Turning Eros

More Poetry

2006-04-13T15:56:00.000-07:00

"my submersion"

Going under
In the sea of Your Will
Controlled currents
Wash me to and fro
And each surfacing
Only makes me more
Eager
To drown more completely
For You

Nyghtmare, Nyghtmare

2006-01-20T23:52:00.000-08:00

Sorry about this, but I'm going to go all literary on you. The following is a poem based on the genius "Tyger, Tyger" by William Blake. It matches the original's syntax, rhyme sceme, punctuation and to a small extent theme. Hope you like it.

The Nyghtmare

(based on “The Tyger” by William Blake)

Nyghtmare, Nyghtmare, shunning light
The darkest shadow of the night:
With a mortal’s mind gone numb,
What bone-chilled soul could hold her sum?

A step into infinity,
A moment made eternity!
Do you in your piety sleep?
Doesn’t she into your mind creep?

To distant land of lightless cold
Does she steal you to her hold?
Strangled by her black haired mane
Are you praying? Are you sane?

Who’s the Maker? What horrid deed?
Who planted this fetid seed?
Whence the terror? Whence the pain?
When did she begin her reign?

The evening of Satan’s fall
He sent to God a dream-time pall:
Did our Lord shed a bitter tear?
And so Satan form the Steed of Fear?

Nyghtmare, Nyghtmare, shunning light
The darkest shadow of the night:
With a mortal’s mind gone numb,
What bone-chilled soul could hold her sum?

Initial Bondage Sketch

2006-01-04T00:47:00.000-08:00

The Dog (Fiction, Graphic)

2005-12-20T13:38:00.000-08:00

He lay next to Her, listening to Her soft, even breath of sleep. He had been listening to Her for an hour now, by the digital clock, and still He couldn’t fall asleep. With balls aching and images from earlier in the night running in loop through his brain, he didn’t expect to sleep any time soon.

For hours he had worshipped Her body, bringing Her to her first orgasm with his fingers from behind. Then finally She gave him something he had been begging for for days; She had queened him, smothering him, drowning him in Her sweet beautiful pussy, sitting on his face, writhing through an intense orgasm achieved with his tongue deep inside Her. She had tormented him mercilessly throughout, bringing him over and over again to the brink of orgasm and denying him each time, usually with Her hand but a few times with her amazingly skilled mouth. So pleased She had seemed with him, that he was almost certain She would let him cum, but claiming exhaustion from two such intense orgasms, she merely locked him up with a kiss on his forehead and fell into quick sleep.

As She found the male chastity device he wore during the day uncomfortable to sleep against, She had come up with an alternative. His hands were loosely cuffed, locked with small padlocks to a chain between running up to the headboard. Around his right ankle was another cuff chained to the footboard of their large wrought iron bed. The system allowed him relatively free movement and comfort but he could not lower his hands past rib level or pull his body very far up in the bed. This set up extremely effectively prevented him from touching his genitals in any way. In some ways this was worse than his Curve. Because She milked him at least once a day, he had yet to have any nocturnal orgasm and he was tortured every night by the feel of her soft skin against his body.

Unable to help himself, he nuzzled Her neck gently, breathing softly into her ear, and savored her sleepy murmurs as She cuddled her body back into his. Eventually, he fell into a light sleep with the warm sleeping smell of Her in his nose.

* * *

“Stop that! Stop that now!”

The sharp voice jarred him out of his sleep, bringing him into confused wakefulness. He lay on his side, curled somewhat and She was sitting up next to him. In the dim light filtering in from the street, he could see the angry look on Her face and cringed inside.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

At her words he became aware of his body and in horror realized he had his knees wrapped around her thigh, his cock, hard and throbbing, tight to the smooth flesh of Her leg. Even now, his hips were twitching and by the wetness he felt, he knew that in his sleep he must have being rubbing himself on Her for some time. In fact, he was only a few moments from orgasm, and only with an effort of will did he unwrap his legs from hers and pull away.

“Mistress, I… I’m sorry… sleeping… I…”

“Shut up. You are disgusting. No control at all. Humping me in my sleep.”

“Mistress, I apologize; I’m so sorry. I was asleep. I didn’t know…”

She pulled away from him, kneeling up on the bed, towering over him like a vengeful Goddess, and he didn’t think he had ever felt such shame before. She was right, he had no control, and he had no idea how to make this horrible indiscretion up to Her.

“I thought we had been doing so well pet,” She told him in a softer voice. The anger faded from Her face, replaced by pity and disappointment. “I really thought I had been getting somewhere with you, helping you learn to control your animal urges, and now this. Humping me in the night like an animal. Just like an animal.”

Her face became thoughtful for a moment, brows furrowing slightly between her green eyes that ran over his naked body. Then her face lit up, eyes sparkling and a small smile pulled at her rosy lips. The expression was so sweet, angelic, innocent looking even, and he shuddered in terror and deeper inside, excitement. He knew this expression well. It meant that She had thought of something that pleased Her and boded very badly for him. Although inexperienced as a Domme, She more than made up for lack of worldly knowledge with a devious creativity and imagination that had brought him sobbing to Her amazing feet more than once. His desperate need to please Her was matched only by Her ability to torment and frustrate him.

“Yes, like an animal. Like a dog I think. Exactly like a dog.”

“Mistress, please-“

“Shhhh,” She whispered, laying a small finger across his lips. “No more talking now.”

She jumped from the bed and he couldn’t help but admire her body. Silky white soft skin, full breasts tapering from her ribs to her waist under a black cami then swelling again to her rounded hips. The lace panties She wore covered and tantalized at the same time, beautifully highlighting Her gorgeously long, graceful legs. Firmly muscled thighs flowed into slim, shapely calves into incredibly delicate ankles. And her feet… How to describe her feet? Pure alabaster beauty. He had never seen their like, not even on sites dedicated to feet. And if anyone would know, it would be him. The uncountable hours he had spent online, masturbating uncontrollably to unending images of feet. In exchange for helping him in controlling his shameful addiction, She had allowed him access to the most spectacular feet he had ever dreamed of touching. Not once had he regretted begging to be Her slave.

During his silent admiration, She quickly unchained him from the bed, leaving the cuffs with their chains on him. Then Her hand was in his hair, grasping hard and bodily She dragged him out of the bed while he scrambled to keep up with Her.

In the corner of the bedroom, embedded in the bare wood floor was a sturdy eyebolt. For him it was a place of humiliation and torment, where he spent his punishment time. Leaving less than three feet of slack, She attached a chain first between the bolt and his permanently welded collar, then the cuffs on his wrist and finally the cuff on his ankle. He was immediately impressed by how very uncomfortable this bondage would be for him. Though the chain ran freely through the bolt, with so little length between collar, cuffs and ankle, he was forced to curl himself tightly around the center point. Already he could feel strain in his shoulders, hip digging into the hard floorboards, tension that would lead to cramps in his thighs. Pulling a spare blanket from the bed, tucking it around his shivering form, She crouched next to him, stroking his hair and neck.

“Don’t cry sweet, you know I’m doing this for you, for your own good. I want you to be the best slave in the world and this is how to do it. You want to please me don’t you, make me proud?”

He fought back tears of shame and fear of pain, not wanting to begin sniveling so soon. “Yes Mistress, I want to please You more than anything. I’m so ashamed that I’ve failed You.”

“We will make it right. You sleep now and in the morning I will show you how to please me.”

“Yes Mistress, thank You for all Your thoughtfulness. I love You so much.”

“I know darling, now sleep.”

Washed in the warmth of her care and the intensity of his love for her, he fell into a drained sleep far more quickly than he would have guessed possible in such a position, and dreamt of Her through the darkest hours of the night.

* * *

Warm morning light woke him slowly, and rolling heavily onto his back he groaned as he stretched his legs out. The pain in all the muscles of his body brought the events of the night to his mind and eyes flying open, he saw his beloved Mistress kneeling next to him on the floor. The blanket was gone, and the chain removed from the bolt, but still clasped to the collar around his neck, leaving him loose to move if only his cramped body could take advantage of it’s freedom.

“Mistress,” he gasped as he tried to sit up, pain shooting through his shoulders and down his back. With Her arms wrapped firmly around him, She helped him into a sitting position. He collapsed forward, forehead on his knees, and moaned in relief as She began strongly massaging his neck and shoulders. She explained what would happen that day.

“You were very, very bad last night. No, don’t say anything, I know that you are sorry, but that isn’t enough. You need to learn your lesson and you have a lot to make up to me. I think I have come up with a way to do both those things.”

While She spoke with in a mild, explaining voice, he hung on Her every word. At once he was thrilled to know there was something that he could do that would make it better and at the same time anxious and fearful at how much pain this may cost him. It quickly became evident that just about any physical punishment would have been easier to bear than what She had planned.

“Since you have so little control over your animal urges, in punishment you will spend the day as an animal. A dog. My dog. My faithful, well-behaved, loving animal companion. From the moment I have you prepared you will no longer be a human in my eyes or your own. You are not to speak at all. At most you may bark, whine or yelp as a dog when appropriate. If this is a problem for you, I have several gags that you are familiar with that will enforce this. I hope you don’t make that necessary.

“You can’t stand; dogs don’t stand and neither will you. Rather than allow temptation to torment you for the day, I will, very kindly I believe, make this impossible for you”

In a shaking little boy voice he thanked Her.

“You’re welcome. No use of your hands today. Again, I will help you with this by making them as useful to you as paws, which is appropriate. Lastly you will be outfitted in a way that will constantly remind you of your position so that by complacency you aren’t tempted to forget you place. Now come dog.”

Standing with the chain turned leash in Her hand, She walked from the bedroom towards the living room with him crawling somewhat stiffly behind. His position allowed him a wonderful view up the short black skirt She had donned. He could even see the tops of the thigh high sheer black hose She wore, and her silky black panties. That sight and her shapely hosed feet padding before him brought him instantly to high arousal. By the time they reached the coffee table with it’s variety of carefully chosen objects on display he was virtually panting in his lust.

Ordering him up on his knees, She asked for his hands. Taking some white fabric medical tape, She began enclosing his hands. From his wrists She worked down, binding his thumb to his palm and his finger together. When finished he couldn’t even curl his hands. Effectively, he now possessed paws and with trepidation he suspected that he would not have been able to bring himself to orgasm manually even if he dared attempt such a thing.

Next, on his hands and knees, legs spread widely, Her actions explained the use of two rather incomprehensible items on the table. The sturdy white twine She wound several times around the base of his balls. Although She delighted in causing him pain in this area, today’s treatment was not truly uncomfortable, at most it sensitized, until She attached the dowel that is. Pulling his sack back between his legs as far as She could, She attached the 24” length of wood just below his balls, but behind his thighs. The weight of the dowel pulled at him, slightly painfully, but he was confused as to its purpose until She ordered him to stand.

He quickly tried to scramble to his feet and was at a half crouch when pain ripped through his testicles, deep into his belly, bringing sudden nausea. Knees folding beneath him, he fell forwards with his useless paws clutched over himself, face pressed to the floor groaning. Over him, he could hear Her clapping Her hands, and in his mind’s eye could see Her happy smile with excitement lighting it.

“Oh it works! This is great, just wonderful. I wasn’t totally certain if it would work or not, but this is so great!”

His Mistress knelt down next to him, and taking his chin in the palm of her hand, pulled him up on his hands and kneels, forcing him to release his aching balls to support himself. Intently She peered into his eyes, her smile widening at the tears still welling.

“That hurt a lot didn’t it? See, now you won’t be tempted to try to stand. Aren’t you glad you won’t have to fight that? But it does seem to need some adjusting.”

He nodded vigorously, afraid that speaking even now might anger Her, making her change Her mind about loosening it. Feeling Her hands between his legs, releasing the twine where it was tied to the dowel, he moaned at the relief to his painful testicles. The ending of pain more enjoyable than just about any pleasure he had felt. The relief lasted only seconds.

* To be Continued *

2005-04-24T18:14:00.001-07:00

My hand in a cuff.

2005-04-24T18:14:00.000-07:00

My dusty dirty doc.

Untitled (Very graphic, disturbing, death)

2005-02-07T17:26:00.000-08:00

“So, you’re depressed.”

“No, no. You have it all wrong.”

The two had only met that evening, but had quickly found the eerie closeness that only develops between two strangers when large amounts of alcohol or drugs are involved. Now the party was winding down, and aside from the half-naked couple in the far corner, the dim living room was theirs alone. He lit a John Players Special, then continued.

“I’m not depressed at all. Indeed, I’m completely satisfied with my life. And that’s just it. I’ve done everything I’ve wanted to, everything I’ve dreamed of. I’m ready now.”

“But why not just wait,” she protested. “It will come eventually in its own time. That’s the way it works.”

“Yeah, and I’ll be hit by a semi and not even notice. There’s no fun or satisfaction in that. No, I’ll go my way, at my chosen time. I’m looking forward to it. Death is about the only thing I find exciting these days.”

“I guess I’m like that myself.”

He leaned towards her in his seat, startled and intense. “Oh, you want to off yourself too?”

“No. Not myself. Other people. I’m fascinated by death in other people. I would never kill in anger or for revenge. I’d kill so that I could see the look in their eyes, the expression on their face, so that I could understand it.”

She glanced away, was silent a few moments, then turned back.

“I guess I’m more than a bit fucked up,” she admitted, embarrassed.

He chuckled softly, and with a contemplative look at her, replied, “Well, I guess that makes two of us.”

* * *

“Are you sure,” he asked.

She glanced into his eyes. “Of course I am.”

Leaning away from his chest, she laid the point of the kitchen paring knife against the soft, white skin of his ribs, two inches right of the nipple. Firmly, she drew the blade in a gentle arc down his ribs and across the top of his stomach. He didn’t flinch. In all, it was 14 or 15 inches long, and quite deep. She could see the edges of skin as they gaped away from each other, and blood was welling up quickly.

He released a sigh. “Okay.”

Feeling his eyes on her, she caught a thick drop of blood that had begun to roll down his side on the tip of her middle finger, and put it to her mouth. Salty copper. When she looked up, he was smiling at her tenderly, and with his left hand behind her neck, pulled her in for a kiss as she pressed the knife to his thigh.

* * *

“Well, everything seems to be ready.”

“Yep,” she agreed. “I can’t think of anything left to do.”

The sat side by side on the couch, the note they had composed together of the coffee table before them. It was the third and final draft; the two previous had been burned and flushed down the toilet. The contents of the letter were pretty basic, it was the look of it that was important. The handwriting, his of course, had to be shaky yet determined, desperation mixed with resolve. The first or second version probably would have been adequate, but both were perfectionists and wanted everything to be just right.

“Are you sure you don’t want these,” she asked. “They might make it easier.”

“No.” He took the bottle of Tylenol 3’s from her surgically gloved hand and placed them next to the note. “It has to be clear. I can’t be numbed in body or mind. I want to experience all of it to infinity.”

She stood, turned to face him with her legs on either side of his, and bent at the waist to peer closely at his face.

“I love you, you know.”

“I know.”

He laid a gentle palm against her cheek and kissed her once softly on the mouth. He nodded his head and smiled. At that she pressed the hunting knife they had bought and prepared together into his throat as hard as she could, and slashed to her left at the same time. Once he jerked, and she saw his breathless gasp, then he faded quickly. In moments he was gone.

She stood before him a few minutes, breathing deeply, just looking at him. There was virtually no expression on his pale face. No pain, no alarm, maybe a touch of contentment or relief. But that could have been her imagination.

Carefully, she picked up his right hand and wrapped it, still warm, around the black molded plastic handle of the knife. As carefully, she placed the two at his side, in what should appear to be a natural position.

She peeled off the surgical gloves and brushed her naked hand through his hair.

“Goodbye.”

As quiet as her lover, she left.

Finished October 1997

A Present (fiction, graphic)

2005-02-01T23:08:00.000-08:00

panthers_little_lynx_wols (1:37:19 AM): Finding Him still out, she creeps into His bedroom. Slowly she undresses, enjoying the feeling of getting naked, touching herself as each piece of clothing comes off. Finger tips down her neck and shoulders, dragging her fingernails down the sides and under her breasts, watching her nipples get hard, skimming her hips and rubbing down her legs. She sits on His bed, massaging her feet. Imagining His cock instead of her hands, she strokes her soles, heels and toes with the edge of her palm the way she thinks He would do it. With one hand she cups her sex, feeling how hot it is, but not doing anything more, wanting to wait for Him. She stands, looking around and finds His toy bag. Dropping to her knees she opens it, pausing to enjoy the smell of leather.
Items that she wants are placed on the bed. When she has found everything, she begins working. First she binds each ankle, the way He has told her He would, not tightly but with many turns. Then centering herself on the bed, she uses the remainder of rope that she has left to bind her ankles to her thighs, leaving just enough play so that the soles of her feet can touch. Next are the cuffs around her wrists. These she can tighten more. The soft lining keeps the leather from digging in and cutting off the circulation. And it feels to good; she can imagine that it is His hands holding her.
Taking one silk scarf in her hands, she pulls it between her fingers, loving the cold, ultra soft texture. She begins dragging it over her body, mostly her breasts, but also her legs and calves, shivering at the feeling. Before she gets so turned on that she can't stop, she ties it halter style around her neck and under her breats, lifting and pushing them together slightly. She wonders if He will use her that way when He sees it. Taking the second scarf, she ties it around her head several times, making sure that it covers her ears as well as her eyes. It muffles the sound, like being under water and she can hear her own breath and heartbeat amplified, but all other sounds become distant.
The last part is the most difficult. Stretching full length, barely reaching, she grasps the chain so thoughfully placed by Him, with the caribeaners and clasps, and fumbling slightly, sightless, she clasps the cuffs tightly. She imagines that she might not be able to free herself if she wanted and that makes her happy. Without sight or clear sound she feels like the world has become smaller, just her, the bed and her bindings. It's almost relaxing, waiting for Him, but unable to do anything other than lie there, very slightly chilled, feeling goosebumps of cold and excitment break out on her body, tightening her nipples even more.
She imagines in her mind what she will look like to Him. Will He be surprised? Will He look at her for long? What will He do with her first? Eventually these images slip from her and she becomes very still, her head turned on the pillow, breathing the smell of Him and slowly drifting into a dream filled light sleep.
Finished 1/31/2005

2005-01-18T21:31:00.000-08:00

One Foot

One Night (Fiction, VERY Graphic)

2005-01-10T23:16:00.000-08:00

She came home that night from shopping, tired, annoyed, ready for bed. The door to her duplex was unlocked. Had she forgotten again? Damn, not smart. With one hand loaded down with bags, half way into her home, she groped blindly around the door jam, trying to find the light.

Suddenly, there is a rough hand over her mouth, another in her short hair, pulling her back into the living room. Distantly, she hears the crash of jars on the tiled foyer floor and the door slams shut. Adrenaline pumps violently through her body, making it hard to breath around the hand, let alone scream. Both arms flail around, trying to catch hold of the hands. A leg trips her up and she’s on the floor, with him above, straddling her hips. She pushes with her legs and hips, but it’s useless, he’s way too big. Both hands are above her head, and he smashes his mouth into hers, blocking any noises and she feels a cord of some sort wrapped around her wrists.

He lets go of her hands and then he’s ripping her thin tank top off. She tries to bring her arms up to hit him, but the angle’s wrong and she can feel him laugh into her mouth. A rough voice growls, “Keep quiet bitch, or you’ll get hurt.” He binds the remains of her top around her head, covering her eyes and nose. An indrawn breath let go. She’s afraid to scream.

In the darkness, she is picked up and a blanket is wrapped around her, head to toes. By the smell she can tell it isn’t one of hers, slightly musky like it hasn’t been used in a long while. There is the sound of a door being opened and closed as she’s carried outside, then pushed into the back seat of a car. The ignition starts and the car is moving.

Several turns and a few minutes later the car stops. She can hear the man get out of the car. Alone, she builds up her courage and begins to struggle with the tightly wrapped blanket, wondering how long he’ll be gone. Hearing footsteps outside a minute or two later, she freezes.

The car door opens, “Tut, tut, not being a very good girl are we?” Blanket and all, she is dragged bodily out of the car and carried inside and dropped to a carpeted floor, rolled out of the blanket. Unable to help herself, she hears her voice, shaky, “Where are we?” Her answer is the clicking of metal on metal and a new surge of fear rushes through her, almost nauseating in its intensity. Something cold and metal touches her ankle, making her jerk, but a strong hand holds her still as she feels a pair of shears cut her jeans off her. First one leg, then the other, along with her panties then her bra. She lays there shivering, bound and naked on the floor as she hears a door close. Then silence.

Breathing hard she can smell some kind of incense faintly. Her hands skitter over her makeshift blindfold, but she doesn’t remove it. Curled into a fetal position she waits for what feels like forever.

Something soft slithers over the skin of her back and ass. It seems familiar, but she can’t concentrate on it, all her other senses straining to figure out where he is. There is a hiss, of something rushing through the air, and then a smack as it, whatever it is, strikes her flesh. First the sting, then heat, then the itch. Over and over again it hits her, not brutally, but hard enough that it’s making her flinch in anticipation. She tries to roll onto her back, but a booted foot on her hip keeps her in place as he works up and down her back, over her ass and down her legs.

As suddenly as it started, the punishing stops and she hears something drop to the floor next to her. The voice above her whispers, “You’re so pretty all tied up… so soft and totally helpless. Such a pretty plaything.” She senses him moving, then she can smell him, he must be very close, an unfamiliar cologne and male. Flesh touches her cheek and the voice sneers, “Open your mouth toy. Suck me if you don’t want to get hurt.”

He presses into her mouth, and she tries to squirm away, but his hand is in her hair, pulling her face onto his cock. She gags but he holds her there, getting harder, enjoying her struggles. After a full more choking strokes he pulls out of her mouth, smearing spit across her face.

Rough hands grab her by the hips, dragging her up onto her knees and elbows, then she can feel his hands on her already stinging ass, fondling and squeezing hard. Without warning a swat, and another on top of the last and she can feel him bite into her soft flesh right where his hand had been. A finger slides across her pussy. He chuckles at finding her wet, and she is, very wet, almost dripping. It shocks her that she is so turned on, has been the whole time without realizing it. He pushes that finger, smelling and tasting of her into her mouth.

“You are such a little slut. Well, I know how to use little sluts like you.” Something pushes into her cunt, not him; it’s too hard and cold to be flesh. It can only be the handle of whatever it was that he’d been hitting her with. She cries out, then gasps, gritting her teeth around a moan. She doesn’t want him to know, despite the fear and pain, how good this feels. Just as she gets to the point where she can’t help herself moving against it, he yanks it out of her.

She squeals as he slides his full length into her pussy. He’s thick enough to hurt as he grinds himself into her, forcing her hips down to the floor. Uncontrolled cries of pain and pleasure burst out of her as he starts driving in, fast, deep, ruthless, battering at her from the inside. Her hips slam the ground with each savage stroke, his cock driving her down and across the floor.

A hand tangles in her hair, lifting her body against him as an arm slips around, squeezing a breast hard. His breath is hot on her face as he pumps from behind. “You’re mine now, you little slut… like you wanted. I own you. I’ll take my pleasure from you as I will.”

Both of his hands slide up and circle her throat firmly. Not choking, but she knows he could, she can feel his strength. And still his cock slams in deeply, never stopping or pausing for even a moment. His breath is coming faster now, and his hands circle her waist, now moving her on him. Lifted up and down, he’s using her like a fuck toy. She can feel sweat, her own and his, streaking her body.

His grip tightens savagely, as he continues pounding, and growls into her ear, ”You know your mine, don’t you bitch, and I’m gonna fill your pussy with my cum.” A hand takes her hair again and his thrusts quicken. Her body is now limp in his grasp, completely powerless to stop him, not wanting to stop him.

She hears him draw a sharp breath, another, then it happens. A molten flood deep, so deep, inside her, again and once more. He lets go of her and she falls forward onto her hands, feeling her own orgasm force his cum out around his cock. Without his hands on her his final thrust pushes her over onto the floor, strengthless, his cum oozing out of her spasming cunt.

Gentle arms gather her shuddering into his lap, and she feels him undo her bonds, then the blindfold. He leans over, placing a kiss on each hard nipple, then her mouth. His familiar voice whispers in her ear, “You were so good. I love you so… my little slut” as he carries her up to their bed.

Finished 1/10/2005

Written with Sir Panther

Hurdles

2005-01-03T01:03:00.000-08:00

Well, you seemed kind of pissed last night, and not too interested in talking to me today. Fine. You’re all peachy keen on my ass when I’m coming like a broken slot machine in Vegas but as soon as I start acting like a real human being, all of the sudden I’m not quite so “amazing” or “sexy”. Again, fine. You’re just proving that you are exactly the same as 75% of the men out there. You don’t really want us to have orgasms for our own enjoyment and personal satisfaction, no, it’s for your satisfaction. “I’m a good, considerate guy.” “I’m a real man.” “I’m a stud.” When it doesn’t work you get all personally upset about it, like it’s an insult that this chick couldn’t come. Hello? It doesn’t have anything to do with you. If it really was about us, the women, when we didn’t come occasionally (and sometimes more than occasionally), that would be okay, it happens, no big deal. But it is a big deal to you guys. It is always a huge fucking deal.

The other 25%, they’re the “Wham Bam Thank You Ma’am” guys. Don’t give a shit either way, but you know, sometimes that a relief, no pressure.

I have a little story for you, and I’ve written you in as the main character, so maybe it’ll hit home.

You really like track and field. And this girl you are seeing casually (or girl friend or wife, doesn’t matter) she loves track and field too. Everything should be great.

One day you get to the field and this woman, she wants to do the hurdles. Which would be wonderful, you love the hurdles, but not today. You take one look at those things and you know that there is not a snowball’s chance in hell of getting over them. Pulled muscle, have a cold, they raised the damn things by a foot since last time, it’s all the same result- there is no way you are going over today.

This is not what your little woman wants to hear. She wants you jumping so badly it’s beyond belief, sanity even. She asks. She demands. She begs. You know she is going to be disappointed in you, upset, a bit mad. Deep down you think that she might not even like you as much for not doing this for her, especially if you make a habit out of it. Kind of silly, because today, without God taking a personal hand in the matter, you are going to be on this side of those hurdles indefinitely.

There you stand, feeling lower than a trod on piece of shit, but what can you do? That seems to be the end of the story. No. There’s a punch line.

You see, this girlfriend of yours is blind. Strangely enough all your girlfriends both love the hurdles and are blind. If you want, you can tell her that you jumped those hurdles, and she’ll believe you whether you did or not. Absolutely she’ll believe you, contrary to even blatant evidence to the contrary. She’ll believe you because she desperately wants to believe. She’ll believe you’ve jumped back and forth across the hurdles like a Goddamned jack rabbit, if that’s what you tell her. Her self-esteem apparently demands it, so she’ll believe.

Keep in mind that this situation comes up very regularly and with every bloody woman you meet. You know lots of guys are not making those hurdles and are lying to their stupid, blind, hurdle-loving girlfriends as a result, even the really good athletes.

So do you lie to her or not? Think about it.

Her Feet (Fiction, Graphic)

2004-12-22T21:13:00.000-08:00

The couple sits on the couch, for all the world like any other on a quiet Sunday evening, watching a summer “blockbuster.” He has his arm over her shoulders; her head rests against his bicep. She starts to fidget. Fingers tapping, bare toes rubbing together. The movie’s plot is almost non-existent, the characters are shallow and the special effects over-blown. After 15 more pointless minutes, she gently pulls away from him. As he watches she slowly drops to her knees on the floor at his side and lays her head on his thigh, face turned away, eyes closed. He stokes her smooth, dark hair slowly for a while, contemplating her in profile, thinking. Tipping her chin up he asks, “Bored by the movie, darling?” Her eyes briefly flicker up to his, then back down demurely. In that brief instant he sees a mischievous smile in her eyes, but her face remains composed. “Of course not. You picked it sir.”

He briefly considers punishing her for insolence, but unable to help himself he chuckles. “Of course not. Well, I am. So…what should I do with you?” She waits; it is not her place to answer. “Okay. Stand up. Strip. No embellishments please.”

Matter-of-factly each piece of clothing comes off, neatly folded and placed to the side. Standing still before him, he lets his eyes wander down her body. Square shoulders, full breasts, slightly rounded belly and curvy hips. Although not especially long, her legs are nicely formed with shapely well-muscled thighs tapering to slender calves and rather delicate ankles. Her feet are somewhat angular, narrow across the instep, widening around heel and ball. He can faintly see the fragile bones running under the thin skin down the top of her foot, leading into her toes. The space between the first and second toes (almost equal in length) is very evident, but he knows she can spread all her toes quite wide apart. Seeing the high arch that leaves almost an inch of space between the inside of her foot and the floor makes him smile.

There are several leather, buckled straps in a chest next to the couch, and turning her away from him, he begins to bind her arms. Starting at her wrists, he moves up her fore arms, each strap snug but not brutally so. Every new bond pulls her shoulders farther back, forcing her chest out and chin up. When he is done there are five parallel black inch wide lines tying her arms almost together. All of the buckles run neatly down the middle and he is proud of his meticulous, photo-worthy work. He stands up, running hands and tongue up the back of her arms to her neck. Standing behind her he gently sucks and nibbles at her neck, reaching around to trail his fingers lightly down her chest to her nipples. They are already hard. Less gently he scratches a spiral pattern around each, ending with a small pinch at the tip. He can feel her shivering against his chest.

As he moves to face her, he pushes her down into the couch, then undresses. Just looking at her below him is making his cock start to thicken. He spreads her legs widely and gets down on his knees between them. Roughly, he grabs her by the hips and pulls her ass right the edge of the couch, pressing himself against her pussy. She’s wet for him already, wants him, but he doesn’t enter.

With his cheek against her chest, he can feel her heart beating as he licks, sucks and finally nibbles at her nipples. Her gasps and winces can be felt, but he knows by the sound that it is as much in pleasure as pain. He knows how to build it up slowly so that she can take it.

Impatient for more, he pushes with one hand between her breasts, making her fall back against the couch and dives right in, licking her shaved lips, sucking on her clit, dipping his tongue into her wet pussy. He can feel her trying to pull back, but he doesn’t feel like catering to her sometimes-prudish tendencies and just grips her ass more firmly, pulling her up to him. As she begins to relax, moaning and sighing, he feels himself getting hard. When she starts pushing towards him he is beginning to throb. With her right at the edge, begging, he pulls back. She is writhing, and the sharp groans coming out of her tell him that she is just a few seconds from cumming, but he doesn’t let her get there. He wants something more from her first. Her feet.

He sits back on his heels. He starts with first her right leg, stroking down with both hands, feeling with his palms the very light hairs on her thighs, then the silky smooth shaved calves, pausing occasionally to dig his fingers into her muscles, massaging. Her foot rests on his thigh, and he torments himself by running his fingers around her anklebones but not letting himself go farther. The sight of her foot on his thigh, so close but not close enough, not letting himself touch her beautiful foot, was driving him wild. Reaching for her left leg, he feels his way down that one too, less patiently. When he reaches her ankle, he can’t help himself, and holding her foot up, rubs her sole against his cheek. Eyes closed, he loves the feel of her arch cupped against his jaw line, the slight callus on the ball of her foot, under the big toe, scraping lightly against his cheekbone. Almost like a physical touch he can feel her eyes on him, soaking it in, and that is good too. He knows that it turns her on, how much pleasure he gets from her feet, how much he loves touching and holding them, using them.

He turns her foot towards him and sweeps his tongue around the edge of her heel, up the outside edge, all the way to her little toe. The different textures, the thick, rougher skin of the heel, changing to the smooth, thinner skin at the side, are things that he appreciates. Following the same line with his teeth, he bites hard into her heel, then nibbles gently up to her little toe, which he sucks slowly into his mouth, laving with his tongue. Her foot is twitching in his hand, but not with ticklishness, he thinks, she’s too aroused for that, but with pleasure. One by one he takes each toe into his mouth, sucking, dipping his tongue between to feel the incredibly delicate virgin skin there. Slowly pulling her big toe from his mouth, he pauses with it just touching his lips and looks up into her eyes. She is smiling.

Holding her eyes with his, he slowly drags her foot over his chin, down his neck and over his collarbone to his chest. As her toes reach his nipple, she curls her toes around it, squeezing, and he can feel her toenails bite briefly into his skin. He shudders, and a small moan escapes his lips. He needs it, now.

With one hand around each ankle, he brings her feet together flat around the base and shaft of his hard cock. Her feet are much cooler that he is, and just looking at that sight almost sends him over the edge. Pressing her feet tightly around him, not moving, his head falls back, eyes closed, groans. He can feel himself starting to shake he’s so excited.

With a few deep breaths he gathers himself and opens his eyes. Reaching forward, the grabs her by the hair at the nape of her neck, and pulls her upright to him. He attacks her mouth with his, forcing her lips open, pushing his tongue into her mouth, biting at her bottom lip. She gasps, a bit scared and very excited by his ferocity. She likes that he is a little bit out of control. Just because she can, she pushes him farther, tightening her feet around him, then begins to roll him gently, slowly between her soles, kneading him with her feet. He inhales sharply and drops his head to the junction of her neck and shoulder, bites into the soft skin, muscles and tendons a bit too hard. She cries out in pain and pleasure, jerking against him.

As he pulls back, she leans forward, kissing and licking under his chin. Up and down, controlled, he begins to move her feet on him. At each upstroke, the sides of her feet catch slightly at the edge of his head. He can’t imagine anything feeling much better than this right now.

As he uses her feet, she sucks hard and nibbles lightly down his neck. When she reaches his nipples, she goes a little wild, sucking very hard and raking him with her teeth. She can’t help it, she’s so turned on, she wants to hurt him. His hands spasm around her feet, gripping hard, and his hips jerk forward.

One of his hands find the side of her head, and urging her downward, he growls, “Do it, do it now.” She needs his help for this. With one of his hands holding her up under the heels, now moving himself between her immobile feet, and the other pushing down between her shoulder blades, she bends all the way over as he leans back, giving her room. He can see the strain this is putting on her bound arms and shoulders, but as she doesn’t complain or even hesitate, he does nothing and just enjoys the sight.

At first, all he can feel is her hot breath around his head. Then her soft tongue glides over him, back and forth, around, flicking at the slit. He groans and speeds up his own movements, feels her squeeze her feet around him. This goes on for a while, and occasionally he can hear her moan around him, feel the vibration. She loves this, a man in her mouth, getting more and more excited for her.

Suddenly she latches on powerfully, moving with him, sucking as hard as she can, thrumming her tongue against the ultra-sensitive triangle where his head meets the shaft, and he’s there. “Oh God, I’m gonna cum.” That she doesn’t pull back at all, just sucks even harder, sends him over the edge, orgasming powerfully. He can hear her groaning with him as he pushes back and forth between her feet and deeper into her mouth. She is swallowing quickly, he can see her throat working, but she can’t keep up, and a bit of cum oozes out of her mouth and down her chin.

After he finishes, he pulls her up and gently lays her back against couch. Sitting down beside her, he curls her up next to him. Her whole body is shuddering; she hasn’t cum, is so close, but still dazed, she is totally silent. He strokes her gently with one hand, from her head down to her now warm toes, and kisses her soft, reddened lips. He’ll give her what she needs soon, but right now, he just wants to hold her carefully, calm down and be thankful that he has her feet.

Finished 12/22/2004

Together (Fiction, Graphic)

2004-12-22T20:59:00.000-08:00

Together

You walk into the bedroom, and I am there, waiting. Unclothed and uncovered, but for a blindfold, that instead of hiding my emotions from you, makes them more obvious in the slight vulnerable movements of my lips. I am slightly tense, slightly nervous and very excited.

Approaching the bed, you run a light hand over my head, down my neck and back, and rest your hand gently at the junction of my thighs and ass. My skin is cool to touch. I start and shiver; I hadn’t heard you enter and you see my lips part around an intake of breath that you can’t quite hear. As if tied, I remain absolutely still for you.

At my neck and shoulders, you begin to massage me. Down my back and arms, strong, relaxing me, not particularly sensual, until you reach my legs. You then lean over and nip me, moderately gently, at the base of my spine. I exhale, part my legs and you know I’m ready.

You pull me up on my knees in front of you, spreading me wide, and push firmly down on by back until I fold my arms under my head. Just the sight of me there for you makes you totally hard, wanting to rip right into me, but you know you can’t. Pressing yourself against my asshole, I’m tensing up. You can feel me fighting to relax, to let you in, and you push harder. For a moment, it looks like it’s not going to work, then I start opening and suddenly you are in.

I yelp then cry out more loudly as you move in an inch. You stop, barely in, waiting for me to adjust. It’s such a rush that just the head of your cock can do this to me. I’m breathing raggedly, in pain, hardly able to keep myself from pulling away from you it’s been so long. You can see the shudders running down my back and reaching forward you can feel the light sweat that’s broken out along my shoulders. If you could stop the pain for me, you wouldn’t, because it is so beautiful to watch.

You continue forward a quarter inch, half inch, pausing to let me accept it. You are holding my hips, not letting me move against you, but the rest of me is uncontrolled, writhing slowly, groaning and whimpering as the pain slowly becomes pleasure.

Finally, you are all the way in me. Every movement and gasp I make culminates around your cock, and it’s glorious, like a warm velvet hand pulling and massaging you from inside me.

Slowly you move. Sometimes deeply, just an inch in and out, sometimes almost all the way out, pausing before pushing all the way in again. You can see that the pain is gone from my body, but my voice is still moaning and sighing. With your hand you lean against my back, forcing me to arch as far as I can, and it makes me even tighter around you, and directs the head of your cock more firmly against my G-spot.

I’m gasping and begging you to let me touch myself. Eventually you do, and you can feel my insides shudder. You can tell I’m close, so you stop, deep inside me and touch the skin stretched tight around the base of your cock. I am trying to push myself back and forth against you, but you just grip me by one shoulder and one hip, and grind into me even more deeply. I’m begging you to let me come. Suddenly you pull out and slam back into me as hard as you can. You can’t hurt me now, and you fuck me brutally. Just as I begin to come, you pull me up into your arms. You work me up and down on your cock as I convulse and cry out, almost sobbing with the ecstasy. As strong as the spasms are in my cunt, they are translated even more strongly in my ass, taking you to the edge. But not yet.

I feel suspended in a void, with only you grounding me. With my head back against your shoulder, you suck and nibble on my neck, as I come down. You hold me still a few moments, and then begin moving inside me. I just about scream and beg you to stop, it’s too much, too soon. You won’t stop and I struggle but you are too strong for me, and my movements are only turning you on even more. You continue to thrust gently into me, and my pleasure is so intense I can’t tell it from pain.

I’m not struggling any more, and holding me with one arm, you reach down and touch my clit. I scream and jerk like you’ve touched me with a live electrical cable, and you know you have to come with me like this, totally out of control.

You drop us forward on the bed. Your hand is under me, under you, working my clit, and your other arm is wrapped between my breasts and up to my shoulder, holding me immobile for you. All language and thought is gone from me; I’m just blackness, orgasm, and the feel of you behind me, in me, part of me. As hard as you can you fuck me, and as my orgasm grips us, you begin to come, with me screaming under you.

Finished app. 12/8/2004