Apodyopsis

December 19, 2013 at 23:33 (erotica) (, , )


She was before you before I even knew she had entered the room, as silent and subtle as a whisper of the most intimate thought, gazing into those unfamiliar eyes that could have been blue or green, softening your stance with just a breath of a glance and a lick of her lips, salivating at just the idea of you, pure and uncharted.

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The Voice

October 24, 2012 at 23:25 (erotica) (, , , , )


She remembers very little about that place.  There may have been a beach, there could have been a boardwalk, and it’s very possible the view from her window was breathtaking.  The inn was unremarkable, with its yawning beiges and blushes and art deco, its noisy plumbing that let everyone in the building aware of ones every private moment, and its faint smell of burnt coffee at all hours of the day and night.  She couldn’t describe a single face she met or hand she shook, and never ask her to recount a conversation she might have had there.  She couldn’t if she tried.  What she does remember is a corner suite next to her own room and the voice that came from it out of the blue.  This is what she remembers.

She was restless and pensive, feeling every bit as lumpy and misshapen as the bed she was laying on, stretched across it the wrong way like a haphazardly tossed coat.  She felt empty, lonely, and bored.  Strange places were not her forte, and this small town seemed to have tucked in for the night as if to admit self defeat.

How had she come to this place?  She’d left Big City A on her way to Big City B just a little too late to allow for any time to make a wrong turn, which is exactly what she’d done.  Lately it seemed like that’s all she did anymore.  Hell, maybe Big City B was a wrong turn altogether, but at least it was a change of scenery.  She’d lost all hope of redirecting in time to complete her journey before falling asleep at the wheel, and had decided instead to stop at the only inn in sight.  At the time it had seemed like a preferable option to driving straight into the ocean, but she was starting to question that decision as well.

That’s when she heard it.  A voice, faint and deep, ephemeral and ethereal.  It took her a moment to realize the source  of this voice inhabited the room beside her, and if she focused she could almost make out words.  Guilt grappled with curiosity within her as she tried to think about something other than the only thing that seemed to be able to keep her attention, the voice in the other room.

She moved closer, leaning her back against the adjoining wall, closed her eyes, and listened to what seemed to be a fairly menial conversation.  Ignoring the mundane content she let the low hum of a voice, his voice, enfold her and warm her, lulling her not so much to sleep but to calm.  From the sound of him she imagined a man who was strong, sturdy, and charming.  Someone attentive but assertive, caring but confident.  The kind of man who could make a woman melt but probably didn’t know it.  She pictured him sprawled across his bed, relaxed and deliberate instead of all floppy and discarded as she had been, just out of the shower after a long day in the sun.  The image made her grin to herself, and she shook her head at the notion.

Her attention spiked when two words managed to break through her reverie.  “My cock.”  The rest was unclear, but she immediately felt a pang of guilt and embarrassment.  She was eavesdropping, and this was none of her business, but she couldn’t pull herself away from the wall.  She remained there, on the floor, and listened intently, for what she wasn’t really sure yet.  She just needed to hear more.

Still unable to hear every word, she filled in the blanks when necessary, and it was obvious this phone call was becoming more and more intimate, but she no longer cared.   She let his voice fill her mind with images of the man she’d envisioned before, only now he was naked, legs spread, pleasuring himself.  She didn’t know who was on the other end of the phone call, and it didn’t matter.  The man in her vision was talking to her, and only to her, about every primal act he wanted to do to and with her.  Words like “hard” and “wet” started to insinuate themselves between terms she’d never think to utter over the phone. Words like “cunt”, “pussy”, and again “cock”.

Suddenly feeling flush, she pulled her shirt over her head, careful not to hit the wall and give away her vantage point.  Pressed against the cool wall, a chill ran down her spine, sending a shudder throughout her body.  She tilted her head back and gave in, letting the sound of his voice carry her deeper.

Every word breathed its way inside her, filling her with anticipation for the next.  She imagined him, just a few feet away, with just this wall between them, stroking his growing cock slowly and softly.  As he described how he’d roll her nipples between his lips she couldn’t help but follow his prompt with her own fingers.  As he spoke of sucking and nipping she pinched and tugged.  They responded instantly, hardening, sending a shock of excitement to her core.  She exhaled in pure pleasure and sank deeper into the hum of his voice, the vibration of his words reverberating in every orifice.

Desire flooded her as he described in vivid detail how his tongue would circle her clit, lapping up her juices as she’d grind his face.  She ran one hand smoothly down the length of her torso and into her panties.  She was more wet that she had ever remembered being before, and she teased herself lightly with a fingertip before bringing it to her mouth and sucking it clean.  She tasted sweet, and tasting herself sent a rush through her that ended in a moan she could not stifle.

If the man on the other side of the wall heard her he made no movements to change his course.  This thought excited her more, and the next time her hand found its way to her waist she slid off her panties, pressed herself harder against the wall, and spread her legs wide.  Suddenly noticing the full-length mirror on the opposite wall, she watched herself as her fingers once again found her clit, this time lingering to circle then dipping inside her.  She watched herself tease and play, and enjoyed her body’s response to her own touch.

Her stranger’s voice was now joined by the sound of her own pulse in her ears as he spoke of her pussy gripping his throbbing cock, how he’d sink in slow and deliberate so that she could feel every inch of him.  He moaned, and she shuddered, feeling herself contract around the fingers deep inside her as her thumb pressed against her clit.  She could feel the heat emanating from her cunt as she silently urged him to keep going, finger-fucking herself harder and faster as his eloquent descriptions started to devolve into broken phrases and gasping moans.  She could almost feel him getting closer to climax as she pictured the man in her visions vigorously stroking and thrusting, biting his lip in ecstasy at the thought of someone he could not see.

She could feel her own orgasm building, but she wasn’t going to let herself cum until he did.  She watched her expressions change in the mirror as she pinched and fondled her breast with one hand while the other thrust in and out of her dripping pussy.  All around her was the smell of her arousal, her juices combined with the sweat of need and desire.  Occasionally she would pull her hand to her lips and watch herself slowly suck them clean, luxuriating in her own taste, then just as slowly slide them back inside herself before building her speed back up again.  She focused on the feeling of her impending orgasm, the cool wall against her feverish body, and her clit pulsing like it was ready to explode.  She was drawing it out, but she knew when she eventually came she would cum harder than she ever had.  She sat there, watching herself pleasure herself, listening to a stranger pleasure himself to another stranger, mesmerized by the sight of herself losing control melding with the sound of his falling apart, allowing herself to float in pure sensation.

“Oh, fuck,” came his voice through the wall, more strained than it had been before.  She knew this was it, and she braced herself.  He moaned, and she moaned with him, picturing him about to shatter.  “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he choked.  “Me, too,” she answered silently, and desperately. “Please,” her mouth screamed, “please cum for me.”  She slid another finger inside her constricting pussy, ready to push herself over the edge, bracing herself against the wall to fuck herself deeper and harder.  “Here it comes,” he half screamed, half breathed, “oh fuck, get ready.”  “I’m ready!” she thought, reaching a point of no return.  “Fuck!” He shouted one last time, “I’m coming!” At the thought of her mystery man tearing apart, squirting cum all over himself, squeezing out every drop, she let herself go.  She pressed her thumb against her clit and thrust her fingers deep inside her gripping cunt, this time not pulling them back.  She closed her eyes, and the world around her dissolved into pure ecstasy as she came over and over, pouring her pleasure all over her hand, her thighs, and the floor beneath her.

She sat there for a while, reveling in post-orgasmic bliss, shuddering in little aftershocks and moaning as she slowly slid her fingers from her satisfied pussy. She smiled as she gave them one last savoring suck, and opened her eyes.  In the mirror was a woman who no longer felt defeated or deflated but enlivened and recharged.  In the mirror was a woman who was powerful and unstoppable.  At that moment she needed no one but herself.

She considered waiting in the hall way to see who emerged from the room next door, but ultimately she decided it didn’t matter.  He wouldn’t be the man she’d seen in her visions.  He wouldn’t be the man who had so shaken her world.  The man who came out of that door would have been merely the vessel, and more than likely she’d have been disappointed, so she left at sunrise to continue her journey, one that would not end at Big City B, or even Big City C or D.  She could not tell you now what the town was called or if the inn still stands, but to this day just the thought of that voice sends shivers down her spine and a dampness deep inside her.

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50 Shades- A Complicated Review

June 3, 2012 at 16:28 (erotica) (, , , , , )


In 1965, ten years after its original publication, a book called The Story of O was first published in English.  It’s reception was mixed, but its introduction to mainstream literature has been regarded as a milestone in many ways for both BDSM culture and literature in general.  In 2012 there are websites, books, and even scenes in movies and television that deal with the lifestyle that have been either accepted or ignored, but none have made as much of an impression on Vanilla America as the 50 Shades trilogy.  I finally gave in to the books when my mother-in law assumed I’d read them and asked my opinion, either giving away some of her clandestine knowledge about my and my lifestyle or letting  out a few secrets of her own.  I had read reviews, but I never form an opinion based on those of others, so I decided to take what the nice boy at Barnes and Noble called “The 50 Shades Challenge” myself.  My impression was mixed, but I was not turned off of reading all three books before forming a final opinion.

As far as its literary merit, the books are not fantastic, but better than most fan fic I’ve read.  The language is a little repetitive, the descriptions in some parts are a little wrote, and while some of the language is phenomenal some of it doesn’t quite to justice to the intensity of the situation.

On the side of accuracy, if Ms. James is not a part of the lifestyle herself she at least did some research or reads BDSM erotica.  Terms are proper and the way Mr Grey conducts himself and negotiates his agreements it pretty standard, and who doesn’t buy supplies at department stores? I got a few funny looks in the break room at work for chuckling under my breath at reading the notorious bad boy’s ” hard limits” list and realized that at least half of it is on my “must-have” list, and there were a few inspiring scenes that I made a note to mention to Angelflare, but this was not a unique experience.  There were points were I was dismayed to get the impression that it was becoming a “these people are broken and need to be saved” sort of story, but in the end I was pleased to see that the last book made a point of including play in a very healthy relationship.  I feel it’s important to show that side of the lifestyle to readers, especially when the fan base is so widespread and mainstream.  It’s integral for people to accept this as a relationship option for happy, sane, consensual people.  In the end it made excellent brain candy and became the catalyst for some interesting conversations, but other than that it was not new information…for me, anyway.

One of the reasons I believe this book has become so popular among housewifes and modern suburbia is the same reason Twilight did, and possibly the same way Story of O did in time.  It speaks to that dark side we all share, whether or not we indulge in the fantasies that arise from it, but it does it in a way that is so over the top and so unbelievable that it’s safe and distant.  In Twilight it was vampires and werewolves.  Here it’s the gorgeous bad boy every woman dreams of, and he’s so unbelievable rich and lavish that he becomes a fantasy creature in his own right.  If Ana had met the guy who works at the local bookstore and they had formed this kind of relationship I do not believe they would be as popular in the mainstream.  These women will never meet Christian Grey, so becomes a safe fantasy.  It doesn’t become a strange and dark prospect until they imagine the neighbours having a basement dungeon.  It’s acceptable for this extremely lucky girl to indulge in play, but it’s weird when it’s me.

I was extremely surprised to find myself so absorbed by the books.  Aside from point where the language made me cringe (who says Holy Cow or Jeeze during sex?), I was completely drawn in to the story.  I’m a little embarrassed to admit I found myself emotionally invested.  I laughed audibly, I cried, I worried, and I found myself anxious to get back to my reading whenever I could.  Friends, it has been a long time since a book has affected me this way.  I was baffled by my reaction.

Then I realized what the root was, familiarity.  Without the bells and whistles this could have been our story.  I had been a part of the scene before meeting Angelflare, but it was the first time I had been in a romantic relationship that included that part of my life.  He was a bad boy with a past.  He was cool, collected, and a bit reckless with his own life and the love of those with whom he had any kind of intimate relationship.  The day he told me he loved me he was torn between unfamiliar emotion and the compulsion to run, and the next few weeks were rocky and intense, mainly because he was afraid to let me in, afraid I would see that darker side of him and ask him to leave.  Being as stubborn as we both have been known to be, we worked through it,  and our relationship grew and spread like a wildfire.  Within two weeks he was living with me, not long after that we were committed, then married.

I experienced many of the same concerns and internal crises Anastasia did, and still do at times.  Now throw in health issues, ex lover issues, real life problems, and our decisions to open our marriage and give this 24/7 arrangement a shot.  We have had some of these conversations about fears and insecurities, but we have also had the same exhilarating moments of clarity and passion.  We have learned how to blend real life, love, and an M/s relationship to make a beautiful marriage that works for us.  It’s taken work, it still does, and it always will, but what marriage doesn’t for one reason or another.  These issues have not been caused by our lifestyle, nor do we suffer them because of it.  In many ways the books reminded me of how far we’ve come as a couple, as friends, as lovers, and as people.  We have  an alternative love story.  We also have a pretty interesting basement.

In the end, would I recommend the books? Yes, if you can suspend skepticism and just enjoy a good story.  They were a quick read with some interesting merit.  I must admit I never made it through the Twilight books, any of them, so I don’t really catch the comparison or the fan fic element, and maybe that’s why the origins of the 50 Shades trilogy don’t bother me as much as they seem to bother other readers.  I’m sure I could have found handfuls of reasons to be critical and  argumentative, but I read the books in the spirit they were written, let myself be immersed, and fell in love with the characters and the story itself. I challenge you all to do the same.

Namaste

Go now, fall in love with something dark.

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Submissive

January 13, 2012 at 22:44 (erotica) (, , , , )


His touch comes
swift
strong
wringing from me
every last drop
of stubborn will
the collar not yet around my neck
but I am already his
all of me
this knowledge feeds him
my eyes drop
to the floor
I fallow
to my knees
waiting obediently
pleading silently in loving supplication
tearing myself open
I am my own sacrifice
to a God who needs nothing
takes nothing
and gets anything he wants
In this darkness there is no sound
but his growling laughter
he will destroy and devour me
he will desecrate and  dissolve me
I will find myself
int he marks he leaves behind
I will be defined
like a Rorschach test
I am now restrained and pleading
but is it for less or more
I know
my desire is as palpable as my fear
and my willingness to fall apart tastes acrid on my lips
sweet and succulent on his
an acquired taste, submission
I give in
incorporeal
before I know it
I am bleeding
his beating draining the impurities from my soul
I let go
of what’s left of my control
I am released
in tormented ecstasy
he takes me
then leaves me
a puddle of a girl
in a husk of a body
weeping and groaning
heaving and moaning
I feel his touch
now soft with love
and I know he will reconstruct me
shape me
fortify me
no longer an aberration
but a star
brilliant though distant
this is when we are the closest
where he breathes me in
where we absorb each other
with him, in him
I remain
untouched but by his hands
unhearing but from his voice
unheld but by his heart
this is where I am his
all of me

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cosmic touch

November 5, 2011 at 13:23 (erotica) (, , )


I think of you
In unmentionable metaphors
Going deep inside myself
Where the world never sees
Taking dark pleasure
In my possession
With a sigh
Almost inaudible
Catching your scent
Like a firefly
Drawing you in
Like a rhythm
Capturing your heartbeat
As blood turns
To boiling adrenaline
Hungry
Predatory
Mad
My entire body
Blushes
Flushes
Enraptured
In desire
Destruction
Somewhere hidden
A fire blazes
Unsatisfied
Until it can lick
Entomb
Burn
A lustful consumption
An insinuous dance
My eyes close
And the world vanishes
I open
Accepting surrender
A soul exhaled
A nebula born
Into my womb
I escape
And let go

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