ripe morning

My clit is like a ripe grape this morning, juicy fruit, pop, not a cherry, but the stuff of swollen dreams, slumbered screams scattered through the bedsheets.

I lie in bed, warm, spread my legs my pussy drenched I don’t remember. It must have been about you.

A pinch to my nipple sends shock waves through my belly, straight to my cunt, my core being. The first. Kindling. I want to be your come-slut.

In scene two, you have grabbed my feet and pulled me to the end of the bed, where you kneel and devour my pussy, fingers roughly responding to my greedy lust. Fuck my ass. Yes, just like that. exactly like that. precisely. like. that.

I knew you’d hold me down, make me open, keep me there, raw, ready, make me swell, squirm, surrender.

“You want to be used, my little naughty?”

Oh I do, a steady succession of cock, assorted shape, assorted size, assorted whimpers, moans, muffled cries, at last, it is loud, I know, and you are holding my hand here on earth..

Use me last, love, you, lust lucky me as you watch what you have created.

I wish you were here. You are here.

speed limit

It was posted there, on the  left side of my brain, the speed limit.

I have been playing life way too safe.

My first car was a 72 Chevelle, three on the tree manual. The guy who sold it to me took me to a parking lot and took a few turns around the parking lot to show me how to let up the clutch, smoothly, so I didn’t kill the engine. Then he left me there. “Drive it back,” he said. “If you like it, we’ll talk money.”

I liked it.

Girls don’t drive muscle cars. I got that concept quickly enough when I brought it home. But I loved the thrill of speed, the exhilarating rumble of a revved-up engine, ready for green. Go. Go, I got my tickets, not many, didn’t get caught so often or talked my way out of most things, no excuses, just temporary insanity of sorts, drunk, not on late night beer, but on the temptation of a clear road, clear night, a car poised next to me at the light, his accelerator pushed to the floor, my feet dancing that balance between the clutch, green, down first up, down second up, down, third up quickly, and yes, yes, I raced him, raced far past the 30 mph, not to the 80 spray-painted over it, but fast, so fast, until he passed me, or I passed him, sometimes, or one of us killed the engine losing it all in those careless early shifts. But more often we raced close, not sure winning was so much the point as being there, and free, and laughing as we soared out alone past the flat fields .

i have been playing life way too safe.

I forgot the thrill of the limits, living at the limits, or better, somewhere beyond them.  Not on automatic. Letting off the clutch. Shifting into high.

 

feu sans artifice

I walked back into the half-lit bedroom, the morning already swelling, fine linens wrinkled and damp from a night of quiet sweat. Yesterday I covered the windows with dark draperies, shield me from the heat, the invading sun.

It came, anyway, sweet irresistible summer, long longed for, in the ice barren hard ground, seems anything would be better than that bitter void, lone white world. It was, the ferns all green growing, thick, the Queen Anne’s lace, hard to tell the flowers from the weeds in this sort of place, hard to know until you see a real flower, a rose, a daisy.

Your skin still smolders, body inert so strange now so familiar in my bed, arms so powerful wilted now, fireworks forth, dreams took you, at last, I see.

The air is fresh outside, I know, breeze from the bathroom window cool in the early day, lawnmowers next door rousing me from my own slumber. But no, I barely slept.

It was not the heat, the hum, the long line of light streaming onto the floor from the edge of the window that awakened me, love. I waited for you, waited years, love, wait weeks now, habit of lust, your smile renewing my faith, for now.

You lie so still, no revelations, discreet charm disarmed me. Your arms, too strong not to let you, not to let you trace your lips down my face, my neck, my toes reaching to tease you, despite this, despite the suffocating heat, desire. Don’t. The thrill, the exhaustion of exertion, wanting. No, no, so much, too much, overwhelm me with green, groan. Oh I want this quiet so much, in the morning, you now, defenses gone, stripped bare, this kiss, tender, gentle, seeking, true.

spread

“Spread them open, baby. ”

So I spread my legs a little wider, leaned back and sucked on my pearls.

“Like this?”

It is one of those evenings, when the day has been long, when the grass is hot and long, needs cutting, when I know you have poured me a glass of wine as my car pulls up, see you tucking in your shirt, standing straighter, trying to tame yourself quickly, trying not to let your prick betray you before I even get in the door.

You kiss me, that sort of kiss, you know, when you are pressing in to me, but trying not to ask for too much, trying to pull me away from the day and into the grass, but gently, a sip, a gentle hand through my hair first. Yes, yes, you love me, want to fuck me more right now.

You made dinner, I know, caught the herbs and wine as I walked up the path toward you, anticipating. My god, how lucky, how rare to be lusted after, fed well. How rare to be loved.

I wore the stockings, love, the garters, damned impractical, make me think fuck all day, make me think forever of you, of why, think all the way back here, think of your hum, your dazed anticipation when you kiss me, your hand hitting the fastener, your cock pressing into me, so hard, so big, I see it when I close my eyes, take another drink. You tip the glass toward my lips, and I look up at you, that glance you like, don’t mean to, look sideways at you then, turning, and slip off my shoes, slide back onto the couch, not like a lady, but like yours.

“Yes, just like that,” you say, stroking your cock now, biting your lip.

I have worn the silk blouse, the navy fitted blouse and the circle-patterned skirt. It was a public day, you know, my lingerie for you, though, slut I am, want, slick slit now betraying me, scent heady as the wine as you bow before me, lap at my pussy, swollen, it’s all swollen, ripe, wanting.

The clothes are irrelevant now, take them, rip them if your want, spread me, skin please me, please now.

new

Friends,

I have been a naughty blogger in recent months, my attention swayed from the here and now to the there and should be. I am back.

Resolutions (quite obvious, I am sure):

Love more. Seek adventure (more). Kick through the snow and dried leaves, and see what lies beneath.

Unbutton a coat. Just one button. Then another. Mmm. Come right in. I have missed you.

Happy New Year.

e[lust] 40


Photo courtesy of @iSlut_ of A Slut’s Memoir

Welcome to e[lust] – The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at e[lust]. Want to be included in e[lust] #41? Start with the newly updated rules, come back October 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates! I’d like to also direct your attention to a new Editor’s Letter that’s up.

~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~

The Bitch is BackThe temperature at the table drops several degrees. “Like that?,” I say. ”Is that what you want?”

On Women Who Like SexI like sex as much as any man I know. I am not a weirdo, I am not a slut, and I am not in any excessive danger.

Secret SecretaryThere she was in the reception room on my couch, lying on her back, legs spread, skirt hiked up over her torso, her hands frantically feeling between her legs.

~ e[lust] Editress ~

Street Harassment: It’s everywhere, all the time

~ Featured Post (Lilly’s Pick) ~

Thoughts: Regarding Limits In BDSM

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

Begin rant
Communication Breakdown
Family Planning
Great Expectation
My Fantasy
Rituals, Symbolism, Kink, and of course ME

Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor

How You Know You Are On The Rag
Intersecting

Kink & Fetish

Anal Slut
Belted
Flogger Use and Safety from a Beginner
Janet’s Magical Toybag
Protest Much?
Property of Seven
Playing With Fire
Please
Tonight I am going to fuck your (slave) ass
The Long-Anticipated Gangbang Post
Welcome To The Club

Erotic Writing

Almost Broken
Alive
A Bad Habit
A Sinner Sits for Sacred Sunday Service
BBQ & Beer
Birthday Sex
Cap D’Agde -spit roast with a stranger
Dirty Talk
Lolita Twenty-Twelve, Part Five
Matched
Oral at a Sex Party
once in a while
Revelation
Random memories: First love
Saturday Morning Pussy
Stress Reliever – Lubed Fingers
The shopping assistant
The Sting of the Crop
You