Soliloquy 

Perplexed by the paralysis

of my tongue,

I want him pinned down,

tied,

and bound

I can’t wait to stroke it,

fondle his fear,

tap stilettos beside

his ear

Dear Darkness,

I want him. And

I’ll try not to break him

while he hovers

between

ecstasy and existence

And when I Iet him come

back to reality

he’ll see me lick the

remnants of a furious

harvest from my hand

————————————–

• Art by @Aliciarihko •

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.

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*

Hobbies/ Mutual interests

We don’t have any hobbies 

like normal guy girl stuff

that we engage in 

together

we just like to fuck

when we come together 

but we don’t just come to cum 

We come to indulge in each other

We don’t own each other 

So the fear of falling is 

sweeter, much larger

than the fear of losing 

one another.