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When am I going to

See you and free you

When can I have your

touch on my tongue

your taste on my skin

When may I tame your

hunger and stifle

your loneliness

When will I welcome your

mess in my wilderness

With Passion

Come tear off my

Underwear

Darling please

Wet your fingers

In my mouth

Won’t you please

I like it when

You are here

On your knees

Run your fingers

Through my hair

Can’t you please

Haunt me please

Want me please

Darling please

I finally know what it’s like to be DP’d

I’m very new to butt play, and for me it’s kind of like learning a new language. I’m not perfect at distinguishing what feels good or isolating specifics when something is inside me. But what I do know is I very much enjoy sensations on top of sensations, the more the better.

My DP experience included a teeny tiny plug slightly thicker than a skinny tooth brush, but in the flesh-like material that is very adaptable to my body. It was that in my ass, a finger in my pussy, and a vibrator on my clit that created this new world of sensations for me.

With the toy alone in my ass, I almost feel dizzy. I can feel it but I can’t localize it like I can with something in my pussy. It’s hard to take by itself because my body struggles between wanting to push it out and relaxing to take more in. But with the other stimulation in place, my body is too distracted by all the pleasure to clench up and focus on fear.

So it’s easy for pleasure waves to transfer to the ass and make it feel more pleasurable too. Eventually it felt so good that I could keep plug in without a problem. And that’s when it happened, something that I’ve seen in films but never thought I would experience myself — the double penetration.

I was face down with my back arched and ass tilted towards him. With the plug in place and snug, he took out his finger and inserted his cock. I felt so full. He started to move in and out, nudging the toy with his cock with each motion. It was immense, the sensation of him and something else inside me. Small as it was, it was very noticeable and quite often I felt like I was so close to coming that I’d fucking explode. For me, DP was like extended edge play, an exquisite experience.

Dirty Dancing in DC

Darnell ignited a fire in me that I forgot I possessed. His body against mine felt devine. Elegantly sculpted, firm, young, agile. He laid lust and raw energy on my lips when he kissed me. I was so consumed by my desire for him that my hands found their way to his muscular glutes and up under his gray sweater, fighting, aching, desperate to feel the warmth of his flesh.

I suppose the lust between us was noticeable because a girl walked over to us and turned me around. “You two are so sexy,” she said, dancing on me, then placed a gentle hand on my shoulder hinting for me to bend over. I did not fight it and neither did he. She backed away and watched while I twerked on him and maintained eye contact with her. His erection bulged against my ass the entire time. She watched in approval. I grew more animal, craving his flesh, his affection.

When I finally turned back around to face him, I decided then and there – I had to know how it felt to touch him. Touch him for real. My hands ran from the back of his head down his sides. This pattern was familiar, but I didn’t go for his legs this time. I moved my hands to the front of his pants, over his firm abs then down the pants to catch with my fingers a little taste of his hardness from outside the clothes.

His cock echoed strong through the fabric, firm and lengthy. He sighed and looked at me. I could tell he wanted me. Later, I apologized for the violation. He’d been so polite, asking if he could kiss me and assuring me he was not a threat.

The only thing he wanted was more time. More time on the dance floor, time at his place, or time at mine, time in the bathroom if that’s the only place we could find. I was tempted to give in. Tempted to fuck him, but that night I got more than I came for. I got to reconnect with a part of myself that I’d been missing. I got to feel my desires run strong, and that was enough for me. Besides, I knew when I got home to my toys I’d make myself cum better than some stranger ever could.

On Calling Him Daddy

I pride myself on being a particularly sexual person. An adventurer, a group sex lover, and an agile performer who gets wet at the thought of outdoor sex where other people might see me. The only hang up I have around sex is when a male partner wants me to call him Daddy.

I was being blissfully fingered and getting my toes sucked with a powerful vibrator on my clit one night. I couldn’t separate myself from my body, pleasure ran through me connecting flesh to thought. He could tell I was close by the waves of my hips and the tightening of my pussy. He took my toes out his mouth and said,

“Are you gonna cum? Are you gonna cum for Daddy?” It was hot but it also kind of slowed down my momentum.

I said, “Yes” all heavy breathy, still pleasure fueled. He went on to say, “Tell me, tell me you’re gonna cum for Daddy” to which I replied, “I’m gonna come for you” and put my foot back in his mouth.

Logically I know there’s no difference between calling someone baby or Daddy.

I call people baby all the time, so why the uneasiness with Daddy? Upon careful consideration and reflection, I came to the conclusion that since I’ve never called my real father “Daddy” for some reason it feels wrong to call any other man that. Maybe some part of my twenty-something year old self is still holding out hope that I will call him that one day.

But it’s just a freaking word! And I’m a writer, supposedly a master of words, so why is this one so heavy on my tongue? That night, I did not call my lover Daddy, nor did I do it in the following weeks.

When and where I finally did it was a couple months later at a nudist/swingers resort called Hedonism II in Jamaica…

*Artwork by Instaphazed*

Confetti Cum

I drop my head,

close my eyes,

rub my eyelids,

exhale, and confetti

flares from my nostrils

Now when I cum

I don’t go anywhere

There’s no movement

Orgasms devoid of tension

My memory devastated

Body amnesiac

Completely blind to the mosaic

pleasure has painted

I drop my head,

cover my eyes

Exhale and confetti flares

from my nostrils

Dissolved ashes rise

above me before

I can catch the colors

Young Wild Hearts

I want a weekend of

smoke clouds, strong

flesh, and lust

Wild thoughts

between young

wild hearts

And desire, that rampant

fire roars deeper

in the twenty-something gut

With newness,

nervousness, fear

and hunger

A hunger for all things now

I want the weekend

with desire, unplanned positions

Sturdy knees and stronger

flesh. Passions on top

of passions on top of me