Guided masturbation

May 19, 2019

Guided masturbation is so much fun – especially when your sub obeys your every single word. Watching them work themselves up,  hear them moaning and begging you to let them go faster or please,  please will you touch them. That’s fun.  Asking them if they’re close, how close and if they want to cum for you like a good puppy.  Then telling them they’re not allowed, to stop moving their hands and stop thrusting on the bed.

When they’re so wet and horny and ready to cum but they don’t because they want to be good for you is so much fun. The whine in their voice when they beg, the red of their bitten lips, the trembling of their thighs – oh, and that husky catch in their throat when you make them do it all over again. Oh so much fun.

MommyMaxie

a kind of death

May 18, 2019

When you are making love don’t control. Go into uncontrol, go into chaos. It will be fearful, frightening, because it will be a kind of death. And the mind will say “Control!” And the mind will say, “Jump in and keep control, otherwise you will be lost in the abyss of it.” Don’t listen to the mind, get lost. Abandon yourself utterly and without any technique you will come to see a timeless experience. There will be no two in it: oneness. A consciousness will be there, a lucid passive consciousness will be there, you will know what is happening because you will be fully aware. But you will not be there; awareness will be there.

You have to imbibe the Tantra spirit – it is not a technique to be learned.

Osho
This Very Body the Buddha, Vol. 1, Talk #8

kept stroking him

April 14, 2019

I reached over and felt it in the car. It was warm and hard and I could feel his heartbeat through his cock. I held it in my hand and without really thinking about it I started moving my hand up and down. In less than a minute his cum shot in the air, six, seven creamy spurts. I kept stroking him until it subsided.  

Intimacy

January 24, 2019

The kind of intimate that can make you cum just by kissing…The kind that leaves your pussy throbbing and makes you think that if your partner touched your pussy – you’d crumble at their very touch…

Oko Ninjah
confessions from my amateur heart

Pump and pump and grind

December 23, 2018

Straddle the beast you masterful bitch: thighs awash with your intimate potions, and your eyes reflecting flames from the fire. Hell fire. Pump and pump and grind on me. Tits bouncing wildly, drunk on disgust, you whore-child, you witch – such foul words in your mouth as you cum and cum again over me. Then wriggle, then wrench, pulling me free. One rough movement, practiced and sure, and prick enters arse-hole – ‘Cum now, you bastard,’ her cry, her demon voice. ‘Cum now, or I’ll rip it off!’ And ever obedient, I give off this earth-ending whimper, and shoot my load where no sun ever shines –

lips and tongue

You like her hands, don’t you darling? When her fingers are combing through your hair so soft and gentle, when you’re lying on her and she’s holding you close. Her hands are the only things moving then, her hands and you as you rise and fall with her even, slow breathing.

You like when she cups your cheek, palm soft and warm against your skin. You like when she cups your cheek and holds you still while she takes her time to lick into your mouth and kiss you so deep. Her hand is the only thing holding you in place while she bites your lips and licks every rasping moan off your tongue.

You love when she drags her nails down your chest, along your ribs and hooks around your hips. When she teases you with those slow little circles, smiling at you while she tells you every dirty thing she wants to do to you and won’t you let her puppy, please?

You love when those hands hold your legs open, push them just a little wider. When her nails dig into your skin and leave sweet little marks, when she makes it hurt so sugar sweet and you gasp as she bites and nips and sucks.

You love her hands when they’re touching you, there’s no doubt about that, but there’s one thing you love best, right darling? Mhmm, your favourite is when her fingers curl around your throat, palm warm where it holds warm and steady. Your favourite is when she squeezes, when she pins you down with a hand around your throat and the other between your thighs and whispers how pretty you are when your cheeks are flushed so red and you’re so wet it must hurt.

You love her best when her lips are at your ear, asking you what you want. Do you want to cum? Do you want her to squeeze tighter? You’ve been such a good little pet, you deserve a reward, so what would you like darling? Do speak up.

And when you can’t answer because she’s choking you so good and nice, the way you like, she rocks against you. When you can’t answer because it’s so much, too much and not enough. She tells you that if you can’t answer, then she’ll have to choose for you and she wants you to cum. She’d like you to cum for her right now darling, cum from just her hands, when you’re gasping for a breath and everything’s the sweetest kind of fuzzy.

You love that, don’t you?

Mommymaxie
So Sayeth, Your Lord

bite you hard

August 5, 2018

I want to tie you down and blindfold you, then run my teeth over every inch of your body and mark it, bite you hard. I want to talk dirty to you, call you a dirty little whore, remind you how filthy and needy and easy you are until you’re hard and whining for me to touch you. I want to pound you into the mattress as I stroke your cock, fucking you hard and relentlessly until you’re crying for me to let you cum. God, I want to hear you beg for it, beg like a little slut to cum.

Gray Wolf

I think of it as coming
back to myself,
like a second cousin
visiting from the states
As if I’m waiting in
the airport terminal,
hands full of sweat
and a note stapled to my chest
I can’t remember when
I first became a space to be filled,
an empty vessel floating
in between the veil
But I’m starting to feel
like more of a splutter
than a storm,
and it’s moments like
this that make me think God
is just fucking irresponsible
I find myself digging
for my sense of wonder
at the bottom of my music box,
like the folded ears
of a saxophone player,
sitting across the bar
As if I’ll slide my hands
across the slime of my exterior,
slip back into my identity
like an old coat
While I tumble into the
empty bellied passion
of a man with small hands
and an inability to say my name,
hoping I’ll come across
my purpose for life
while drenched in his cum

Kaylene Mary

Remember when

May 7, 2018

Remember?

You had me on the waste ground behind the old changing rooms
just as the day, snake-like, shed its skin.
You were like a wild thing in the shadows, desire firing your blood.
Un-fucking-stoppable.
I said: ‘I don’t usually do this on a first date.’
You said: ‘This isn’t a date.’

Remember?

And you were right.
It was more a rape.
You stabbing me with that angry cock of yours.
And I thought: WOW!
This boy’s a beastie –
thrusting up me and waiting for the moon.

Remember?

And when you started cumming
I knew the morning would be foggy with drizzle.
I knew I’d feel like a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces.
And I thought: ‘Is this love?’
And yes, you made me cum too, you bastard.
Then you left me to give birth to the ghosts we two had made –

Remember?

GREY WOOLF

My Women Have Spoken

April 8, 2018

After Meena Kandasamy

My Radha is a slut
Who could care less
About people questioning her morality
In full control of her sexuality
She freely lusts over her men
Relentlessly lusts over
Krishna – The God of love

My Laxmi is not
Shy of asking
For her share
For her unpaid
Domestic and reproductive labour
From Vishnu – The accumulator of wealth

Laxmi regarded as the embodiment of beauty
Covered from head to toe
With ornaments
For Vishnu though
Is merely an object of adornment
A marker of his status
His wealth
A “trophy wife”
If you will
As I sit here reading
The Theory of the Leisure Class
By Thorstein Veblen

No more, says
My Laxmi
As she calls for seizure of his wealth
Stands for redistribution of the wealth
That Vishnu – the capitalist
Made by stealth

My Rati is a whore
She is all about
Sexual desire
Rati – The not-so-mentioned sex Goddess
The Goddess of carnal, sexual desire
Lust, passion and sexual pleasure
The Goddess who mastered
The art of sex techniques
The inventor of countless
Sex positions
The Goddess who could enchant, and
Bring any man
Any meditating sage
Any king
To their knees
To her cunt, and
Could ask them to
Suck on it…
Suck on it…
More…
My Rati taught men
About the intricacies of sex
Long before
Vatsyayana came along
Claiming authorship of Kama Sutra
Alleging he taught the world

As the legend goes,
Born of desire ridden sweat
Of king Daksha, Rati
Was apparently considered ‘impure’
For bodily fluids produced during
Sexual activity, ironically, regarded as
‘Impure’, in Hindu philosophy,
Were never foreign to Rati
For she symbolized
Arousal, personified those
Droplets of desire, sweat,
Cum, all bodily fluids
Labelled polluted
Rati embodied this very ‘pollution’
My Rati rejects ‘purity’
‘Purity’-The other continuum of the Indian
Caste hierarchy-legitimation scale
My Rati dismantles it

My Sita is a transgressor
Who takes risks
Who violates rules
Who breaks moral laws
Who crosses laxman-rekha
Boundaries of patriarchy
My Sita is a brave single mother
Who can brave any storm
Without the need of any Rama

My Draupadi is promiscuous
She seduces
She disrobes
She takes on the
Monogamous marriage institution
Turns it on its head
She questions the age old adage
“Love only happens once”
As she falls in love
Several times
With five different men
Whom she marries
And the one
She loved the most
Her sakha – Krishna
Her secret lover
Yet she refuses to be shamed for it
She refuses to be shamed for
Falling in love
Several times
With each of those men
She refuses to be shamed for
Falling out of it
As many times too

My Draupadi fights against patriarchy
She mocks kings
She dethrones them
She agitates
Armored with sharp words
That cut deep
Like knives
She hones them

All my women misbehave
They break rules, cross lines, defy norms
They narrate their own stories, chart their own destinies, brave storms
Patriarchal myths can no longer define us and will be broken
For I have spoken
My women have spoken

Prerna Bakshi