Moment

Walking down a side-street, and an attractive blonde is walking towards me in a suit-skirt. I’m looking at her long legs and then catch her eye, smiling. As I hold her look, not breaking eye contact (like most of the dead-eyed people in London do) she breaks out in a beautiful smile, just as we pass.

Three seconds later I turn to look back at her – at precisely the instant she’s turning to catch an extra glimpse at me.

We both grin sheepishly and then she’s gone, as I disappear into the crowd.

Suspension of Disbelief

Living in a world of perpetual fantasy can do odd things to the mind.

It becomes hard to disengage from the part of the brain that weaves the fabric of the story, constructing the set in which the parts – not least my own – are played out. For I am almost always central to the tale, weaving my way through the depths of my personal fantasies, narrating and taking part simultaneously, turning my deepest – and darkest – fantasies into something more real than a dream, something more tangible than the fleeting glimpse of skin, hair or lace I see whilst bobbing on the surface of consciousness before I sink back into REM-sleep to lose my bearings and memory.

When I write it sometimes flows straight out, brain-dump style, my thumbs struggling to keep up with the flood of words as I type them out on my phone. But other times I play the scenarios out in my head, seeing where I’d like to go with them, trying out ideas and seeing whether they work out in a way I like. I’ll lie awake in the middle of the night, playing with the flow of scenes (and with myself…), making mental notes of what I’ll put into words when I next get the opportunity to write.

Writing ‘Study Break‘ was a good example of this. It was written over a period of 5 days, the first 24 hours of which I typed precisely 3 words. Over the next two days I added snippets here and there, changing details, colours, movements, words.

The strangest effect – and this is by no means a one-off – is being hit by the erotic writer’s equivalent of Stockholm Sydrome. I started to think about that delicious girl, bound and stripped, waiting for me to return and continue where I left off mid-sentence. While I was at work, as I grabbed my mid-morning cuppa, I’d imagine her soft pale skin and her wide eyes looking for me to return, so we could continue our tryst. Whilst at the shops, queuing for groceries, I could picture her struggling to get free, constantly aroused, waiting for the moment when my fingers start to skip across the keys and I step back into the fantasy, continuing where I left off, but this time with the scene clearer, the details sharper, and the direction more purposeful.

One of my favourite, more sexy readers commented about some of the detail in that particular essay, but to me that’s natural. After all, my eyes are open, looking around, absorbing the scent, sounds and the movement of the air over my body, so why wouldn’t I notice – and write – that it was a pair of nail-scissors I used to cut the bond of tape as she lay with my spent load dripping out of her. It wasn’t a knife, nor my teeth; not because my attention to detail is good, or my imagination over-active.

It’s because I saw the details. I was there. It happened.

Sexy Things Meme

So SouthernGirl hit me up with this. She knows how much I yearn to be tagged with these meme things and so put me straight at the top of her list (well, except for Andy and Kyra).

So, I have to list five things that are sexy about me. Hmmm. Never was there a more opportune moment for immodest narcissistic navel-gazing!

1. My fingers. I have long, slender and very dextrous digits, which can be used for all sorts of interesting things. I can, for example, touch-type at upwards of fifty words-per-minute… now, imagine what those fluttering fingers could do to a girl…

2. My energy. I wake before 5am every day, and rush around like a rushy thing for the next (at least) 17 hours. I rarely tire, and have boundless enthusiasm all the time. Of course right now all that energy has to go into my career and other mundane things like that, but it’s ready to be diverted into something fulfilling at a moment’s notice.

3. I am a Geek. Now, I’m told this makes me sexy; how, or why, I have no idea. I have been dabbling with computers since before my teens, which means I’ve been doing this for nigh on a quarter of a century; although when I was at school there was no association of sexiness with geeks, that is an entirely new phenomenum. Suffice to say though, it’s probably pretty useful from both our points of view – I can fix those annoying little gliches with your laptop while you’re on your knees in front of me.

4. My love for Cunnilingus. I guess this had to be mentioned. I dream about it, I desire it, I want it and I need it. It’s the thing I love doing most in the whole world. I think I should set up a new company where women in need of some stimulation can call a hotline at any time of night or day, and I’ll zoom round and put my tongue to work on pleasuring them. My rates would be very reasonable – but I couldn’t afford to pay more than £20/hour.

5. My confidence. I am extremely confident and self-assured. It wasn’t always like this – when I was at school I was shy and had all sorts of complexes (complii?). But one day I realised that life is for living, and now I thrive on situations that would make many people cringe. I look forward to opportunities to speak publicly or to manage groups of people, and enjoy making decisions. This can lead to an air of authority which, I’m sure, will be very sexy when wielded in the appropriate situation….

Now apparently I’m supposed to tag four other bloggers. I have no idea who’s already done this, so I’ll just pick four names from a hat, not completely randomly:

Cake – because she needs to remember how sexy she is right now
Amy – because she needs a break from revision
Cate – because, well, erm, she’s hot.
B – because she’s as mad as a balloon, and every single post she writes makes me smile.

Moment

We pulled into the station.

The girl on the opposite platform was tall, slim, with blonde iron-straightened hair. Her short dress and tights (stockings…?) were jet black. Her lipstick, 3″ stilettos and the belt that drew the dress in tight at her waist were scarlet.

And then the train pulled away.

HNT #25

Bit of an arty shot this week.

I think it makes me looks bronzed and shiny, but I probably need to shave various parts (e.g., my legs) to get the full effect. But I like the way it highlights the curves and dips, especially my calves – can you tell I’m a cyclist?

Study Break – Revision

( Click here for Part 1)

Thursday, we agreed. 

I had a relatively free calendar, and Jo would be at lectures all day. Liz was planning to stay in the flat and, well, ‘revise’.

After the first encounter, she’d found my number – presumably from Jo’s phone – and had sent me a few text messages, mostly suggestive or provocative, full of innuendo. I’d ignored them at first, thinking that it would get too complicated, but when they started coming accompanied by pictures of her in various states of undress, I couldn’t refuse her. But it had to be less spontaneous this time.

After confirming the day and time, she sent me another message. “What should I wear? You didn’t finish helping me choose last time.“

So many choices. I’d have liked to suggest she met me at the door naked, but that would have just been dangerous; with hundreds of students in the block of flats it was likely that somebody might see. In the end I decided to keep it simple. “Revision clothes. Loose jeans, comfy t-shirt. No shoes. No bra, but wear some sexy knickers – surprise me“.

Before she replied I followed it up with another text: “I will be there at 12. Be ready for me. I want to see your nipples hard when you answer the door“.

As I headed into my next meeting, my phone buzzed. “Like they are now?” she’d written. I could feel myself stiffen.

-o-

We didn’t exchange any more messages. By Thursday morning I was finding it difficult to concentrate, and my balls ached from my constant erection; whatever I did I just couldn’t get Liz’s hot body out of my head. At 11:30 I headed out of the office, wearing a coat despite the warm weather to conceal my arousal. Walking through the crowds and down to the station I hurried, and the tube journey seemed to take an age, even though it was only a few stops.

Thankfully it wasn’t far from the underground to the halls of residence, and at 11:55 I was climbing the stairs to the third floor, my heart beating faster, and feeling slightly out of place in my office attire amongst the students. I approached the flat and knocked on the door, rehearsing what I’d say if it turned out Jo was in after all.

The catch of the door clicked, and I held my breath, exhaling when I saw Liz standing grinning at me. “How is this?”, she asked, as she opened the door wide, pushing her chest out, her little yellow plain t-shirt taut over her breasts, the two hard little points of her nipples plain to see through the soft cotton. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Pefect”, I replied, “How’s your revision going?” I stepped in towards her, intentionally not walking past her, forcing her to back away from the door, which I kicked shut with my heel. “Not so good”, she smiled. “I’m finding it hard to concentrate.”

I leant back against the door, double-locking it and slipping the chain on – it would buy us a few seconds if one of the other girls were to come back – and she looked playfully at me, biting her lip with fake coyness as I took off my coat and hung it next to the door. The t-shirt was two sizes too small, and the tight fabric pushed her tits together, exaggerating their swell and making her nipples look more prominent. It was short – almost cropped – and I could see the skin of her navel above her low-slung jeans. Her bare toes protruded from the pool of ragged denim that trailed around her feet. She’d gathered her hair in a loose ponytail, slightly to one side, and looked casual like any student… but I could see she’d spent time preparing, selecting just the right shade of mauve eyeshadow to contrast the yellow of her top, and to match her hairband.

She was looking me up and down too, her eyes tracing my smart pink shirt, shiny shoes, and finally coming to rest on the thick bulge in my pin-striped trousers. “Been thinking about me?”

“Every. Fucking. Day.”, I growled. The tension crackled between us as we stood opposite each other. “Raise your hands above your head.”

She looked a little startled, but smiled. Slowly, gradually, she drew her hands from her thighs, up over her body, and stretched them above her head. The t-shirt lifted further, exposing most of her belly; it hung away from her skin, leaving a gap tantalisingly below her bust that I was just aching to slip a hand up. But my restraint held firm.

“Walk into your room and then close your eyes. Put your hands beind your back. Do not turn around, do not look.”

Her smile widened, as her eyelids slid shut and she turned. She dropped her hands and walked down the hall, bumping open the bedroom door with her chest and stepping inside. Without turning around, she called back to me, “Your wish is my command!”

My cock was raging as I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the roll of tape. I followed her into the room, unbuttoning my shirt. “Arms behind your back” I commanded her, and she willingly obeyed, stretching them out behind her, wrists crossed. In an instant, the tape crackled as I pulled out a stretch of it, and Liz jumped at the unexpected sound. Before she’d reacted, I’d adhered the end to her arm and was winding it around her wrists, passing the roll from hand to hand, before biting it off and dropping it on the floor. As I smoothed the torn end down, she giggled.

“You like me helpless? So you can do what you want? Using me as your fucktoy?”

“Oh yes”, I whispered in her ear.

I reached around in front of her, and lifted her t-shirt up, pulling it into a bunch above her chest. The tightness of the t-shirt and her full breasts kept it up, and I looked at her reflection in the mirror across the room, hands bound, shoulders back and tits exposed, her hard little nipples almost bursting with her arousal.

“Open your eyes.” Her long lashes fluttered open, and she looked almost surprised at how helpless she was, as I put my hands on her hips and snaked them up over her belly and cupped her breasts. “You’re mine” I hissed in her ear, grabbing both nipples and twisting hard. She moaned, and physically shuddered as the shiver went down her back. I threw off my shirt and pushed myself against her back, my thick shaft against her bound hands; her fingers wriggled, trying to grasp me. I ran my fingers up her arms, before turning her around to face me, and pulled her to me, pressing myself against her exposed breasts.

As I kissed her hard, she thrust her tongue into my mouth eagerly. She rolled onto her tiptoes, pushing against me, wriggling her hips to force my erection hard against her navel, which turned me on even more. My hands were on her breasts, cupping and squeezing them, trailing down her soft skin to her stomach and then her hips.

I broke the kiss, causing her to quietly moan like a child who’s just had her candy confiscated, and pushed her back from me, towards the bed. “What will you do to me first?”, she begged, breathing heavily as she stood exposed in front of me.

I didn’t reply, but just put my index finger to my lips to indicate that now was not the time for words. She nodded in acquiescence as I paused, studying her uncovered body, the swell of her breasts, the smooth skin of her stomach, and the curves of her hips. I reached out and put my hands on her shoulders, and she conceded with only the lightest pressure, knees bending and then dropping down until she knelt before me. She licked her lips, but waited, her bound hands unable to reach for what she wanted.

“Tell me what you want”. My words were slow and deliberate, helping me control my own urge to just strip her and fuck her that instant.

“I.. I want your cock. I need it.”

“Do you?” I coaxed. “Why, why do you need my cock?”, as I looked down at her. She looked up, wide-eyed, almost pleading. Either she was good at playing the game, or she really did need it – I couldn’t quite tell.

“I want to suck it. I want your cock in my mouth so I can lick and suck it”, she begged, eyes widening. “I want you to fuck my mouth with your hard thick cock.”

“And what do you say?”, I teased.

“Pleeease may I suck your cock?”, she pleaded, sounding more desperate. I unzipped my pinstriped trousers, and reached into my fly, and as I pulled out my cock she licked her lips. I stroked my foreskin back and forth over my glans a couple of times, smearing the pre-come until the skin was glossy, red and smooth. She licked her lips again, and then opened them wide, encouraging me in; I gripped the base of my shaft and slid it into her mouth.

As her lips closed around my erection, her tongue flicked across my hard flesh, and she began to suck and stroke me in and out of her mouth. She bobbed her head back and forth, sliding my full length across her tongue and tickling the bumps and veins as she went. Every third or fourth stroke she would ease my head from her mouth and dribble spit from her lips onto the shaft, taking me back between her lips before the bubbles oozed round and dripped off the underside. She was good, so good, and I struggled to hold myself back. I closed my eyes and wondered whether I’d forgo the fantasy I’d planned and just let go.

She must have sensed my reaction, my twitching cock beginning to jerk and pulse in her mouth, as she slipped her lips off and looked up at me, wide-eyed again with saliva on her chin, my scarlet tip gleaming just millimeters from her lips. I could feel her breath on my skin as she asked gently “Can I swallow? Will you come in my mouth?”

I was tempted, but held back. “No. Not yet”. She gave me a dejected look, but I could see the corner of her mouth upturned in a smile – she knew I had other plans.

I walked around behind her, my erection bobbing with each step, and threw the two or three books (she’d intentionally left them there to give the impression of revising) off the bed and onto the floor. She watched me intently from her kneeling position, hands behind her back down by her feet. I took the duvet and bunched it into a pile against the wall on the far side of the bed. I took the pillows and laid them on top of the duvet, until there was a large cushioned wedge on the far side of the bed.

I unbuttoned my trousers and slipped them off, along with my boxer shorts, shoes and socks – all of which I folded and laid carefully on the chair by the desk. All the while she knelt, bound wrists, t-shirt bunched up and breasts exposed, not saying a word. Finally, I turned to her, and with hands under her restrained arms, lifted her to her feet.

I looked her up and down, she returning my gaze and watching my pulsating manhood. “So, were you a good girl? Did you wear something pretty for me?”

She nodded as I turned her around, admiring the peach of her arse in the low-slung jeans. I pulled them down slightly off her hips, revealing a little triangle of purple and silver gems that sparkled showgirl-style at her coccyx on the narrow ribbon they adorned. Humming my appreciation, I swung her round again, completing the three-sixty, and began to unbutton her jeans. At the last button I pulled the stiff denim down over her hips to her knees.

The front of her thong dipped low at her navel and then the ribbon strings arched away around her hips to join at the gemstones at the base of her spine. Dripping down from the waistband was a narrow triangle of delicate purple lace, mimicking the line of a Brazilian wax and then converging to a thin strip of ribbon that disappeared between her soft full lips, glistening slightly with her arousal. The panties were unfeasibly small and totally sheer, leaving nothing to the imagination and acting only as decoration for what lay behind. I whistled quietly under my breath at the sight of her smooth bare pussy, only slightly covered by the tiniest of panties, and my mouth began to water. “Do you like..?” Liz asked eagerly, straining to see my reaction.

“Oh yes..”, I affirmed, “I’ll leave them on.”

I pushed her back towards the bed, and lifted her onto it, laying her back against the piled duvet and pillows, so she was almost sitting on her bound hands. I pulled her jeans the rest of the way down off her feet and paused to look at her again, stroking my hard cock absent-mindedly. Her small body was lean, fit, with curves in all the right places, and it was mine to do with as I pleased.

I put my hands on her knees and opened her legs wide apart, her feet on the edge of the bed. Her taped wrists caused her back to arch, pushing her tits out slightly, and I pushed my mouth onto them, sucking and nibbling her nipples, squeezing her breast between my thumb and forefinger, making her squeal as my teeth closed on her sensitive pink buds. And then I slid down her body, dropping onto my knees, trailing kisses down her belly and navel until my lips reached the tiny knickers. I ran my tongue down the edges of the lace, her sweet musky scent filling my lungs, savouring the smooth skin of her shaven pussy. And as my lips traced the line of the ribbon to where it met her soft full lips, I began to taste her arousal – she was dripping wet and delicious.

I gently opened her flower with my fingertips, revealling her pink swollen lips, delving my tongue between them and lapping up her juices. She tasted divine, and with each flick of my tongue a shiver ran through her. I looked up across her stomach, over her breasts and between her erect nipples, and saw her eyes closed, smiling and breathing heavily as my tongue explored her sex. I pushed the ribbon aside and slipped my finger into her, then another, and began to slowly fuck her with my hand as I licked and flicked her clit, the edge of the lace tickling my face. I drove my mouth and nose further into her cleft, pushing my fingers deeper into her, stroking them in and out as she oozed her nectar over my hands and face. She swung her thighs over my shoulders and drew me in, wrapping her legs around my neck and forcing my face deeper into her sweet sticky cunt. I sat back on my haunches, lifting her hips until she was flat in front of me, levitating on waves of pleasure as she rocked and spasmed in my hands.

With my fingers inside her, and my tongue flicking across her soft pink skin, her breath was speeding up, little puffs at first and then deeper gasps building up. Ripples flowed over her belly as her first climax hit her, jiggling her breasts and making her buck and twist in my hands. It started quietly at first, but I could hear the breaths change into words, becoming gradually louder and clearer as I devoured her delicious cunt.

“co.. co.. cock.. want.. fuck cock… want your fucking cock” she moaned sub-consciously under her breath, getting louder and louder as the waves of orgasm coursed through her body, until with a final surge of my tongue I felt her writhe hard and decided she’d had enough. I slipped my fingers out of her and stood up, her legs trailing up with my torso until her feet were resting against my shoulders. I took her ankles and, with her legs straight, spread her wide open, pushing the g-string aside, her gaping sex pink and moist and just waiting for me to fuck her.

She lay, legs spread, eyes closed, head to one side, almost oblivious to me, breathing heavily, but when I took my shaft in my hand and ran my cockhead up and down her slit, coating it with her juices, she whipped her head around and her eyes flashed open. “Yesss. Please..” she hissed, as I paused with my swollen glans nestling between her fat pink labia. I drove forward with my hips, her soft warm flesh engulfing my cock and she cried out, struggling against her tied hands, writhing on the bed in front of me. She bucked her hips, driving me out and then back into her as I watched her twist and turn on the bed in front of me, barely moving myself.

I gathered her ankles together, and lifted them up to just under my chin, forcing her thighs together, squeezing her soft pussy around my cock, and I began to stroke in and out of her. She was biting her lip now, unable to move with her hands bound, legs together in my strong grip and my fat shaft sliding into her tight little cunt. As I built up speed, my pelvis slapped against the back of her thighs, and she began to squirm again; I tightened my grip on her ankles but it was no good – with her twisting and wriggling like this I could barely keep hold of her.

She cried out with surprise when I slipped out of her and stepped back, pulling her roughly towards me to the edge of the bed before flipping her over onto her front. I pulled her hips up until she was nearly standing, and pushed her shoulders forwards with my palm. With her hands taped behind her back she couldn’t steady herself, and dropped her face and shoulders onto the bed, presenting her arse high in the air for me, the gems on her string glinting.

I slid her legs apart with my feet, and reached between her thighs, smearing her juices over her pussy before slipping my cock into her up to the hilt. She cried out again, this time muffled with her face pushed into the bedclothes, and I began to slip my cock in and out of her cunt. I grabbed her hips, easing her away from me and then pulling her hard as I drove deep into her, feeling the ribbon of her panties trail along the side of my shaft and watching the little triangle of stones sparkle as I slammed my pelvis against her arse.

She was totally submissive now, not moving against me but giving herself up for me, arms bound across her back, arse raised high, back arched and cunt offered to me as I fucked her, harder and harder. My balls swung under my stiff shaft and I imagined what it would look like from below, my cock spreading her petals wide and my balls slapping against the tiny triangle of lace. The image tipped me over and I felt my stomach knot and my sack tighten… She sensed it too and her muscles tightened and clenched around my hard flesh.

And as I let go and exploded into her, she gave a high-pitched yelp and arched her back upwards, my hot seed filling her and oozing back out, dripping down the underside of my shaft, foaming as I stroked in and out of her come-filled cunt. I slid in and out of her a few times more, and then slipped out, watching my white sticky mess slip out between her legs and run down her thigh.

I lay my shaft between the cheeks of her arse and swirled my come over her skin, and then pushed her over on her side. She was still tied, still helpless as I slipped my sticky cock into her mouth, and she sucked and licked it slowly, her head resting on my thigh, breath still heavy and uneven.

I reached across to the table beside her bed and took the nail scissors, and cut the tape on her wrists, before gently peeling it off and dropping it on the floor. She rubbed her wrists, and worked her shoulders in a circle, releasing the bloodflow, and then peeled her t-shirt the rest of the way off, laying back naked on the pile of bedclothes. I nuzzled and kissed her breasts, licking her nipples, my hand wandering down between her legs, scooping a finger of our sticky cocktail and licking it clean. I looked at the clock, and realised it was nearly one o’clock. “I should get back to the office.”

I stood up and walked over to put on my shirt. I dressed quickly, watching her lay back on the bed, her breathing returning to normal. “Text me?” she asked, more of a statement than a question. “Of course”, I replied, stating the obvious, as I zipped my trousers up. “We need to do this again. I need to do you again.” She nodded, as I kissed her and headed towards the door.

“You know…”, she said, legs spread, showing me her intimacy, “…I’d have done all that even without my arms tied…?”

“I know”, I smiled back at her, putting on my coat. “But you wouldn’t have enjoyed it so much.”, before walking out the door.

HNT #24

As requested.

This week has been very busy, so this was a little last-minute, taken this morning before heading to work. It meant I had to choose between breakfast and taking naked pictures of myself to post on the internet. That’s one of those everyday dilemmas millions face each morning… or perhaps not.

In the end, I had to forgo my cereal. But if you look closely, you might see how hungry I am.