both sides now

Yes, the clouds are lovely, and I might be seeing all sorts of things in them if your tongue on my nipple were not distracting me.

And actually, this might be quite a nice idea, lying here on the balcony with you, undressing one another here in the sunshine, on the roof, outside.

But we might easily be spotted now, and it is all too obvious your intentions, even to the nuns going to their appointments, even to the college kids across the street. So we can roll on our backs and look at clouds and look at the railing that really should be replaced, anyway, and next time with something opaque and higher.

All clouds are phallic at this point, at the point that you are lying on top of me so that I can feel just how how crowded your pants have become, how wet mine are now. You are biting me, and pinching my nipples while I breathe slowly, grind into you unintentionally, let little gasps go and hope they are not as loud as they might have been. Louder. Yes, you like it that way, I believe. I know you, know how hard your cock gets when you hear me get excited. And I get more excited as your cock pushes against me, hard, oh fuck me now.

But here? Here? I should always wear a skirt, though is it not obvious that you are about to fuck me? Would it not be obvious that you were fucking me to anyone who looked up to see you on top of me, restraining yourself perhaps, but rocking into me, my legs spread and my skirt hiked up? It would be obvious, you know this, and still you persist, me in shorts now, shorts that are getting soaked now as you run your fingers down my leg softly. Mmm. Hell yes.

The sun has shifted, now in my eyes, and sweat is beading up on your face. You back off me and swat me as I roll around to crawl into the bedroom. The floor would do, really, really, right here, on my knees like a good doggie, but before I have any say in the matter, you have pulled me up and pushed my face into the bed, holding my hands so that I cannot move, unbuttoning my shorts with your other hand, and unzipping.. I don’t make it hard for you, don’t stop you as you run your finger along the edges of my panties. I cry out loudly now, and feel the sting of your hand on my ass, feel the fabric as you pull it tight between my legs and expose my buttocks, now bare, now simultaneously dreading and aching for another slap.

You slap my cheek red, then show me how it looks, the one side red, the other still white. It hurts, yes, it hurts, and it feels fabulous, my lust for you growing as you slap me. Oh, the other side, now, please. I want to feel raw, extreme, exposed again, free again.. and you slap my white cheek, leave your hand print there for a moment before you slap me again and again, my tears running down my face, so amazing this desire, so hot this wish to have you.

“Hmm,” you say, as you pull my panties out from between my legs and lower them.

Hmm indeed, you pervert.

You do not touch me. I want you to touch me. You do not touch me, and you hold me still as I squirm trying every way in the world to get your finger closer to my hot pussy.

You push the panties down my legs and tell me to take off my blouse. You unfasten my bra, and take my hand, lie me down on my back while you sit fully clothed beside me. I am naked, wanting, and you hold my hands so that I cannot unbutton your shirt, your shorts, so that I cannot touch that inviting bulge that seems throbbing even beneath those layers. How do you resist?

You look me up and down, and suddenly let go of my hands and push my legs apart. I feel your head as you bury your face between my legs, as your tongue darts around, licking everywhere except where I want it the most. Stars dance in my head as I begin to feel faint, the sun the clouds. I want in the worst way for you to fuck me, and you deny me. You deny me now, and I plead. Please please. I say please, and this seems to please you, seems to please you as you step back and take your clothes off in front of me. Yes, your cock is throbbing, hard. yes, you are rolling me over and rolling a condom onto your cock, lubing it with a certain determination.

My ass is still sore as you push it open, now pushing your cock in between my red buttocks. You pull my hips up and push into me hard as I breathe hard, cry out in surprise. You stay, and I feel your cock big and hard and hot–or am I hot, sore, aching? now with your cock fully inside my ass, exactly where I want it, waiting for you to pull out and ram into me, perhaps.

But you stay, instead, grind slowly in deeper, out a little… I feel that groove, that spot, that point of no return as you start to grind into me a little harder, a little faster, a little –oh God– more a little yes. Yes, I feel your cock that way it becomes so engorged, your breathing hard and concentrated, your pulling back to the entrance, teasing me, teasing yourself, then ramming me now, yes ramming me hard, hard as I want it, as I want you, as I want you to send me over, then fuck my cunt. Yes, yes, you do, you have me now, riding you wanting you, and you flip me over again and push my legs up onto your shoulder while you pull the condom off and fuck my cunt hard. You tell me how wet I am, how hot, how hard I am making you. Oh yes, harder, yes, like that.

Orgasms can be so hard to count when they fade into one another, when the waves of pleasure do not stop, when everything else in the world goes away.

But you have not come, somehow, and pull out, then lie on your back, your legs spread. I do know what you want. Ah yes, yes. That. Your gift. You see, I never forgot it.

I am on fire as I strap it on to myself. There is a little battery vibrator that should work quite nicely, but I hardly need that now. The mere thought of pushing into you, your erection right beneath me as you lie on your back and let me fuck you like a man, fuck your ass that way.

I lube you.. finger you. You seem to be ready for this–have you thought about it? Practiced? I think perhaps you have as I push the first segment of that smooth black cock into you.

“Wait…” and I stay there, rocking gently, until you tell me okay.


I push in a little deeper, see your grimace and pull back a bit, loosen the harness and slide it off. Your ass is partially plugged, and small beads of come gather at the tip of your beautiful cock. I lick them off you, and you moan, loudly.

“Louder,” I say.

You moan loudly now, as my mouth circles your cock and bobs down the length of it. I wiggle the dildo in your ass, and feel your muscles tense as you let out another moan. I push the dildo in just a little deeper, a little more lube around your ass, and you push back. Another segment.

I feel your shallow breathing now, trying to calm you, but cannot, cannot help but take your cock into my hot mouth to make you come. Yes, I know you need it now, need to come, cannot help but come as I suck on you gently, as your ass tenses at the size of the cock inside you. You push into my mouth, make me stop sucking as your come shoots into my mouth, still onto my face as you shudder and hold my head back at the intensity of it. Your body relaxes as I ease the dildo gently from your ass.

How long could we lie there? how long, until we might form words and movements again?

Long enough, I am sure. Long enough.


You bastard.

Well, I know we really are supposed to be civilized about these matters, part as friends, etc. And we did. Oh yes, last April–was it April? it was such a blur with you then, for so long then that so little made sense–I thought we did, at least when I realized that you had broken up with me. But these things were rather vague, were they not? Your exaggerated insistence that I should fly, fly, little dragonfly? Such drama I knew well enough. And then we parted for good, not perhaps as friends, but as mutual admirers, realizing that we were just hurting one another by continuing the relationship in any way. Right?


You hurt my friend now.. hurt her by your silences, your lack of initiative, your lack of attention. You hurt her by your insistence of some fantasy world.. your desire for a casting director more than for a lover and a community. You hurt her by your sense of entitlement. Oh yes, yes, you deny that, but really. Really. Your needs were always paramount. And I do not think you even understand why she is so angry with you over all this. Or why I am. Well, there is the “been there, done that” aspect to it all. I see it all unraveling again as you set out with one yet younger… the pattern is so predictable–oh but perhaps irresistible. But damn it! you hurt someone I care about.


This, my friends, is the price of loving a genius. I would like to say that this little excursion to the height–nay, the depths–of human experience that I endured earlier this year were an experience I did not already know.

I do get myself into these things every quarter century or so.. and I can only hope that another twenty-five years down the road, I will be happily fucked and enjoyably distracted enough that the siren song will be rendered completely inaudible.

It all starts innocently enough, though. A glance, and then that blindsiding glimmer into the sublime when encountering the work… Well, that’s how it was with me. So taken with it all, I was. And then, it followed that I believed that anyone who could create such beauty must be beautiful himself. Right?

No. I don’t suppose I ever held such illusions. I knew that these men were creators of their own realities, knew all those things right from the start. We all create our own realities, after all. But the bewitching quality of life with a genius is not to be understated. I staggered through my ordinary world, in tears over the beauty of Aida, in awe of the sorcery of language, astounded once more by things I had completely forgotten in the grind of an ordinary life with extraordinary complications. The extraordinary was right there, right there for the taking, for the making, and the world by golly could rearrange itself around all of this. Right? Right?

Well, actually, that part is right. I do rearrange my life around the things that matter most to me. Love, beauty, wonder. But more than that, I arrange everything because of the people I love most in this world. I am lucky to have a life that is rich and wonderful. And so do all the women who loved him.

And actually, that is the true gift of the women who have loved my two genius lovers, which is why it is so hard–the generosity of spirit, the passion, the love they all wanted to share… With the exception of the two scary scorned lovers, the ex-wives and girlfriends have been remarkable women in themselves, some of whom have become my friends. It is this that brings me to this page now.

Would I relive that year differently? Oh, no. It would mean the reordering of a world that has given me so much, so much wonder and fun in the last several months–and then, I would not give up the things I did then, the people I met because of it all, or during it all. Much ado about… well, something. About this: to know true beauty is so rare, and not without its thorns. Is it possible to be great and to remain grounded? I do not know, have heard of genius and good nature co-existing in the same heart. But surely there are always sacrifices.

But sometimes, sometimes.. oh! a genius of such acclaim can be a real jerk: thoughtless, awful, and perhaps not even understanding why. He will survive–reacting to life, not seeking to act–creating his world still–are we so entrenched in the bourgeois existence to walk away? we ask we ask–in his strange, unhappy ways. In his self-serving ways. And others will continue to look to that amazing mind and be enchanted for brief moments as we were.

And so we survive, too, in our smart-enough, spunky, happier lives. Better now to love life, to live it fully with people who can love and live fully, too–with people who can care and who can accept love fully. Creating this, creating this love, this life is a genius in itself, if genius matters. And my girlfriend, you will be happy again soon. But you know this.

elust #16

Photo courtesy of Janie

Welcome to e[lust] – Your source for sexual intelligence and inspirations of lust from the smartest & sexiest bloggers! Whether you’re looking for hot steamy smut, thought-provoking opinions or expert information, you’re going to find it here. Want to be included in e[lust] #17? Start with the rules, check out the schedule in the site’s sidebar and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~

Sex Pistil’s Guide to Sucking Great Cock The penis is not something to be feared. It’s not something to hide from, and it’s definitely not something to be put up with the good china and used for special occasions only. The penis is alive and breathing, so to speak, and as such, is not a one-size-fits-all, if-one-guy-likes-it, all-guys-like-it kind of entity.

An Erotic Vignette“You will come, and when you do, you will yell my name. Because I own you.” “No,” she whispered again, terrified. The last part of herself… total control over her pleasure, the responses of her body… surely he couldn’t… but his eyes said he could.

Dual Erotica: TahoeWe finally reach our floor and excitement wars with nervousness in my head. After all, it’s been a long, long time for me. I don’t have the body I once had; I’m not nearly as experienced as you are. But there is no turning back, not that I want to

~ e[lust] Editress ~

Does Size Matter? I am most definitely a size queen when it comes to my sex toys…but there’s a reason for that. Using a dildo is very VERY different from how I get fucked by a guy.

~ Featured Post (Lilly’s Pick) ~

I Want It AllGender (identity) is different to (biological) sex. Biologically there are males and females, and those who identify as neither (intersex). But it’s sure as hell not that simple, no matter what society says.

See also: Pleasurists #80 and #81 for all your sex toy review needs.

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Along OUR Beating Path
Bringing Sexy Back
Fear (No Loathing) in Las Vegas
Getting Started in Swinging – Clubs
I’m a woman, and I like porn.
M says I’m a good girl!
Nerves & Dysfunction – Erectile Issues in the Lifestyle
Revelations (Of the Feminist and Slut Kind)
Sex Addiction
Submission is not an excuse to be Spineless!
Semi-Rape – Couldn’t Say No
Toys Vs. Cocks
Transtastic: On Why My Relationships are Queer
Words, Words, Words

Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Sex Ed
The Uncensored Realm of Internet Erotica

Kink & Fetish

67 orgasms will do this to a woman
Bless Me Father… For I Keep Sinning
Can I?
Life List: TortureGarden Party…check
Three is a Magic Number – Part 1

Erotic Writing

#8 – Sharing is Caring
A Gracious Acceptance
Erotica: Like This
Gagging her…
I Opened My Eyes
Love, Sex And The Snooze-Button
Not Now
Phone Threesome
sex is sex no matter the sex
sexy photoshoot – part II
The Customer
Tall Summer Grass
The cave of unimaginable sincerity and beauty
Very Far from Heaven
With heels on

the only thing different

Once upon a time, you handed me a box. In the box was another box, and in that box was a toy, the key to a fantasy, the equipment with which to achieve it.

A strap-on.

I was intrigued, fascinated, turned on. But I left it in the box all this time, too engrossed in the here and now to bother with future planning.

Well, honey, the future is now.

A few days ago, I pulled the box out from my dresser, cringed a little: a hot leggy lady was giving me a menacing stare while wearing the latest fashion. Strap-ons, threesomes… are these things just trends? the shock of the moment? Or are we finally becoming more open to our sexuality, to pleasure? Do many men secretly want to be pegged? I wondered all this as I opened the box, looking for instructions. There were none, so I consulted Wikipedia’s extensive strap-on article. Not so complicated, after all. And in the end, I have a cock.

I have a cock.

In the strangest way, a somewhat disturbing way, my cock makes me feel powerful, in charge, immediately aware of my new ability to open your hole and fuck you. Wet.

This cannot last for long with you not here. The dildo is too inviting, and I am too excited.

And indeed, it did not last for too long. Sad to say that I lacked the willpower to wait any longer. Alas this dildo did not lose its virginity on you–though the strap-on-with-harness ensemble remains pure, prêt-à-porter.

But still, sorry to start without you. It was too tempting, imagining you excitedly waiting for me to enter you, imagining your sighing as I slowly push in, imagining your moaning as I thrust into you the way you have thrust into me so many times, your groaning when I hit the spot that will soon bring you to climax, your pleas, your….

Oh, it was too tempting, lying here thinking of fucking you, you fucking me, lying here with that beautiful–if artificial–cock, my desperately seeking pussy, the early morning light and the hot summer breeze blowing into my bedroom.

But a little experience never did a cock any harm now, did it?

sin and contemplation

I sat on the wide windowsill combing my hair, there I was a mere shadow in the low light slowly burning through the humid morning. You said years later that you remembered this image of me when you awoke, watching the beads of water fall onto the floor as I shook my head still wet after the shower after the run. I had been up for some time and returned in the early morning carrying two coffees, carrying a newspaper, carrying the key to the cheap rented room we found late the night before. You slept that morning–unusual for you–and I had let you sleep when you rolled over as I ran my hand across your belly, across your stiff cock. You smiled as you rolled over, and I left you to pleasant dreams, left me to wander the streets ostensibly seeking fitness, in truth seeking to grasp any sin still lingering there from the night before.

It was New Orleans.. must have been so long ago, so long before the recent sins of nature, sins of greed–so long ago that sin and New Orleans meant something else, some dark and forbidden thirst, like me traveling there with you–you so wrong and so delicious.

We sneaked away and followed the Mississippi, the fabled river leading us to temptation, all the way down: taking us to salvation or damnation, whichever seemed the appropriate definition when we got there.

Salvation: take me higher, I said, as you pushed your tongue into me. You were young then, inexperienced, and I was young, too, but not too inexperienced, so I showed you how I liked your tongue to tease me, to release me. Tease me release me. tease and release. Oh God, I said, and I came, saved by your tongue, your fast study tongue, your everlasting gobstopping tongue not stopping not releasing me not yet, intoxicated by this new power you had found over me.

Damnation: down low and dirty, those grinding tunes playing on a radio upstairs while you pumped your cock into my ass–you didn’t think I would do it, and I did it, and you pushed your way into that hot little hole, dirty little hole. You pushed a finger, two, in, lubed your cock before sliding it in, too. It was your first–not habit to me then–and you fucked me cursing under your breath at the sheer thought of it, at the sheer thought of fucking my ass. Damn, you said as looked down at your cock disappearing between my buttocks, damn, you came more quickly than you wanted, damn, none too soon for me shaking violently already in the pleasure of all that you could do to me then, there, too.

These were our novice attempts, our discoveries in rooms with peeling wallpaper, thin walls, window air conditioners blasting air that seemed to be made cold by freezer-burned ice cubes stored deep within, not great, not anything but loud. They may be gone now, surely are, surely should be, rebuilt as something better, refined, new. They may be gone, but I think of the white chenille bedspread, the scatter rug, the aqua tile in the bathroom, the sink with your toothbrush sitting on the side next to mine, a few coins on the table, the car keys waiting to unlock yet another adventure.

I think of you, there, standing in the window, the shadow of you waiting in the darkened room as sun falls, as light falls, as I fall into your arms.


I am no runner I say. I say this as I return from a run, a run that comes unnaturally–a gazelle I am not–as my perspiration drips down my forehead, as it drips down my chest. My hair, thick hair, matted on my head not beautiful only heavy and holding in the sweat, the bitter scent like long-awaited rain on a summer street, bitter and steaming. My face is red. I am not beautiful.

I am beautiful, you say, as you push me down all steaming and sweaty, as you push me down before my shower, my body yielding to you easily now, breathing through my skin, alive, and electric, and you find every pore, it seems, every single entrance into my body, until I melt and metamorphose–strong and alive and excited.

My thighs ache in the start, and the aching subsides, changes when I run, when I fuck you. The ache becomes that sustaining force, that impetus toward higher heights. Push me. Please push me. Push me beyond the point that pain radiates into pleasure beyond pleasure. Take me higher, love me, forget my earthly existence, my petty limitations, myself. Bring me more into myself, this journey nearly spiritual in its demands and exaltations. Fuck me, and unleash the brutal beauty that trespasses beyond the body, the mind, beyond me, beyond you.


You always leave your clothes in the bathroom when you visit me.

You wander naked into my bedroom where I wait for you, fully clothed, because I love the way you undress me slowly, unbuttoning button by button, unhooking hook by hook, lifting fabric and shifting things and leaving things on, then ripping them off in a moment of urgent passion as you realize that they really are in the way of your intentions.

The first time I wore stockings with a garter belt, you ran your hand up my leg and I felt your cock stiffen as you reached the bump of the garter through my skirt then lifted the skirt and looked at it, the black stocking against my white leg, and your hand examining the hooks that held the stocking on. That day I left it on, pantiless I was all day at work anticipating you here in my bed here leaned against the wall half sitting, full of evident lust. I left on the garter belt and the stockings and straddled you as you ran your hands up and down the smooth nylon and fucked me harder as you felt the black lace at the top, folded down my red brassiere and sucked my nipples as I leaned over for you to reach them.

But no, last time you took those things off, your hand playing with the suspenders playing to figure out how they worked. You unfastened them, round the side, in back, and rolled the stockings down my leg as I pulled the garter belt off and unhooked my bra. You pulled the bra off and cupped my breasts in your hand and squeezed my nipples hard so that I gasped as you urged me quickly onto your upright cock.

I want you to come into my bedroom now. I want you to lay me down and unbutton my sweater slowly until you open the sweater and kiss my collarbone gently, gently not gently unzipping my skirt and pulling it off, pushing my legs apart–the panties are already gone–and your head is between my legs, your tongue circling my clit before I can even breathe, much less protest.

But I would not protest. I might whimper and thrash a bit, but protest no, even if I say no, because you know the difference between this no and that no, and you know when to stop, when to go, when to fuck me soft and when to fuck me hard, no holds barred, no bars and no restrictions on the roughness that takes you over as you become excited, as I become excited and want you to, want you to slap me harder until I cry out, harder until I want you to push me harder until you turn me back over and push your cock deep into me, harder. It astounds me how you can do this now and only excite me more. It astounds me how you can let my fingernails dig into your skin, pinch your nipples too hard, let me suck your cock and push my fingers into you, my toys into you as you cry out and fuck me again all plugged from behind and insistent and shaking and coming soon inside of me, shattering me, making my cunt bear down hard gripping you, squeezing every last drop as I climax too.

Oh disrobe me fuck me use me lie inside my cunt your cock drained soft softer kiss.