His cock tip at my hand-fucked, stretched entrance, my ankles hooked over his shoulders as we both love, and he's not even entering me. Just making sure he's in the right place, right by my wetness. He's looking right at me and I'm looking into his eyes, turned on and ready and for some reason ashamed and feeling very small all at once. And the keening wail of desperate need that rises in my throat doesn't help matters. He smiles, then. His signal. Pushing into me smoothly, determinedly, HARD. All the way up. Then he stops again. My legs move to interlock my ankles over his back. My hands holding on to his big shoulders and my nails digging into his hot skin. I look up and his dark hair is framing him like a deviant halo, his eyes have changed from soft melted-chocolate brown to midnight black. Black like sin.
A mord-sith is a member of a warrior group in the Sword Of Truth series. They're all women, and are trained to become mord-sith from when they're young girls. They are captured from their family in order to go through brutal training to attain the title and role of mord-sith.
We are together constantly but it seems only a few, brief snapshot moments where we share that intimacy and our carnal needs. When we touch again, he catches my attention with his flesh to mine once more; 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.
Raising my hips in the usual way I can easily slip just the end of his still hard cock inside my incredibly wet cunt. Sucking him and making him cum hard down my throat always turns me on so much that my inner thighs are a sticky mess of arousal. I lean down to kiss him, my mouth still awash with the taste of his cum - but he loves the taste. It makes him kiss me all the more passionately, his tongue sweeping around my mouth, exploring, relishing every last remnant of his cum and combining that pleasure with kissing me because he loves me but lusts for me, and these moments are the culmination of that desire and emotion. I kiss him back harder, matching his passion, and at the same time sit down hard on his cock, my tight but slippery pussy offering absolutely no resistance whatsoever. He gasps and moans all at once, into my mouth as we're still kissing. So satisfying. I start to move, slowly at first, up and down on his cock and my tits hang down heavily, nipples brushing his chest hair. He moves his hands out easily from underneath my playfully Dominant hands on his wrists, there's nothing I could do to stop him. His fingers find my nipples and pinch them gently at first, then increasing in pressure until I'm the one moaning against his mouth in now intermittent kisses, gasping and moaning and squealing. Rising and sitting on his cock, my thighs clamped hard to his body, riding him on top and wanting more, always more, insatiable for his sex.
I will need to get a bed in there at some point, I’m probably having about 80% of my orgasms stood upright. I say upright, it’s more a kind of gripping on to the towel rail, knees bent, legs spread as far as my ripped down just-far-enough knickers will allow me, squeezing my eyes closed to let the waves of fantasy and ecstasy roll over me as I fill myself with whatever shape of vibrating goodness I fancy today. Will it be a dual pleasure shape, a rabbit style, or desperately trying to hold on to a pussy vibe while grappling with a buzzing bullet for my clit? Perhaps it will be a cool, rigid, metal or glass or stone dildo shoved up deep inside, or a buzzing butt plug to tease myself with thrusting it deeper inside with my slippery fingers as the juices leak from my pussy to make a mess on my fingertips and on my soft inner thighs.
That's the lesson learned. Whenever he wants. I never know when it will be. The first sign is just a look, that look. Piercing with those beautiful dark eyes, invading me even before the first touch. Thrills travelling directly and occupying territory that I know belongs to him.
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.
It was time, he decided, as the sound of a zipper in the silence between us revealed. The leather belt slapped softly as he unbuckled it -a motion he always exaggerates as he knows the connotations drive me wild with desire- and his trousers were unbuttoned to provide free access. For him, at least. A hand came back swiftly to hold my wrists together once again, re-igniting that spark of need connecting my throat and pussy, and he smiled down at me as he freed his proudly erect cock.
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.
During Christmas 2015 I had the chance to reflect and reassess what I’m exactly doing here, with my blog, in life. What my actual goals are and what I want to get out of the work I put into projects. With that in mind, and moving on from the harsh realities of the past year noted above (and taking a pinch of inspiration from this excellent New Year's Resolutions article by Hella Rude), I’ve written ten somewhat surprising promises to myself for the next year (and beyond) which will serve as my New Year’s Resolutions 2016.
I feel the heat of your spirit, your heart, your passion, even as you walk past me. It calls to me on the very air itself. There is a spark in the unspoken connection between us, something that we know has been, that isn’t now, but that yet will be. Your scent lingers as deep as a kiss and evocative, like fire pulsing through my veins. Every touch from you is like an addictive syrup of love, a nectar that you dose out, the required medication for my madness.