To the Hilt

My favorite cock for sucking is a bubblegum-pink soft silicone unit I picked out of the bargain bin at some dime-store porn shop. It's very porous and I don't dare use it without a condom, and it's a bit too soft for fucking, anyway--but it's fabulous for sucking. Firm enough to present a challenge, but yielding enough to make it a little easier for me to push myself with it.

I was ridiculously horny this weekend. Spring has finally arrived where I am, and the warm weather has awakened my libido in a big way. I lured Boyfriend into the bedroom yesterday with my ass in the air, taking a hard vaginal fisting that had me clutching at the fitted sheet and crying into the wad of blankets under my face. Twenty-four hours later, I was half-naked in the car, caressing myself provocatively while occasionally reaching over to stroke his upper arm in that special place that drives him wild. He thought he was going to go straight home from running errands, but instead, he ended up taking a small detour to my house.

I was really hungry today. I wanted my mouth to be thoroughly used. I couldn't get enough. Boyfriend stopped at the bathroom, and when he came out, I had the harness and the silly pink dick all ready for him and he knew what I wanted. He barely had it buckled in place before I jumped on him, condom in my mouth, and slid my lips over the shaft.

I tried kneeling between his legs, then moved to the floor with him at the edge of the bed, then back up between his legs, and eventually I scooted around so that my pussy was next to his face. That turned out to be the magic angle: next thing I knew, I was sucking that cock into my throat all the way down to the ring. That's about six inches of silicone down the hatch.

I haven't quite defeated my gag reflex yet. I'm not sure whether I want to... having a strap-on-wearing sadist grab a handful of my hair and force me to gag on his or her cock again and again is pretty fucking hot. In this case, I gagged so many times that I finally lost the battle and tossed my cookies. But I can get that whole cock down my throat, at least for a few seconds at a time, without gagging. I just haven't figured out how to move once it's down there without tripping the reflex.

Boyfriend is nasty as they come. He didn't shove my face into the stinking puddle of vomit on the sheet, but I know he thought about it. Eventually he got up, rinsed off in the shower while I stripped the sheet off and threw it into the washer (that'll teach me to suck cock without putting a chuck down first), and came back for round two. He wasn't done using my mouth, which made me happy as a pig in mud. He lay back and spread his legs and I dove in hungrily, covering my face with cunt-juice from eyebrows to chin and sucking his clit and labia in, feeling his clit get bigger and bigger under my tongue. Periodically I let go long enough to make filthy comments about his bulging cock, encouraging him to imagine it as such, until he exploded with it clamped firmly between my teeth. Boy, that's gotta hurt afterward.

There was a bit more to our afternoon escapade, but the part I most wanted to tell was the bit about swallowing that silly bubblegum cock all the way down to the ring.

A Bit Slow On the Uptake

I finally figured it out. All this time, I've been expecting you to be the person you were when I met you, but you're not anymore. Even when I finally realized that you'd changed with the dissolution of your marriage, I kept waiting for you to change back. I didn't know that your ex took some crucial part of your heart with him and you might never get it back.

On the surface, you still look the same. Oh, you're a little bit older, a little bit greyer, a little bit harder, a few more wrinkles around your eyes. But you still have love in your life. You still party and play the field and write about desire as if nothing has changed... but it has.

When we met, you didn't wear a mask over your emotions. You reached for me joyfully, your hand grasping mine across the table, your eyes seeking contact. You pulled my body to you, invited me inside, offered up your desire until I wanted to crawl right inside you because I just couldn't get close enough no matter what I did.

Then things fell apart. He didn't want you anymore, and then you didn't want him either, and that part of you that had reached for me closed up like a big fist squeezing your heart shut. You said you didn't want to bottom anymore, and I didn't know that meant you would become stone cold and remote. You kept on saying all the right things. You said you wanted to play with me. You said you wanted to make love to me. As you insisted that you didn't want to bottom, and I began to want to explore bottoming myself, you seemed like the safest, most reasonable person for me to come to... and you said yes, you would love to top me, and top me you did.

After it all came crashing down, I couldn't figure out what was wrong. I couldn't figure out why I felt so distrustful, why I needed to hold my heart back, why I felt so rejected even as you were telling me with your words that you wanted me, you wanted to spend time with me, you wanted to play with me. In time, you even told me that you loved me. And yet... it's been over three years, and I haven't been able to play with you.

I finally understand. The part of you that used to show your desire in physical ways is gone. I don't know if your ex took it with him or if it's still inside you, curled up in a little ball and protected by layers and layers of armor... but I haven't seen it since you left him. You don't reach for me anymore. You don't seek out my eyes with yours as you once did. You don't show any sign of arousal or desire around me, even when you touch me. You take my hand when I offer it... you hold me when I come to you... but you don't offer yourself to me at all. You barely even call me, even though you tell me over and over that I can call you any time of the day or night and you're always happy to hear my voice. Being with you is like being alone.

Offering you my desire makes me feel ashamed. No matter how many times you tell me it's OK to ask you for things or to tell you that I want things, I feel like that's a lie. I feel like a creepy clueless girl with no boundaries, throwing herself at someone who doesn't want her.

I miss your passion. I miss your desire. I miss your reaching out to me. I don't know if those things are gone forever or perhaps just gone from me, but I can't keep handing you my desire and watching it disappear into the black hole where your heart used to be. I've got to stop.

I didn't mind...

I didn't mind that it cut me. I might have liked it. The look in your eyes, your ragged gasps as you watched me slowly slide the handle inside myself, the roar that rose from your chest as you came, your face inches from my cunt, watching that knife slide in and out... slowly at first, then faster and harder... all of that made it worth the dozens, maybe hundreds, of tiny little nicks at the base of my left inner lip. I came so hard, and so wet, and for so long... I didn't mind that it cut me. I might have liked it.