When I miss him, I ask if I can "see" him and he sends me a selfie. I was still three days away from seeing him again. He sent me a selfie. He was smiling in it. "is that smile for me?" I asked him. "The smile. The photo. The excitement." I grinned. "Oh, but… Continue reading One Lucky Whore
A moment without context: She felt the palm of his hand flatten against the back of her neck as his fingers, entwined in her still-damp hair, grabbed hold and pulled her back. Within seconds, she was on her hands and knees with her face pressed into the cushion - his strong grip holding her… Continue reading Moments and Context: Part Writing Exercise. Part Smut.
Beads of sweat still glistened, trapped in the soft hairs of his chest and belly. She gently wiped them away with the tip of a finger, one by one, reminiscent of the chasing and popping of bubbles floating through the air during a childhood summer. Her ear to his chest, she could feel more than… Continue reading His
I want to submit because I want to feel control again. Sounds weird, right? Usually people talk about submission as the idea of giving up control.
About two years ago, the adult industry was under attack. By banks. They were shutting down accounts of known adult performers. Last year, my local dungeon had to go cash only for a night because their credit card processing account had been shut down, despite it being a registered charitable organization. Why? 'Cause of the… Continue reading Let adults be adult (rant)
You're led out of the house by a tight fist grabbing hold of your hair. He orders you to get in the car, and while he's fiddling with the back seats, he tells you to start masturbating. You're already wet, of course. You had been for hours. He has that effect on you. It takes… Continue reading A different kind of B.B.W (Smut)
Too often, the term "submissive" is thrown about as something that is below or beneath its dominant counterpart. I don't think that's how it works.
I have lots of collars. Â Lots and lots and lots. Â They're accessories, though, like the many many rings i have and wear when I'm dressing up for a special occasion. But not like the rings I keep tucked in a special box in my jewelry drawer: Â my engagement and wedding rings. Those are different. Â Those… Continue reading The Collar
When he passed away, something extraordinary happened: I survived.
"No, No, No..." The words came out and I knew I didn't mean them. Still riding the wave of that orgasm, I wanted the pain. I craved it.
polyammering 