The attic is by far the most uncomfortable room to choose from right now, as the temperature outside soars close to 90. But comfort has little to do with why I am up here. Summer is coming, baby. Maybe it will stay until Friday. I think of you. I think this.


My years of hot yoga return to me as I rediscover the flexibility possible in this sort of atmosphere. The dreamy vague nausea hits me as I walk up. A moment of embarrassment at the mess that is even worse than downstairs. A moment of forgetting about the mess when you stay behind me on the stairs and let your hand push my skirt up, your fingers quickly running beneath my panties.

“You are rather wet today.”

I moan a little as you trace my labia. I squirm so that you will touch my clitoris, and you remove your hand abruptly and pat my butt.

“Do you think we can bear the heat?” I ask, greeting the most intense heat as we go higher.

“I think”–you hesitate–“that we can make even more heat if we try”–you pull my blouse off my neck–“the least”–you lightly kiss my neck–“little bit.”

I feel faint, giddy, as I often do when you begin to kiss me like that. But I fall limp as you stand behind me and reach around to grasp my nipples hard harder not stopping–longer than I can usually stand it. The heat has loosened me. I am yours now. Sweat drips as I finish unbuttoning my blouse and push it off my shoulders, as you pull your t-shirt over your head and unbutton your shorts, as I let my skirt fall to the ground. You walk toward me.

“No, wait.” I walk to the corner and roll a therapy ball onto to the white rug.

“Are we doing exercises?” you joke.

I lie on the ball leaning backward and reaching my arms to the ground behind me. “A little stretch first.”

You pull my legs back down to the ground and yank at my panties, lifting my hips so that you can get them off.

“Balance now. Stay like that,” and you push my lips apart and push two fingers into my cunt. You sit on the ground between my legs. I see you upside down in the mirror behind me, see you licking your fingers as you pull them out of my pussy.

“What flavor is it today?” I joke.

“Mmm. I would say that it is exactly the right flavor.”

What I want right now is for you to keep fingering me as you let your tongue tease my clit. You seem about to do that, but then seem to think of something brilliant, and take off your own underwear. You reach over me and beneath my back to unhook my bra.

“I want you completely naked when you sweat.”

I am sweating.

“I want to feel our bodies sweating together like pigs, fucking,” and you kneel and thrust your cock hard into me as I roll back onto my hands. I think I might fall off the ball, and my legs are dangling. I want to put them somewhere to steady myself, but you are banging me too hard, and I feel a little sick from the heat and from the blood rushing to my head and to my cunt.

“You like being fucked like a pig, don’t you?” you are bright red now, sweating more than I am, and I am about to come.

I cannot even speak as you slam into me relentlessly. I am thinking that in terms of balancing on therapy balls, pigs have the disadvantage of hooves and not feet, but that they probably are equally slippery. I think you will come–any ordinary man would have long ago–but you keep pounding me, and I hold back, now spreading my legs wider and wrapping them around your hips. Can pigs do that?

“You are such a good fuck,” you say as you finally touch my clit, banging me now deeper than before. A chill runs through my body, then shaking. Is it a heat stroke? But no, no. Oh god yes yes. I feel my cunt grabbing onto your cock, still hard, but shaking. I am shaking and you are telling me how loud I am, but I don’t know it.

I am sure you have come, but your cock is still hard when you pull out of me, and you are still pushing me higher.

“Oh, what were you doing?”

“Bringing you to an earth-shattering climax, I believe,” you laugh as I roll off of the ball and grab your cock.

“What are we going to do about this?” I ask, laughing. You push my head down, and I take your cock deep into my throat–in, out– many times. Then I stop.

“Sit on the ball.” As you follow my orders, I swing my legs around to straddle you, teasing your cock with the heat of my pussy.

“You are so wet,” you plead to me pushing my hips down. I lower them a little, letting you enter me a little, then pull out.

“Oh, please…”

I love it when you beg, but it happens so rarely. I love it when you want me and cannot quite have me, when you are desperate and want to fuck me hard. You have been fucking me hard and holding back, and now I know you want to keep fucking me so you can come. My cunt swells, hungry all the more after the first climax. You always say I become wild after you make me come the first time, but I am barely conscious now, drunk in the heat and the sweat and the power of your desire for me.

My pussy is dripping–everywhere is dripping. I tease you more, feeling myself near orgasm just at the expression on your face when you think I am going to let you in. I tease again, circle my hips a little a little.. down. You grab my hips and hold them tight, bouncing the ball hard so that you can fuck me at last. Your cock hits hard against my cervix, deeper than before.

“Oh.. fuck…” I am going to climax again. You are still hard and growing, I think, and you are digging your fingernails into my buttocks, then pulling my cheeks apart as you push my hips down on the up bounce.

“I am about to come,” you tell me, as you slow your movements for a moment. “But next time, I want to fuck your ass like this,” you growl, and bounce the ball harder, letting me bounce freely now–I have no choice–as you grab my nipples and hold me by them. It hurts–it will hurt a lot later–but I hardly care, and I hold your waist for support, looking into your wild eyes, feeling the lust in them, feeling you thrust one time deeper, pinching me hard enough that I cry as you do it, as I feel your come shoot into my cunt, as I feel myself shaking and exhausted, throbbing. Your come runs out onto my legs, wetter still, and I look at you. Tears, sweat, come.. we are leaking everywhere, and I am afraid we will pass out, though I like your cock inside me now. I stay, rock my hips to feel your softer cock inside of me now, but you can no longer sit, and fall onto the rug below us.

You look at me. I look at you. We look like boiled lobsters.

“Oh, it is a bit hot up here, isn’t it?” you remark.

“I do have air conditioning downstairs, after all.” And I stand up, walk toward the stairs. You follow, your fingers in my hair as we make our way to my much cooler and darker bedroom.


“Hi guys. Am I late?” A woman lies on the bed. She is naked, lying on her front.


Oh Dragonfly! Naughty Dragonfly. You forgot we were expecting company!


You did not spank me. And really, my thoughts may have been quite naughty, but my actions have not been. For all the talking, the fantasies and the laughter, for all this time I have done nothing but talk, and write, fuck you and think of you.

I am reluctant to say this, that a hug from you is more satisfying than almost any of the dirtiest gang bang scenarios I might concoct–and indeed, act upon in the right circumstances. But I would rather hold hands with you and kiss you right now than be tied up by you… And still, I love to think of you tying me up.

Where does this lead? I have no idea. I feel such immense freedom with you that it never really matters. If we were to meet the tempting friends and act upon our wildest fantasies, I would be happy, but equally happy to lie beside you holding hands in a field and watch the clouds reinvent themselves. I feel I have known you forever, and always will, wherever you are.

Push me to my limits, whether in physical sensation or emotional.. I trust you. It is this that makes life real. I can push you in a wordless realm, in the silence where I would never want anything more than who you are right now. You challenge me in so many ways, ways you do not even know. I want to say this to you.. and yet, I find myself letting my thoughts just be.

ARDENT: Nous y volerons dans les airs. Vous n’aurez pas peur?

LA BELLE: J’aime avoir peur… avec vous!

ARDENT: Belle! Je vous emporte. En route!
–(Jean Cocteau, La Belle et la bête, 1945)

spank me

I have been very, very naughty. As you see in my postings, I have been contemplating many things that I might do with you, and perhaps with other people involved, as well. So, tomorrow when you arrive, I know it will cause you more pain that it does me, but I am expecting to be spanked.

I know what you do to naughty girls, my dear. I know you told me that you would bend me over your lap and lift up my skirt, and hold me tight as I kick and beg you, insist that I meant nothing wrong.

“I’m sorry, dear, but you have been wicked. And wicked girls must be punished.”

“No, no!!! I never meant to upset you! I will never do it again, I promise!” I sob, and keep reaching back to push my skirt down, to cover my bottom. You are struggling with me, which only fortifies you in your mission to hold me still for my punishment. You push one hand down, and fold the other over it and back, then bend over my back so that my front and back are utterly separate.

I feel the cool air on my legs as you lift my skirt swiftly, then push my panties down to my knees.


It was much harder than you normally spank me, and I feel a burn on my ass after a moment. You look down–I imagine you see your handprint on my white skin.


You hit me hard again, and before I know it again…


I think you will stop, but you don’t. You don’t, and I feel myself struggling as you hold me down even tighter in front, relentless with your free hand to slap my cheeks.

I yell. I cry. But I cannot bring myself to use our safeword. I have my pride to consider, and I feel myself surrendering to your hand. You spank me more, and stop.

My ass is burning. I feel the air cold now on my cheeks, and the sweat on my face, the tears running down. You have stopped, let go a little, and I feel myself start to sob as your hand comes down once more, but gently, stroking my skin as you so often do. I sob, and feel your hand so loving on my hot ass, then a finger down between my leg.

“My god, you are so wet,” and I feel your cock twitch, too, as you keep holding me across your lap. My sobs flood me, as I suddenly climb up and straddle you, kissing you wildly.

You have done it again, my dear, touched me deeper than I knew yesterday that I could be reached. You have pushed me into another realm, and I want nothing more than to fuck you now, fuck you hard. I want for you to push me to the ground and drive your cock wildly into me, fast, deep, hard. I want for you to use me, fuck me until you explode deep inside my cunt, my ass sore and burning, your cock wildly jerking as your come shoots deep. I want for you to shout, to feel my swollen hot pussy grabbing you.

I have been naughty, awfully naughty.


I want you right now.

But as so often is true, you are off somewhere, and I am free. It could easily be the reverse. Time together is a luxury, and I never discount that.. make time for these moments when we fuck and talk and find that realm in which we can be completely free.

So, our adventures take planning, and still they have lingered for years in the back of our minds. Our fantasies.. so close, closer still. The whole world is ready and waiting for us to walk on stage, to act, to create, to find the magic within us and within the moments.

Double trouble returns.. asking for time. Friends await, eager to meet, to gauge the chemistry, to enter into new chapters as we explore this wondrous territory of fantasy. It is all uncharted, waiting for us to wander into it and draw our own maps, our own guidelines, our own rules. And sometimes I wonder about those. Where are our limits now? How far can we push the intensity of our physical space, our privacy, our emotions? I trust you.. perhaps our time has come to feel more.

Outside the expectations, we create. In this time, we become alive.


“You are such a naughty girl.”

“Ah yes, well, what do you to naughty girls?” I laughed, and you swatted my butt as I ran up the stairs.

Two weeks is an awfully long time to think up all the naughty things I like to do with you. Two weeks for me to think of your head between my legs, your tongue flickering around my clitoris while I squirm. Two weeks to think about riding you, climbing up onto your hard cock while you lie beneath me, thrusting with my movements, but often just letting me fuck you hard while you lie helpless, your ass plugged already with that beaded toy that hits you so well. Two weeks to think of your cock ramming into my ass while I scream in utter ecstasy.

It’s enough to give a woman reason to masturbate. And masturbate I did. Oh yes.

But in all honesty, life does get in the way of all this pleasure sometimes, does it not? Sometimes we end up too damned tired at the end of the day to manage more than an email–if we are lucky–and a few fingers teasing our genitals in something perhaps more pacifying than exciting as we drift off to that much needed sleep… Well, otherwise we would have met up at some point. Otherwise we would have fucked and enjoyed that place where we come together, thrilled and absolutely alive.

And still.. exhausted still, otherwise occupied, meeting new people, whatever I am doing, I still think of your when you are not here.

“Yes, you have been naughty, haven’t you? This…”
“is what I do…”
“to naughty girls.” And you pushed up my skirt and let your hand loose to explore the black silk, your fingers tracing the edges, quickly discovering as your fingers plunge beneath the fabric how wet I was.

“I want your clothes off.”

And you were already unzipped–I unzipped you within seconds after you came in the door downstairs, when I was kissing you and touching you wanting you to fuck me fuck me after all this time and you were late, sir, late, and time was wasting, and you will indeed fuck me fuck me in every way. And somehow I believe you may have been undressed–maybe not–as you leaned over me, let me feel your cock rubbing me as you pinched my nipples and held me trapped between your legs on the bed. You knew I wanted you as you took my sweater off, unhooked my bra, and grabbed my hands so that I could not move, bent me over, and pushed your cock hard into me. Yes you fucked me though I was not undressed, though my panties were still on, though you still had your legs firmly planted around mine so I really could do little but to take your cock in as you pushed into me, hard, pushed into me though my ass was plugged. And yes that makes you hot. Yes. You fuck me roughly, the way I like it, dream of it. You fuck me and tell me that you have been wanting to screw me, want my friends to watch you fuck me like this, want them to see just how loud I am when I am excited.

“Louder,” you still say, as I feel your ever-hard cock thrust deeper, as you tell me how much you have wanted to fuck me, as you tell me how wet it makes me when I finally yell out from your fingers grasping my nipple hard harder far beyond what I would normally be able to tolerate, what I could stand if you did not already have me nearly in a trance of delight and pleasure.

You crawl onto the bed, now naked, now unzipping my skirt and sliding my panties off completely, rolling around so that we are both lying on our backs and joined still, looking at one another and thrusting gently, less gently until the plug pops out, and you tell me you feel it out as you thrust a little harder, losing all control and coming at last.. relaxing then as I rub your milky come into my belly and thighs.

I love your come, love the way it smells as you erupt, its creamy luxury now all that is left–at least for this moment–this moment that you lie there in some blissful zone, as you kiss me and then just collapse.

I love the quiet moments, lying near you and not speaking. I love it when you smile at me, and then push my head onto your chest as you draw circles on my skin, love to feel your smooth tight freckled skin, your shoulders, your back as you ask me to rub you and I grab the oil. You roll back over, grab my hand to show me that you are hard again.. and I touch you, gently.

You have a remarkable ability to excite me, satiate me, and still leave me wanting more.

We lie together, and my hands explore you, push between your legs, beneath your balls and around your ass. My fingers push into you, gently, as you hand me the lube so I might push deeper.. deeper still until you have had enough for now.. And we masturbate, glimpsing into that hidden space, the self that finds pleasure still when we are apart.. You grab my hand and wrap it around your shaft while you tease yourself, fuck yourself.. and your face tenses as your legs tense as your whole body tenses as you climax, shooting come again into my hands, and you smile.. and watch my hand slip now between my own legs as I drive myself closer after you do–your smile, your fingers teasing me when I beg you to push them into my pussy while I thrust against a vibrator. “Yes, right there!” And still, I am too excited now, too spent perhaps–is it possible?–from letting you push me into orgasm after orgasm when you fucked me earlier. I curse in frustration, finally stop, turn off the vibrator, then grab it again as I feel a wave of excitement take over. I come. And still I want more.

Yes, you fantasize about other men fucking me, about letting others watch us, about fucking other people with me, about so much more. You push me farther, a little beyond pleasure into pain.. and back. A little beyond the creative realm of intimacy into some expansive place.. a different sort of intimacy where the sharing becomes complete, filthy and fun, and still full of grace and joy.

Yes, naughty. But nice.