Time for some holiday shopping!
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Sunday, December 16, 2007
... yes, that was a dramatic title to get your attention, and no, Sugarbutch is not coming down.But: we are moving.
I'm still working out the kinks, especially in regard to the internal links. If you run into links that don't work, leave a comment & let me know?
See you there!
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants.
This Week’s Picks
From virgin cocksucker to blowjob queen” I love to play and tease with my hand and tongue, lightly licking, sometimes using my panties or another soft fabric to run across the shaft.”
Interlopers“Oh yes, I’ve seen it all before, I know what you’re here for.”
Old Friends“His cultured voice warm, approving, promising; it makes me wet every time, an uncontrollable Pavlovian response.”
Mr. Sugasm Himself The Count
Editor’s Choice Hot and Cold
More Sugasm Join the Sugasm See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
I was on the site when it happened, but somehow missed it! I saw 99,983 and then 100,013. Darn.
I've been getting a particularly large amount of traffic through YouPorn.com's Sexblogs aggregator and have to say thanks and hi to those folks - welcome, hope you're finding something interesting here. The YouPorn Sexblog feed is a fun thing to poke through, too, if you're into reading sexy stories and how-tos and product reviews and all sorts of sexy goodness happening online. Clearly not so safe for work, though.
Also a reminder, you can subscribe to Sugarbutch via any RSS reader, and I would love it if you do. You can also subscribe to the Sugarbutch comments feed, and, I gotta tell ya, as someone (probably the only someone) who follows the comments here, there are some good discussions happening, it might be fun to read.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
She Told Me “She told me she had a headache.”
Fantasy: If you can’t stand the heat… “You set the ice cube down and force my legs apart.”
Sugarbutch Star: Bad Bad Girl “I brought my lips down on hers hard, crushing, devouring, insistent.”
Mr. Sugasm Himself Upskirt Video from V Magazine
Editor’s Choice Blog Action Day: Sexual Activism or Lightning Doesn’t Strike Twice
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
This honorable mention submission comes from Bad Bad Girl … thank you.
Featured in Sugasm #102 in the top three!
The Straight Girl at the Dyke Bar
I was out back, in the alley behind the dive dyke bar, when she found me. Busted through the door with a fruity indulgent mixed drink in her hand and I feared for her balance.
"There you are," she said. "I thought I saw you come this way."
I was puzzled. "Are you okay?"
Her eyes flashed and she let the back door close on its hinge with a bang. "Yes," she said. "Clearly."
I took one last drag of my American Spirit and flicked the butt into the dumpster. "What are you doing?"
"Isn't it obvious?" she slurred, just a little. "I'm trying to seduce you." She was right next to me, my height, but she kept her eyes low and looked up at me with submission. My internal butch cock stirred.
"You're drunk," I said.
"Yeah." She stepped closer and bit her lips, looking at mine.
"Are you here with friends? Maybe they should take you home."
"I don't think so. I'm not ready to go home."
"You're drunk," I said again.
"Not so drunk that I don't know what I want," she snapped. "Only drunk enough that I can go after it."
She inched closer to me. My mouth watered. I wanted my hands on the curves of her waist, her hips, her ribcage. I struggled to keep control. "What are you doing ... here?" I almost said in a gay bar.
She sneered. "I know, I'm the only straight girl. I usually am. Well. Whatever." Her tone changed. "I know how this sex thing works," she purred, palm of her hand against my crotch where my cock was hard, straining against my zipper. The pressure of her fingers felt exquisite.
I knocked her hand away. "Hey."
She withdrew and then slowly moved her fingers up my arm, felt the muscles, tendons. Circled her fingers around my wrist. "Come on," she whispered. "I saw you watching me."
Her neck was dangerously close to my mouth and I could smell her, sweet and thick. I wanted a mouthful of her perfume. Teeth on her skin. My hands moved - practically involuntarily - to the curves she laid out for me, the precise placement of her body next to mine inviting my touches.
She tilted her face toward mine. Half-closed her eyes. I didn't even know her name. My friends were still inside, probably waiting for me. It was getting late. The alley was filthy. She smelled so delicious. The desire between us was pooling and tangible.
Her body was small, my hands with fingers spread covered her back. I brought them up under her hair, pulled her toward me, took hold of the back of her skull and neck. She leaned into me.
"Okay," I said, watching her face as our lips barely brushed while I spoke. "But we're going to do this my way."
I brought my lips down on hers hard, crushing, devouring, insistent. She whimpered, back curving. I held her body at the precise angle and distance that I wanted, and she went limp in my arms, gave over, arms and shoulders falling back, on her toes.
Pulling away, I grinned. Took a step back. Kept my eyes on her, touched my lower lip with my thumb and felt that stirring in my stomach, that desire, that power. Her eyes got a little frightened and she attempted to keep her tough look, but it was a mask I would unpeel.
I closed the distance between us. Traced my fingers down her left arm until I reached her hand, still holding that delicate glass of fruity alcohol, and took it from her, tossed it hard, overhand, arm flexing, at the blank space where the building met the concrete in the alley. It shattered brilliantly, a cascade of glass, the sound filling the narrow space between the buildings.
She watched my arm, the glass, the crash. We turned our eyes back to each other, hers open, mouth open, small of her back arched. Her mouth watered and she moved her jaw, I could see it. Subtle. She wanted to lunge for me. Good girl, she stayed still.
Hardening my glance, I moved toward her, thick, keeping distance between us, and she stumbled back, her low heels catching on the uneven pavement, thrusting her hands out behind her but I kept her eyes, kept two fingers on her waist and led her back, back, until she was against the dumpster. She swallowed. It was wider at the top than the bottom, slanting out; she cowered under it a little.
I lifted my chin, once. "Hold that."
She did. Lifted her arms to grip the edge of the dumpster. Made a face. "It feels gross."
"Mmm." You're getting fucked in an alley behind a dive bar. What do you expect? I thrust my hand between her legs. She wore a tight skirt - I pulled at it, shoved it up her thighs to expose her. Pulled tight against the lacy fabric of her panties and pressed two fingers inside. Smooth. She inhaled, moaned.
"So wet," I said, mouth against her cheek. She kept hold of the edge with her hands, arms raised. My body perpendicular to hers, cock against her hip. I worked my fingers inside, slick and slow and deep, thumb on her clit, on that spot below her clit, my hand gripping her pubic bone.
She moaned, knees weakening, hips dipping down to take in more of me. I added a third finger. "You know how to get fucked, don't you."
Mouth gaping, she breathed heavily, turning her head and biting her lower lip. I could feel my fingers working a good spot inside her and she was increasingly sensitive, reactive to my pressing and curling, thumb flicking a little lighter and faster on her clit. Her thighs shook and she lifted one leg off the ground, bent her knee, pressed her legs apart and against me, body shaking, pressed against me, until she gasped hard and I felt the ring of muscles grip my fingers, grip hard, her clit fat and sensitive and pressing against my thumb, throbbing, until she shuddered hard, bucked her hips, began to lose her balance and leaned against me, gasping, little moans coming from her throat.
She looked up at me, arms around my neck now. "I don't usually come so fast," she said, a little apologetically.
I shook my head, don't worry about it. "I'm not done with you yet." I didn't wait, but took her wrists in my hands and put them back up onto the dumpster's edge, then twisted her body so she faced away from me, pulled her skirt up over her ass, and unzipped my fly. Pulled my cock out. Sheathed it quickly with a condom from my back pocket.
With one hand I pushed aside her panties, slightly stretched now anyway; with the other I pressed her ass apart, then guided my cock into her wet hole. Stretched her lips as I pumped in and out, smooth slow long strokes, hips in circles, working the cock against my clit as much as inside her.
My release built easily in me after the way she came and it didn't take long for me to grip her hips like handles and begin pounding, shifting my feet to stabilize my movement, muscles in my thighs hard and contracted, groaning and grunting with the physical effort of it all. She pressed hard with her hands against the disgusting dumpster, arching her back and pushed against me, receiving me as I fucked harder, hard, pulling almost all the way out and then slickly entering her again, the length of my cock, pressed tight against her ass and hips in rocking little thrusts, until I found that sweet spot and my clit contracts and I see myself exploding in her, which made me come harder, muscles thick and shuddering, gasping, slowing my pace against her until I came to stillness and peeled myself off her back.
She watched me over her shoulder, all eyes and hair, desire still in her face, painted over her cheeks, then rose and straightened her skirt, smoothed her hair. I tucked my cock back into my briefs and zipped my jeans.
She smiled at me, then started giggling, then laughing hard, full-bodied from her stomach, eyes sparkling. I was amused, and puzzled. “What’s so funny?”
“So,” she giggled, wrapping her arms around my neck and tossing her hair, “you’re awfully cute. Come here often? Can I buy you a drink?”
I laughed, pulled myself out of her embrace. “Sure. Why not.” I stepped up the three low rickety back stairs and opened the back door to the bar, let her step in first. Jukebox tunes and pool cues and women’s laughter spilled out.
I saw a few of my buddies at a table in the corner, they watched me come back in with my hand on the back of the girl. They made faces and gestures and raised their eyebrows. I shushed them with a look, turned my attention back to her.
“I, uh, I didn’t get your name,” I said.
“That’s cause I didn’t say,” she answered, hips switching as she dodged through the crowd and stepped up to the bar and immediately had the bartender’s attention. She ordered, glancing at me sideways: “Jameson rocks, for Sinclair.”
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
This Week’s Picks
The Manifesto of the Cuntcentric Hedonist “I’m not being selfish, I’m being altruistic when I open my legs and offer my body up.”
No reservations, part 4 “By this time, said balls felt twice their normal size and very full.”
Sex Work And Religion: The Violent Priest “We were to seduce one of the young ladies in the church’s choir.”
Mr. Sugasm Himself JBS Underwear
Editor’s Choice The Top 10 Reasons to avoid “Pregnancy & Sex” bulletin boards
More Sugasm Join the Sugasm See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.
See the rest of the posts in Sugasm 97 ...
Sunday, September 09, 2007
This story was featured on Fleshbot's sex blog roundup. Thanks Jefferson!
"Get in," the driver said, after flipping the dial on the stereo of the small blue pickup truck, quieting Big Black's "He's a Whore."
Alice leaned her elbows on the window, made her legs into an A frame, tipped her ass to one side, and flipped her wheat-colored hair over her shoulder. She took a long look at the driver, the blond fauxhawk, messy overalls, lean defined arms in a life-partner beater, dark tribal tattoos peeking out from the collarbone. A dark, worn-in cowboy hat sat on the passenger's seat. The driver flashed a nice smile. Simple, a little mischievous.
The scent of grass and sod wafted from the back of the truck. Alice spied power tools, a lawnmower, some rakes and shovels secured to the racks in the back. She gripped the handle, opened the door, and slid onto the vinyl bench seat, taking the cowboy hat into one hand and easily sliding it over the crown of her head.
"My friends call me Jack."
“I’m Alice.” She slid her eyes sideways to watch Jack maneuver the stick shift as the pickup pulled back onto the Pacific Coast Highway.
"Where you heading?" Alice asked.
Jack watched as she adjusted her long legs and ran one ankle against the opposite calf. "Wherever." South on the PCH was good enough for now. Alice wanted to end up in the city somewhere, it didn’t matter where. Cliffs and beach rolled by their windows. This was as good of a direction as any.
The cab smelled like grass, too. Grass and dirt, but in a clean, organic earthy kind of way. "You been working in the sun all day?" Alice asked, tossing the hat onto the dash, then flipping her hair again and strategically placing her elbow over the back of the bench seat between them. Her fingers were dangerously close to the overall buckles. The skin beneath was tan, a little pinkish.
"It was nice today. Not too hot for August."
"So you're a gardener?"
Jack downshifted through a tight curve and held the clutch in a moment too long. "Landscape architect." Pressure on the engine.
"Of course. You enjoy that?"
"Yeah, I do."
Alice let her fingers drift onto the muscles of Jack's upper arm. Soft skin. "You look like you're good at it." She let herself picture Jack shoveling, digging, big bags of fertilizer slung over these broad shoulders, squinting in the sun.
Jack didn’t answer, just smiled softly, looking out at the road. The silence was comfortable. Alice lifted her small satchel bag from her shoulder. “Do you smoke?” she asked.
“Mind if I do?”
“Go right ahead.” Such a gentleman. She rolled the window down a crack, lit an unfiltered Lucky Strike from a soft pack. Only a few more left. The small cylinder felt good between her fingers, on her lips. She slipped her slender tan feet out of her white beach sandals and brought them up onto the seat, exposing her creamy caramel inner thighs. They rode in silence as Alice smoked, Big Black still soft on the stereo. Jack watched her from a sideways glance, one hand on the stick shift, palm starting to sweat. Alice’s tank top exposed her toned navel and hip bones peeking out from the top of her tiny jean shorts. She brought the cigarette to her lips deliberately.
Jack took a breath, still not looking at her. “I like the way you do that.”
“Yeah?” Alice leaned against the door, moved one leg further up onto the seat between them. “I like the way you drive.”
The corners of Jack’s mouth curled. “Thanks, darlin’.” Her toes shuffled toward the exposed side of the overalls, the thin, thin fabric of the undershirt. Jack shifted in place, thighs adjusting.
Alice watched, considering Jack’s hard body, the sweet smell of sweat and physicality. She flicked her cigarette out the truck window and rolled the window back up, pulled her knees up underneath her, leaned in close to Jack’s ear.
“Any interest in a fuck?”
“Uh,” Jack’s eyes flashed. Alice already had her hand on the bulge in the crotch of Jack’s overalls.
“I’d like to see what you’ve got under there.” Jack unsnapped the shoulder buckles. Alice pulled a thick, marble-blue colored strap-on from soft gray Calvin Klein briefs. Bigger around than her hand would fit. She milked it with her fingers. Jack's eyes never left the road.
“Looks good,” said Alice. “Big and hard already.”
“Gave me quite the boner, you on side of the road like that.”
“Oh yeah? Little ol’ me?”
“Soon as I saw those legs, I wanted them wrapped around me.” Alice bobbed her hand in Jack’s lap, dipping her face nearer to the cock. Small murmurs coming from her mouth. Jack left one hand on the wheel and didn’t slow down, hugging the curves of the road with precision. Her lips grazed the head. Licked it like an ice cream cone with her long tongue. Sucked it into her mouth while she left her hand pushing into the base of the silicone.
Jack groaned. “Damn, you’re good at that.”
Alice smiled and sucked. Swirled her tongue. Worked the head against the ridge at the back of her mouth. Applied pressure.
Jack moaned again, deep, from the gut, hips thrusting a little. Heavy foot on the gas pedal, not slowing, eyes on the road. Jack took a blind curve around a cliff, suddenly swerved into the dirt pull-off overlooking the beach, and cut the engine. Alice didn’t stop, head bobbing on the blue cock. Jack leaned back, feet on the floor, hips lifting, hands gripping the steering wheel and then the ceiling of the cab. Pressing against the truck at every angle to get the cock farther down Alice’s throat.
“Fuck.” Jack shuddered, bringing a hand to Alice’s long hair and pulling her off of the cock. She wiped saliva off her mouth with the back of her hand, eyes wide, lips swollen.
“Come with me.” Jack threw open the door to the cab and half-guided, half-dragged Alice out of the driver’s side door. The sun hit them both, insistent and thick on its fall into the ocean. Jack pulled the tailgate down and hopped into the back of the truck with one quick leap, then leaned and offered a hand to Alice. Barefoot, she climbed in.
Not much room with all the tools. The lawnmower was covered in flecks of grass and a dark petroleum lubricant for its rusty engine, and sat next to a red gas can, a strong pungent smell. Dirt under Alice’s bare feet. She made her way up to the cab of the truck and pressed her stomach to it, lifted one leg at the knee and stared out into the beach and setting sun. Waves lapping. Pretty much deserted this far out of the city. A sporty two-door car zipped past, then it was quiet again.
Jack let go of the overalls and they fell. Alice had her hands on the waist of her shorts, twisted around to face Jack. “You’re gonna fuck me with that big thing of yours, aren’t you?”
Jack’s mouth watered. “Yes.”
“Do it then.” She bent over the cab of the truck, slithered the shorts down over her ass and left them at her knees, creamy tan beach skin exposed, cunt exposed, neck twisted to watch Jack approaching.
Jack slid the cock into her in a swift gasp, stretching her taut. Alice lifted onto her tiptoes to tilt her pelvis, curve her back. Jack took hold of her hips and thrust, hard, and again, and again, thick inside her.
“Tight little pussy,” Jack murmured, one hand on her ass, spreading her cheeks. “Feels so good to open you with my big cock.”
Jack thrust harder, grunting. "Aw yeah, aw god yeah." Alice gasped with each hard thrust, impaled, in a bit of pain but also exquisite sensation, hips pressing apart, back arching deeper, mouth open and gasping. She lifted one foot up onto the three piled bags of garden dirt in the corner of the truck and spread her legs for Jack.
"You like that, don't you. Dirty girl. You've been waiting for someone like me to come along and fuck you right, haven't you. Haven't you." Jack thrust harder, slower, then sharp.
"Yes, oh god, Jack, fuck me," Alice moaned. Jack slid one arm around her waist and twisted, pulled out and shoved her onto the fertilizer, dropping her on her ass harshly and she reached down to catch herself with her hands, her legs slightly tangled in the fabric of her tiny shorts.
Alice reached up and gripped the bar of the lawnmower next to her, lifting her feet off the ground, legs together, balancing on her ass. Jack slid the shorts down her tanned, slender legs and stepped between them, squatting, pushing her knees back against her chest, their faces inches apart.
Her big blue eyes were wide open.
Jack slid the cock insider her eager cunt again and tried to keep looking at Alice, tried not to miss a minute of this, sun and surf behind Alice's head, California traffic zooming by on the PCH, Alice's face flushed, neck arched, hands gripping, pulling, steadying. The lawnmower shook as Jack thrust and thrust, harder, gaining speed, getting faster.
"Your pussy feels so good," Jack mumbled. "So tight around my cock. Squeeze me, oh god yeah just like that, feels so good, feels so fucken good."
"Oh yeah, fuck me," Alice breathed. "Come inside me, oh yeah, you can do that, can’t you, big boy? Fuck me hard until you come inside. I’ll pump that come from your cock with my tight pussy. You like that? You can feel that, can’t you, Jack?”
Jack bucked against Alice, tight and hard, shoving into her over and over until Jack came, swearing, and softened, slowed. Alice caressed the back of Jack's head, the short short hairs and longer 'hawk in the middle, until tentatively Jack met her eyes and stood.
Alice's eyes narrowed. "What?"
"We're going in." Jack nodded toward the beach and lifted the A-shirt up and off, revealing toned chest muscles, the swirls of dark tribal tattoos, California brown skin. Hopping out of the truck, Jack jogged toward the cliff's edge and found a path down, through the beach grass and lines of rocks against the road. Another car zipped past, an old sedan, then the sound faded around the corner of the PCH.
Alice followed reluctantly, watching as Jack awkwardly stripped off the CK briefs while attempting to run in the sand toward the water. Alice nearly laughed. She let her body pick up speed while gravity pulled her down the path of the cliff’s edge and broke into a run when she hit the sand. Her shorts were still in the back of the pickup somewhere, legs bare, feet bare, only her cut off tank top remained, and she pulled it over her head, dropped it near an obvious large boulder.
Jack splashed into the water, tossed the words over his shoulder: "Come on!"
Alice hovered near the edge of the surf, ankle deep in lolling waves and wet sand, kicking at the water. She watched Jack immerse and surface, strapped blue cock and leather harness wet and becoming looser around Jack’s hips, hands running through the wet ‘hawk falling in both eyes, and Alice dove into the surf, slid through the water, cool and soothing against the heat of the day. She surfaced and couldn’t see Jack, then let her body float, weightless, on the rolling waves, until something abruptly pulled her under.
She opened her mouth with a startled "oh!" and then it was full of salt water. Her arms and legs flailed as she struggled back to the surface, gasping at the air.
Jack was smiling, stifling laughter, next to her.
"Oh, you think that’s funny, do you?"
Jack’s laughter stopped suddenly and changed to a falsely serious playful face. Alice closed the distance between them quickly and, smirking, grabbed for the strapon, pulled hard, forced Jack under the water, both of them struggling, Jack grabbing onto Alice for support as they were both pulled deeper under the water.
They detangled, emerged, gasping and laughing. Jack lunged for Alice in a taildive, took hold of her waist, lifted her legs. She leaned back into the water as Jack found her clit, slid fingers inside, held her hips up.
"Ohh, that’s good," she crooned. "Oh god. Damn. That’s perfect … oh fuck, your fingers inside me feels so good. I can’t – I want –" she had no leverage. She could feel the sandy ocean floor with her toes, but wanted her ankles up on Jack’s broad shoulders.
Jack pulled-pushed her further toward shore, half walking, half swimming, bodies touching everywhere, Alice being pushed backward as Jack walked along the sand, holding each other’s eyes and bodies up in the water, Jack’s cock bobbing against her leg. She bit her lip to keep from sucking her tongue in her mouth, remembering how that blue cock tasted and felt.
The ocean rocked around them, then she hit sand with her butt first, soft, sand, ground, then Alice was laid out as the wave receded, kissing, nude, Jack’s hands between her legs, greedy, pushing her thighs apart, thick fingers entering her and she gasped.
"I think it’s time you came for me," Jack whispered gruffly, mouth rough on her cheek, pressing Alice against the sand, pushing her legs apart. "Come on, pretty girl, open up that cunt for me, squeeze my fingers. You feel me deep inside you?"
Alice gasped, body balanced on every sensation. Heels in the air, thighs pressed back against the wet sand. Jack worked her clit with expert precision, slow circles, a slick thrumming, and another wave broke at their feet.
"I’m gonna make you come so hard," Jack breathed into her neck, fingers moving harder, faster, between her legs, pulsing over her clit. "You’re going to come just for me, just for me, pretty girl. Feel my fingers workin’ your pussy? You’re gonna do it for me, aren’t you? Let go, pretty girl, just let it all go, and come for me, come on girl, fuck yeah, do it."
Alice, gasping, toes curling, swollen cunt pressed hard against Jack’s hand, felt her muscles tighten and vibrate, swell and then explode, thick and fast and deep, Jack’s fingers thrusting, pressing hard against her hard clit, as her stomach contracted and body shook. She screamed a string of profanities and gripped Jack’s wrists, clawed at the muscles of Jack’s shoulders. She moaned and yelled, eyes open and suddenly aware of the darkening sky, the bright stars beginning to be visible outside of the city, twilight fading fast to blackness.
Jack touched her thighs and stomach for a minute as her body calmed. Alice became suddenly aware of her wet feet, bare body, cool breeze coming from over the ocean, the sound of the water, waves still tickling her calves and knees, cooler than the air and soothing.
"I, uh," Jack stammered, suddenly shy again. "Guess we should get back on the road."
Alice nodded. She wanted another Lucky Strike, was beginning to feel chilly. And she wanted to blow Jack behind the wheel again.
Jack offered her a hand up and they both brushed sand from their bare skin. Alice watched the toned muscles of Jack's chest and arms, the dark curly tattoos. Jack began making his way in the sand, and Alice stood for a moment, watching the shimmering reflection of the rising new moon in the surface of the water, listening to the crash and rush and whoosh of the waves, when she saw something break the surface, a fin, and another, then a tail, the dramatic swoop of the back arch of a dolphin.
"Jack!" Alice called. "Did you see those dolphins?"
Jack turned and looked, then laughed. "That’s so gay."
Alice smiled, then couldn’t help but giggle. She turned away from the water and watched Jack’s firm ass and thighs moving along the path ahead of her, wondering how long Jack would resist before she could get fucked again.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. This Week’s Picks ...
do one thing every day that scares you
Interview With Deborah Jeane Palfrey, AKA The DC Madam
Rough Sex - with pictures
Mr. Sugasm Himself: Keep Britain Tidy, Gimp
Editor’s Choice: In Her Mind, the Pigeons Were Always Fucking
More Sugasm Join the Sugasm See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.
more sugasm ...
Monday, July 23, 2007
Does it matter how I got you here? Whether I wined and dined you, bought you indulgent fruity mixed drinks, a delectable dinner, your body now satiated but wanting other fullness, wanting me to stop fingering my fork spoon knife glass napkin ice cubes and begin placing my hands carefully on your skin.
Or perhaps I simply ordered you over here, sent a car to your apartment and was waiting downstairs when you arrived at mine, paid the driver, removed my dark tie from the tight collar of my baby-blue button down and slipped it over your eyes. Leading you up two flights of stairs without your sense of sight.
No matter. You’ve been here before. Nothing really to see.
I am tempted to rip seams, pop buttons open with force. You know how you bring that out in me.
Instead, I make you wait. Drag the thin fabric of your shirt along your skin, slow as I can. You can’t see, but you can feel me, my breath on you, my hands, my rough thumbs waiting to dig bruises into your upper arms, stomach, hips.
My collection of floggers hang from a swirl of Victorian iron on the wall next to my bed. I choose my favorite: black, thin leather, red deerskin flanks in the center. My name is carved into the handle: z. e. d.
You’re stripped aside form my dark blue schoolboy tie around your eyes. I know it’s not foolproof, other blindfolds are more efficient. I don’t mind the glimpses you steal.
You see me strip down to loose, soft cotton jersey boxers and an a-shirt. Have to have my arms free if I’m going to beat you, after all. My cock pokes through the single button in the boxers. You like it when it does that.
I smell like summer and sweat, and I’ve been drinking tequila again, on the rocks, just a little. You smell sweet. Fresh. Clean like linen. My mouth waters and I imagine my tongue tracing the curves of your lower back, up to your shoulder, the back of your neck.
I stand gazing for too long, and you begin to squirm.
“Be still,” I say, and put one hand on your ass, trace it down to the back of your knee. “I’m going to hit you now.”
You let out a puff of air that is a whimper and a sigh. Your skin tenses and you try to counter by keeping your muscles calm.
“Relax,” I say, “or it’ll just hurt more.”
I want you to count to fifty, but wonder if that’s too many. I like flogging with an end in sight. Otherwise I go into that physiological trance state where I find rhythm and forget to stop.
I begin counting in my head. One – thump. Two – thump. Your muscles begin to open but still wince just before the leather makes contact.
Five – thump.
Six – thump.
The leather makes a small whoosh through the air. I’m being gentle, mostly just a tap, letting gravity pull the tassels to your skin, your ass, your thighs.
Whoosh – ten – thump.
Whoosh – eleven – thump.
I begin to throw a little more arm strength into the flogger and you grunt with an “uh –“ wincing a little stronger.
At fifteen I pause, run my hand, fingers, palm, along your skin. Tender where I’ve hit you hardest. You inhale sharply and arch your back to the touch, like a cat.
“Your skin looks beautiful,” I say. “It’s beginning to pinken, a little, at the edges.” My mouth is at your neck and I kiss you a few times, find you panting, tongue swollen.
“More, darling?” I ask, an offer and a question. You turn your face toward the sound of my voice, bite your lower lip, and nod.
“Oh – yes – please – ” you manage.
You do beg real pretty. I’ll never forget your legs wrapped around me that night I refused to slide inside you until you begged.
You’d said, finally: “Oh baby, your cock is so sweet, so sweet and hard, fill me up with it, baby, shove it in me, please, pump it in me, let me milk it, let me squeeze it hard till you come inside me, oh please I want it – I need it – I wanna be filled up – please put it in, please.”
It was the way your eyes flashed on that last please that did it to me. Finally sent me over desire’s edge to where I had to take you.
Tonight, I’m ready to hold out.
I switch up my rhythm so the flogger first hits my back over my right shoulder, then your back and exposed ass, then I catch it with my left hand. Easier on a Saint Andrew’s Cross than lying down, but I like the way it stings my palm. Plus I can gauge the strength of the blows this way.
Shoulder – ass – hand. Twenty.
Shoulder – back – hand. Twenty one.
Shoulder – ass – hand. Twenty two.
You’re writhing a bit, whimpering at the blows, occasional head back open-throated gasp when I land somewhere particularly hard.
Shoulder – back – hand. Twenty five.
I decide to go to thirty. Your skin is reddened to how I like it, ripe, your hips are making these nice S-curves and I want to fuck your ass.
I increase not just the muscle power I’m putting behind the flogger but also the velocity. Harder. Faster. You cry out. Twenty seven. You gasp and cry out again. Twenty eight.
I grab your hair, a neat twist in a ponytail, and lift your head slightly, my mouth by your ear. I drag the flogger along your inner thighs.
“Quiet,” I mutter.
You sigh and shudder. “Bully – “ you whisper, not intending for me to hear you.
I want to growl, but instead I push your cheek to the soft sheet and hold you there by the back of your neck, aiming a few blows between your legs.
Leather on labia. My favorite.
You’re whimpering again. I loose count and take five, six quick whaps to your cunt and inner thighs. You are making noises that sound like exquisite agony.
I step out of my boxers, they’re in the way, lube up my cock from the pump on the bedside table and moisten two fingers, then kneel between your thighs and lube your asshole, fingering the crack of your ass. I slide the thumb of my left hand into your slick wet cunt and can feel your clit under my index finger, so I set it there and rock it gently back and forth. The heel of my hand spreads your labia and tilts your pelvis back and up. Serves you to me like a feast.
You moan. The blindfold has slipped over your head and you’re watching me from over your left shoulder.
I slide one finger, then two, into your tight asshole while leaving my other hand still, fingers inside you. You groan a little and press into me a bit harder. Slide those fingers out and I touch the tip of my dick to your tight hole and you swallow it, open to it, and I can feel the muscles stretch and pulse when the head of my cock pops in, the shaft of it sliding easier through the tightest places.
You are still moaning. Sounds from your mouth as you grind back into me and wiggle your hips against mine. You’re almost on your knees and elbows now, hands gripped around the ties that hold you to the headboard. Lower back arched, still a little pink.
I let go of the cupped grip on your cunt and find your hipbones with my palms. Push you from me and pull you back so I don’t have to clench, just you, pulling your ass down onto my cock, feeling the resistance in your tight hole. It’s so good fucking you this way. Thighs and ass clenched, clit rubbing against the base of my cock every time I thrust inside. Easing forward so my thighs hit yours. Working in and out faster, a little, harder, my body an S-curve from knee to stomach, not just in-out but rolling against you. You are open-mouthed screaming into the pillow and asking for more, harder, oh god, fuck me, fuck my ass and I slap against you, once, twice, both of us groaning.
My head rolls back, my back curves, slapping against you harder as my orgasm comes closer, the resistance of your ass offering me tight pressure every time I thrust inside. My hands still hold your hips, your ass, the sitbones of your buttocks as my cunt pulses, cock fucks.
You can feel it in me. “Do it,” you say, “come in my ass, fuck me till you come, do it harder, thrust inside me – “ and I groan, yelling oh god oh god yes, fuck, and shudder against you until I’m spent, throw my arm around your waist and collapse on top of you, kissing your neck, your shoulders.
I breathe heavy as my body calms, then slip out, untie you. You curl next to me, knees and arms between us as we both lay on our sides and I gently finger your wrists, ankles, the places you were bound, and your back, shoulders, ass. Places I hit you. Tender.
“Alright?” I ask. We gaze at each other.
You smile. “Course.” You hold my cheek in your palm and I kiss your thumb. “You?”
“Mmmm.” I manage. Spent. You didn’t come, this time. “I’ll make it up to you in the morning,” I promise, grateful you’ve let me take what I’ve been craving. I’ll give you whatever you want.
You run your fingers through my short boy hair. “Damn right you will,” you say, and pull the covers up over us both.