Her long loose hair and unguessable face, eyes turned in from day to night…

Heart trapezing gaily as the ropes tighten…

 Each of us has a secret darkness hidden within…

Yes, yes, I’m hungry for it. Always hungry for it. Just for once I’d like to get my fill – more than my fill! I want cock until I can’t take any more. Just once…

“I’m probably the worse person in the universe,” she said. “What I’m going to do to you now, you’ll never fuckin’ forget. Believe me you won’t. It’s really that fuckin’ terrible. But I guarantee no matter how bad you feel when I’ve finished with you, you’ll want to come back and have me do it again – because that’s what I’m most like. A fuckin’ incurable addiction…”

Selfie

June 24, 2017

Thank you for the selfie
I wish you’d move your hand
I want to see your lovely cock
I want to see it stand –

Sunday Sex Confession…

June 18, 2017

Another glorious day: sun-drenched, hot; the sky and moor hinged on the horizon in an orange glow at dawn. Time for the breakfast gin and some sleaze –

Very much in the mood for a boy to let me play with his cock. I want to start off just casually stroking it and exploring it for my own fun. After awhile, I will get an evil smirk on my face and stare at him with “a predator is about to torture their helpless prey” look. I then start deliberately teasing his cock and saying naughty things, hopefully causing him to involuntarily moan and twitch. I want to offer to go down on him, but only if he really begs for it. I spend a good while not giving into him, teasing him more, all because I’m enjoying torturing him too much. When I feel he’s gotten as desperate as he can get, I give him that relief he needs. After he gets off in my mouth, I’ll smile and ask if he enjoyed himself. I’ll kiss his cheek and pull him in close, while he slowly drifts off to sleep.

Source

Gender fluid

April 22, 2017

‘Eres hombre o mujer…’

Ah, Barcelona and that sixty-four million dollar question. Man or woman. Which was I?

Peedeel had become Navina that evening – for the sake of the party, you understand? Attendance was by invitation only. And our invitation was dependant on Peedeel arriving as beautiful Navina. He, or rather she, accompanied by Dee and Gabriella, attracted the attention of two young men. Darkly handsome young men.

‘Eres hombre o mujer…?’ They asked; their smiles could melt ice, I thought.

Well, if you haven’t spent your life living under a rock, you’ll know there are obvious ways to tell. And these boys guided me to a room where they could investigate further.

I will resist the urge to recount the sordid details of our ultimate coupling. But I do recall thirty seconds before I climaxed with them, it felt as if someone had sucked all the air out of the room; every nerve ending in my body tingled, I couldn’t move, time stopped. Then the involuntary spasm, the explosion. I recall especially feeling the sensation inside my bones, my jawbone in particular, vibrating through every nerve in waves; muscles clenching on their own, rhythmically, tension releasing spasmodically in those sharp, familiar little jerks of my cock.

Man or woman?

Why, chameleon, of course.

Soy un camaleón.

Saturday sex confession

April 15, 2017

I love it when a guy sticks his cock in my mouth, then asks me to answer a question while forcing my head down on it and making me almost gag – then him slapping me for not speaking coherently. Believe it or not, I’ve actually cum like that once or twice.

Source here

I’d love to watch another man suck my husband’s cock, basically because it’s so big it hurts my jaw when I do it.

Source HERE

En retard ! il va en être puni et sévèrement !

‘As long as your head, your mind, is still working and is not too much preoccupied with the strange state of your body, we can continue to explore boundaries…like two innocent lambs starting out on a fresh adventure in a world we only half-imagined. We know there must be limits, but as to what these are we have no idea…?’

He didn’t reply to her; he couldn’t. The huge rubber gag in his mouth, shaped like an erect male phallus, prevented coherent speech…That, and her knee pressing on his windpipe which also filled his eyes with tears.

The room – the spatial confines of his current incarceration – was reasonably comfortable for a torture chamber*. He attributed this to her painstaking devotion to the arts of domination. Here she could utilize her many and diverse talents without fear of interruption, and in a level of comfort to which she was well accustomed.

He felt slightly dissociated. There, yet elsewhere. He hardly understood the list of alleged transgressions she recited to him. Each transgression, real or imaginary, was emphasised by a fresh act of violence on his body. He would learn. She would teach him…

Her face was quite old behind that mask of makeup. The makeup gave an appearance of dignity and rejuvenation. But her eyes…well, the way they stared at him, into him…gave him the impression she was possibly quite insane.

His ordeal continued. The acts were chaotic, patternless. And yet almost ritualistic in their intensity. Occasionally she paused to whisper endearments to him, stroked his chest with gentle fingertips. Her scent was pleasant, all pervading. Then she did something to him…something indescribable, which caused him to bite down so hard on the gag he felt his teeth must break!

‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘The pain is exquisite, is it not? One day I would like to brand you. Burn my name into you thigh…Such a burn turns a deep tobacco brown so quickly. The pain of it lasts for weeks…And you will wear my name near your little cock, forever!’

He wondered what her face would look like if it weren’t decorated with so much makeup? She kissed him gently on the forehead, and began again with her sharp metal needles. So much like light, the pain came and went. The pain that filled the world, that needed to be captured, that begged to be capture in a photograph or on canvass. A Van Gogh of rubberised gloves and impossible steel implements. Red fingers cracked the sky. And he opened…his body no more than a wound, existing simply for her amusement. The seizures of pain took him repeatedly and without apology.

‘You think the pain defines you?’ she asked. ‘It doesn’t. The void defines you. You’re addicted to the void. Your body is simply a translation of my desire. Are we pain? Or are we art…?’

Finally it ended and she freed him from bondage. She caressed him; whispered sweet words in his ear, where tiny ghosts lay hidden from her view. Heaven finally came to grips with hell. His cock stirred under the gentle ministrations of her fingers. Fingertips fluttering like nervous birds…He briefly touched her ruffly butt panties while shedding his seed in milky smears on her long stockinged leg.

Later he returned to his own rooms overlooking the river; and to the untranslated collections of French poetry, the books of folklore, witchcraft and superstitions. To the unmade bed where he would lay down his wounds and remember her laughter like waves on a cloudless day as she inflicted fresh hurt. Here, eventually, he’d find peace…

* While many people know Mme Jarosseau has une chambre secrète, to be her “guest” within it is by invitation only. Such a visit is certainly not for the faint of heart, and each “guest” is expected to present an appropriate  ‘Gift’ or ‘Tribute’ to Madame. Her complex errotic games are not to everyone’s taste. But anyone who has attended one of her sadomasochistic sessions will never forget the experience…her frightening greeting on arrival:

‘En retard! Il va en être puni et sévèrement!’

It begins…

A WAKE OF SORTS

March 20, 2016

grabit

It’s time to say goodbye to my penis
Ciao bambino!
Shalom shlong!
We’ve been through
a lot together
so it’s hard, you know,
but enough is enough.
Enough inexplicable excitations. Remember
Arlene Applebaum?
Enough of not being able to stand up because
it is.
Enough worrying if it will.
Enough itching
when scratching
is out of the question.
Enough of it being the measure
of your man,
the shortener of your attention span,
the lengths to which
you go.
Enough of it filling a void
which can never be filled.
Enough of it being turned down
because it’s 3AM, she says, and
we just did it yesterday and you were nasty
to me last week when we had dinner with the Mirskys.
Enough of it refusing to do
what it once could do
or at least what you’d like to think it once could do.
And enough of it proving that just like
your father’s,
it can make babies that grow
to break your heart.

Marvin Waldman

Bigger

March 15, 2016

atbeach

My boyfriend was driving me crazy,
Always being so insecure about
The size of his knob.
“Look, for fuck’s sake,”
I finally snapped one day,
Sick to death of him
Constantly banging on about it.
“As far as I know, you’re about average.
Okay, so you’re not as big as, say,
Chris from Accounting,
But I know for a fact that you’re
Almost certainly bigger than Sam
From Personnel,
And you might even be edging a tiny bit ahead of Martin,
The guy on Reception, and Jack from Maintenance.
NOW will you shut the fuck up about it…?”
Well, I think I managed to put his mind at ease.
Sandra Harris

(Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based performance poet, novelist, film blogger, sex blogger and short story writer. She has given more than 200 performances of her comedy sex-and-relationship poems in different venues around Dublin. She is the proud possessor of a pair of unfeasibly large bosoms. They have given her – and the people around her – infinite pleasure over the years.)

Yes, probably true…

February 15, 2016

Prettynails