I love food and I love sex. Combine the two for the kinkiest, sexiest, most perverted sex. I adore it. Having admitted this fact to him, he obviously wanted to take full advantage. I love when he takes full advantage of me. Anyway. I’m not sure if I wrote about the After Eights sex with chocolate occasion that happened a few months ago?
We are together constantly but it seems only a few, brief snapshot moments where we share that intimacy. When we touch again, he catches my attention with his skin on mine once more; when he touches me, fingers through my hair, hand on my shoulder or round my throat, pulling me by my hips to sit on his lap or his fingers entwining with mine to give me a reassuring squeeze of his love.
I’m not sure how to word this – to explain to you what it is that I want from you, what I need. Things that uncover some needs deep inside me, that I’m not even sure why they exist, but I know they do. Reading other’s experiences and desires, lusts and satisfactions I feel kindred spirits at work – a meeting of ..well, not minds, but sexuality.
Well... what is a girl to do with herself! If you speak with me regularly, through Twitter and Facebook updates, you will know I have been very busy recently. with writing, sex toy testing and much more.
I've been fondly remembering that time we had Chocolate Orange sex. He does seem to like perverting flavoured chocolate. Perhaps it is more the fact his chocolate preferences come in such handy segment shapes to make sex with chocolate comfortable as well as fun.
It didn't take long for me to reach orgasm - or him - there's that step by step thing that happens. It's difficult to describe. My pussy tightens around him, in reply to his thrusting and the clitoral stimulation. He feels me tighten around him and it makes him thrust into me even harder and with greater urgency.
I have been musing recently on how some women are like cats, and some like kittens. The kitten play fetish is quite popular with those identifying as women, and puppy play more usually seen in those identifying as men or boys. There's a whole world of furry fetish fun out there in BDSM!
Do you have body adornments such as piercings or tattoos for sexual reasons? Does your lover? I did. I had a vertical clitoris hood piercing. I loved it. I took the bar out for a couple of days though (it rattles on bullet vibrators) and the hole half closed up. I want a repiercing now, a horizontal clitoris hood piercing this time. Definitely for sexual reasons. A ring and a clip on leash... rawr. Hot. I don't have any tattoos, they're not my thing (on me I mean; I love them on others). I have pierced ears and a pierced navel. Most definitely NOT for sexual reasons. Belly button sex? Um, no thanks.
Decisions to have anal sex at work, after hours, on cctv. Forcefully bending me over his desk, flipping up my short skirt and ripping my tights for access. Pulling aside my thong and using a lube coated finger (yes, he had lube on his desk) smeared across my hole to help guide him inside quickly.
The evening passed in the usual blur where time speeds up and excitement is at a high. We got closer and closer during the evening and exchanged flirty banter and those looks. You know the ones. Curious, daring, challenging, knowing. Time was escaping us, rushing past in an echo of Alice in Wonderland madness. Swept up in her crazy hotness and wild fire we rebelled and kissed - and our lips then tongues meeting was fire to fire. The taste of not girl, but woman. Full knowledge and comprehension of actions, not some naive innocent who will later regret.
I know what I want to happen after sex. I want to lay together, body to hot sweaty body, post-sex heat our only blanket, clinging together in glorious love - well, mainly stuck together with the velcro of rapidly drying bodily fluids. I want it to be just like ‘in the movies’ (films, for us Brits). To immediately drift into the deep peaceful sleep of the newly-shagged, in candlelight (without any thought of the fire hazard) and wake up in the morning still clinging together. As if we were Jack and Rose. Only Jack didn't have to die and Rose let him climb on the damn door. My makeup would be absolute perfection through the night, until the sun’s rays gently woke us from nauseatingly romantic slumber. My pillowslip would most definitely not look like a clown’s washcloth. Nor would my face.