Excerpt from my RP story [swtor]

Clea felt the warmth of Delilah behind her as she pressed her breasts against Clea's back. She was hot and a little sweaty from her work out. Clea stopped pouring, placing the items down, and leaned back into Delilah's arms.

Delilah wrapped her arms around Clea, cupping each breast in her hands. Clea moaned and kissed up at Delilah's jawline.

Delilah pinched each of Clea's dark pink nipples in her fingers and moved her head to kiss Clea deeply. Clea moaned into the kiss, feeling herself get moist between her legs. She rubbed her legs together as Delilah broke the kiss.

"I have to head into the city today to meet with Darth Ra'zel again." Delilah said, Clea moaned as Delilah didn't stop her pinching of Clea's nipples. "Come into the city with me and have a look around."

Clea nodded and pushed back into Delilah with a moan and a shudder. Delilah chuckled and stopped playing with Clea's nipples, walking away. Clea opned her eyes and pouted at Delilah.

"There is a gift on the bed for you." Delilah said and went towards the shower room.

Clea stood there, moisture dripping down her leg, ready for some action. Her nipples were stiff and the slight cold of the ship made them tingle. She stamped her foot and then headed to the bedroom.

On the bed was a beautiful white dress, trimmed in gold. Clea smiled, Delilah always bought her such nice things. She could hear Delilah in the shower and moved to the door to head in, but it was locked. She sighed, sitting on the bed beside her new dress.

She ran her hand over the material, it was soft, like silk, but a little more tactile than that. Her other hand pressed between her legs, parting her peach like lips, her middle finger massaging the hard nub that had begun to swell. She leaned back, lifting a leg onto the bed. Her finger moved faster, her juices slick and sticky creating just enough lubrication to not cause friction. Another finger joined in, massaging and pinching at her clit as it hardened a little more, excited and in need of attention. Clea stifuled a moan, as she could hear Delilah moving about in the shower, her hand moved faster with an air of urgency.

Tingles swept over her body, from the head of her clit, through her her hips and into her lower stomach as she moved her hand faster. She bit her bottom lip, moaning every so slightly as her hips bucked upwards sending a spray of water into her hand. Her hand stopped moving, but her fingers twiched every so often as her body did too and she laid there panting.

The sound of the shower stopped. Clea moved her hand from between her legs, licking her hand clean and checking her dress to make sure it was ok. She stood as Delilah came from the shower room, water dripping over her naked body.

"You ok?" Delilah asked. Clea nodded and pushed past her to the shower room.

"My turn!" she chimed and closed the door.

Delilah smiled and went to the bed, drying her hair. She smiled at the dress, a fine choice she thought and saw the small wet patch beside it. She looked at the shower room, then back to the bed and picked up the dress and hung it on the wall.

Cravings.

My masochistic side is craving again. Hot skin pinned to cold walls. Fingers and nails trailing up thigh and flesh finding wet, moist panties and pushing or ripping them to one side.

Words I have read that at first scared me now resonate inside me, laughing at me that I don't have that trust with a person any more. People abusing it. This is why we can't have nice things.

I can hear the music surround me. The beat pulsing in my chest. His hand is pressed against my throat, my eyes shut tightly as the light from the club occasionally bleeds into them. His teeth run over my skin, his breath hot and his whispers dirty. The scene is dark and just right. The right time, the right place the right amount of pressure.

His hand moves to my hair, gripping at it at the scalp and pulling my head back bearing my neck. Something cold and sharp feeling then pressing against it.

My thoughts move then to being thrown into a dark room. The click of a gun as I feel the muzzle pressed to my temple. I am on my knees looking around, but the person is in black and their face is not visable. I am blindfolded.

I stay knelt, listening to the boots move around me. Thudding onto the floor.

All these things come at me, fast and hard. Thoughts and feelings. I'm sat naked, running my own nails over my skin, causing red marks and pulling at my hair.

I want these things. I crave the pain I used to be able to take. But when it is given I cower, I hide and I detest it. I tune out.

I wear cuffs to simulate tight hands around my wrists.

My mind is like a movie studio, flashing images at me, some make it some end up on the cutting room floor.

Another one now, his face burried between my legs in a toilet stall, listening to the music pound against the wall outside. Orgasm swelling to the swell of the music.

But I don't trust anyone enough any more to give me this, and the person I do trust doesn't want it, doesn't want this side of me. I'm doomed to be forever vanilla. The safe choice.

Work in Progress

I entered the room, it was nothing special. A bed, large, and well made. A table, wooden, and covered in a white cloth. There were ridges and recesses that looked curious in shape as the cloth dipped and raised over something upon the table. The sunlight, which was slowly leaving us, came through slats in the blind highlighting dust in the air which danced and weaved, disappearing in shadow. The sunlight highlighted spots on the bed that made me want to stretch out naked and feel them up on my skin.

I could still smell the cool, crisp, snowy air from our walk up to the cabin. I could still feel the cold of the air as well as the warmth of the sun upon my naked legs as the the fur jacket he had handed to me at the start of the path, where we had parked the car,  rubbed just below my buttocks. He had ordered me to strip before our trek, and I had at first playfully rejected his order to which he chased me around the car, flinging me into the snow and stripping me bare. My hair was still wet from the ordeal and I studied the room a little more.

He silently pulled the jacket from my body and led me to the bathroom where a warm bath had already been drawn. It was scented with various erotic smells and he held my hand as I climbed in. After being in the cold the warm was tingly against my skin causing my nipples to stiffen even more than the snow had. His hands moved over my skin, soaping me up and cleaning me down. His hands, soft and loving, caressed my back, moving my hair out of the way of the sponge.

(To Be Continued)

Long time no see

Wow. I haven't written here in so long. I've been trying to write erotica but it seems to only come out like really bad Anne Rice. My sex life hadn't changed much, until recently, and part of me doesn't want to talk about that as I think it was just a one time thing, despite wanting more. Something awoke within me and I crave it more and more.

I love the way a guy looks at me when he is turned on by what he sees. There is almost a glint in their eye as they  smell my musk or like what I am wearing. I act coy around it, pretending I don't know the thoughts going through their head. I like that game. Dancing around one another like fireflies around flames. A sexual tango of lust and desire. I like to hold them at bay until I know I am happy with them touching me, holding me.

Butterflies

There has been many men in my life trying to get a taste of me, they haven't inspired the feelings I wanted them to, the feelings I currently crave. When my boyfriend kisses me I still get "butterflies" in my stomach. I know that these feelings are some kind of endorphin or other hormone rush being released from my ovaries or other places around that area making me wet. It is a turn on to be kissed in such a way that creates butterflies. Most times I don't let a guy even close enough to kiss me. But when I do, and they give me this same feeling I know that there is a spark, a connection between us and the sex is going to be a little more than just rumping and pumping.

His kiss was like this. It's what perked my interest. Long before the kiss I had felt comfortable enough to be semi-naked around him. The boys had already been semi-naked together for most of the night. I liked watching. Not in a purvey way, but it made me smile. It made me happy seeing my boy curled up with another, warm and looked after. It made me happy seeing the two of them become aroused. It even made me happy when the two of them had each others lips locked on each others cock. I didn't mind taking a back seat.

Watching from the shadows

I worked out at that point that I did enjoy this. Maybe not in a sexual sense but something deep inside stirred in me. As they kissed each other, hands down each others pants rubbing long, glistening cocks, I sat back and admired them. The way the light hit their hair. Long hair, always a total weakness of mine. The way they were lost in each other. I played it coy, watched TV while they made out in the corner of my eye. I liked acting like nothing was happening. All the while I hoped to be pulled into their coupling.

Time went past and soon it was time for bed for my boy. I poked my lip out a little put out that kitten hadn't had her share of the milk. I was pounced up on, one on either breast. This felt amazing. Fingers wormed their way up into areas that had been wet for hours. Wave after wave of pleasure shivered over me. It wasn't long after this that I felt that kiss.

We shared my boys cock between our mouths. Our lips touched and I felt a spark, which might have been static build up, but that felt nice. I was comfortable. I was doing things I had been wanting to do for months. I didn't want it to stop. Not long after I was told to go to bed and the night ended.

The next day

I had to be up early, things to do, people to see. Upon arriving back to the apartment I heard the distinct sound of sex from the bed room. I resisted the urge to go stand in the door way with a cup of coffee and watch. Breakfast was served for two, while I changed for lunch. All day all I could think about was two hungry boys and me in the middle. I wanted so much more.

Shopping and socialising aside we all went back to the apartment, where my boy decided he didn't want to play any more. This made me sad but I had a new toy to break in. The more we kissed, like hungry horny teenagers the more the butterflies came. I had to hold myself back to not just have him take me there on the sofa, to go against all our rules. My womb ached and cried out to be filled up. I had to be a good girl and follow the rules.

The bedroom still smelled of the morning's adventures, as they were whispered to me I was entered roughly from behind. I hadn't allowed anyone to be quite so rough with me in almost two years, yet I felt safe enough to do so. We play fought, he held me down taking me over and over with his long, thick sweet tasting shaft. I wanted more and I didn't care if it wore us out.

For hours we kept going at it, with rests in between. It was the most sex I had had over the course of two days. By the end of the following day I was exhausted, happy and drowning in a sea of endorphins. I wanted more. I want more.

I think I have a new addiction.

What to write about?

So I have been asked to, and made word to, writing more in this place. A lot has been happening lately. I have my hands on a sexy little cat girl, I have a naked little fox girl visiting me, and I have many ideas for fiction to write about.

A couple of weeks back the Catgirl came to visit looking for training in the D/s world. Through that training it seemed to transpire that she preferred my kind of attention to the Dragons. I have spent most of my life switching between sub and when trying to be dom it didn't really work. But with her, when I pull on her collar or hair, she arches her back perfectly. When I stick my fingers in her soaking wet and hot pussy she moans like a good little girl. She requires some personal training, but sexually she is ripe and hot and very mailable. I shall write more about her in the coming weeks.

The naked foxgirl. It is a shame that I am not allowed to play with her. Her pert little bottom teases me, wanting to be smacked or grabbed. It is times like this I crave my own cock. To pull her down and impale her on it. The noises I hear her make stir the butterflies in my stomach. She smells like cookies and cream and I just want to clamp my muzzle down on her neck and bruise her coffee coloured skin with my conquest marks. She walks around my apartment without clothing for the pleasure of her master who is also visiting. The Dragon and I do seem to have similar taste in prey.

As for the fiction, well all in good time.

Mewsings

I should write here more. About exploits with foreign monsters and thoughts about my current lack of a sex life. My cravings for female attention and they shyness it brings. Fantasies involving guns, spys and chloroform. Thoughts, wonders and ideas.

I should write more.

Sex Toy Review - Collar with Short Spikes

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