out and I see something in his eyes I don't usually see ... we sit like that for a while, my legs still trembling, his cock twitching inside me, my arms around his neck, his hands stroking the bare, sweaty skin of my lower back and our faces are so close together I can't help but see that maybe he isn't letting me go so easily after all.




Flash!






Monday, May 27, 2013

Story Time

Hello readers. Thank you for continuing to read my story. The next
post is in the works, I promise, but other (paid) writing gigs have it a bit delayed. Please keep checking in, it will appear soon and we will continue the story of Jack and I. 

In the meantime, for your entertainment, here is a link to a story I wrote for the Literotica website. It is a site for amateur ( and some professional) authors to share erotic stories. Do check it out. There are plenty of examples of truly bad writing, but the gems are worth digging for. This website also plays a role in mine and Jack's story, in an interesting way. 

I wrote this story under a pseudonym, Amelia Jax. It's complete fiction. Or ... Is it?

http://www.literotica.com/s/master-and-maeve-a-night-out

Friday, May 10, 2013

Dreams ... Part II

The second dream I want to share is similar to the first, though much shorter. It was another situation in which I dreamed of Master showing his control over me, and me proving my devotion and willingness to do what pleased him, without thought. Because really, that is something he taught me. Early on, when exclaiming to him how embarrassing it would be to perform a task that he was describing to me, he told me something that was so simple, and so complicated, in its beauty. He told me that it didn't matter what I thought about these tasks he wanted me to perform. And not because I didn't matter. But because all that should matter to me was pleasing him. If I kept my focus on that ... on him ... I wouldn't have to worry about feeling embarrassed. I wouldn't care. I had to become truly selfless. It meant that I had to cast off my own feelings of self-consciousness, worry of what others thought, embarrassment, shame, humiliation. (There are plenty of Dominant/submissive relationships that deal largely in shame and humiliation. That was not our thing.) I only had to center my thoughts ... focus my mind on Master, and doing what he commanded.  I only had to please him. No one else. I didn't have to worry about what I looked like, to whom, who was judging me, or why. Can you understand how freeing that is? How much you have to trust someone to even consider letting that part of yourself go? That constant worry in the back of your mind ...  am I pretty enough, sexy enough, cool enough, smart enough, good enough good enough good enough enough enough enough... Can you imagine the strength it takes, the sheer force of will that you have to exhibit to let those insecurities go and just BE? For someone you love? To make pleasing him your only goal, with no thought of getting anything in return? It's not easy. And I'm not even sure I'm explaining it correctly. But to me it felt like freedom. It made me strong.

Just FYI, the task we were talking about was going to a strip club and me dancing in some kind of amateur competition. Like, as in, onstage. Dancing. In front of people. Erotic dancing. The thought alone gives me the cold sweats. We never ended up trying me on that particular task. That would have tested my limits, absolutely. But I'm getting way ahead of myself in this story. 

The dream, the dream. Again, we start in medias res. "Into the middle of things." I am sitting in a swanky hotel lounge at night. It's like a club, low lighting, long squat couches with lots of pillows, dark corners, moody dance music. I'm sitting by myself, looking out a large, floor-to-ceiling window, where city lights sparkle and wink in the indigo night.

Suddenly he is there next to me, drinks in hand. He hands me my favorite, whiskey, with just enough ice. I take a long draught and roll the cool smokey taste around in my mouth before swallowing. Master sits down next to me, very close, his own whiskey in hand. 

"Were you watching them, Shea?"

"Hmmmm?" I feel dreamy, a little tired, the music is very loud. 

Master takes my chin in his hand and tilts my head to the side. Slightly to my left, across the lounge near the window, a man and woman are wrapped up together in a close embrace. A very close embrace. They are kissing passionately, and their hands are all over each other. Perhaps they think they are in a darker corner of the lounge than they actually are. Perhaps they just don't care. The voyeur in me perks up a little, watching their hot display of PDA.  

"No, I wasn't. I was looking out the window. I'm surprised I missed them." I laugh a little, and take another sip of my drink.

"How does watching them now make you feel?" I look at him, to see if he is smiling. He isn't. He is giving me that dark look that gives me chills. The one that means trouble, more often than not. 

I look back at the couple across the room. They are still locked together, apparently oblivious to the room, or the people in it. They both have long dark hair, and it is tangled together as they kiss. She has one long leg thrown over his, her silver stiletto catching the light. He has his hand up her skirt. I watch the subtle movement of his arm, and wonder ... is he just rubbing the crotch of her panties? Is it damp and warm? Or does he have the material pushed aside, are his fingers caressing her skin .... or is she not wearing panties? Are his fingers pressing into the wet dark between her legs unhindered? I find myself wondering if she is shaved bare, like I am. I start to feel a building warmth low in my belly, and a tingling starts between my legs. 

"Shea? I asked you a question." Master's voice warns me not to ignore him again.

I give him a quick, apologetic look. "It makes me feel ... turned on, but naughty, too. Like I ought not to watch. I feel like I should look away, but I don't want to."

"Do you think they care if anyone is watching them?"

I look back at the passionate pair. His hand is still working it's magic under her skirt, and now she is shamelessly rubbing the crotch of his jeans. Her other hand is clutched around the back of his neck, his is in her hair. The warmth that had started in my belly is spreading upwards, and I suddenly feel flushed.

"It certainly doesn't seem so. I have to imagine that they want people to see."

"How would you feel if people were to watch you like that.?" Now Master did smile. He knows I have mixed feelings of dread and desire when it came to the idea of being watched. 

I take another quick sip, and smile at Master over the rim of my glass. He gives me that look again. Dark and mischievous. I am about to answer when he leans in and kisses me.  His lips are soft and cool and taste of whiskey. 

I put my hand on his leg and lean in to the kiss. I love kissing him. Whether he is kissing me softly, slowly, or madly, roughly ... there is always a feeling of possession in the kiss. He claims me.

Master breaks the kiss, leans back and drains his glass. Then he takes mine and drains that, too, over my playful protests. He leans in close again and traces his finger down my cheek, along my jaw, over my lips. Then down my neck to my clavicle. I shiver at his touch. He wraps his finger around the chain that circles my neck. Actually, it's not the chain that circles my neck, it's a sliver studded leather choker, thin and delicate. But strong. The pretty silver chain hangs from the front of it. It's long, and it drops down the front of my shirt, between my breasts, reaching all the way to my belt. It's pretty and a little punky, and looks just like a fashionable piece of jewelry. If it means anything more, no one would know but Master and I. 

He wraps his finger around the chain and pulls it up through the deep V of my shirt. He lets it dangle for a moment, and twists its between his fingers. It's links catch the colored lights of the bar behind us. Taking its end in his hand, he uses the chain to pull me towards him. But he doesn't lean toward me, he just looks at me, at my face. This has become a bit of a "tell" for him. When he starts to study my face like that, I know he is going to do something and wants to gauge my reaction. 

He continues to pull, the chain is strong and won't break. The leather choker presses into the back of my neck ... not uncomfortably. 

"Kiss me." He whispers. He starts to pull down on the chain. If I'm going to obey him, I have to shift my position. Actually, the way he is using my necklace to maneuver me, if I'm going to obey, I'm going to have to shift positon dramatically. 

I slide off the couch and, responding to the pressure of his pull on my choker, position myself between his legs. I look up at him and smile. I don't worry if anyone is watching us, though it's hard to resist the urge to look around.  He leans down and rewards me with his passion, pressing his mouth to mine roughly, possessively, and I wrap my arms around his waist and pull myself towards him, dying to be closer, closer, always closer ...

"Shea," he whispers. "You are so beautiful tonight. I want you to do something for me. Without moving from this position, I want you to touch yourself, I want you to feel how hot and wet you are. I want you to cum, but not until I tell you to. And I want you to do it without anyone noticing. Just give it all to me, breath out, so I can breath you in." I can feel him smiling against my ear, as he quotes one of my favorite songs. 

My stomach drops. I've never done anything like this in public before. I've fantasized about it, but now that it is actually happening ... could I really do it? Could I orgasm right here in this loud, dark room, with all of these people milling about? Master presses his lips to mine again and I shake away my doubts. I must not hesitate. I will obey. 

I unclasp my hands from around his back and slide them down his thighs. My fingers are shaking as I undo my belt, and then the button and zipper of my jeans. I am suddenly wishing I wasn't wearing the tight pair I had on. In order to reach between my legs, I may have to shimmy them down a bit. Luckily, I'm wearing an open front sweater that is long in the back. So no one will notice. Probably. I'm mostly sure that unless someone sits down right beside us (and how rude would that be?) no one can really see what I'm doing, positioned as I am between his legs. Unless they are really looking. Which I suppose someone could be. The thought sparks an even hotter fire in my belly. 

I try to concentrate on what Master's mouth is doing to mine, the taste of the whiskey on his tongue, the feel of his lips, as I slowly reach down the front of my jeans, and into my panties. I do have to push my jeans down, just a little, in order to reach what I need to ... my already wet, warm pussy. I slide my middle finger down between those soft lips, smooth, perfectly bare, and I feel the warmth. I push a little further, and I feel the wet. So wet already. I moan softly into Master's mouth, and I can feel his hand tighten on my chain. 

I push my hand down further and press my finger into my pussy, feeing how wet I am, so hot on the inside. It feels so good I do it again, and again, slowly, than a little faster, just that one finger, reaching reaching ... I moan again, but it is lost in the lingering kiss, the beat of the music, the murmur of the crowd. 

Now I pull back a little and rub the damp pad of my finger over my clit, which is swollen and aching for attention. I feel a jolt of electricity and I jerk towards Master without meaning to. I steady myself by gripping his thigh with my other hand. He wraps his other hand, the one not gripping my chain, in my hair, right at the nape of my neck. His kiss is devouring me now, with an urgency that stirs my arousal even more.

I'm so wet that my finger slides over my clit easily, and I rub in tiny circles, lightly, teasingly, building the pressure, stoking the fire, until my ass starts to tingle and clench, and my thighs are trembling. My breath is catching in my throat and I'm unable to really participate in the kissing with any concentration. Master pulls back until our lips are barely touching. I whisper against his mouth. 

"Ohhh, Master. Oh my god, I'm so wet. And this feels so good."

I stroke myself a little faster, I press a little harder, and the orgasm starts to rise within me, building quickly. My panties are soaked and so is my finger, all the way to the knuckle. 

"Oh god, Oh, oh oh ..." I murmur into his his mouth, I pant, I moan. His hand tightens in my hair. 

I grip his leg even tighter, feeling the fabric of his jeans under my sweaty palm. I don't know if I can hold it back much longer. I'm starting to feel that .... swirling whirlpool of arousal, and I'm rising with it, on the edge ...

"Master, please, can I cum now? Please?" I gasp.

He pulls away and looks at my face. "No. Not yet."

I groan loudly and close my eyes. I want to drop my head forward, or let it fall back, but his grip on my collar keeps me in place. As does his grip in my hair. 

My clit is a hard slippery bud, and I'm pressing it fiercely now. I'm using two other fingers to engage the rest of my wet pussy. My thighs are aching and tight with the effort to hold back the orgasm, and I'm digging my fingernails into his thigh. He doesn't seem to care. 

"Look at me, Shea." I open my eyes and Master presses his forehead against mine. If it weren't for the fact I was kneeling on the floor in front of him, we would look just like two ordinary lovers, talking softly together while out on a date.

"Cum for me now, my little slut. My little pet."

I look into his eyes and gasp a little with pleasure. Just those words alone are almost enough to get me off. I push my middle finger again as deeply inside myself as I can, once twice three times, quickly, a little roughly, and then focus my attention on my swollen clit. Now that I have permission, it doesn't take long. I just have to ... let go. I feel that rushing in my head, the tightening of every muscle, that indescribable feeling of falling over the edge and ...

"Oh god!" I almost shout and he presses his mouth against mine again. I can feel him silently laughing. The orgasm rocks me and my whole body stiffens. My ass, my pussy, my thighs. My back arches as my hips rock forward, and I'm trapped there, between his legs, him holding me in place. I'm groaning, making animal noises as I press my all of my fingers against the amazing wetness between my legs. I can feel myself spasming with release. 

I'm suddenly weak and I start to sag, which causes the leather around my neck to dig in even more. That feeling starts to spark the electricity in me again, but my muscles are still spasming from the after shocks of the orgasm. Master is whispering to me again. "Oh, Shea, my little one. The things you do to me." 

What I do to him? 

He lets go of my chain and my hair, and pulls my hand out of my pants, where it was kind of stuck. I'm still sagging a little against him, my mind mostly wiped by the rush of the orgasm. It suddenly occurs to me to wonder if anyone saw me, realized what I was doing. Or was watching Master and I kissing and touching each other, like we had watched that other couple across the room. I realize that I kind of hope someone did.

Master reaches down and zips and buttons my jeans. He refastens my belt. He pulls me back up onto the couch beside him and tucks me up under his arm. I lay my head on his chest and I can hear his heart beating. He takes my right hand, the one that I had just masturbated with, and puts it up to his lips. I look at him just in time to see him slowly, mesmerizingly lick my middle finger, from base to tip. I shiver all over at the sheer sexiness of that simple act. 

"Taste yourself, little one."

I look into his dark eyes as I put my finger into my mouth and suck on it, then slowly pull it back out, savory the salty, musky taste of my own juices.

"Mmmmm," I say to him. "I taste really good."

A slow smile curls his lips, and the darkness in his eyes tell me the night has only just begun.








This dream, though shorter, was even more affecting  and arousing to me than the other one. Can you guess why? Can you guess which part of it lingering in my mind for days after, causing me to walk around in a near constant, heightened state of arousal?


Again, I did embellish this dream just a bit, mainly adding in the conversational bits, and streamlining it to make it more narrative. But other than those small details, this is almost exactly how I dreamed it. Again I woke up close to a real orgasm. But for some reason this time, when I did, I did not indulge myself, I didn't make an effort to get myself off. Something about that dream made me want to deny myself an orgasm, the release. For days, as the dream lingered in my mind. Hmmmm ...

I had another dream, close on the heels of these two, but I'm not going to relate it here. There were parts of it that are too ... painful? bittersweet? I'm not sure exactly what work I'm looking for, but I don't want to dwell on it now. 

The next post will get back to that long ago summer, and resume the story of me and Jack. As always, thanks for reading.



Thursday, May 2, 2013

Dreams of a lonely submissive

As I work on the next installment of the story of that fateful summer with Jack, (more sex! more biting! more firsts!) I thought I would take a little break and write an interim post. About dreams. 

I've always had very vivid dreams. Usually they are a mix of the mundane and the absurd, often violent, full of blood, sex and danger. So many dreams I've had seem to be chapters in an epic story that has no end. Chase scenes, evildoers, friends who become monsters, or monster hunters, mysteries to solve, tragedy to overcome and always I am running running running. The settings have been medieval, futuristic, post-apocalyptic. I chalk this up to an overactive imagination, thoughts and emotions that need to work themselves out through my subconscious while I'm sleeping, and the scary, intense books I read and television shows I watch. 

My favorite dreams, of course, are the sex dreams. I don't often have sex dreams, but when I do they are very real. I wake up aroused, sometimes even touching myself, feeling like something has really happened. Interestingly, the men I'm with in my sex dreams are rarely men I know in real life. They are either faceless, or totally made up. I don't recognize them. I  have had a few dreams about sex with celebrities, (there was one in particular involving Colin Farrell and a rock-lined grotto that was quite good) and one I remember involving a co-worker I had a huge crush on. I had already imagined a "working late at the office and some unknown man ravishes me from behind" masturbatory fantasy about this particular coworker. (Because, of course, I knew it was him though I pretended not to). But in this dream, everything was out of context. My co-worker (let's call him J) was a James Bond type spy, complete with tuxedo, and though the sex was super hot, I couldn't help but think, in the dream, that he had to hurry up and fuck me so that he could go catch the bad guys. It seemed there was some place more important he was supposed to be. In real life, J was such a nice guy, and a writer, like me, but in the the dream he was kind of dark and intense. Which, of course, was a huge turn on.

Though I'm not sure I've ever had a sex dream that involved a significant other at the time of our ... um ... significance, I did have dreams about Jack. When we were together back in that fateful summer, I dreamt of him all the time. Not sex dreams, though, I don't think. I unfortunately don't remember. But he invaded my dreams like he did my every waking moment. I never wanted to be without him, even when I was sleeping.

And then, in our more recent relationship, after I had given him my submission, given him myself, I dreamed of him as well. Sex dreams, weird dreams, regular going to the store dreams. Combinations of all three.  Again he was a part of me, his presence seeping into my every pore, firing the electric wires in both my body and my brain.

There are two such dreams that I want to share. Both because they were very arousing, bringing me almost to the point of orgasm as I slept, and because I know why I was dreaming these dreams. 

I know I haven't gotten to that point in the story yet, and I may not be there for a while. I'll try not to write any spoilers. What I will say, as preamble, is that early on Jack and I often posed the question ... could our relationship, as Jack and Shea, as Master and pet, as Dom and sub, work long-term in "the real world." How could we be who we really are, the selves we were discovering together, and still live a real life, in a day-to-day existence. I won't say now how or if we found answers, but I think pondering those questions is part of what prompted these dreams. 


My memory of the dream starts "in medias res" ... suddenly there we were, Master and I, in the middle of the hardware store. A big box store, like Lowe's or Home Depot. We were in the large lumber section, looking at wood. I'm looking at my Master, looking at the wood, nothing on my mind but how sexy he is, in his jeans and leather jacket. He turns and looks at me, catching me watching him. His eyes darken as he gives me a slow smile. Oh, that look, it starts a warm swirling feeling in my belly. Master crosses his arms and says, "I think we should ask for some assistance." 

A rush of nerves makes my skin prick. I wasn't sure he was being serious. But when is he ever not serious when he plans these ... excursions?

"I ... um ... thought you said you knew what we needed to build the coop?" (A coop? Are we building a chicken coop? What the hell???)

"I do know what we need. But you don't. I think you should ask for help." Master slowly puts his hands in the pockets of his coat.

"Okay." I stammer. 

Master walks towards me and backs me up against the metal shelves behind me. He leans in to kiss me, his lips hover just over mine, but he doesn't kiss me. He just whispers into my mouth. 

"Shea. No matter what happens, act naturally. Ask the nice clerk some questions. If you let on to what you are feeling, in any way, you will be punished. If he even so much as gives you a weird look, I will punish you, and I will show him what a slut you are. You don't want to give the nice clerk a blow job in the parking lot, do you?" I started to tremble. I could feel him smile against my lips.

"No, Master. Not unless it pleases you."

"That's my good girl. Now, go be a damsel in distress and ask for some help. Your choice. I'll be watching."

Master backs up and with a gallant gesture, ushers me along. I take a deep breath and look around. At the end of the aisle is a young man, younger than me certainly. Probably in his early twenties. Cute. I approach him, feeling Master's eyes on me all the way down the aisle. 

"Excuse me?" 

The clerk turns towards me. He's cuter up closer than I thought he was. "Yes, ma'am. Can I help you find something?"

I'm about to open my mouth when I feel it. A soft vibration between my legs. How did I forget? Before we left the house, Master had strapped a vibrator onto me, one that was controlled by a wireless remote. It was a purple butterfly, and it was nestled up against my pussy, the stiff antennae of the butterfly touching my clit. 

I close my mouth, and then open it again. "Yes ... uh ... I'm building a chicken coop, and I'm wondering what the best wood to use would be?"

Really. Could I sound any more like an idiot?

The cute clerk smiles and starts telling me something, but I can't really hear him as I'm distracted by the humming between my legs. My pussy and my ass start tingling but it's a low setting, so far, and I think I can handle it. How many settings are on this damn thing?

Cute clerk is motioning me down another aisle, so I follow. Mercifully, Master has turned the vibe off. For a moment. We round the corner to confront a bunch of boards that look just like the boards from the aisle we just came from. I look to my left and see Master inspecting some wood from down the aisle. His hand is in his jacket pocket. Uh oh. 

Clerk starts to talk again, but as soon as he does, the vibes goes off again. Stronger this time. I lock my eyes on Clerk's face, trying to concentrate on what he's saying. Trying to ignore the deliciousness that is going on in my pants. Oh, but it feels so good. The butterfly is touching every part of my pussy, and my tight jeans are holding it firmly into place. My stomach muscles are starting to spasm, just a little, and the warmth is starting to spread from my belly up through the rest of my body. I dig my nails into my palms in an attempt to stave off the rising sensations.

Clerk has noticed the rapt attention I am paying to whatever he is saying and has started making wild and interesting hand gestures to describe ... things. 

My pussy is starting to become engorged, and I can feel my breathing start to change. I can't stop touching my hair. I can't stand still, the vibrations are sending waves of pleasure all through me. Even my breasts are tingly now, and my nipples are hard. I sneak a peek at Master, but he is looking nonchalantly at some bit of hardware. I have to move, or I will lose it.

"Oh, that's very interesting. What about ... fasteners?" I say in a voice that is not quite my own.

Clerk looks confused and I mumble about keeping the chickens in or predators out. Are we really building a chicken coop? Where? In the back yard?

I suddenly notice Clerk is walking, so I follow him. We walk right past Master, and when we do, he turns the vibe up to full speed. Oh god! I gasp and trip a little, and I hear Master laugh. Clerk turns to look at me and asks if I'm ok.

"Fine!" I manage to squeak out. It's so hard to walk and stave off an orgasm at the same time! I probably look drunk. All I want to do is stop and lean against that rack of padlocks and give in to it. Just grab onto the metal shelves, close my eyes, and feel myself slip over that edge. Let my hips rock as my ass clenches and scream out, Oh fuck! as I cum hard, over and over, until Master takes mercy on me and turns off the vibe. But I can't. I have to follow the nice cute Clerk over to the aisle of ... fasteners. Every nerve is on fire, my pussy is wet and spasming with pleasure, and I'm pretty sure I can hear the buzzing of the vibe as I walk unsteadily along. I'm sure Master is following closely behind.

Suddenly the vibe stops. Oh sweet mercy, Thank You! My whole body shudders with relief and perhaps a bit of disappointment. I can still feel the ghost effects of the vibrations on my poor swollen pussy. Now that the sensation is gone, my body wants it back. I'm aching with frustration. As Clerk picks through bins of shiny metal ... thingys ... it's all I can do not to press my hand between my legs. My face feels shiny with perspiration. 

What is Clerk doing now? He's demonstrating some latches, I'm assuming. I still can't focus on what he's saying. He's very animated about whatever he is telling me, but maybe that's because of the unusual amount of attention I seem to be paying him. I must focus on Clerk. I must not wish for the vibe to turn back on. I must not orgasm right here in the shiny thingy aisle. I don't want to have to give this nice young man a blow job in the parking lot. Would Master really go that far? There was really no way to know. 

Ohhhh, fuck. I bite the insides of my cheek to keep from moaning out loud. The vibe suddenly hums to life. My stomach muscles and ass clench, but I don't think Clerk has noticed. I can only assume that Master is somewhere behind me, down the aisle. He is really testing me now. The vibe alternates between low and high speeds, at a very rapid rate. It's like being stroked mercilessly, deliciously, torturously ... oh my god, I don't think I'm going to be able to hold it together. I nonchalantly (I think) reach out and rest my hand on the nearby shelf. I step slightly towards it. Clerk is still blathering on, god, won't he stop? Can't there be some hardware emergency that he must respond to ... my legs are trembling uncontrollably, and I'm starting to pant a little, but I don't think it's noticeable. God, I hope not. I dig my nails into my palms again in desperation. I can feel a slickness between my pussy and the silicon butterfly vibe. I'm too hot. I'm fiddling with my hair again, I want to pull it, I want to pinch myself, I'm already literally biting my tongue to distract myself from the call of my impending orgasm, it's rising, rising, the waves of sharp pleasure are reaching wrapping their fingers around every muscle, every part of me is taut with the strain and the vibe is relentless, high low fast slow high low fast slow oh oh oh oh OH ... and it's off again. 

I sag with relief but my body has gone past the point of no return.  I need release. I don't care how I get it or what kind of trouble I get into. Even though the vibe is off my whole body is thrumming with desire. My skin is tingling, my pussy is wet and aching, my stomach muscled won't stop spasming and all I can thinking about is that sweet relief, or ... even better ... a hard fuck. Because when I get this aroused, or after a purely clitoral orgasm, I am overcome with the desperate desire to feel Master's beautiful cock pushing into me. Hard. Hard. Hard.

Someone walks past me down the aisle, and I know it is Master. Clerk is asking me something about chicken wire. For the chickens. Chickens? Why are we talking about chickens? My ability to think coherently has been compromised. Clerk seems to be waiting for some kind of response from me but I don't know what to say. I see Master over Clerk's shoulder. He is looking at me. He is not laughing anymore. He looks ... not angry, exactly. Just ... darkly serious. He makes a motion with his head that tells me he wants me to follow him. Oh thank god! It's over!

I mumble some thanks to Clerk for being so helpful and hurry on weak trembling legs after Master. I don't know where he has gone. I'm rounding the corner into the gardening section when a hand grabs my elbow and pulls me over to the side. It is Master. He rushes me a bit down into a dead-end aise of hoses and fake trees. He pushes me against the shelves and leans his body into mine. I think he is going to kiss me and I reach up to touch him, but he growls in my ear, "Put your hands behind you back." 

I grab the dusty metal shelves at the small of my back and resist the urge to grind my hips into his. This urge is almost too much to bear. I start panting for real this time.

"How do you feel, Shea, my little pet? Are you desperate to cum? I could tell by your body language that you were barely holding on back there. What's the matter, didn't you want to give that boy head in the parking lot while I watched?"

I don't know what to say so I say nothing. His breath is on my ear, so I can't see his face. I moan a little, I can't help it. I don't know what I want him to do. And it doesn't matter what I want anyway. He would do whatever he pleased, and I would be happy with that.

Master reaches one hand under my t-shirt and pushes my bra up over my flushed breasts. He runs his thumb over my nipple and feels how hard it is. He makes some small appreciative noises in my ear, like an exhale of "Ahhh" and then pinches my nipple, hard. Oh god that almost puts me over the edge right there. My hips buck and press against him. I put my head back and groan. 

"Shea, you were a good girl and did as I asked. Do you want to cum for me now?"

Out of the corner of my eye all I can see are fake green leaves and curls of hose. The flourescent lighting glares down on us. I can hear the noise and bustle of the store just past our secluded little aisle. But none of that matters. His hand is still on my breast and that's all I can feel. 

"Yes, please, Master." I whimper, breathing against his neck. 

Master pulls back and looks at me, our eyes just inches apart. His are dark and shining. 

"I'll let you cum if you can do it in 10 seconds. If you can't, I won't let you cum for the rest of the day."

Oh god. Please not that. 

Master puts the hand that isn't under my shirt in his pocket. I braced for what I desperately pray is coming. 

The vibe kicks into life on high speed. My whole body jerks and I gasp out loud. All the nerve endings in my pussy that had been ramping down were firing back up. Master takes his hand out of his pocket and presses it hard up between my legs. He is pressing that wildly vibrating butterfly even harder against me, against my clit. He starts moving his hand in slow small circles, and with his other hand he pinches my nipple again, hard. He is still staring into my eyes, and though I want to close mine, I don't dare break eye contact. He starts to count, slowly.

"10 ... 9 ... 8 ..."

My legs start to tremble and I start to breathe heavily. The waves of insane pleasure are starting to roll up over me, and my anus starts tingling. I am getting there, quickly, but will it be quick enough? 


"7 ... 6 ... 5 ..."

Oh my god, the waves are cresting, I am there, on the edge, I just have to let go and drop in, my whole body is on fire, and my hips thrust forward straining towards him, every muscle taut, my stomach and ass muscles clenching and spasming, my hands sweaty and slipping in their grip on the shelves behind me.

"4 ... 3 ..." 

I can't help it. I start moaning loudly. "oh god oh god oh my god oh my god Master please please ..."

" ... 2 ..."

Master takes his hand out from under my shirt and clamps it over my mouth. At the same time he presses his hand even harder up between my legs. That's all it takes.

" ... 1 ..."

I let go and give myself to the orgasm. And god, I cum hard. My body stiffens and I fight to maintain eye contact with Master. He presses his body against mine to keep me standing. His hand over my mouth, god how I live for that, muffles my cries. I can feel a rush of wetness between my legs, my pussy engulfed in the fire of orgasm. 

And I can't stop. The vibe is still on high, pressed hard into me by Master's hand,  and the orgasm keeps rolling on. If he hadn't put his hand over my mouth someone would  hear me wordlessly crying out. Wave after wave of sharp pleasure washes over me, and it is so intense it was almsot painful. And Master just stares at my face, drinking in the naked abandon and desire he sees there. The raw emotion on my face as the orgasm controls me. 

Finally he takes his hand from between my legs, and suddenly the vibe is silent. Ahhhhh, such relief. I sag against the shelves, drained of energy. My body is still spasming, rocked by the aftershocks of the intensely powerful orgasm. Master takes his hand away from my mouth and growls in my ear again.

"You are amazing, my little slut. And you are mine." It is exactly what I want to hear. 

He takes my hand and pulls me away from the shelves. My shoulders ache after being bent back and leaned upon.

"I think you will be giving head in the parking lot after all. But not to some green boy who doesn't deserve you."

Master looks back at me over his shoulder as he pulls me along. "And if you do well sucking my cock, Shea, I'll let you decide if you want me to turn the butterfly back on while you do it." 

He laughs at whatever expression I have on my face, and pulls me out into the sunshine. So much for the chicken coop, I guess.

Maybe if I am a really good little pet, and worship his cock the way he likes it, later he will give me what I really want, what I really need. There is an ache that has started between my legs within my wet swollen pussy, and it is radiating up into my belly. An emptiness that cries out to be filled. 

Maybe if I please him well, he will fill that emptiness. I need him to fuck me and fuck me and fuck me ... so, so hard. 










Well. I may have gotten carried away with transcribing that dream. I may have ... embellished, made it more narrative, as dreams get so weird and don't make sense anymore when you try to tell them. For instance, in my dream, that last scene, when Master  lets me cum, finally, we were inexplicably in the bathroom of a Starbucks, when we had been at the hardware store moments before. But the basics really were a part of my real dream. The butterfly vibe (which I do actually own) the clerk, the instructions to seek assistance, the threat of giving head to a store employee, the plans to build a chicken coop (?!?!?!) and the final, amazing release. I woke from that dream sweaty and so aroused it was pretty easy to bring myself to a real orgasmic release. 

I will have to write a part two tomorrow, as there is another dream I'd like to tell you about. 

Dreams are amazing and funny and weird, aren't they?


Monday, April 15, 2013

Comments are actually welcome!

Hi, Readers!

It has been brought to my attention that readers were not able to leave comments anonymously here. That was due to a setting mistake on my part, not a desire to restrict comments.

I welcome comments. I'm interested to hear what people think about what I'm writing here, the adventures and experiences I've had, the journey I am exploring. 

So please, feel free to comment if the mood strikes you.


Thanks as always for reading,

shea

Sunday, April 14, 2013

Is Oral Sex more intimate? Where we finally talk about Blow Jobs!


Oral sex. Giving head. "Going down upon." Is it safe to say that most people would much rather receive than give? Probably. Of course there are the connoisseurs out there. The cock worshippers. The pussy lovers. There are those for whom giving that kind of pleasure to someone else is more of a turn on than getting it themselves. 

And as with most sexual acts, it can totally depend on the situation, the person you're with, the mood you're in. But it seems that oral sex is one of the first things to go in the sexual life of a marriage or a long-term relationship. It becomes something to avoid. A treat doled out on special occasions. The birthday blow job! Stand-up comedians by the hundreds can attest to this fact. No one is getting enough oral sex. Could it be because oral sex is such an incredibly intimate act, and intimacy, sexual or otherwise, is something that often fades over time in a long-term relationship? Or could it be that people, men and women, often can't work up the desire to perform oral sex unless they are really aroused, and that doesn't happen as often as it used to?

And there is also the unfortunate circumstance prevalent today, where young people (and I'm talking young, like jr. high) are engaging in oral sex very casually. Like it's second base. I don't know if it's something they do to put off actual intercourse, or if it's girls giving it out more than boys, or if it's a form of birth control to them (no one ever got pregnant from sucking a cock!) but it's really unfortunate. On so many levels. One of which is the sad fact that when a whole generation or more puts oral sex into the category of "no big deal" they miss out on the pure physical and emotional arousal that can come from giving something so intimate to another person.

Because it is arousing, isn't it? Oral sex, to me, is even more intimate than sex sex. There is something so visceral about using your mouth, your lips, your tongue with its tens of thousands of tastebuds, to stimulate someone's cock or pussy. Your face so close to the dark, musky sex of someone else's body. Every sense is engaged: You see, quite up close, the beautiful cock or pussy of your lover, those "private parts" that usually remain private ... every fold of skin, every hair, the beautiful and random hues of skin color. You breathe in that unmistakable musky aroma of sex and skin and desire, it is such a heady, human smell, that odor of arousal. You use your hands to touch, a complement to your mouth, stroking soft skin, gripping ass, pushing fingers into dark damp places to heighten the sensation. And oh yes, taste, perhaps the most engaged sense of them all, how delicious the taste .. first of salty skin and then the heady taste of musky wetness, the taste when you've taken your lovers cum on your tongue, tasted it all the way back in your throat, the taste of pure sex and, oh god, what can be better than hearing the moans of the person you are licking, sucking, biting, when you know that something you are actively doing is bringing them so much pleasure! And that last gasp, grunt, shout when they empty themselves into your warm, waiting mouth ...

Being submissive ... I don't know if it's different for me. Do I get more from the experience of pleasuring him with my mouth? Taking him into me, worshipping, showing my devotion to him by how much I long, and love, to please in this way? I know I dream about it sometimes. It can be such an amazingly subservient act, especially when you do it on your knees, naked, looking up at him while your mouth is full of him, and see him staring intently down at you.

There is a quote from that controversial erotic novel "The Story of O" from the 1950s, that I find quite powerful:

The three men, who were smoking, commented on her gestures, on the movement of her mouth closed and locked on the sex she had seized, as it worked its way up and down, on the way tears streamed down her ravaged face each time the swollen member struck the back of her throat and made her gag, depressing her tongue and causing her to feel nauseous. O...strained to hear her lover's moans, caressing him slowly, and with infinite respect, the way she knew pleased him. O felt that her mouth was beautiful since her lover condescended to thrust himself into it, since he deigned publicly to offer caresses to it, since, finally, deigned to discharge in it. She received it as a god is received

I know feeling this way doesn't necessarily make me special. You don't have to be submissive to get so much from pleasing the one you love. Or the one you belong to. I do wonder if it adds a depth to the pleasure, another dimension that others may not feel. 

I'll have to ponder that further in another post. 



One of my all time favorite "Firsts" 

It won't surprise you that I experienced my first blow job with Jack. But I didn't take his cock in my mouth until after I gave him my virginity. Even back then, it seemed like a bigger deal to me. And I had never done it before, I was nervous, I didn't want to do it "wrong." And he had never asked for it. He never wanted to push me in that way. But then one afternoon I got the idea in my head and I couldn't let go of it. I wanted to give Jack a blow job. In the worst way! I couldn't stop thinking about it. Giving my virginity to him had changed me in so many ways. My sexuality bloomed like a time-release video of a hothouse flower. That is to say ... quickly. I felt myself opening up, reaching reaching ... and always in his direction. I wanted to experience everything with him, every sensation, I wanted more. Always more. 

And I wanted to do something for him. I felt he had given me so much. I wanted to turn him on by doing something that was just for him. Those secret submissive feelings were growing like a small seed deep inside me. I wanted to make him happy, give him pleasure, without expecting any pleasure for myself. Because I assumed (based on extensive anecdotal evidence from my girlfriends) that sucking his cock would be an experience that would be arousing for him, but not for me. At least not beyond the emotional pleasure I would feel by making him feel good.

Man, was I ever wrong.

So, that afternoon came when I became obsessed with giving Jack this gift of oral pleasure. He was planning to pick me up after playing basketball with his friends. I don't remember if we had somewhere to go, or  if we just intended to "go for a drive," aka find some place to park and make-out. Or indulge in our budding sexual relationship. We were fast becoming experts at car sex. What we ended up doing was parking in the back of some park's lot, in the middle of a beautiful summer afternoon. Not exactly private. We got in the back seat like we often did, and talked a little. But we could never keep our hands off of each other.  I wish I remembered what led up to the conversation. Did I bring it up? Were we making out, kissing, stroking, fondling and I told him what I wanted to do? Did I whisper it in his ear? Did he ask me? That we talked about it I've no doubt. We talked about everything. What I do remember is being there in the back seat of his car, my arms and legs tangled up with his, and saying to him, " ... but you have to show me how. Tell me what to do." Where did I get the courage to say that? I was usually such a shy person. It was Jack's influence. His presence. He made me brave. 

Jack, true to form, tried to "talk me out of it." 

"I don't know if this is the best time for this." Jack told me. In his calm voice. 

"Why not?" I was probably already panting at this point.

"I've been playing basketball. I'm all sweaty."

Nothing sounded more delicious to me than tasting Jack's sweaty skin.

"I don't care. I really want to do this. Now. Please?" Here I was, begging to suck his cock even before my first blow job. Can you hear the whisper of that little seed of submission growing?

Jack leaned back a little against the back seat and gave me a look, half serious, half smirking. He sat like that, just staring at me, long enough that I started to get that shiver, and not because it was cold. That connection between us, that electrical wire that held us together was starting to heat up, sending trembling pulses all over my skin.

"Ok," Jack said, darkness in his eyes. "Come here." 

He grabbed me by my shoulders and pulled me to him. He kissed me fully, passionately, even roughly, until my lips felt bruised and I was completely on fire. I was melting on the inside, desire pooling in my lower belly. God I loved kissing him! I put my hand on his crotch and started rubbing his cock from the outside, my hand sliding around on his silky basketball shorts. Then I slipped my hand inside his shorts, inside the waist band of his underwear, and wrapped it around his mostly erect cock. I caught my breath. I felt like I had a handful of dangerous desire. I could feel the tickle of his hair against my skin, and the smoothness of him in my palm. And then, I felt something amazing! I felt him get even harder in my hand. Oh! That moment was so exciting my stomach muscles clenched, and the tingling between my legs that had started with the kiss bloomed into full-on aching desire. I might have even gasped a little. I pulled back from kissing him and looked at Jack ... he was smiling at me encouragingly, but there was darkness behind his eyes. I felt so powerful! And at the same time so proud that something I was doing, on my own, was making him feel that good. 

Now, I had read the last few chapters of "Valley of the Horses" (The sequel to "Clan of the Cave Bear". If you'd like a titillating how-to on how to give a blow job that goes on for pages, check it out.) I'd also read at least the first book of Anne Rice's Beauty series. (More on erotica later.) So I felt like I had at least a working knowledge of how to start. But I wanted to do it well. I wanted to make his body feel the way mine did when he touched me. I wanted his heart to race. I wanted to give him that sensation of melting on the inside.  And if I'm being entirely honest, I wanted him to forget any other girl who had ever given him head before me. 

So I screwed up my courage once more and whispered, "I want you to tell me what to do, or ... if you want me to do something differently." I couldn't look at him when I said it. I was starting to feel awkward and self-conscious. 

"Ok." He whispered back. He sounded a little hoarse, perhaps because I still had my hand wrapped around his cock and I was stroking it gently. 

The bright afternoon sun was shining into the car. We were parked right next to a baseball field. Someone could have conceivably walked by. That just made it more exciting for me. I shivered again. I let go of him and pulled his shorts and underwear down and off. He was already barefoot. His cock was erect, stretching out of a patch of coarse black hair. This was the first time I had really looked at it, seen it up close. The first time I had seen ANY cock up close. I did not know what my friends were talking about. I thought it was beautiful. I licked my lips nervously and wrapped my hand around him again, all the way down at the base. I scooted down off the warm car seat and onto the floor. I was kind of uncomfortably straddling the hump, by I didn't really notice. I couldn't take my eyes off of Jack's cock. The shape of the head, the ridge underneath, the veins, even, it was all so ... foreign. I licked my lips again. My mouth was a little dry I was so nervous. 

I took a deep breath and tentatively reached out and experimentally ran my tongue over the smooth pink head. I tasted salty skin and something else I couldn't describe.  My heart was pounding!  I could feel sweat starting to trickle down my lower back. I opened my mouth and took more of him in, and tried to apply a little suction. I slowly bobbed my head up and down, my saliva building as I did so. I could smell his sweaty, musky scent, but he smelled so good to me. 

"The underside is the most sensitive, try pressing your tongue against it." Jack's voice floated above me, soft and serious.

Mmmmm, I could do that. And strangely, just the sound of Jack's voice, telling me what to do for him, excited me even more. I was desperate to please him, so as I bobbed and sucked my way up and down his shaft, I ran my tongue along the underside of his cock. I was rewarded with some heavy breathing from above me. I thought about how good it must have felt to him to fuck me for the first time. How warm and wet and tight my pussy must have felt. I tried to make my mouth feel like that ... every few times I came up his shaft, I would come all the way off, tighten my lips, and press down against the head of his cock before sliding all the way down again, flicking my tongue against him as I did.

"The head is really sensitive, too." Jack whispered, and he lightly put his hand in my hair. 

Oh.my.god. The touch of his hand on my head made me quiver with desire. My nipples immediately hardened and the ache in my pussy was almost unbearable. I started running my mouth over him, faster, faster, pressing the tip of my tongue against the underside and intermittently running my tongue around the the smooth head and the ridge that circled around it. I started using my hand, too, but softly. I wasn't sure how delicate these boy parts were.

I don't know how long this lasted. I remember the salty taste of him in my mouth, the feel of his skin in my hand. I remember his pubic hair tickling my wrist. I remember how his shaft became so wet from my saliva, and I used that natural lubricant to slide my mouth more quickly up and down. I remember the feel of the smooth head, and flicking the ridges with the tip of my tongue. I remember the car heating up until we were both sweating. I remember gripping his upper thigh tightly with my other hand. I remember almost moaning with the pleasure of pleasing him. I remember the scratch of the floor carpet against my knees. I remember his voice above me, HIM above me, talking softly to me, encouraging and instructing. I remember him whispering "oh, yeahhh ..."

Jack had said before I had even started, during our conversational foreplay, that it's best to start slowly and then build, adding more pressure and more suction. So that's what I did. I wanted to make him cum. I wanted to hear him moan and grunt and say my name like he did when we had sex. 

Jack spoke to me once more. He said, between quick breaths, that he would tell me when he was going to cum so that I could stop, if I wanted to. I didn't want to stop! I wanted him to cum in my mouth. I was sure of that. Not because I knew at all what that would be like. But because I had suffered through enough teasing interrogations with boys (not on my own but in groups, hanging out in the halls, on loading docks, behind bleachers, boys asking us girls that age old question that we never knew how to answer, boys laughing to see how it embarrassed us,  "Do you spit or swallow?") to know that swallowing was the preferred method. If that's what guys liked, that's what I was going to do for Jack. 

I paused long enough to gasp, "No! I don't want to stop!"

"Are you sure?" Jack breathed back at me. 

I let my continued sucking and licking answer him. I wanted to devour him, I just didn't know how. I sucked at him as hard as I dared and flicked my tongue along the vein that ran under his shaft. I massaged the base of his cock with my hand. I'm sure whatever technique I was managing was getting a little sloppy, but my head was buzzing and my whole body was aching with desire. My pussy was so wet, I could actually feel the dampness of my panties as I crouched there on the floor. Jacks hands suddenly gripped my shoulders and he moaned.

"Shea, I'm going to cum ... I'm ...

He lifted his hips a little bit off the seat and grunted and oh my god I could actually feel his cock throb and pulse in my mouth. I was so turned on I almost couldn't breathe. The buzzing in my head was deafening. I felt a sudden warmth spurt into my mouth and tasted his salty cum on my tongue. I didn't know exactly how to keep it all in my mouth, but I wanted all of it!  A little dribbled out onto my hand so I tightened my mouth around his cock and sucked all of his cum into the back of my throat. I was going on pure instinct now, just doing what felt right. I gave one last suck up the length of him and swallowed everything that was in my mouth, his cum and my saliva all mixed together. I didn't know how to end it, really, so I held my mouth gently around him until his cock stopped twitching. And then I released him and quickly lapped up what had spilled onto the top of my fist.

I didn't move for a minute, I just rested there on the floor of the car, nestled between his legs with his softening cock in my hand. My breath was coming in ragged gasps and I continued to stroke him until he put his hand over mine to stop me. 

"It's a little sensitive ... after ..." Jack whispered to me. 

I finally looked up at him and surreptitiously wiped my hand on my shorts. For just a moment I felt ... I felt my sexuality swirling around me, wrapping me in intense desire. I felt such an amazing sense of power in my female-ness, even though I was on my knees. That seeming contradiction was so alluring to me, I didn't know quite what to make of it. I just knew I wanted more. 

I suddenly realized that Jack was staring at me and shyness struck. I let go of him and crawled back up on the seat and curled up next to him. He wrapped his arms around me and I buried my face in his shoulder. 

"Did you like it?" I murmured. 

"Yes, Shea, I liked it. Couldn't you tell?" He as smiling, I knew that without looking at him.

"I can do better ..." I whispered.

"Don't worry, we have lots of time to practice." 

I lifted my head and looked at him, and some look on my face made him laugh. I laughed, too. 

"Did you like it?" He asked me.

"I did. I liked it a lot."

He tightened his arms around me and we sat there for a minute. I was still worked up in an agony of desire, and I wanted him to fuck me, but I had to go home. And as much as I wanted him, there was something so incredible about the feeling that I had pleased him without expecting anything in return. I loved that feeling. 

And really, was that even true? I realized that giving Jack head was such a complete turn-on, so arousing in it's own right, so much more than I thought it would be. It wasn't just for him, it was for me too. I never thought I could feel so aroused, get so turned on, just by giving him pleasure.

And that was a beautiful, beautiful thing.










I find after writing this, that I have much more to say about oral sex. But I think that will come later in this story. I think I need to get back to biting and other adventures. 

What did happen when I bit Jack?