Kitzy's Korner

2010-08-19T06:23:00.002-05:00

Exhilarating, petrifying? Confusing, that is it, the word that describes the very muddled state in which I have found myself in recently. This week has been earth shattering, testing me on levels that I thought were forbidden and safe. Questioning events, time, my own identity, my wants in life and my needs. Finding myself thankful for the beauty in my life, for those that are my constant reminders of why I smile each day, and yet, finding myself daydreaming and unsure.

I turned thirty. That in itself was both reveling and heart wrenching. I never thought I would be thirty for some odd reason, I thought I would be in my twenties forever, that I would have an eternity to be young. Not that I am old, exactly, just feeling my youth, the naivety and trust that everything will always right itself, and everything will be okay slipping through my fingers, too much reality, too much pain, too much wisdom in years lived to hold on to notions so fleeting.

I was melancholy, trying to smile despite the fact I felt my mortality like the slow slice of the reapers blade on my cheek. But in my little pool of self pity, Everyone stepped up to remind me that I was still alive, full of energy and love, of passion. Reminding me of the simplest yet most precious blessings I have. My family, my friends. I celebrated Friday, Saturday and Sunday. With a desk decorated in over the hill and a flower bra and set of bright purple fairy wings that I had always wanted. I was taken out to lunch, made dinner, got roses and turtles and cards and kisses. Was reminded that I was blessed for my new friends and old, the ones I had reunited with and the family that treated me far better than I deserve.

Still I pondered over my life, what I wanted in the next ten years, and found much to my amusement I didn’t have the slightest idea. I am more just content to follow the current, yet sometimes I feel the keen need to make a map, to plot a destination for these meanderings. But you have to have an idea of where you want to go, and all I know is that survival and laughter are paramount, nothing else so much matters.

Monday it was back to routine, back to pretending that I wasn’t confused, or absolutely positive my life wasn’t where I wanted it to be. Back to wondering where my next distraction would come. Oddly enough, I found it in a text. Our encounter had been planned for weeks, and yet, it was not in the fore front of my mind as he was forbidden. He is long distance, and usually busy, so not even a top distraction. So of course I have kept him at arm’s length, only learning what I had to so that I might fulfill his fantasy.

He had mailed me off of my website asking me for something that I found both fascinating and odd. Honestly, I didn’t think it would ever work. I am so ridiculously submissive, feeding on someone else’s power, on the energy of pleasing them. Yet he needed dominance, he needed something more than my subtle seduction and allowance of desire could give. Despite my reservations , he is to be deployed again soon, and it was so simple, his fantasy, his desire. And as he explained, mail after mail, he was never crude, never derogatory or demanding; just sincere in his request.

I was to trample him. To stomp and crush and grind. To make him beg me to stop as I destroyed his will, his belongings, his unblemished skin. The thought filled me with fear. How could I do that to someone? How could I injure him, much less, what if I injured him too much? What if I broke something? He was excited at the prospect. I was terrified I was the next Dateline NBC story. When fetish goes too far, Kitzy Bombshell live from her cell tells how it was all just an accident….

But he was driving through, and this was a once in a life time thing. Why live life afraid of three squares a day and free cable? So I said yes. Honestly not even sure if I could get the angst together to even pretend to injure him, much less give him the beating he so craved. But I would do my best to fulfill his desire. My submissive need to please so strong that I knew I could dominate him, just not how far I could go.
His text was sweet, making sure I knew he was still coming, making sure I was still interested. Buttering me up with tales of how beautiful I was and how he couldn’t wait to be dominated by someone so lovely. Which was honestly, sweet, yet strange to me. Tuesday was the day we would meet. He would rent a motel, I would go play for an hour then leave, no sex, no money, but yes I could feel a thousand voices screaming whore in my ear. I didn’t rightly care. The good thing with age comes the realization that no one lives your life for you.

Nervousness filled me so bad I couldn’t concentrate at work, texting him off and on to see where he was. Maybe he would back out, maybe a force of nature would prevent this if it wasn’t meant to be. Yet time inched forward, and I looked up from one of my customers to see him walk through the door. He carried himself with an odd mixture of confidence and peace. There was no aggression in his stance or movements. He was tall, taller even than me, and not rail thin, but more, sinewy, built slender yet firm. His smile is devilish, handsome, mischievous, suggesting. He hypnotized me, would have been my plea. His voice low and calm, even as he sat with one leg nervously jumping as I spoke to him while finishing up a loan.

It is a miracle what small talk does to frazzled nerves. Ironically enough the day I can usually depend on to be slow had people pouring into my store. So eventually he just hugged me and said he would meet me at the hotel, giving me the information. The meeting had me more confused than before not helping my resolve to cause him pain. In fact, I was more than ever frightened that I would not be able to cause him any harm. He was so sweet. How was I going to crush him beneath me?

He told me we would begin playing by me crushing everything that he had brought for me. He had set out some cups to get me started. I felt, silly, reserved, and unsure. Nevertheless I crushed them as I approached the room, knocking on the door. When he opened the door, I kept thinking I wish he had been ugly. Looking at his full lips, salt and pepper hair and gentle warm eyes, I found myself wondering how the night would end.

As we stepped inside I felt the urge to play hopscotch from cup to cup to cup, and I did, smashing each one. I looked at him, for signs that it affected him. He asked me how I felt, how it made me feel to crush them, and he grabbed a beer from the fridge and we sat to talk to discuss his desires. I learned little things about him about the many times he had played before, about the way things worked. Then we spoke about just simple stuff, get to know you things that allow you settle down in a comfortable rhythm with the person beside you.

As I finished my drink, I laid it on the carpet and crushed it underneath my bare feet. He lay down and handed me his can and I did the same. I liked watching him, his face a mirror to the excitement he felt as the aluminum cans bent and flattened underneath me. I decided now would be the time that I went to change. Discovering the bathroom had even more cups and small metal cans. I stomped them loudly, loving the way they sounded, hoping he could hear them as I pulled off the simple business attire I wore.

Pulling on my short white skirt, and bright green panties and shirt, I pulled my hair down from its bun at the nape of my neck and took off my glasses, completing the transformation from my business life to Kitzy. I pranced in and he smiled saying I was beautiful. At that moment I thought of seducing him in the normal way I would a man, straddling his body as he sat on the couch, talking low and sweet as my breasts heaved in his face, and the weight of my body pressed into his groin. I knew that wouldn’t work though. That I should quit being so distracted and as he laid down on the floor belly touching the carpet, and placed a cup in front of him.

I stomped it as I casually walked by. Then another and another. As I walked by I watched him, his body tense with desire, and I grew more confident, more powerful. Each thing I crushed and grinded, sometimes getting his fingers, his hands, sometimes missing them on purpose. Growing more and more excited as I saw his hips grind into the floor, needing contact. I craved the sounds, and the looks of his pleasure, the POP or CRUNCH something would give as I destroyed it. I tore his favorite hat with my bare feet, his remote control, I shattered and as the pieces flew everywhere I knew it was time to step on him, to give him what he needed for release.

Straddling his body, looking at his face, feeling a hundred feet tall as I hovered over the top of him with my five foot eleven frame, I stomped. Hard. Fast. I watched, looking for signs of regret, signs of wanting to stop this, but he didn’t, his body screamed arousal, so I stomped again. Focusing on his chest, blow after blow, then his stomach, switching from side to side, stomping as hard as I could. Each painful strike making him red faced, curled trying to hide the sensitive region that I was assaulting yet unraveling for the next wave instinctually.

The groans coming from his body were both pleasure and pain. My heart beat quickened, my nipples hardened, and as I pushed him further and further I was so completely aroused I was stunned. It had to be the sounds he was making, the need he felt. I wanted to pull his hands from his pants, I had noticed him slowly rubbing the head as I punished him, and I did with my feet, pinning them underneath me, grinding them into the carpet. Then back again to stomping him, red faced and moaning. Panting from exersion I stopped when he had come. I felt, powerful, in a way that I couldn’t begin to understand or control. I felt need, I wanted more.

We stopped, letting him catch his breath, letting me cool down, trying to control all the runaway thoughts in my head. This was crazy! I looked at the mess on the floor, look at him. I was torturing him. Causing him so much pain. I was insane! Why did I like it so much? I mean, not once did it cross my mind that there was something wrong with Noah for liking this, but I felt like I was a monster, some sort of deviant for liking his discomfort. I could feel the throbbing between my legs louder than my own heart beat, so desperate, to be filled now, to have release. But that is not what I was here for, and my denial somehow my only salvation as we casually talked as if I wasn’t thinking of pushing him onto the bed and simply taking what I wanted, his release nothing to me now.
Again such casual conversation, as if that blink was a day dream or nightmare, and this was reality, we had never moved from this couch, from this languid flow of conversation. My body slowly calmed down, my heart returning to normal. We sat and I heard of his life back home, and I spoke casually of my family and friends, yet vaguely as I often do.

Then we decided to go again. It was even more intense. Starting out the same, with cups and smaller things then as I smashed his ipod into the tile of the jaccuzi, breaking the tile in the process I felt a rush, stomping harder and harder, grinding it, demanding it to break underneath me as he watched, his hips softly gyrating. Then a cassette case that was in shards within moments, even a few shards sliding into the tender skin of my feet.

Then it was just time for him again, and began to rain blow after blow onto his shoulders and chest and stomach. I stood on him, all of my weight baring down, I could see him looking under my skirt, and I pulled it a little higher, moving one foot to his erection and moved my foot along it, stepping on it and his hands, then back to blows on his stomach and chest. Punishing him.

I wanted to moan as he did, so aroused with each passionate groan of misery and desire he felt. Then turning, staring at his hands trying to pleasure himself through his clothes, I let both feet nestle into his stomache. No ribs for safety, nothing to stop the constant pressure of my weight on him. His moans a mixture of pleasure and pain, and all I could think is that I wished I could see his orgasm, feel his seed warm on my feet as pleasure overtook him. He tapped my foot, and for a moment I thought I would be vindictive and stay. But I got off and turned around to look at him, still straddling his body, squatting just above his body, and staring at him. I smiled triumphantly, feeding on the power of his release to keep me from rubbing my clit against his diminishing hardness for satisfaction.

I extended a hand to pick him up. And he collapsed on the couch. I sat beside him, ribbing him a little and making sure he knew the satisfaction I felt from making him tap out, even if it was just because he had orgasmed. And the power in making him come and never touching his cock with my hands or mouth or body, it was intense, drugging. He wasn’t a complete submissive, and I wasn’t dominant enough to just say, by the way, in compensation I expect you to bring me to orgasm now. So again we sat, watching you tube on his computer and laughing about being on a boat. I was comfortable in his company, laughing and talking and being fascinated at the life he had lived and the things he had seen.

I began to yawn, and decided to get ready to go, not wanting to over extend my welcome. I changed, pulling my hair back up, putting my glasses back on, and felt myself reverting back into the very proper lady that I was supposed to be. I tried helping him clean up, much to his dismay, telling me that I didn’t have to do so. It was relaxing to me, to help him do something so ordinary. To feel, normal. He walked me to my car, and we hugged by again. As I got in, I drove away more confused and uncertain, yet feeling, confident, powerful, and more in control than I had in ages.

I feel odd now though, even writing this. Wishing I would have fucked him and it would have been horrible so I wouldn’t crave another encounter. Yet, I doubt it would have been, it would have been amazing, it would have been powerful and consuming. I would still be sitting here wondering when the next time I could see him again, and if there ever would be. And this is where the confusion sets in.

I want to talk to him, to ask questions, to do it again. In my foolish head I feel a bond, a connection, that sex would never fill. This isn’t my first rodeo, I never get attached to one night stands, I never crave them, never think about them in the middle of the day and shiver. I don’t know why. I just don’t instantly need. I am more level headed than that. More reserved. More simple in my division of love and lust.

I don’t understand why it felt so good to me, or I want to talk to him so much. I have turned down three people this week until I could figure this out. I don’t crave sex, I am not even sure I crave another chance to feel someone moaning under my feet. I am so terribly confused. I don’t know why I want to put down an entire box of individual chips and just jump and crush and stomp until they give me the satisfying POP of defeat. I don’t know why I expect that if I talked to him about it he would understand. And I don’t know why I would even want this stranger, no matter how handsome.

It isn’t even so much that I want a relationship, or a forever after, just a connection, just an acknowledgement that what I felt is normal and that I want to do this again. Why when I have so many people around me constantly vying for my attention. Why do I want to give it to the impossible every single time?

The Three D's

2010-07-03T11:58:00.002-05:00

Sometimes writing semi-autobiographically presents certain challenges. I always enjoy writing exciting moments, moments that are real but in the end leave yours truly looking triumphant. Yet, it is much harder to write about the darker side of me, the side that isn’t pure and good and sweet. The side that is moody and selfish, the side that is insecure and broken, the side that is foolish and weak. But into the madness we must go, to share only part of me would be both an injustice to you and to me as this is my therapy, and you, my dear reader, are not here to judge but to experience these things with me, to touch upon my madness and taste the sweetness of my sorrow.
I have been single since May 27th. Yes I know the day, and of little importance the hour in which I left him. He was the one shot at happily ever after, he was the most beautiful thing that had ever possessed my heart, but the distance, the time, the others that shared my affection, it all grew to be too much. That day I gambled and lost. I hoped that when faced with losing me, he would love me more, and not less, but his pride is as great as mine, and I should have known that he would never ask me to stay.
Amid the pain, and constant crying, I spent two days unable to do much more than sniffle, the ugly truth of it was my heart had never broke so hard. And still as I write this my eyes water, that familiar ache fills me and I wonder if I will ever talk about him without that bittersweet pain that reminds me of just how strong my love for him was.
I can’t stay that way forever though, but healing is a long and grueling process of forgiving him, and forgiving me, and quite frankly I am bored of such introspection. So my heart in its million little pieces is hidden away, to be mended later. My eyes and body crave the three Ds. Denial, Distraction, and Desire. Which in combination is better than cocaine, but no less addicting.
Denial, it is simple, no my heart has never broken, I don’t crave happily ever after, I don’t believe In crystal fortresses or true love, and I never want to feel that way again.
Distraction, this is where it gets tricky. It is kind of like juggling, which is the way I date. Call me a whore if you will, but men employee this technique often and with much success. You want at minimum three main distractions, never less. Less distraction means that perhaps you will focus too much attention on one and risk losing site of objective denial. Too many, and there is no smoothness to the motions, to the show. So balance carefully. I like to have three main distractions and three lesser distractions. And no that doesn’t mean that I am fucking all of them. It simply means I allow them to be infatuated with the possibility of me, and I of them. If a ball drops away, there is always another to quickly take its place.
Desire, should be self explanatory; but there is more to it than passion, than lust. It is the combination of two spirits fulfilling the needs of one another without attachment. It doesn’t always have to be sexual, I have intense desire for conversation, for laughter, for constant white noise to drown out the sadness that sometimes overwhelms me. Desire is also feeling the need to please another, to make them happy, or content and know that I had an effect, a purpose for just that moment.
Yeah, yeah, save me your psychoanalysis. I never said that this was healthy, or right. But I am not writing about what is beautiful and imagined. I am writing of what is real to me, and how I handle my broken spirit is really of no concern to anyone but myself. Some people resort to alcohol, I result to drowning myself in the attentions of others.
So without further ado, let me take you into my past months transgressions. Or wait, perhaps just to the one that has me writing again, the one that stopped me and refused me what I wanted, but gave me something we both needed.
Morgan. How do I describe my soft spoken deputy? His tall, thick frame, his bright eyes and luscious smile. I met him by chance, fate’s cruel little joke.
He had pulled me over one morning in front of my store. I wish I could tell you what his suit looked like, but I was absolutely memorized by his smile. The confident way he walked, the way he held himself as he moved so gracefully to my side. I was nervous, but pulled my shirt down lower, fully prepared to use the girls to help me avoid whatever citation he had in mind.
I smiled half hazard at him as he ask for my license and registration and I began to dig for my wallet. Digging through the five gallon suit case I call a purse I paled, and shook my head bemoaning my fate. Looking up at him pleading for understanding I explained that I must have left my wallet at the register when I got my coffee this morning. Pleading I begged him to follow me back there and I would give him the information he needed.
His eyebrow cocked slightly and he looked at me suspiciously. “Ma’am, is this a stall? Do you have anything you need to tell me or any outstanding warrants I should be aware of? “ In his eyes I saw something confusing, but his face was set to stone.
Indigent that he would ask me something so trivial I narrowed my eyes but tried to remain calm. “No, this isn’t a stall, I don’t have any warrants and the longer we sit here the more chance of someone walking away with it. Please just follow me back there, and I will give you my id and you can check everything out.”
“I dunno, you might run. You seem kinda feisty.” He said unable to hide his amusement at my obvious discomfort.
I laughed so completely taken off guard. Eying him even more I wondered outloud.”What are you pulling me over for anyway?” His grin widened, and from behind his back he handed me my wallet.
“Thought you might need this incase some grouchy cop pulled you over and didn’t believe your story.”
“But how?” I asked confused as I took it smiling appreciatively.
“ I was two people behind you in line today, and you just rushed out without even smiling my way. Hurt my feelings it did. So I figured I might get one if I volunteered to return this.”
I remember the blush reaching my toes, as I beamed at him my most dazzling smile as he looked into my eyes. Electricity shot through me I felt stunned, slightly alarmed as I stuttered for a moment, then took a deep breath. I heard something on the radio he carried at his waist. He smiled at me ruefully then picked it up. “On my way.”
Innocently enough that is the way our tryst began.
The next morning he surprised me with coffee just the way I liked it, and one raspberry filled doughnut, he said to keep me sweet. We talked until I opened the store. We spoke of his life, his commitments, what had brought him to be deputy in a small town like this one and how it was we had never crossed paths. We shared laughter and moments, stories and memories. Each morning was the same, coffee, one raspberry doughnut and laughter
He never asked of my heartaches, I never asked about the gold band that made him forbidden. Yet, one day he came in, about a week later, his shoulders slumped his smile hidden. He took a deep breath and told me of her, of the children he cherished and the life he was trying so desperately to save. I listened, his hand in mine, I let him talk, let the frustrations fall out of him. When he was through, he looked, empty, vulnerable and expectant.
What was I expecting to hear I am unsure, as is what he was expecting me to say. I was calm. I smiled to try to reassure him, a million things running through my head. “So what do you want from me? Why did you tell me this?” I asked quietly.
“I told you because you deserve the truth, I told you because I need release. I told you because-“ The radio chose to go off and he smiled apologetically,
I stopped him, grabbing his wrist. “We will talk more tomorrow,” I made him promise with a nod. Then quietly I said “Thank you. For your honestly. Sometimes its painful, but I will never think less of you.”
That night I didn’t bother with any of my usual distractions. I instead focused on the next morning, what I would say, what I would do. There were three plausible options, one stop talking to him entirely, two remain his friend but distance the attraction we felt, or three fall head long into the disaster we had already began to create. I told you, this wasn’t pretty, nor am I painted in a beautiful light.
I wanted him, I knew his heart was at his home, with his family, and I knew it was only a temporary solution for him and for me. In my denial I rationalized it. If it wasn’t me it would be another, we wouldn’t be hurting anyone as long as it was purely physical lust. It was just masturbation with a warm body. Take your pick. I justified my crime as any junkie would.
The day dawned later than I had hoped, my eyes far too strained for the light that I had so desperately craved. I needed to give him the answer. I needed to show him the decision my sleepless night had brought. My silk purple shirt hung a bit lower than most, my white skirt, barely touching my knees. It was an invitation In my very appearance. I imagined it to be hard, fast, full of need and lust and quickly extinguished.
I stood at the door to let him in, his eyes watching me as he moved through the motions of setting down the coffee. I locked the door behind him. Looking at him, I smiled shyly, leading him to my office instead of the lobby where we usually set. His hand tightened around mine, and he pulled me to him the moment we got to the door. He stared only moments into my eyes, and then kissed me hard and fast. Whimpering I fell into his chest as I wrapped my arms around his neck. Savoring the play of his tongue and mine, the tender way he rubbed his hands up and down my back.
The strength of his arms pulled me closer, and backed me against the desk. Shimming my butt onto the desk, my legs wrapping around his waist, murmuring my need as he bent me back to taste my neck. Panting desperately as he stroked my need I breathlessly explored his broad shoulders and chest. I kept expecting him to just hike up my skirt and take me, to sate the need instantly. He just refused to hurry.
Pushing me back, his lips tasting any bits of exposed flesh, until finally burying his head between my thighs. My eyes rolled back into my head and my hands grasped at his hair and his shoulders. I could feel his tension, his growing need as his tongue tasted me further and pushed me into ecstasy.
He pulled up and kissed me again, the taste of me on his lips. I tugged at his pants, but he pulled back turning on the lights, and just taking off his shirt. He knew I opened in an hour, but he was so calm, demanding that he be allowed to relish me, I kissed his chest, speckled with hair, firm and broad. My nails raking up and down the expanse of him. His hands where in my hair, urging, gently as he moaned for me.
Pulling his pants off his movements finally began to feel eager. We fought, to taste each other, our mouths and bodies battling. First he would claim a nipple, then I would dip to taste the head of his shaft. He pulled me to him, disrobing me even of the nonoffending skirt, and just rested, his cock nestled teasing my lips. Hands running the length of my back, grasping my hips pulling me to him, our bare skin meshing until we were one. He nipped my neck once more before pulling me gently onto the floor, rolling up his shirt to put it behind me.
The moment he slid in he took my breath away. I could feel him shaking; his resolve to wait for me, but losing with each gentle stroke. I held him my hands pulling him closer as I kissed him tenderly; shaking as I found release, and he let go.
He moaned, shuddering as he came, then kissed my belly, gently pressing his head to me and holding me, quietly. I asked him if he was okay and he merely nodded. He blushed, mentioning it had been months since he had release. I just took in his scent, not wanting to let him go just yet.
What had I started? What in the hell had I just done? I had expected something so different. I had wanted lust and need and to be taken without regard. But what I had shared was more, the tenderness of two people needing to feel alive, to find comfort. No delusions that it had meant more than that, but somehow at peace with my transgressions as he bashfully took care of things, straightening backup and getting dressed.
In the bathroom I brushed my hair beside him as straightened his clothes, then I looked him once over, just to make sure no lipstick stains or scratches covered him. Oddly enough, we sat down to our coffee, and we spoke as friends again, as confidants, as if what we shared was a momentarily flash of lunacy that we had both shared. Unreal, fantastic, lust imagined. He left with a hug, a kiss on my cheek, and if it wasn’t for the scent of him surrounding me all day I would have never known it wasn’t all in my head.
I let the weekend pass, without a word, and when he showed again on Monday, I smiled, secretly relieved that he might share with me one last time the comfort I would deny myself, the distraction I craved and the desire that I could not be without.

Intervention

2009-10-26T22:08:00.000-05:00

For the last three months, I haven’t wrote, barely talked on my favorite forums, in fact, just barely had time to squeak out a set or two of pictures. Between fighting a cold, taking care of my family, both extended and immediate, and running a mind boggling array of errands I have barely been able to rest for more than three or four hours at a time, much less actually do something I truly enjoy.

Tara moved at the beginning of October. We had a quiet dinner, punctuated with I –will- see- you- soon-s, and promises to write, but in the end, we both knew our moment had past. I was lucky to have held her in my arms, to have tasted her passion and spice, but it was time to let her go, to flit off as a free spirit does. I would never be the one who trapped her beauty.

Jackson and Wynn have both put up with me being insanely busy fairly well. Jackson being sick for most of September and Wynn being caught up in work and unable to visit, they both had time restraints of their own. We still talked, texting being a girl’s best friend, catching up while stuck in traffic or waiting in line at the deli, and at night Wynn’s voice would sooth me to sleep, sometimes at his amusement as I drifted off mid sentence.

He was always saying to me that I needed to slow down, I was running myself ragged, as well as my other friends that managed to get me to slow down long enough to say hello. For some reason I just couldn’t. I felt as if the world revolved around me completing each task every person had set out before me, that if I stopped, or told one person no, everything would come crashing down. So my calendar kept getting fuller, and my time shorter.

Emily Dickinson once wrote, “Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me;”. It seems to me that this holds true for life as well. Sometimes life is going to stop you, even if you have to slam head long into a brick wall.

Two days ago I woke up in my bed frightened, groggy and disoriented. I could have sworn that someone was in my home. Not so much that I had heard a sound, but a feeling that the air had changed. I tried searching my mind, trying to recall if I had locked the door, but nothing made sense, and my time had long ago been skewed by days of mere napping. I fought to gain control of my fear then squeaked out , “Who’s there?”

Panic rose higher, I heard the wind pushing the oak against my window and I gulped, finding it hard to breath. I was still in my clothes. My shoes at a clump on the floor, the knee length black skirt rising around my thighs, and the white pen-stripe shirt wrinkled and twisted around my large torso. My back arched, ears straining, I listened for sounds, for anything, I reached over to my nightstand in the dark to pull out my taser.

My scream was quickly stifled by a large hand across my mouth as my hand found not my savior in the drawer, but the devil himself. Swinging with my other hand, while trying to bite my assailant I quickly began struggling. It was like hitting solid cement. Nothing seemed to affect him. I brought my leg up but it was quickly pinned under one of his, arching up I tried bucking him off but he had already pinned both arms under me and grabbed the one free leg as I tried to use my heal in the soft tissues of his lower back.

Fear rose up and still I struggled, then quickly went still. Slowly letting his hand from my mouth and relaxing. I sharply rose my head to try to break his nose with my forehead. My assailant quickly yanked his head back up and he laughed. It took a moment to sink in, that he was laughing at me. There was something oddly familiar, unmistakable, the laugh had no malice, only amusement yet still he held me tightly underneath him.

Only seconds later did it dawn on me who could know my defensive moves well enough to block every one of them, and could hold me down so effortlessly. Fear soon turned to red hot anger. “WYNN?” I spat out, more of a curse than a name.

His voice answered me in the darkness “My my Kit, you are a spitfire aren’t you.” Outraged I bucked harder against him.

“WYNN? What the hell are you thinking?” I struggled to wiggle from underneath him. “Having a key does NOT give you the right to scare the hell out of me! What is wrong with you! I could have hurt you!” He laughed at my fury.

“Yes, dear, I can see how much danger I am in. Now if you will –“

“Get off of me!” I yell, my fear and anger momentarily blinding me to the fact that I have him beside me, and my yearning for him will soon be fulfilled. He raised an eyebrow at me, and tightened his grip. I tried biting his hands and bucking him off, but his strength far surpassed mine.

My eyes began to adjust to the darkness and I could see him, watching me, his strong face lit softly by the moonlight that broke through the branches and the window. I impotently struggled against him, and the more I fought the more amused he became. Sitting like a statue, watching me with patience, stroking my ire further, his lips curving into a smile of what can only be described as amusement.

I sighed, defeated, my anger slowly dissolving under his scrutiny. My eyes stung with tears, and I tried desperately to hold on to something other than the fact I had missed him so. “This isn’t funny.” My voice almost a whisper, I tried keeping the tremor from my voice. He nodded in agreement.

Wynn’s free hand slowly went to my cheek, “no my love, it is not, and I never said it was. “

“Then let me up,” I pleaded with him. “You should have called, I have so much to do, but we will spend every free moment I have together. I promise. “

He shook his head. And I felt myself growing angry again. I took a deep breath, knowing that he never responded to anger, and tried again. “I have to try to rest, then I will get up and make you break-“ Again his head shook no, before I even had a chance to finish. He tsked at me impatiently and I growled in frustration.

“You, my busy bee, have been retired for the next three days. I have already made arrangements, and those that didn’t like it, well, they are dealing with it anyway. “

It was my turn to laugh. He was out of his mind. There was no way I could stop for one day much less three. “I will get so far behind.” He just stared at me blankly. “Wynn! This isn’t funny. Please, let me up. Please, there is so much to do.” His hand merely caressed my cheek, shaking his head, almost sadly. “No listen to me! I have to… I have to…” I couldn’t recall what day it was, so I couldn’t tell him what pile of things were awaiting me. Tears started silently streaming down my face, and I was unable to control them, exhausted, mentally, physically, emotionally, I still fought, not knowing what else to do.

He held me, positioning his body over top mine, his free hand cupping my head close to his, and I cried, large wracking sobs, he let my other hand free, and pulled me up to his chest. I wanted to hit him, I wanted to yell, knowing that without this energy, the momentum, I would never succeed. But I couldn’t. His soft voice soothed me as he ran his fingers through my hair and as I soaked his shirt with my tears, he let me know it was okay.

Wynn’s warmth crept through my body. His aura calming me as each thumb brushed my tears away. The anxiety falling aside, pushed away by his tenderness., I felt my swollen eyes grow heavier. My crying subsided and I sniffled as my hand curled into the small patch of hair on his chest, and listened to the sound of his heart. Soon darkness over came me.

I awoke, languid and warm. I felt like I had slept for days, then quickly panic quelled up inside of me. “I’m late!” I went to jerk up, but was quickly pulled back down. Moving from side to side, I quickly discovered my hands had been bound over my head to my head board, tied together with a piece of satin that I had draped over it for decoration, both hands snuggly secured together, then pulled upward, and secured at the post of my bed.

I was only momentarily confused. Then all of the memories from last night came flooding in, and my once cooled anger heated to an unimaginable point. “WYNNNNNNN!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, struggling to try to untie his knots with my teeth.

He walked through the door, dressed as if he were at home, and by that I mean not at all. His lithe body filled the door way and he flashed his teeth at me grinning like a Cheshire cat, as if for some reason I should merely be charmed at his behavior instead of furious. Desire shot through me hot and fast, yet I worked hard to deny my treacherous body. “Yes, sweetie?”

“Let me go!” I hissed. He narrowed his eyes at me, and I took a deep breath, swallowing my pride. “Let me go, PLEASE.” I tried uttering with a little less venom.

He smiled. “No, I don’t intend to, but that was much better, thank you.”

My eyes bugged out as he left again. “WYNN!” I heard him puttering around in the kitchen paying little attention to my pleas. “Please, my love, I am late.” I looked around the room for my clock, but saw he had removed it. Cursing I moved up to begin gnawing at the ropes.

He walked in, and his rich laughter filled the room as he brought a huge try of food. “Stop trying to eat your ropes dear, I have you some, well, can’t call it brunch, but we shall say late lunch early dinner. See there, I am not a complete tyrant.” My eyes shot wide in disbelieve.

“No, it is not that late! Oh god! Wynn, seriously, this has gone far enough. Let me up.” I begged him.

“Kit, calm down. I already told you that I had arranged for everything to be taken care of. “ His voice was one of patience and concern, but I could see the tired lines in his own face and wondered how long he had been orchestrating this fiasco.

I sat in silence, brooding, as he puttered around the room. Slowly, as my body awoke, I became painfully aware of a very embarrassing problem. I wiggled from side to side trying to ignore it, clamping my legs together, biting my lip, but all to no avail. “Wynn,” I began as a squeaky whisper, utterly humiliated. He looked at me and his eyes widened with understanding and he chuckled. He helped me up as he untied me, and he escorted me to the bathroom.

Inside I tried formulating a plan as I found relief. I knew if I could just get to a phone, I could make some calls, get a few things shifted around until later in the week, giving me tomorrow to catch up, giving that I found a way to reason with him. I glanced in the mirror as I washed my hands and was dismayed. There was no way I could distract him looking the way I did. My eyes were red and swollen, my face a ghastly shade of gray. The sleep had done me good, but there were still dark circles under my eyes. My lips were even a muted pink, and not their naturally dark plum.

I knew I had to make a run for it. I opened the door meekly, ready to flee, and met his chest. Looking up at him, I saw he knew exactly what I had been planning, and he tsked. I hung my head, actually a bit ashamed. He escorted me back to my bed, fluffed the pillows, and retied me, to where I was sitting up.

His eyes grew concerned. “How much weight have you lost Kit?” I shrugged.

“I don’t know if any, I just forget to eat sometimes.” He shook his head in dismay. Under the lid of the tray he reviled a buffet, that I was quiet sure would feed four starving people. The French toast was swimming in syrup, and he had bacon and sausage, frittata slices laced with spinach and mushrooms, biscuits and sausage gravy, fruit, and juice and milk. I stared at him in disbelieve.

“There is no way I can eat all of that!” He laughed.

“I plan on sharing some with you Kit. Not trying to put it all back on at once.” He cut a piece of the toast and placed it into my mouth. The cinnamon and orange wafted through my senses and my stomach growled. I blushed and took the first bite, I licked my lips, catching the stray bit of syrup and opened my mouth without question for another bite.

He kept feeding me, one decadent bite after another. In between chewing , I tried to reason with him. “Wynn, you know I am really glad to see you. I am sorry for being so moody, I have missed you.” I reached to kiss his hand lovingly. “I was just overwhelmed. It is okay now, really. I have just been busy. Please, just let me go, let me make a few calls and I promise tonight, I will make a good dinner, and we will-“the bite of bacon interrupting me, I chewed again licking my lips, and tried to continue, but quickly realized he was paying little attention to me.

He simply fed me, bite by luscious bite, even after I began to complain that I was full. “Eat, and I will explain.” He stopped only to softly suck some syrup off of my lip and chin, eliciting a moan from my lips. I arched up to him, aching for him profoundly. I wanted to fight, but submitting to him was so inviting, like a drug, strong and hypnotizing me. The gravy on the biscuits was mixed with sweet breakfast sausage, and peppery. I closed my eyes and softly enjoyed each sensation. Salty, sweet, savory, and a bit cayenne spice. The textures, chewy and melty.

Wynn began his explanation, “consider this an intervention –,”

I coughed, barely getting my bite of food down, then laughed.

“You know I am not on a damn thing!” He glared at me for my outburst and gave me a drink of juice and raised another crisp piece of bacon to my lips.

“Did I say that, Kit? Stop interrupting.” He paused again to kiss an errant bit of gravy from my lips and smiled as I closed my eyes and arched to him. His eyes softened. “Now, you are going to listen aren’t you?” I nodded as he held a strawberry to my lips to devour. “This is an intervention of a different sort. You are running yourself to death, and you aren’t doing yourself or anyone else any favors. You are always run down, and the small time you were putting away for Tara has now been overshadowed by yet someone else’s needs for you to do something you know damn well they can do themselves. Enough is enough honey. “

I stared at him defiantly, refusing the next bite, and stiffened my back. “I can handle it.” He got up quietly, placing the tray to the side. I was shocked to see I had eaten almost the entire platter. He was gone long enough to pull the huge mirror I had in the hallway down, and then propped it on the desk I had beside the bed.

I glanced at it quickly then back at him. “What?” I asked exasperated. I stared at him defiantly. I could see the muscle in his jaw twitch as I pushed his patience. He bent slowly down, and twined my hair in his hand. He forced me to take more of a glance in the mirror. He forced me to look, observe and take in the person before me. My mouth formed a little “o” as I began to truly see myself.

My skin, once peach and vibrant, was almost an odd shade of grey. I was a living watermark, colors muted and dull. Despite my full belly, it was obvious that I had been losing weight, my hips and belly looking remarkably smaller. My hair was severe and dry. The only parts of me that seemed alive, and real were my lips after consuming the mountain of food , and the round taunt belly it had bestowed upon me.

My eyes stung with unshed tears, and I tried looking away ashamed. This was not me, but it was in fact what I had become. Not Kit, just a simple robot, built on achieving as much as I could as quickly as I could, without spirit or warmth. I tried hiding my face in the folds of my arms, but his hand brought my chin up to look into his eyes. “You know Kit you will always be beautiful, but you are letting your spirit dwindle and die, and I cannot have that.” He softly positioned himself behind me, his naked body pressed closely to the thin fabric I wore.

I felt his heat and stifled a moan. His legs spread on either side of me, and he bent my neck, trailing his fingers down the side. “Open your eyes.” His command was gruff, thick with need. I obeyed unquestioningly. I watched him, staring into his eyes through the mirror, as he trailed both hands over my body.

It was if he was washing away the stress and grit of the hectic life I had been living. His hands left trails of color, of vibrant beauty, and I was mesmerized. I gasp as his large hands cupped my heavy breasts, squeezing and playing with them through my shirt and bra. Moaning I arched into his hands, needing more, awakening as the harlot I watched in the mirror responded to his touch.

With one quick tug he ripped open my shirt, my buttons flying across the room, exposing the simple black lace bra that I wore. He fondled and teased me, until I writhed against him, then stopped, and ran his hands over my stretched belly, massaging the soft mounds of fat, and running his fingers from the inside to my sides, then back again, until I arched against him, leaning to kiss and bite his neck softly.

Wynn murmured in my ear of my softness and beauty, of the spirit he loved so much. My skin flushed and began to glow as if by some ancient magic he had incited with his worship. He pinched my nipples again, almost painfully and I whimpered with pleasure. My thighs opened and I propped my legs open, over the top of his, allowing him to see my desire moistened panties.

His hands groped my fat thighs, dragging up and down the sensitive flesh, then let a finger tease me mercilessly through the satin underwear I had on. I pushed against him, feeling his arousal, writhing with need and begging for release. He silenced me with his tongue, firm and unyielding, exploring my mouth and lips.

His hands were tender, yet somehow angry as they awakened me. Forceful and demanding, almost pawing at my skin as he pushed and pulled each thick roll. His kiss still spoke of his love, it was tender, and full of passion, and as he slipped one hand inside my panties, softly parting my wet lips I cried out in joy. I felt his moan in my mouth and begged him to enter me. Yet still he refused.

His thumb and forefinger punished my clit, rubbing and pinching it as I bucked against him. I gasp, my eyes slowly closing to narrow slits as the passion over took me. The knuckle of his ring finger teased me, and as I watched the foreign woman in the mirror, now full of colors, red and gold and peach, I was unconcerned how wantonly she might appear, only knowing she must have release. He rewarded me with his ring finger sliding gently into me and I moaned as my hips jutted forward to meet him. Crying out with pleasure as his thick finger slide in and out of my tightness.

It was if he was stroking a fire deep inside me, fueling my very spirit, feeding me with energy and power and love. I arched whimpering, moaning, orgasm inevitable, and my thighs clinched down, he yanked my hair back to kiss me, commanding me to let go, to cum for him, and I did, with glorious rapture.

Panting, still looking at myself in the mirror I could see his need. I needed more. I needed him and needed his release. My body was alive now, flushed with color and beauty. He kissed me more gently now, and smiled down at me, pleased with my reaction. I kissed him tenderly.

Still bound, I twisted to face him. Staring into his eyes and kissing him, pulling his bottom lip into my mouth and sucking gently as I straddled him. Positioning myself over his erection I slowly eased onto it, stretching and accommodating his girth. Wynn moaned and gasp, thrusting his hips to meet mine, needing me obviously as much as I did him. His hands rested on my wide hips and he began to slowly set the pace as I rode up and down his length.

He looked at me hungrily, licking and flicking his tongue against my hardened nipples as they bounced and swayed in his face. I built his pleasure slowly, clinching as I would ride up his shaft, and releasing as I slid back down, sometimes moving my hips from side to side to tease him.

He moaned lower, and I could see him fighting his desire, his need to release, and hurried my pace. His fingers dug deeper into the mounds of soft fat on my hips, as he began to shake, moaning and releasing into me. He called out my name, his thunderous voice announcing my victory. Moaning with delight, I milked him, beaming with absolute joy.

Kissing him, I panted, winded and flushed. He smiled at me somewhat bashfully, and rocked his hips still into me, his member still stiff and ready. He cupped my face with one hand, and drew me to him, kissing me reverently. “Oh, my love, I see you returning to me.” I blushed and nuzzled him with my head, hearing the worry that had been disguised in his bravado, and my heart hurting for causing him concern.

He softly rolled me over, and I complained as his erection slipped out of me. He then pulled a chair to the edge of the bed, and sat, facing me, and the mirror. He pulled me down, releasing my bonds on the promise that I would be still, and kissing my slightly chafed wrists. He then turned me to face the mirror once more, I could see his face as he massaged and caressed my ass.

I knew that I would soon feel the sting of his hand, and I stretched my ass up to him, eager for his affections. As I felt the first stinging slap across me, I gasped, both pleasure and pain singing through my body. I took each slap, raining down on the plump mounds of my ass as he warmed me. I cried out softly, wiggling but never moving, wanting to show him my love, my devotion, giving him control as I allowed my stress and worry to slip away. I let each stinging swat push away all fear, each stressful moment, and soon, I was only full of the warmth and desire he gave me. My sit spot was a beautiful rosy hue as the tears I fought against fell from my eyes, cleansing me. He kissed my hips, my back, as he lavished me with affection, and I as shook with tears again, he held me close to him.

He pulled my legs down to straddle him and he softly rubbed lotion into my mottled skin, and I moaned again at his touch. I showed him my desire, softly spreading further and gently grinding up and down, teasing his erect shaft. My lips were hot, the heat of my ass spreading through my groin and I felt my heart quicken .

He speared me, pulling me down on top of him in one fluid movement and I was soon seated on his shaft. As I rode him I felt reborn, a phoenix, soaring, sparked and smoldering with fire. I watched myself as his hands guided my hips, my lips puckering to suck each juicy nipple. His hands tugged against my hair, and he spanked my already painfully red ass, and I rode him harder still. Moaning and whimpering as he claimed me and set me free in one remarkable moment.

We came together, hard and fast, and I lay limp against him, spent and weak. He moved me to the bed, and we laid side by side, his arm instinctively around me, as if even in sleep he would protect me from the world, and most importantly from myself.

Birthday Surprises

2009-08-16T02:44:00.002-05:00

I have been so busy this week. It has only been since my birthday, eight days now, and I have posted five sets on my picture site. With all these new updates, getting to know the webmaster, meeting all the new people from the exciting places that I am learning to call home on the web, not to mention day to day things, I barely stop for more than a few minutes to just breath, much less post about the adventures I get to squeeze in from time to time.

Can you believe I didn’t even have time to get birthday lovings? At least not in person anyways. I did happen to share a very intimate, okay several intimate moments with Wynn. I swear that man is magic. First on the computer, then with a surprise phone call with my one wish fulfilled, to hear him cum. There is just something so addicting about his deep voice, the way he moans out my name, telling me of his wants to be deep inside me, describing each excruciating detail, that I forget it is my hands roaming across my body, and that I am alone on my bed, riding my dildo, letting soft moans escape me, as not to miss a single detail of his love making. I came four times for him. *blushes* Which is a personal alone time record, by the way.
Also that day, among the amazing birthday wishes, was a text that stood out. “Happy Birthday Beautiful”, while common enough, the man sending it I hadn’t heard from in months. Jacob, (*I don’t know why men that have names starting with J are drawn to me, but oddly enough, my most common lover names are all in this category. *) is extremely busy. We had been lovers, and friends, tried our hand at romance, and failed miserably, mostly in part due to my insecurities. We remained friends, and then faded into acquaintances some time ago, speaking to each other only on holidays or odd moments.
I replied with a beaming smile quickly photographed, with a note saying, you did this. A smiley back was my reply, then he was gone again. Yes that is his style. I used to think he was a spy, but now I am leading toward ninja, or perhaps guardian of my smile, because whenever it falters he swoops in all hero like and puts it back in place.
The next morning was another message. Gm beautiful. Two in a row?? Are you kidding me? I thought, then I laughed a bit and asked what he wanted very bluntly. He called, his voice warm and familiar. Laughing, he told me I was getting jaded in my old age, and I mentioned probably just wiser. We caught up, speaking of what had transpired in the last few months of our lives, and we shared laughter and the deeper connection we always shared sparked and relit. I sighed, speaking to him of my newest adventures, and then he told me he still wasn’t with anyone new. I picked at him, because he is one of the most incredibly wealthy and handsome men I know, yet sadly one of the loneliest. It got quiet, and he softly mentioned he got me something small, but wanted to know what I wanted most of all for my birthday.

I remembered the last year, and the fight we got into for the large sum of cash he just so casually deposited on my tv stand and said happy birthday. I just have hard times accepting money. I feel like he is used so much, and I refuse to be the next one to break his heart and his account because I batted my eyes and fed him false hoods. I said “hmmm” Rather playfully, and then I told him the first thing that came to mind.

“I just want to be ravaged, Jake. I want to be treated irresistibly, yet rough and passionate, and afterwards, I want to be treated like a fragile doll and cuddled for the remainder of the night.” I laughed, knowing the six hour drive that it took for him to see me was a well planned out thing, and out of his reach.

He laughed with me too. And the conversation moved into the early hours of morning. I yawned, the most embarrassing squeaky yawn I have when I am just exhausted, so we decided to end the call. He paused right before getting off of the phone, and said, “When can I give you your birthday gift?” I thought for a moment, and told him I was free on Wednesday. “Perfect! We will do dinner as well. See you at five.”

Then he was gone. I blinked. And blinked again. Curious as to what had just transpired. I didn’t even know details. But I giggled and knew he would work it out some way, and then flipped my pillow over, found the coldest spot, and fell deep asleep.

It wasn’t till Tuesday that I heard from him again, and I honestly thought it was to reschedule. He had to be in a town about an hour away for work for the next week anyways, and was hoping he could see me; my birthday present was the perfect excuse. My heart did a little flip flop, and I wanted to chicken out. Jake always scared me; he was the one I pushed away. The one that got to close, that made me feel too much, and I wasn’t ready then, certainly not now. But this was dinner, a nice wine, a little chit chat, maybe a kiss good night. No harm.

I lie to myself really good. Denial is all part of the game!

We decided to meet up at his hotel, so I could unwrap my gift there, and then we would decide where to go for dinner. I pulled up, reapplied my favorite dark red lipstick, and straightened the skirt over my wide hips and soft full belly. I made a dashing picture, all black, down to the heals, the only color, my lipstick and the bright red string of beads around my neck. My hair pulled up in a clip and my favorite silver hoops, I was dressed for myself as much as for him.

After a quick text to get the room number I hopped onto the elevator to find his suite. The closing doors and loud ping still had a way of making my nipples pucker, and I blushed as it opened and an elderly gentleman stepped in. I got out, and made my way down the nondescript hallway, taking a deep breath before knocking.

He opened the door and was standing behind it, “Come on in Kit” he greeted me in that same honey smooth voice. As I walked in the smile on my face died slowly and was replaced with awe.

He was completely naked. More so, he was incredibly aroused. His short dusty brown hair and bright blue eyes smiled at me as I surveyed his amazing body. He was four inches shorter than me because of my heals, but as he pushed me against the wall and kissed me, he felt like a giant. His strength and hardness was against me, kissing me, taking me. He slammed the door with a free hand and proceeded to pull me with him to the bed. My heels were left somewhere by the door, and as he pulled me, he ripped open the buttons to my top and began to kiss the soft mounds of flesh that rose above my bra, then cupped them in his hand to free them from their bondage.

I could only moan, only grab his shoulders, shaking with desire, nails digging into his bare shoulders. He kissed me again, then pushed me onto the bed roughly, then tore the rest of my shirt off, and pulled a knife from the side table. I froze, still panting with want, now paralyzed in fear, and shamefully, still excitement. He kissed my shoulder, running his hands down to pull up the body of my strapless bra. The cold metal touched my skin briefly, and as he cut me loses from the bindings his hips pumped over the top of me.
“Ohh, Jake,” I whimpered, “Please?” between pants, but he yanked my head back with a handful of hair, throwing my clip across the room and kissed me to silence my pleas. He reached around me and fondled my breasts, pinching each nipple and roughly pawing at my breasts. He bit my shoulder and roughly turned me over, then pinned my hands above me, ravaging my mouth, biting my lips and neck. Moaning I spread open for him and thrust my hips up in invitation. He would occasionally reward me with a few grinds from his engorged member but focused on tasting every inch of my massive body.

He thankful spared my favorite skirt, shimmying it over my belly and hips, kissing my stomach as he made it jiggle. He nipped my inner thigh and I reached for his chiseled frame. His bright eyes darkened, and he stopped to pin me again. Asserting his dominance over my body, kissing me fully as I moaned and writhed desperate for completion. He uttered a warning.
“Don’t move your hands again, or I will bind you my love.” I bit my lip and nodded complacently then he kissed me with a devilish grin. Twisting a nipple, almost painfully he watched me, kneeling over me hard, glistening with precum, and I moaned, licking my lips suggestively, but never moving my hands.

He came closer again, one hand touching my cheek softly, then intertwining in my hair, pulling me up. He fed me his cock with the other, wiping the precum all over my lips as my tongue darted out to lick it greedily. His head was so engorged it must have been painful at this point, and his low moan told me that I had not forgotten how to please him with my mouth. He pulled away panting, his hand yanking my head from its prize and I protested by darting my tongue out to lick it.

He laughed at me, pushing me back down and commanding me once again to be still, and then kissed his way down my belly to the black cherry panties I still possessed. He pulled the knife from the coverlet again and one by one, cut the laces that melded into the fat at my hips. His moan more a growl as he took the last lace away and yanked the useless material from my quivering body. His mouth kissed just above my aching wetness and my legs pushed up to greet him, whimpering and spreading open in unabashed need.

He bit the lip, then let his tongue slip inside the wet folds and I sobbed his name. Shaking as his powerful strokes centered on my clit. My arms physically hurt, I was holding onto the head board, my nails digging into the wood, trying desperately not to reach for him. He opened me up further, blowing softly on the sensitive lips and I moaned, wrapping my legs up around his shoulders.

One thick finger slid inside me, then another, making it almost uncomfortable with the tightness. Yet, slowly he moved in and out, licking and biting the outer lips as well, then found the rough patch just above my opening. Moaning, I began thrusting my hips into the soft rhythm he had created, and as he tapped I began to shake. My whole body quaking now, my legs threatening to close in of their own accord and suffocate him in the soft rolls of fat; suddenly I wanted to beg him to stop and in the same instant beg him for more. Then I came, hard and fast, without warning. His thumb pushed on my clit rubbing it concentrically trying to prolong me and I almost cried from the sheer force.

Before I could come off of the high, he yanked me to the end of the bed, and stood between my legs. He spanked my swollen lips with his cock head, teasing them and running up and down my lips wetting himself with my cum. Then he pulled my legs up to his shoulders and entered me, spearing me forcefully.

I moaned loudly and reached for him, unable to contain my desire any more. His body pressed down on my legs, pulling them up to my chest, and my hands intertwined with his as he rammed in and out of me. Sometimes he would stop, mid stroke, and slap me again with his cock, then pinching a nipple to keep it nice and hard, then he would continue pounding me, stroke after glorious stroke until I began moaning louder and louder, screaming and begging for more. “Harder,” I demanded and he complied.

“I, fuck, fuck, OH FUCK,” was the only thing I could say before my lips went to a little O and my body began thumping like an over bassed car. I shook violently, arching back, screaming his name. He with one final thrust pushed deep within me before moaning on single YES . I could physically feel his cock throbbing within me and I clinched around him, milking his amazing organ.

He pulled out, moaning softly, and then motioned for me to move to the head of the bed. The pillows were on the floor, the coverlet and sheet hanging on one side. He picked up a pillow and laid it down, then pulled the blanket up to cover me. He then bent, and kissed me tenderly before laying beside me in the bed. I just quietly cuddled in, and the last thing I remember before falling asleep was him whispering happy birthday as he kissed my forehead.

I woke up to find I was alone, and I bolted, wondering if he had gotten called in. “Jake?” I called out, and moments later he poked his head in from around the door and smiled. His glasses were perched on his nose. And I giggled, as that was all he had on.

I rose up out of bed and moved to his side, wrapping my arms around his shoulders giving him a sound kissing for surprising me so. He patted my ass, and asked me if I was ready to get something to eat. I felt the blood drain from my face.

“I can’t.” he just stared at me quizzically. “No, seriously, I don’t know how I am even going to get out of the hotel! Oh FUCK! Jake!!! My clothes!” He started laughing, so I punched him.

He just kissed me and walked to the table. “No, Jake, I am serious. I can’t wear my shirt like that. Do you have anything I can get home in? Are you even listening to me?”

“No.”

I stared at him for a moment, not sure exactly if I should strangle him, or just walk out with a sheet as dignified as I possibly could. He brought me a large bag, purple, with one teal bow and kissed me softly. I looked at him suspiciously. Then at the bag in my hands.

“Unless this is outfit in a bag, I am still kicking your ass.”

“Just open it already Kit.”

I sat cross legged on the couch in the main suite and peered inside. Like a child I quickly tossed the non essential tissue paper and pulled an elegant red shirt that made me gasp. I quickly checked the size, and then hugged it to me, beaming at him from across the room. He just smiled and motioned to keep going.

Next I found a pair of gray dress pants, followed by a matching set of peach under garments. I sat speechless, feeling like a little cartoon donkey would appear soon and start dancing around the room with my name on it. I jumped up and hugged him tightly. Then from around his back, he pulled one more thing.

I stared at him suspiciously, as he knew I didn’t like him going overboard, but before I could complain, he just put a finger to my lips. “ The clothes were last minute to take care of your birthday wish, this, is what I had originally picked up for you, and you will accept it and be gracious and keep that beautiful big mouth of yours shut.”

I bit my lip, but eyed him harshly as I opened the small package. On the inside of the paper was a plain white box, and inside a bit of tissue, as I lifted the tissue, I gasped loudly and brought my hand to my mouth. Breathless I slowly touched the sparkling glass then gently lifted it from its box.

“Ohh Jake, “ I muttered admiring the crystal in the light. It was a small turtle, barely an inch, the soft black eyes staring soulfully back and the crystal dancing in the light filtering from the fading sunset in a rainbow of beauty.

I smiled at him teary eyed, touched by his generosity and thoughtfulness, then hugged him tightly. “Thank you so much! I love this.”

He smiled. “I thought you might. Now, prissy, grab your shower and lets go I am famished.”

I nodded, not paying any mind to his ridiculous nickname for me, and gently placed Leo back into his box. Then kissed him once again beaming before running to shower.

That night we went to a local casino and dined on a buffet of delicacies they called around the world, and then he treated me to a random ride, just driving, his hand in mine getting lost. We didn’t speak of tomorrows, or what could be or might be, just enjoyed each other’s company. I laid in his arms that night, fighting sleep, knowing when I awoke the next morning he would be gone.

The note on the pillow simply said thank you, kisses to you and Leo, will call again soon.

Dreaming

2009-08-05T21:46:00.001-05:00

The soft hum of the ceiling fan over the bed penetrates the veil of slumber that embraces me. I am disoriented. I still smell the jasmine candles that have been burning since last night. My nude body is covered by a soft sheet and a smile dreamily at the memories of his love making. I moan softly.

Am I dreaming of him? I feel his hands on me. One skilled hand teasing the soft hair between my legs, a finger moving up and down the thick lips teasing me, and then finally parting them softly to find the bud of my desire. The pad of his finger tip moving in tiny circles, pushing softly onto the swollen flesh. A whimper of pleasure escapes my mouth. I feel another hand slide along my soft belly, and further, to play with each breast, cup the expanse of it, feel the heavy weight of them then tweak my puckered nipples.

My eyes are still heavy with sleep. This dream is so lucid. I whisper his name, knowing it his him that has placed this spell over me. “Jackson.” I hear his soft chuckle. Then a tender kiss is placed on my lips, gently urging them to part with his tongue, then exploring my mouth languidly. There is no rush, only desire. I moan softly into his mouth, and reach up to wrap around him, Confused, my dream is so solid, real, I feel his warmth. The stubble of his chin under my palm, the softness of his hair. I can almost feel his blue eyed gaze on me.

Kisses, trailing down my body, I feel gentle insistence to spread my plump thighs and I do so willingly. I moan as the cold air hits the warm wetness of my ecstasy, but the breeze is quickly blocked. I feel the hair on his legs teasing my thighs, his solid thickness. His tongue flicking to taste the peach colored skin of my protruding belly, his hands rubbing and maneuvering the soft folds. I feel in this instant, treasured, as if each kiss a prayer, an offering of worship.

I shudder. I am not cold. It is the desire, the need welling up inside me, pooling at the apex of my legs. “Please” I whisper to the incubus ravaging my body. But only another kiss answers me. Lower, inch by inch. Like slow moving molasses, I want to scream in frustration. Take me! Kiss after kiss, licking, tasting, softly sucking each bit of flesh. Affectionately, the kiss on the mound above my lips, then thick tongue parting my moist lips. A moan pulled from me forcefully, arching up to meet him, my hips off of the bed, electricity brimming through me at his touch.

Thrumming further the desire, tasting me, his teeth softly tugging the engorged lips. One thick finger teasing my entry. And bucking upwards to entreat him, whimpering. The finger moves away. I sob escapes, made of frustration and need. Yet, it is quickly stifled with a low primordial moan of satisfaction as his tongue delves in to taste my desire. His tongue is unlike any other. Long and tapered, moving in and out, the tip bending upward in an effort to arouse every inch of me.

Thick thighs trying desperately not to close in and fold around his head. Moaning louder now, my hands clenching in his hair, eyes still closed, panting faster. Barely breathing, moving up and down in sync with each fluid movement of his tongue. The explosion almost eminent. Faster, faster, faster my heart beats. Calling out his name, “Ja, Jack, Jackson, JACKSON, J A C K S O N, OH GOD.” Screaming, almost sobbing as the orgasm over takes me. Shuddering around his skilled tongue, toes curled up and I remember to open my thighs, when I feel his stubble as I fall back down to earth.

I feel a tender kiss on my lips. It tastes of my release, sweet and tangy. My eyes flutter open, and I see him. His dimpled smile, eyes glazed with passion, flushed pink, and hair disheveled in such a roguish manner that my breath catches and I bite my lip just staring at him in wonder. He lowers to kiss me very softly on each eye and he whispers good morning as I feel the tip of his engorgement thick and eager at my entry.

I beam at him, a Cheshire grin that spreads across my face and I open up to him wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him closer. Accepting my invitation, his thick girth slowly presses in me, and my tightness envelopes him. Like sheathing a sword, gliding into my wetness, surrounded in my silken warmth. I feel the soft throbbing of him inside me, and moan loudly as we are connected. “Mmmm good morning” I moan back in joy.

He kisses me, and begins to build a slow steady pace. My hands caress his back, his chest, as I kiss his neck and shoulders. My legs rest on his perfectly shaped ass as he moves in and out. His eyes stare into mine. The intensity is so great I am enraptured, the urge to look away is so strong, yet I can’t. I can’t break this connection, this feeling that he is inside me and around me, that he sees into the deepest part of my soul; his heat burning me, consuming me.

This man is maddeningly patient. He blinks, his head thrown back as a moan escapes him. Another , and then another moan escapes, as my nails press small moons into his shoulders. Sweat beading, breaths shallow, and still we press on. He stops, and I push him over, quickly uniting us yet again. Our hands intertwine and I slowly ride him, up and down in an intimate dance. I kiss each finger tip, one after the other, and then his palm.

His hands slide down my body, then rest at my hips, encouraging as they meld the layers of pillowy softness. I feel the finger tips dig in and his moans grow louder. I know he is close. Shuddering in delight I moan too, and bend to kiss him. I bite his neck tasting him and moaning, still moving up and down his magnificence. He moans breathlessly, “Cum for me, Kit.” and I whimper, quickening my hip’s undulating movements.

His lips find my nipples, and oooh I can’t think, moving a bit more feverishly now, the slow savoring pace forgotten in my need. I feel it building, capturing my breath, and as I explode I call out loudly, almost sobbing his name, shaking and shuddering around him. As I milk him, he lets go, almost growling as he cums forcefully, throbbing deep within me, his body tensing and releasing. “Kit, oh god baby, mmmm” he moans low and deep between panting from exertion.

I whimper softly as I let him slip out of me, and lay beside him, cradled in between his arm and chest. I look at him and smile, laughing softly. “Mmmm, better than coffee.”

He laughs and kisses my fore head. “Yes, but I want another cup.”

Looking down I see he is indeed ready for me again and I moan softly as my hand meets the beautiful evidence of his desire. “Oh, I see.” I look at the clock and groan, then roll over the top of him, kissing him passionately, biting his lip. “We don’t have time unless we shower together.”

He laughs. “Not a problem.” He mutters, kissing me again, spanking my large ass playfully. I roll off of him, and he hops up and pulls me by the hand, leading me toward yet another adventure.

Chaos

2009-07-16T20:00:00.000-05:00

Life has been hectic this past week. A full schedule can be a blessing. For me it means being surrounded by family and friends, picnics and laughter, joy and chaos. My secret to escaping and not going crazy from it all is actually volunteering. While it sounds like more work and less down time, it is all about what you chose to do. My local library is amazing. It is huge full of texts old and new, dark and cold and quiet, except for the children’s books which constantly is flooded with sunshine and more laughter than one should expect in a sacred place of wisdom and learning. It is simply beautiful.

The library also happens to be my home away from home, the place I go to relax and run away from the outside world, where chaos becomes order, and things each have a proper place and number. It sooths my rare need for organization and allows me first peek at the latest books they have acquired. I volunteer once a week, usually for a few hours, but end up staying long after closing, as I am easily entranced.

I have my own key, as I have basically lived off and on in the library since I was twelve and have free run of the place. So whenever live gets too hectic, or I am in a pinch to get out of the drama that some people tend to pull around them, the library has an “emergency” and I go to shelf books and videos, pull articles and periodicals for research help, or sneak in and hide in the back office, reading from this text or that. I can’t tell you how many times I have wished for immortality for the opportunity to read and absorb it all.

This Wednesday was no different, after the last of my appointments I needed time to think, time to be away from stress and chaos and run away. I rushed home to quickly change, as my library time is often marked by shivering, so I pull up my long white stockings and smooth my flannel skirt that hits just above my knees. My favorite sweater, thread bare and tight fitting, the v-neck plunging low is pulled over my black lace bra. I switch to my thick black framed glasses and pull my hair up in my best librarian knot. My armor is on, I am ready to battle the thick dusty tomes and my red lipstick is ready to purse and shush all those that might distract from my calm.

I spent the afternoon shelving books in botany part of the library, each book, I glanced and read, marking in a separate book what I would enjoy looking up later. Mrs. March, the assistant librarian came to check on me once, and smiled when I jumped, her catching me kneeling on the floor, reading intently on fenugreek and pennyroyal.

“Kit, dear,” she began, as if she was ages older than me, not a mere ten years. “does your head ever come out of those books?” I simply blushed and nodded as she continued. “You have gotten a lot done. We are closing soon though, were you going to finish up your section or go home with the rest of us?” Her bright eyes were dancing and the smile on her thin lips told me she already knew the answer.

“I will stay, you know I never leave my books unshelved!” She laughed and nodded and then walked away, her round ass swaying in the tweed pants she wore. I knew she put on a show just for me, as she had caught me staring at her in the past, and after she caught me kissing Tara last week in the break room, I am pretty sure that she knew my I-think-you-have-something-on-your-sweater excuse was a bogus reason to touch the softness of her beautiful D cup breasts.

I shook myself from the naughty thoughts that kept running through my head and focused on putting up the remaining books. “K, you have a visitor!” I heard someone shout from the front.

“Let them in, and point ‘em my way!” I shouted while groaning inwardly at the thought of someone finding me in a puddle on the floor surrounded in books. Up I went, my ass bent over and my head toward the selection of books. Diligently putting them away. I knew it had to be my sister, probably needing a twenty to get her through the week, so when I heard the steps stop behind me, I motioned absently toward the table in the far corner. “Hun, my purse is over there, just get what you need and tell me how much. I should be done in another hour or two.”

When she didn’t respond I went to turn, but squealed as I felt hands wrap around my hips. The laughter I heard was unmistakable. The low sultry rumble sent shivers up my spin, and I twirled too fast and bumped into his hard chest. Looking up into Wynn’s eyes I gasp in delight. “How?? When??” I asked stuttering flabbergasted at his sudden appearance. My hands wrapped around his neck and he bent to kiss me, it was soft and passionate, yet I could feel his need radiating off of him in waves. Panting softly I looked into his eyes questioning.

“All of that later,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “You said I could have what I need. I need you Kitz, now.” And with that he kissed me again, pulling my soft body against him, wrapping his arms around my cumbersome body and pressing my hips to his so I could know how real his need was. A moan was forced from deep within me, almost painful was the lightening that shot through me as I felt his arousal. My nails dug through the simple polo shirt he wore, trying to gain balance and my lips trailed to bite his neck in a silent agreement as to his wish.

He growled and quickly smacked my ass. I moaned and writhed into him as I felt the warmth on my behind. He pulled my skirt up as he kissed me, squeezing and fondling my ass, pushing me against him, my hips rubbing up and down on his jeaned erection. His hands splayed across my ass releasing a torrent of stinging slaps, and I moaned and jumped trying to escape, only moving closer to his hard body, his stance solid against my supple body. I bit him, trying not to call out, the slaps echoing in the quiet library. He then cupped my face in his hands, kissing me tenderly, my blushing cheeks almost as red as those on my ass.

He turned me around and slowly guided me to bend over one of the smaller shelves. His hands still cupped and squeezed my ass, and he bent over me, grinding into me. I whimpered and pushed against him, needing him inside me. He pulled my hair from the bun, and slowly let his fingers twine their way through, still grinding and teasing my pussy. The excitement was so much I was sure I could cum with just a few more grinds and I pushed eagerly against him, rubbing and moaning.

He moved away, my head coming up, as he tugged me gently. He bit my neck, my ear, making me shudder. His hands snaked around me, flicking my nipples into tight buds. “Please,” I began to beg of him. “Please Wynn, no more. I need you in me” I gasp between pants, and he moved his hands to rub my belly, then pulled them back and gave me a quick smack on my ass again.

He backed away and I whimpered, looking back at him through the disheveled mess he had made of my chestnut hair. But he was unzipping his pants, and then let his cock escape through his boxers. I moaned at the rigid length and turned bending further over, spreading, showing him I was ready for him. The black matching thong I had worn was soaked with my wetness, and he moved it aside, then let one finger slide in-between my folds. I moaned and pushed against him, his finger slipping deep inside of me. I tried to ride it, but he withdrew.

My protest was quieted as I felt his thick head move up and down my lips, wetting himself and spreading his pre-cum on my swollen lips. I heard him growl, as if his reserve broke, and he plunged into me hard and fast. I screamed out in delight, and then bit my lip, trying to control myself, but almost immediately shuttered and orgasmed around him. I gasp as I began to shake, my very core splitting into pieces of light and shattering across the heavens. I arched back and he held me as I clinched and moved around his cock, and he moaned appreciatively.

Yet he continued moving, his cock hard and velvety sliding in and out of my wetness with now slow and deliberate strokes. One hand tugging my hair, the other guiding my hips, he pushed me higher and higher. Wynn’s movements became quicker, and I could feel his moans like a tuning fork in my spine. I pushed harder against him, his hips harder against me. In and out, his balls hitting my clit, his massive cock, reaching and teasing every spot inside me.

I felt my own breath quicken, and as I drew close I began to clinch around him harder and harder, urging his cock to release within me. His moan was deafening, like I had ripped his soul from his body, and he shuddered and twitched on top of me. As I felt both hands guiding my hips pushing me, all of his energy pulsing through me, I rose to my own climax again, and called his name over and over again.

Spent and exhausted, I rested my sweaty brow against the cold wooden shelve and as he pulled out I shivered again. He replaced my thong, as if it might do some good to stop the cum that would surely leak out of me. I giggled at the thought, then began to giggle more uncontrollably. He turned me around after he pulled his pants up and clasped them, then kissed me fully, softly hugging me up into his embrace. I beamed at him, although bashful, and he kissed my forehead.

“Mmm, my sweet little Kit, I have missed you.” I giggled at him again, never fully understanding how someone of my girth could be small, yet enjoying his endearment too much to argue. He held me at arms length and tsked at me. “You are a mess.” He moved to pull down my tight shirt from its rumpled position and tucked one breast back into its harness. I moaned softly as he tweaked each nipple once more for good measure. Then he smoothed my skirt down over my hips and underwear and reached between my legs, trailing softly down with his hands on my inner thighs and pulling back up each stocking.

My face was flushed, and I tried putting my hair back, but it was of little use. The knot was at best bumpy and messy and one look at me and anyone could tell that I had exerted myself recently. He kissed me again. “It’s your fault.” I said pouting, and quickly put the last few books away. He laughed and offered to assist me.

“I know, that is what makes you so beautiful right now.” To this I just stared, shaking my head at this insane man by my side and pouted before giving in to kiss him softly.

“Your nuts.”

“You like it.”

Again I merely nodded, not even bothering to deny it.

“What are you doing here!” I exclaimed as I finally realized that this encounter was a bit odd considering he lived half a continent away from me.

Wynn just smiled at me, as if amused that it took me so long to get my wits about me. Infuriating man. “Work. I just happened to have a layover at the airport, until tomorrow morning. I thought I might sneak up on you.”

I beamed. “I love surprises!” I said as I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him again. We locked up the library and headed home, where he made love to me this time, nice and slow, kissing each inch of my body. I think we fell asleep sometime around four, then were up again at seven to see him off. Seeing him was bittersweet, but honestly the perfect distraction. Today I have did nothing but stare off and daydream, even going by the library and blushing as I moved past the botany section, almost still feeling his heated breath on my neck, his hands in my hair.

I am muddled. In a state of constant confusion. Thinking of him and Tara and Jackson and wondering how long I can have all three of them before it comes tumbling down around me. Each of them is an addiction to me now, more than I care to admit.

Wynn my ocean, the calm, the chaos, ever churning, changing, mysterious and dangerous, yet so very alluring. Untamable, wild, his very essence a mixture of dark and light, mischievous and full of life. When I am beside him, there is something so, raw and real, so beautiful that I can’t explain it. His laughter contagious, his playful way reminisce of the god Loki, always a tease, a taunt, life a large and amusing game in which he moves each piece this way and that, gleefully watching us in our own self destruction.

Tara, my wind, the breeze on my neck, soft and giving, nurturing and uplifting, moving silently and gracefully as she entwines herself in my soul, bit by bit, until I have become certain the only true breath is one that I share with her, our lips touching, panting and gasping as our releases have swirled away from us, leaving us shaking and spent, only holding on to reality by the small thread that connects us.

And Jackson? He is fire. I can’t even call him mine yet. His mild manner a disguise for the passion that burns so fiercely within him. When he touches me, the heat and electricity sear my very soul, the intensity leaving me breathless, the need so powerful I am drawn like a helpless moth as his hands and lips assault me. Blazing, so powerful I feel it will consume me, the lust I have for him. More than just a physical flame, as if each bright flicker is fueled by an ageless spirit, powerful and full of wisdom. His very soul known to me as if it has sheltered and kept me a million years in his glow.

What have I gotten myself into? Musing I think of who could be my earth, then perhaps I might find balance, or then again they might all fade away, leaving me cold and dry and without air of which to breath or land on which to stand, falling into oblivion. Yet, musing is often interrupted and put on a back burner as life speeds up again, and the demands of just being me overwhelm again. I will call Wynn tonight, after I get back from Tara’s. She makes the most wonderful strawberry concoction of rum and berries and white cake. I wonder if she will let me eat it off of her soft belly…

Fireworks

2009-07-06T11:39:00.000-05:00

Running down the stair well, my wet, slick body covered in lotion and hair dripping, silk pink robe barely covering me as I tried to tie it closed; all not my ideal fourth of July weekend. This always happens. My eccentric family is all about drama. That is why I stayed in the hotel. And yet, still, there I was, huffing my rather large hiney down three flights of stairs, the smell of smoke in the air, alarming blaring in my ears. Everyone else passed me up, moving ahead of my cumbersome frame. Silently hoping that the alarm was not fire but hungry lions and all the rude people were rushing to their bellies, I progressed along, down one flight, then the other.

Absently I noted a door on another floor open, and heard shoes squeaking as someone quickly made their way down. I assumed that they would pass as the others had, but as they approached they slowed down, and I looked up to see what had stalled them. The man was slightly winded, my heighth and, my appraisal could go no further as that as my gloriously graceful self twisted my ankle and tripped down the last four stairs.

Pain sliced through me, and I groaned. I felt my cheeks redden, and for a moment was disoriented. Then I felt a hand on my side, under my arm.

“Are you okay?” the man asked of me, as he tried to help lift me up.

The thought of someone lifting my frame had started the giggles, and I began to laugh at myself. He bent over and stared at me with one eyebrow lifted in question, his lips twisted together slightly. The beguiling look made me laugh harder. He smiled warmly in return and I noticed his face flush. The air suddenly was colder, and I looked down to notice that when I had fallen my robe had pulled itself open, my nude body poking out of the pink silk in various places.

Of course, in my state of mind, I also found this to be amusing, and laughed as I pulled my robe closed. He moved down the first few stairs flushing profusely, and I took it merely as him being a rather reserved man, albeit a gentleman. Again he offered his hand and I looked up at him as I moved my hair out of my face. He moved with quiet grace, his lithe body moving easily in his lose fit jeans and burgundy t-shirt. His hair was golden, cut short and professionally, his eyes a deep blue surrounded by slightly rectangular black frames. His glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, and it wrinkled cutely as he smiled with his Cheshire smile. Dimples; my only thought seemed to be dimples.

I took his hand and his strong body braced to take the weight of me as I pushed up and he pulled to steady me. I tried setting my foot down, but the pain was too intense and I gasp, pulling it quickly up. He bent down on one knee and pulled my calf onto his thigh. His hands were warm, the fingers splayed across the quickly bruising flesh. He made me move it from side to side, then up and down. I bit my lip against the pain and looked down at him for some type of diagnosis.

He looked up at me, and I could swear he wasn’t breathing, I could see his face get darker red and his eyes widened. “Um, I am not a doctor, but it looks sprained and not broken. “ His hands softly rubbed my calf and ankle, I moaned softly, feeling myself moisten slightly. I could hear the fire siren blaring again and snapped to attention. He mumbled sorry and placed my foot down slowly, and stood up. I smiled at him warmly.

“That’s alright. I appreciate your help. You think we should hobble out to safely?” I asked trying to stop assuming that every man I met was attracted to me. He reached for my hand and I smiled. “My name is Kitzy by the way.” His smile seemed contagious and mine grew larger, slightly goofy. He took my hand in his and kissed it chivalrously.

“And mine is Jackson.” I laughed at his gesture, smiling and feigning a fainting spell.

“Well how do you do?” I asked as he moved to wrap my arm around him and tired to support my weight, laughing as he walked me out the door.

We ran abruptly into the fireman, and he lost his hold and yes, my fat ass pulled us both down. (I did mention this was a glorious holiday weekend didn’t I?) Sitting in the grass we stared up at the uniformed fireman, his yellow and black jacket gleaming as the flickering lights roamed over the parking lot to the motel. He appeared equally startled.

We explained that I had been injured and he quickly bent and confirmed the initial diagnosis of bad sprain. He then helped me up again, Jackson being uninjured, rose up on his own and resumed his position beside me. He looked around and then again at my dishevelment. The fireman then shook his head.

“Honey, there is no reason to be out here, the fire was in the fifth floor. We have already extinguished it, just waiting on the inspector to come clear the place. It is a formality really. Just go up to your room and put some ice on that.”

Jackson spoke up. “Here, let me help you.” And then just as quickly as we came out, we moved back into the hotel. I hobbled through the main entrance and he pushed the elevator button as we awkwardly waited making small talk. The doors opened with a loud ding, and we stepped inside. “What floor?”

“Three.” I mentioned and braced myself against the rail. He pushed the button then pushed five as well. Before letting the door close he made sure to position himself closer against me. I looked at him and raised a questioning eye. He smiled crookedly.

“So you don’t lose your balance.” I laughed and allowed his body heat to warm me. He sighed, reddening slightly. “Damn you smell good.” He muttered as the elevator sputtered to life. I turned to look at him and my breath caught. I could see his desire in his face. The way he averted his eyes and my barely covered breasts. It was heady, the passion a drug that made me dizzy and I faltered, stepping backward.

“Ummm,” I stuttered, and shook my head. “It’s my lotion. Trying a new scent. It is honey suckle. Or it might be my shampoo, or the vanilla body wash.” His hand brushed my neck and I shivered, then he got so close I could feel his breath. His nose touched the sensitive skin, and a small moan escaped my lips.

DING

I jumped as the doors open to my floor, and groaned slightly as my ass hit the metal of the guard rail. He just stood there, almost paralyzed. I could feel the tension radiating from him as he tried to gather some composure. His smile was controlled, and he looked up into my eyes. “I believe this is your floor.” I sighed in response. “Are you okay, Ms. Kitzy?” He asked me.

“yeah,” I said laughing as I did so, “Just my ass and ego are both bruised I think.” He chuckled softly. The elevator doors shut close again, and he jolted as it moved. Neither of us made a move to stop it, and his hands slipped behind me, moving across the silk and cupping each cheek, I gasp in surprise and the next door opened, this time I fell against his hands.

“To protect you.”

“Oh, you are such a gentleman.” I whispered as he came closer.

“No, far from it.” He replied, then groaned as his self reserve broke. He kissed me with such passion it took my breath away. This stranger had moved both of his hands to cup my face, his eyes closed tightly behind the scholarly glasses he wore. I should say stop I dimly thought as his kiss continued, his mouth and tongue moving expertly to create torrents of desire. When he finally stopped I stared at him in shock.

Jackson had the audacity to blush under my gaze. “If you tell me no, I will stop and get off this elevator now, but damn it, I want you. And I couldn’t get off of here without telling you.” I could feel my own cheeks flush, and I just kept staring, my mouth open unbelieving. My hair had began drying but was still a mess, my silk robe rumpled, the mirrors all around the elevator showed my face flushed, eyes round, lips dark and swollen from his kiss. I could see the globe of my right breast protruding from the pink fabric. My nipple evident in the other one. My belly was showing slightly as well as my right thigh and leg. No wonder he was worked up! I was half way naked now!

And yet, I remembered how he looked at me in the stair well, and how calm and patient he had been. And he was so cute. I quit over analyzing myself and just asked what I wanted, and not surprisingly I wanted him with equal passion. Before I could chicken out I kissed him, pulling him into me bracing against the wall. It was almost animal like the way he growled as he heard my answer. His hand roamed exploring me, and his lips trailed to kiss my neck. I watched him through hooded eyes, my sore leg hiked up around his waste, his ass tight and pressed to support me.

I loved the way his pale skin looked against the darkness of mine, the way he moved against me, the way my nails left soft pink trails in his back. He pulled the small tie that held my robe together and again moaned, his vocal approval echoing in the small space. When his lips found my hard puckered nipple I gasp and moaned loudly, my hand in his soft hair. I couldn’t shut my eyes, I had to watch him through the mirrors. I shuddered involuntarily the rush so intense. I begged him for more, thinking this was to be fast and hard. Yet he seemed to be a starving man, bent on savoring every morsel, kissing my other breasts, hands lifting them weighing them appreciatively then smiling as his tongue tortured me.

He then moved down, running his hands over the large expanse of my stomach, murmuring how beautiful and smooth it was as he bent to shower it tenderly with kisses. He raised and kissed me fully again, and I felt like he sucked the very air I breathed out of me, I wobbled and he braced me against the rails. Jackson’s kisses were like nothing I have ever had. How can you be worshiped in a kiss? How can it convey so much passion and lust? It was as if I could feel his need as my very own.

I held his head in mine and he was momentarily disoriented. “I want you! Please,” I said gasping with each syllable. “Please let me feel you inside me.” My hand moved to his jeans and I pulled to hastily unbutton them.

“Mmm, almost.” He said as he pulled away. He dropped down to his knees in front of me. “I have to make sure you are nice and wet for me.” And with that I felt one thick finger slide between my wet lips. My hands went to the metal bar, trying to remain stable and thrust myself up at an angle to entreat his further exploration, my leg over his shoulder. He found my clit, engorged among my fat lips and pulled and twisted it, then parting me his tongue long and tapered tasted me and my I called out in ecstasy.

My legs spread further, my need strong, the cold air on my nipples, the silk falling and skimming around my skin, the sensations began to be too much. My hips thrust against him as he buried his face within me after throwing his glasses to the side.

“Plll… please” the words a mere prayer at this point. He suddenly stopped, and I whimpered in frustration. He rose, and pulled his pants down, anchoring them under tightened balls. His huge cock was covered in precum and I understood now why he took so much time getting me ready for him. He pushed me against the mirrors, staring at me, slowly guiding his cock into me. For a moment I thought it would be impossible to fit all of him, but he waited until the glorious tension faded and I grew accustomed to him. When he was buried deep inside me he kissed me and started his slow, rhythmic onslaught.

My hands braced against his shoulders holding him close to me. His moves deliberate and strong. I felt him building me slowly into frenzy, and yet our pace remained the same. His kissing me passionately then our heads bent together, the sensation to overwhelming to do anything other than relish it. My breathing was so erratic that when I came at first I couldn’t find the breath to scream, but then I did, pulling him closer with my leg, moaning and throwing my head back.

My walls shuddered violently around him and two powerful strokes later he came. His moan guttural, shuddering as he released inside me. I held him, his sweaty brow resting on my chest, my hips slowly milking his massive erection until he slid out sated. I grinned at him bashfully as his dimpled smile lit his own face.

He moved to kiss me once more, and wrapped his hands around me to gather up my belt. He straightened it, and my hair, then nibbled my neck. I moaned softly then louder as I looked down to see he was already hard again. Wrapping my fingers around his cock I noticed that they couldn’t even touch due to the girth. I stroked him softly marveling at the silkiness and when an errant drop of cum slowly drizzled down I bent and licked it off. He tasted of my cum, and I sucked him further.

DING

The elevator shuddered and I grasp for balance as it began to move. I was wide eyed as he quickly pulled his pants up and moved beside me picking his glasses up off the side of the rail. Up we went to level eight, the door opened, and a bleary eyed business man entered. His shirt was tussled and he smelt of alcohol. Fortunately he paid no attention to us as we looked at each other and smiled at our secret.

He escorted me to his room, as I had locked mine and didn’t have the key. There, we stepped into the spa and made love all over again. I found out that Jackson was there for work, and that he traveled often. Even closer to where I lived. I never made it to the fireworks this weekend. Mysteriously came down with a terrible headache and spent the day in bed, side by side with my new lover.

I think I am learning to love the holidays.

He Left Today

2009-06-28T03:46:00.001-05:00

He left today. I stood at the bottom of the escalator, watching him ascend, and feeling like I was being ripped into. But I smiled at him, hoping he could not see the shimmering tears that silently fell. The week with him has been amazing. And I know in time although bittersweet I will cherish each memory we shared. I might share more of our adventures another time, when the ache is dull and distant.

When I walked out, the bright morning sun blinded me, and I walked with my head down, watching my shadow stroll along uncaring, wishing his was intermingled. I knew I had to break out of my melancholy or it would be weeks before I could again think of emerging as my bubbly self. The car still smelt of him, his cologne, and a deeper scent that was just.. Undeniably him. I inhaled deeply, smiling sadly. But no regret! None! One moment was worth a life time of misery.

Just not to succumb. I drove blindly, not heading in any particular direction, yet somehow managing to meander toward the road back home. Music blasting, window down, enjoying the simple sensation of being free, the miles past remarkably quickly, and as I found myself at a junction, I turned away from home, and winded up the dirt road toward the lake. I love how the trees are so wild in Louisiana, the dark foliage creating a canopy under which to drive, giving a quick respite from the heat.

As the trees cleared, the embankment quickly came into few, the water like a pool of glitter in the sunshine. I quickly parked my car and rolled the windows up. Pausing only momentarily to rummage through the back of the car for a discarded picnic blanket from earlier in the week, I quickly made my way to the hot white sand. Thankfully deserted save a lone fisherman in the far distance, the lake was blissfully inviting. I disrobed without hesitation, this swim being one of my many rituals through out the years to ease my mind. Stopping at my emerald green lace boy shorts and matching bra, I figured assumed if the distant fisherman also happened to be the warden I’d be given a few dirty looks, but couldn’t technically be arrested. Sighing at the thought of tan lines on my already carmel skin, I slide the straps of my bra off my shoulders and pulled my hair into a high pony tail.

The water washed softly against the shore and was warm as it engulfed my toes. I watched each red toenail become engulfed it eddies of sandy water. Further and further I sank into the lake, peering into the reflection, wondering if I could find some bread close to lure the small perch that swam by. I sighed as the water parted, my cumbersome body becoming light weight and effortless to move, my breast floating like small buoys. I swam out further, until I could not see the lake bottom and simply treaded water, losing myself in the sensation of bright sun and cool water, laying back to float, imagining my sadness being the heavy weight of sand, slowly filtering to the waters bottom, only leaving me with the tremendous joy I feel when Wynn is near.

I began to here a humming in the distance, and I cringed, knowing it was the sound of a boat motor. I let my legs sink back in, and slowly pulled the straps up over my shoulders. My head quickly dunked under so that I could wet my thick dark brown hair. The weight of it pulled on me, and laid midway down my back, the water, small droplets hung to my lashes. I am not beyond using my attributes to assist me in persuading persons of authority to listen to my view points, and I pushed my breasts up to attention.

Slowly the white boat came into the focus, a dark silhouette against the bright sun lit sky. My breath caught as I inhaled sharply and I realized that It was a useless endeavor to push my breasts upward as I saw what I would describe as a beautiful plumper. Her ebony hair tied behind her in a tight braid that hit just above her belt. Her skin was sun kissed a light tan and a closer inspection reviled a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her pert nose. When she bent her breasts strained the cotton T shirt and her waist was thick, a pudge creating tension in the waist band of her khaki shorts. Thighs large and soft peaked from below them and as one leg propped on the side of the boat I noticed a small silver chain around her ankle.

She peered down at me then removed her sunglasses and extended a hand of greeting. “My name is Tara,” she said as she surveyed me. Her bright green eyes and full lips completed an utterly breathtaking picture and I ruefully thanked the water gods for this nymph like distraction.

“Kitzy,” I replied looking directing into her eyes.

“Nice bathing suit,” she said smiling. I merely laughed and shrugged my shoulders.

“Whatever works, it’s a little more than what I prefer, but you know how it goes.” I tried reading her expression, and for a moment I thought I caught her staring at the bit of cleavage that floated out of the water. I bit my lip against the moan that tried to escape my mouth. “Would you like to join me?” She looked hesitant, and I thought I had misread her intentions. But then she laughed, slightly blushing.

“That obvious?” she asked in her beautiful melodic voice.

Now it was my turn to laugh. “No, I was just kind of hoping you might be.”

She scrunched her nose and as she pursed her lips scanning the beach line. “I’ll be right back,” she said and moved to steer the boat away. I quickly pushed myself out of the wake, and slowly moved to shallower water. I felt the sensation of anticipation and lust flow through me like a heady drink as I watched her shirt. Her soft body expanded without the constriction; her bra quickly followed, her easily D cup breasts spilling onto her white paunch and little muffin top. Then she shimmied out of her khakis and revealed a wine red thong between two creamy white cheeks. The thongs rose high on her wide hips, the cheeks prominent against the back of her thighs. A small butterfly tattoo appeared to flutter on one voluptuous round and when she turned her belly hung over the top of them to hide the satin material. Lastly, she pulled the rubber band out of her hair, and let it cascade down her back.

I was entranced.

She stepped out of the boat and as soon as the water touched her protruding belly she slid in, quickly stroking each thick arm out to meet me. When she got to me, she smiled, a crooked half smile, as she pushed her hair behind her. We spoke briefly about where we were from, and how we ended up on the lake this day. She had just rented a small cabin on the far shore and was trying to get inspiration for her art work, which mostly dealt with landscapes. She then used any money she made to travel to her next location. She wanted to see the world. I loved the way her eyes lit up as she talked about the cactus in the desert or the sound of the everglades when the sun is fading.

We treaded water like that for at least two hours, simply talking and laughing, getting to know one another. Every now and then she or I would move to rewet our hair or just cool our shoulders off. The last time I rose up I realized that I had left my straps up and grunted in disgust, as I peeled away the strap to notice a definite line.

“What?” She asked curiously as I curled my lip as I looked at them.

“I hate tan lines.” I mumbled while taking the strap and tucking it under my arm. She came closer, her hand touching my shoulder, her belly rubbing mine. I know she must have heard my sharp intake of breath, the shock of sensation that her touch supplied.

Tara bent down, slowly, giving me ample opportunity to pull away, and gently kissed the small white line that divided the deep toffee color I was becoming. I sighed as her other hand pulled away the other strap, and she kissed the line too, as she trailed the strap down. I pulled my arm through the sleeve, and then leaned closer to kiss her. If you have ever kissed both a woman and a man, you know there is a difference. I am not sure if it is energy, or just the way their lips are, or the technique in which a woman moves beneath you.

It is smoother, like a fine wine compared to a strong whisky, and when our lips touched and hers parted I felt drunk. Her hand was in my hair, my hands around her, tongues teasing and tasting playfully. Pressing closer together, we both giggled as we slightly sank under the water. And I felt her hand on my breast as we both moved closer to shore. Her fingers quickly found my turgid nipples and I moaned, my hands running up the sides of her body and moving to encompass her heavy globes. I pulled one out of the water, and suckled the nipple to rigidness.

Tara tasted so sweet, I moaned as I used my thumb to alert her other nipple to attention, then pulled both of her beautiful breasts together, to lick them both together, my lips around them both, gently sucking and squeezing as she placed her hands on my shoulders to steady herself. Dropping her breasts I then pulled her close, to kiss her again. Quietly, she grabbed my hand and led me toward the shore. My mind was blissfully blank, my water logged hand in hers, simply watching her graceful body rise from the water.

Together we lay on the blanket I had put out when I first arrived, I moved her hair out of her face, then leaned in and kissed her again. Her body was a cool contrast against the heat that had began to press upon us. Her hands roamed softly over my body, each contour honored, and each roll, pinched and pulled and rubbed. My kisses trailed further, her soft neck, her shoulder, and then I gently pushed her over and took her nipple into my mouth. My hand trailed further, the nails leaving soft pink trails on her skin. As I got lower, I played with her belly, the soft skin velvety and plush. Rubbing and kneading it as I switched breasts and she loudly moaned. Her hands in my hair, I trailed tender kisses down her belly.

My hand moved underneath the wet satin that was covering her and teased her by lingering just above her moist lips. I rubbed my hands up and down in softly, then just as I felt her lurch up for more; I let one thick finger slide in her swollen lips. I quickly found her clit and lightly rubbed, trailing kissed to each of her hips. She moved underneath me, her bright green eyes hooded with desire, her hands now pinching massaging her beautiful breasts, pulling each pert nipple.

I pulled my hand from underneath the satin, and she whimpered in protest, but I positioned myself between her legs and pulled her underwear off, shimmying it down her thick legs. I threw them half hazardly to the side, and then kissed her ankle, then her chubby knee, then the velvety skin inside her inner thigh. I blew softly on the dew covered lips, kisses then exerting the slightest of pressures above her clit. She moaned, but I merely trailed my kisses downward, one after the other, my hands rubbing her thighs and belly periodically.

I can’t describe how amazing she felt, like comfort and silk, so incredibly smooth. I could feel the heat radiate from her lips, and I darted my tongue out to taste her, one quick movement licking all of the wetness that had gathered. Sucking her lip into my mouth she moaned. I kissed and nibbled the outer labia until she was begging me to do more, her own hand reaching to sate her need. Her soft high moans were so different from Wynn’s. But they thrilled me just the same, relenting; I parted her lips with my thumbs, up and down, gently stroking, then my flicking my tongue on her clit. She bucked in appreciation and I could feel the strain of the muscles in her legs, trying to close in to pull the sensation further. In small concentric circles I moved my tongue and slowly slid one finger into her tight warmth.

Tara’s wetness closed in around my finger and I moaned as I sucked her clit between my teeth gently. She arched up and moaned loudly, echoing off the lake. My second finger inched slowly in, careful to stretch her gently, then my rhythm began, I would alternate kissing her lips, nibbling softly on the tender flesh, to flicking and suckling and nibbling her sweet clit. My fingers lit upon her treasured spot within and I rubbed her, gently tapping occasionally. As she began to writhe under my attentions I hurried my pace, moaning as I felt her body tense and vibrate. I wanted her cum, I needed to feel her shudder and release.

I was relentless, rhythmically pounding her now, my tongue working feverishly; when I felt her thighs close in around me I knew she was close. She arched up, her back completely off of the blanket, burying my face in her succulent pussy. Her moans reverberated off the trees and the lake as she shivered and came, her juices slowly leaking out onto my fingers. As she slowly descended from her climatic glory, I bent to lick her clean. She pulled me to her, kissing me firmly, our tongues sharing the taste of her spent desire. I moaned again as she rolled me over and straddled me.

I could feel her wetness against my own and I shivered in delight. She spread my legs and opened my lips wide for her and as I write this I blush she pressed herself into me, her lips into mine, our juices mingling my heart racing, her hands were on my breasts, her mouth suckling them, flicking them with her tongue. And she made love to me, building me closer and closer to glorious release. When I thought I could stand no more I called to the very heavens, exploding in the mid day sun, the echo s stirring the birds that had flocked to feed.

Shaking and spent we lay side by side, her head resting on my breast, her smile I could feel as much as my own. I rolled over to one side, and she rested a hand on the wide expanse of my stomach. I kissed her softly. Then I whispered thank you to her for the time we had spent that day. She sighed, feeling the tug of the world again, knowing that our time stolen was nearly up. As I rose to dress she moved to the boat, and again I watched her graceful body move with admiration and amazingly new stirrings of lust. She handed me a torn piece of sketch paper with her number and kissed me again.

“I’ll be here for a few months at least, don’t let this be the last time I see you,” she said looking wistfully at me. I smiled and grabbed her hand in mine, kissing it tenderly on the palm.

“It won’t be Tara, I promise.” I said and gave her a fleeting kiss on the cheek. I picked up my blanket and she gathered her panties as I blushed and laughed at my earlier brashness. Walking up the path I felt refreshed, and as I look back to wave again, I saw her watching my movements and she waved back. Smiling I got into my car, smelling of lake and sun and woman, all mingling with Wynn’s scent.

As I pulled back onto the dirt road I knew the smile on my face would not fade for quite some time.

Distract Me

2009-06-23T00:06:00.001-05:00

As you can tell, I am an emotional lover. There is always something that connects me deeper to anyone I allow to touch me, and even if it is for just a moment, perhaps I am wanting that stamp on my passport of life so to say, the colors and designs of each soul unique, the one moment of shared ecstasy an excursion to be both cherished and remembered. Do I fuck for the sake of fucking? To put it so unpoetically, yes sometimes, I have a genuine need to get that rush and masturbation can only fill so much. But it is with always with someone that excites me, entrances me in and odd way. Maybe their laughter made me crave to feel their joy, their sadness and melancholy to chase away their demons. And then there is always the special few that no matter what the head says, the heart will forever be the unruly teenager, unrelenting in its stubbornness to run headlong into disaster, uncaring, to paraphrase Fitzgerald “it was not the time for loving.” Yet in the end, my heart gets wrapped up in a fleeting moment, and I am both moody and enamored, fearful and rapturous .

I picked him up from the airport and when I felt my treacherous heart skip a beat I knew that I was making a mistake. And yet, when he smiled with his almost canine teeth, I shivered in anticipation. I felt the blood rush to my face, and I looked up at him into his dark eyes and amazingly saw light there, the oddest mirth in the ebony, like moonlight on the lake. I bit my lip, as I am apt to do, and he leaned in slightly and kissed my cheek, then messed my hair.

I laughed, mentioning he always made me feel more like a school girl than a woman, and his warm baritone floated over us as he chuckled, then looped a hand through mine to walk out the door. I felt oddly at ease, just comfort in his companionship, he opened the car door for me, and held his hand out for the keys, and I am woman enough to know if I had wanted to be stubborn I could have, but I wanted to be driven around anyways. I got in, and he knelt beside the door.

Confused I questioned him with my eyes, but pulled my breath in tight, when he reached to pull the seat belt over my frame. He was so close I could smell him. His spicy mix of earth and ocean, and I must have let a small moan escape me. He reached up and cupped my head, and gently kissed my lips. My eyes felt glued shut, my heart pounded, and I felt as if he were pulling me into the heavens. I kissed him back just as tenderly, not deepening the kiss, but relishing his feel, the warmth and closeness to me unlike any drug I ever felt. My hands automatically reached to his face, and I felt his smile as he pulled away.

“Hello Kit,” he said almost absently.

“Hello Wynn” I answered as I blushed, cheeks bright red, lips swollen eyes big and questioning.
As we drove home, he plugged in a burnt cd and we listened to random songs. I took the peaceful silence in stride, only worrying of how the kiss completely affected me. I knew I had to find a way to shield myself. My musings hit apon a errant thought, and as the car stopped in my drive I knew what I had to do.

I would not be his sweet Kitzy, but the one he had to conquer and punish; the hard unyielding one. No emotion, only lust and need.

Once out of the car, we strolled amicably into the house. I had left the candles lit by mistake, and the smell of cinnamon permeated the air. We walked into the bed room, and I took his bag, and placed it in the plush chaise lounge. He appraised my room slowly, from the simple four poster bed in the middle of the room, covered in blood red satin, to the black and white nude photos of bbw women in various poses. His hands trailed the dark oak wood of my dresser and end table, and he fingered the latest book I was reading absently.

When I met his eyes, I quaked inwardly, but mustered all my bravado and foolishly made my decision. In retrospect, I laugh, because some how, I think he knew. As I approached he was just mildly curious, and smiled at me. He opened his mouth to talk, but he was taken off guard and fell back against the wall when I pushed him into it. Holding his hands to his sides, I kissed his neck, unable to meet his gaze. I felt the beat of his heart quicken, and I bit him. I could taste the salt of his skin, and feel the moan deep in his throat.

I put one finger up to his lips as he tried to open his mouth, and then trailed kisses on the rim of his collared shirt to the other side of his neck, his arms still pinned at his sides, I bit his ear lobe, pulling it down and then licking it playfully. His head bent down, and he softly nipped at the underside of my chin and distracted me.

Before I knew what had happened, he twisted his hands up to grab my wrists, and twirled me around with a resounding thud. He stared at me momentarily as he hiked up my arms over my head and pinned them there with one hand. I refused to meet his gaze, afraid he would see through me, and trembled as he let one hand slowly trail down my neck and rested on my large right breast. He weighed it in his hands while his gaze bore into me, then flicked the nipple to erection. I moaned helplessly and closed my eyes. He let his hand trail further down, to cup my ass through the silk gaucho pants I had worn. He then swiftly spanked it and leaned closer to my ear.

“Look at me,” was his command.

I refused, and instead tried to lean forward and bite him again. His arms were longer than mine, and he easily pulled away out of my meager reach. His laugh shot slivers of electricity through my body, it lacked humor, and bespoke of something darker, more villainous.

“You want to play so soon my little dove?” he asked me with a widening grin. Shivering I nodded and he lowered to bite lightly my neck. Arching I squirmed as I felt his teeth slowly sinking into my flesh, and the pain a joy, a distraction from the over analyzing mind as the sensations were deeper, stronger and more intense than they should be.

Wynn devoured me it seemed, biting me over and over, nips of pleasure and pain, his hands squeezing my wrists. My arms were feeling like putty. Yet the pleasure was still there, an undeniable current, building slowly.

He tugged me over to the bed, holding me down now, his warm, hard body a contrast to the ice cold satin sheets and pillowy softness of the mattress. His body on top of me; I struggled against him as he reached to pull away the cord that tied the curtain open.

My nails tried digging into his hands, but the half moons had little effect on him. Wynn maneuvered himself on top of my hands and quickly tied each wrist, I was twisted, the ropes crossed. He turned me over and laid beside me unbuttoning my blouse, concentrating on sensation, on need and lust, ignoring any other emotion that might try to rear its ugly head.
How odd it was, the struggle was not for my body, not against his intimate intrusion. I had only spoken of my desire to explore this taboo side of myself with him, only whispered how excited it made me to imagine myself tied up and at the whims of another, my control stripped away. This was not the panic or fear I was fighting.

He was so slow, so controlled, as he unbuttoned each button of the large emerald green silk shirt I wore. Warm hands would move and caress as he exposed each new patch of flesh to the cold air that blasted from the vent above. Rambling his hands roved over my large round stomach, up and down each side, slightly teasing the waist band of my black gaucho pants. I moaned moving into him, and risked opening my eyes.

Mistake.

He was there, staring intently, smiling down at me, his eyes dark and questioning. I couldn’t look away. I bit my lip, and felt the heat rising as I blushed under his scrutiny. My breathing shallow, he raised his hand to my face and lifted my head slightly. He bent to kiss me gently this time, and although I began to melt I revolted and bit his bottom lip.

He laughed. Then tsked me for my obstinacy. “This will be done my way, my little dove, regardless of your provoking me.” I looked at him in defiance as I licked my lips seductively. “Tell me, what it is you want.” I shook my head, not even trusting my own lips not to betray me. “Do you want me?” he asked, as one hand moved down lower, cupping each full breast in his hand almost casually.

I nodded, he reached down, pulling my leg over, he spanked me hard. I let out a sound of surprise, as the stinging sensation flowed through me. “Now, Kit, again I am going to ask you, do you want me? I suggest you answer me my dear with your words if you wish for me to continue.” Momentarily I thought about denying his request, but I knew he was still in control enough to stop.

“Yes,” was my breathless reply. Triumphantly he smiled and for a brief moment I wanted to revolt against his smugness. His reward to me was removal of his clothes, slowly in front of me, his broad shoulders and tapered waist, his muscular thighs and calves, and as his final clothing came off I could feel my heart stop. He was so very beautifully endowed, his hard cock at attention, full and ready for me.

He seemed indifferent to the pain his engorgement must be causing him. Moving slowly and gracefully, like a preying cat, he circled the bed. He pulled a small bottle of lotion out of his carry on, and put it beside the bed. I watched him curiously, aching for him to hurry his pace. Stretching languidly out beside me, I opened my legs to entice him further. Flipping to hover on top of me, I felt his erection and moaned loudly, pushing my hips upward to grind against it. He bent and kissed me, deepening the passion, and this time it was him who nibbled my bottom lip. One of his hands explored my breasts, as his lips, one kiss at a time made their way down to my puckered nipple. First he kissed the bud through the lace that covered it, and I whimpered arching into him, his erection baring into me, his lips teasing me. He moved the lace, burying it under the mound of my breast, and moved his other hand to do the same.

Closer and closer I came to release, arching against the ties that bound me to the bed, aching to touch him. My moaning louder, breathing heavier, just a little more pressure, a little more…
And he stopped. I cried out in disbelieve. And tried to get at him, my legs encircled his waist and I squeezed him between my large white thighs. He reached underneath me and grabbed my ass, kneading it and pulling it up and down, maddening me further. He bent to place a kiss to the building moisture, then like a snake slid from my grip when I widened my legs further to accept him. I through my head back in exasperation, and squealed as he turned me over.

He sat cross legged, and spread my legs around him, my ass round and full in his face, he rubbed each cheek generously, then would pause to spank me firmly; just enough to leave heat, not enough to incite tears. Each time I would tighten and push my hips downward, and would feel the length of his cock, jutting between us.

When he paused, I gasp in relief, it being almost a need to have him inside me. He pulled my pants slowly down, then kissed back up my legs. I pushed up on my knees and he slowly slid his hand under my panties and I pressed down further, opening my lips and letting him explore my wetness. He quickly found my center, and tweaked the small nub between his fingers. Shaking I nearly lost my balance and he pulled his hand away. He spanked me again, over the top of my underwear, the heat from my ass began to radiate, the sensation more intense.

Wynn would bend after a particularly stinging slap and kiss the reddened after affect. Just as the sting would subside, he would hit it again. I would moan and squirm. “Please, please, I began to beg,” moving up and down. “I want you. Please Wynn, inside me” I breathed.

I felt him rise and slide my panties off slowly, nipping my backside playfully and I moaned victoriously. In a moment I felt something cold on the heat of my ass and I screeched and tried to turn. He laughed, his baritone filling the room with radiance. Massaging my backside slowly, he rubbed the sweet smelling lavender lotion into the beet red skin, pausing yet again to heat it back up.

I whimpered, but I could feel his own resolve finally breaking, his hands molded each fat ridden hip deeper, his own breathing labored and as I moved to try to get closer I could feel his cock quiver as he moaned. He positioned himself between my legs and rubbed his cock just on the outside of my lips. My hips moved against his erection eagerly, and he slowed me only to guide himself inside me.

Loudly I moaned in pure satisfaction as the tip pushed further into me, the wetness cushioning him as he guided his engorgement along, until I was filled with him, his hilt pressed against my heated cheeks, his hands guiding my hips. Every few pumps he would stop, knowing I was so very close.

Unexpectedly he stopped, then reached to pull my bindings off, then rolled me over. I looked at him confused and unable to speak through the fog of pleasure. He nipped my puckered nipple and then kissed me softly. Too late did I understand he would not let me believe he took this from me. The realization as my arms wrapped around his shoulders and one tear shed as my heart understood the inevitable consequence of this moment. He had won I thought as I spread open and braced myself on his shoulders. My nails dug into his flesh as entered me, and his head dipped to lavish attention on each swollen areola.

His thrusts were slow and first, tantalizing and gentle until he was sure I was readied, then slow forceful strokes began to speed up. My nails ran down his back trying to hold on to some reality as I bit into his shoulder to stop the scream from erupting. Yet as I came, I screamed out his name, rocked against him and eagerly milked him from within. He kissed me as I quaked and rocked and moaned loudly in his own victory, as if he had claimed my soul as it flew to the heavens that moment.

Still pumping, he raised up to look at me, his hands now under my ass again, rubbing and playing moving to pound me as he watched. As quickly as I fell from the heavens I began to rise again, his hand between us every now and then to play with me further, my hands teasing my nipples and caressing the ripe orbs and watching him slowly pound me. Faster and faster I moved with his rhythm, now both of his hands on my legs pushing forward deeper, and as he moaned and exploded within me, I cried out and exploded again. I reached up and kissed him, breath and energy mingling, my entire body shaking as he fell beside me spent.

I pulled out of the vestiges of my clothes and laid there beside him, shaking uncontrollably yet deeply comforted. His arm wrapped around me, and begin to play with the tendrils of hair that stuck to my glistening body, and I snuggled closer in, sighing as I put my hand on his chest.

I felt his yawn and knew he must be exhausted, having been up very early to catch his plane. I reached momentarily to pull the cashmere throw over the top of us, and dreamily chastised myself. The pain would be so much more now when he left, and I as I became dimly aware of the warmth my butt still possessed, I thought that I would even miss that. How did I ever think I could fight the fire that had consumed me, with cold, rough sex I will never know. The correlation somewhat lost to me as I finished the journey.

To touch him

2009-06-17T20:04:00.002-05:00

We all have our internet crushes I suppose. You know the ones that you stay up to talk to cause they are in a different time zone, that no matter how long you talk you can't seem to want to leave to sleep. I've had my share of mine, traveled to another country to meet one, and although it ended in disaster a couple of years later, I do not regret that decision.

I am older now, less flighty, I would like to believe. Less eager to fly across the world on the whim of my heart's foolish longing, less gypsy-like in my desire to just GO, just be some place else, some place new, have the rush of adrenalin that always accompanies the unknown.

But I find myself thinking of him at the oddest moments. Wondering what he is doing, who he is with? Trying to mentally note things in my day to tell him of, to share with him my essence. Yes I am a very foolish girl sometimes. He just crept in my head, like some type of fog, clouding my reason, my senses. Making the landscape of my concious appear nothing more than a dream like haze where leprechans, fairies and good men dwell.

Different then anything I say I want, anything I have ever imagined. Yet he is slowly becoming an addiction, a playful, exilerating, mystifying addiction. Not that I kid myself to believe that this thing between us is a relationship, but I feel something stirring, a sensation of bliss that I long ago forgot.

Perhaps one day he will be my unrequitted love, my friend, another piece of my soul, just blighted by what ever twisted path fate has. Perhaps again, I am just giddy in the new of things, languishing in the attentions of a gentleman and a rogue, a saint and devil, both young and old, bottled up in a beautiful package of contridiction and lust, and soon the attraction will fade, or he will grow tired of my constant questions and peculiar way.

When we talk though, I can feel him touching me. Each spoken word a caress on my soul, I can feel his energy reaching out to embrace me, seduce me and entrance me. His words make me lose my breath, we talk of his day, I ache to sooth his troubles with warm hands on his generous shoulders. He speaks of his childhood, and I can almost see into his eyes and the laugher and joy he experienced. When he speaks of his hands on my body, I shiver, quaking internally, anticipting his next desire.

As he talks to me, I close my eyes, and I feel the whisper of his lips on my neck and I gently trail my nails down. His playful flick of my nipple is my own, and I moan, caught up in the moment. His spirit is there with me, following commands from his prompts. Perhaps more like robot, yet so very warm and needing. Trailing, trailing, trailing my hands at his command, I feel my thighs, soft and warm, so big as he traverses every inch, kneading them, teasing them slowly open, looking into my eyes with a mischevious light. His hands flutter like a butterflies wings, teasing, enticing wetness to build.

Oh sweet torture! I want to push ahead, my climax fast and harsh and full of need, yet he wont cooperate, even in the myst where are two worlds might not collide, I am worth more than a few fevered moments. I am a lady, a godddess and he wants to explore each inch of me, slowly delaying my release. He speaks now of kissing me through my thin panties and i can feel his breath on my clit, the roughness of his daily stubble teasing my thighs with newer sensations.

I can barely breath, much less type! In a language that could only be called typo, I tell him of my need to kiss him. In detail he rises up and places a hand to my cheek and tenderly kisses me, deepening it as he slides his hands inside the rim of my pants. I moaned outloud again, blushing, hoping no one can hear me as I follow his lead, my hand slipping into the wet folds of my lips.

My hand on my lips I pull to trail the bit of moisture as he speaks of holding my heavy breast in his hand, his thumb perking my nipple to attention before he slowly takes the nipple and areola in, sucking and nibbling. I want to hold his head close to me, so I don't scar him with the nails I would run down his back, I want to arch into his embrace, his lips, give myself to him completely. I am shaking from the want of him. I pinch my nipple hard, I want to know what it feels like for his teeth to playfully pull at me, for his smile to press against my lips and for me to taste his soul.

My eyes can barely open to read each command, each lurid detail, my hand thrumming my clit, every now and then a slight slap and a pinch of my lips as he speaks of handling me. I shudder involuntarily and sigh, embarassed I am so close to completion, his seduction so complete. He submits to my will, claiming a tender embrace, then removing all that stands between us, and slowly, so painstakingly slow, stretching me, inch by inch, his head thick and wet with precum, sliding in as I mimic his penetration with my dildo.

I imagine his hands in the folds of my fat, pulling me closer, my softness in such contrast with the chisled frame he possesses. His powerful thrusts both tender and strong, pushing, pushing, pushing.. until I whimper helplessly as I topple over, moaning and sighing, breathing god, over and over, each rush amazingly stronger, rippling and cascading throughout me.

I barely type the words, no spaces, over lapping, my breath so labored I gasp from pleasure. And he cums, deep and full within me, his energy pooling and spiraling into me like a dance of autumn leaves in the wind. He is in every part of me now. I can feel our blushes, bashful at such brash talk. Momentarily having lost ourselves in the sensations of need.

The chat returns, playful, honest, slightly questioning, and I am reminded again of what a great person I am speaking to, his poetic response and aura bright even on my dim screen. I sigh. Yep, I have got a crush. But that is okay too, as we all have our weaknesses, and if mine is he, then I feel stronger already.

Absolution

2009-06-12T21:31:00.002-05:00

I once read in a potion book once that you could make Holy Water. It took salt and water and a blessing from the sun and moon. Or your local Holy person. And ta da, perfectly good Holy Water. The water is now good for consecration, cleansing, and the stray vampire.

My tears are like that, salt and water, touched by sun and moon. I believe when I cry it cleanses the pain away, but also sanctifies the joy or anguish and makes it all the more meaningful and sometimes pushes the blade in a little further.

My lover and I are no longer, once fire is now ice, promises of tomorrow built now lies in tumbling debris. Yet, as most people know, a good foundation weathers such small storms. Ours was not. Built of straw, on nothing but mutual desire, it was doomed to fail, out of the ashes, I might be reborn, or be burnt again, but this life is for the living, and he has claimed too many of my anguished tears.

The details of our demise aren't all that important, out of respect for his privacy and my certain bias as to his wrong doing, I won't mention them in my post. It ended in my slamming my phone, and yes, dramatically sobbing. The anger and hurt just poured out, his words like slivers of glass, cutting into my skin. The pain was almost physical, and as I sat there I knew I needed a friend. As always I turned to Tanner, messaging him immediately about being through with all men forever. He was at work, and texted quickly that he would come by as soon as he could.

I then turned the thermostat down to sixty, and bundled deeply under my favorite comforter on the couch with a big bag of pecan sandies. Soon they were gone, as was the glass of milk that I had accompanying it. Absently I rubbed my belly, the ache from being over full only slightly masking the ache in my heart. Tears kept coming, silently, staining my cheeks and wetting my shirt. I sniffled and settled down under the covers, my head tired and strained from the emotions spinning.

When I awoke it was to a knock at the door. Two hours had passed as I had laid there in my pity and slumber. I opened the door, and looked up at Tanner's exhausted but concerned face, and I couldn't help but pull him into me and hug him tightly. I am tall at five eleven, but his frame is taller, at six six. My soft body pressed against his, my head under his chin, as he wrapped his arms around me. I stood there for a moment, pulling into me all of the comfort he had to offer, letting it sooth the gashes in my heart.

When I pulled away he lead me back to the love seat, and sat down. He patted his lap and motioned for me to sit, and when I scoffed and rolled my eyes, he tugged my hand and basically made me fall into his lap. I wiggled around, until half of my bottom was hanging off of his lap, my back supported by his arm and the straining arm rest, my legs hanging over the other end. His chest rumbled as he spoke in a deep baritone.

"Now, what happened, and why in the hell are you crying over that piece of shit anyways love?" he asked as he stroked my hair. It came out in blubbering prose, every nasty word uttered and stab taken, and although I knew my lover and I had both said things out of simple hurt and anger it was all amplified a thousand fold by my own shame, at the foolishness of growing to care for one who was never truly compatible with me.

His other hand laid softly on my belly, rubbing it soothingly as I spoke to him. Looking up I saw his blue eyes attentive, but his face was red and he looked in pain. I quickly tried to pull my cumbersome body up and away from him, but he pulled me back down.

"Whats wrong?" I told him I knew he was uncomfortable, and I hadn’t meant to sit on him as long as I had. He laughed so much his slight belly pushed into my side and his face turned redder. By this time I was confused and stared at him waiting to answer. My eyes were red, poofy and odd shade of green as they turn when I am melancholy; widely staring, my lips swollen and parted, face flushed and pink. He appeared to be struggling with what to say, but sighed as he ran one hand through his hair.

"I am not uncomfortable because of a physical pain, Kit." Underneath me he adjusted his leg and I felt the full burden of what he was feeling. His pants sheathed his erection, but could not hide its glory. Slowly I blushed and looked at him incredulously. "What the hell Tanner? I ask him, yet I felt such a strong stirring that I felt ashamed.

"Oh hell, I'm sorry hon. Its just the weight of you on me, and how beautiful you are. You know I've always respected our friendship, but just because I don't make a move, doesn't mean my body doesn't respond to you so close." I laughed and sniffled at the same time and mentioned he had to have lost his mind as I grabbed a few tissues from the table.

"Well let me move then," I said between wiping my nose. He quickly grabbed up another one and wiped the tears from one of my eyes. I paused, and my breath caught. He leaned in, and as he raised his lips to kiss the other eye, I found myself disappointed it was not my lips. He kissed me again softly, his goatee slightly tickling me as he stopped mid cheek to catch an errant tear. His hand tenderly cupping my face he studied my reaction.

"No." My eyes were heavy now. Some how not having the energy to open fully, I gazed at him under my lashes unable to formulate a reply. It had been so long since I had been kissed slowly. Turning my body slightly toward him, I placed one hand on his chest. His heart was beating rapidly. His hand trailed from my face, slowly tracing the exposed skin on my shoulder that had been exposed when I had shifted. "Kit, you guys have been over for a month now. You might just now be acknowledging it, but he's been long gone." I shivered as his hand ran back up and over my shoulder to my neck. His warm hands slowly working out the kink in my neck.

"And although, I hate to see you hurt, I am glad it is over. He never treasured you properly." I snorted at his comment and went to turn away, but his hand was there on my cheek again. "Look at me," he commanded softly. "You are a beautiful and amazing woman. Somewhat impulsive, a tad moody, but amazing and full of life and he was draining you of it." His voice had lowered now, softer still, more intimate. More pained. "Let me give it back to you. Let me show you how beautiful you are to me." His thumb rubbed another damned tear that managed to escape.

I sighed and leaned into him, kissing his lips ever so tentatively. His hands rose up, resting on my hips, and he kissed me back. There was no rushing, no heated meeting, just a melding of lips and tongues as I wrapped my arms around him. Wriggling at the uncomfortableness of the position, I pulled away and ambled toward one side. Quietly I rose, then stood in front of him. His hands again went to my middle, and lifted up my night shirt to reveal my large white belly. His hands glided over every inch, and he bent down to kiss it.

Eyes closing I pushed my belly toward him more, the feel of his lips on my bare belly an ecstasy unlike any I had experienced. My hand was in his hair, and I guided his face upward. My lips met his again, and with my weight I pushed him backwards. Each of my hands on his shoulders, pinning him backwards, one heavy leg straddled his, and then another. I could feel the couch moan from the tension, but he said nothing, his thighs straining as I softly lowered my ass down onto his lap.

His hands roamed under my night shirt, finding the boy shorts that I had worn. Fingers teased the band as I gasp in surprise and hips arched inward. When Tanner moaned I could feel the vibrations of it deep in my own chest, and it surprised me how good it felt. He nuzzled deep into the cleavage of my breast as he held me tighter against him. I giggled as he broke the serenity with a playful shake of his head in between each massive globe.

He stopped and shared my grin. "Much better." he mumbled as he moved to engulf my breasts in his hands. He pushed them together, then apart, and bent to kiss each one reverently. His thumbs quickly discovered my puckering nipples and he playfully circled them, every now and then flicking one absently as he trailed kisses from the inside of my neck to just above the areola. His slow pace was maddening and I arched to entice him to take one into his mouth. He would just move away, his hands moving to pull a thread piece of hair aside.

I let out a whimper and the man had the audacity to laugh at me! I thought briefly of throwing him out, but at that moment he said, very well, and picked up one of my breasts with both of his hands, making me arch back to allow him access. With his tongue he flicked and then licked it fully, then blew on the now wet skin. My hands pulled his head closer and he smiled as he finally took my nipple into his mouth. Ohhhh I moaned. My clit began to throb and moisture build. His skilled tongue worked and suckled.

Switching he moved to the other nipple and with one hand I raised it to his mouth. His other hand remained to massage and knead as his tongue and mouth created a lovely chaos in my soul on the other one. I tried speaking, but found I could not. Only small moans could escape my mouth and as he eagerly paid homage to my breasts I watched him. His eyes soft, long lashes flittering, his tan face darker with the flush of passion.

He stopped, and guided me off of his lap, and then quickly moved to the floor. Again he raised my shirt and kissed my belly then quickly pulled it off of my head. He sighed looking at me, and although my first thought was to cover my large body, he pulled my hands away and smiled. On his knees he kissed the palm of my hand, and trailed kisses up to my thick wrist, then the soft folds of skin that gather at my elbow, then in the middle of my forearm, where it was the fattest. Further still he trailed down between my breasts, playfully tweaking each nipple, then at my belly button. His hands rested only briefly at my shorts as he gathered the material and worked it over each hip and cheek.

As if being allowed to breath my belly tumbled out as I raised my hips to allow him to move them down. I jiggled as he shimmied them down my thighs, trailing kisses down my leg, one on my thigh, the other in the crease of my knee, and finally one on the inside of my ankle which made me moan agreeably.

Tanner liked watching me I think, he appeared to soak in every inch of me, as he man handled me, pulling my hips toward him, and raising my large calves above his shoulders. He kissed the top of my fat pussy, the small sprinkling of hair framing thick lips glistening with wetness. He darted his tongue out and licked the outer edge, tracing them as he began massaging my thighs with his strong hands.

I couldn't reach him over my belly, but focused instead on my own pleasure, selfishly twisting my nipples between my fingers to heighten the sensations. He nibbled the lip, sucking and pulling it into his mouth, then with both his thumbs rubbed upward opening me up to him. I could barely catch my breath as the cool air reached my clit. Loudly moaning I arched toward him, encouraging his advances. He kissed it tenderly, then slowly suckled it into his mouth. Then his tongue flicked out as he caught the pearl gently between his teeth and drumming his tongue against it.

When I felt one thick finger slowly slide deep within my tight hole I moaned so loud I am sure one of my neighbors heard. It felt so amazing as the walls grasp around his fat finger and he slowly pulled it in and out. I was so wet his finger slid easily and he tried adding another to it. Slowly he edged another in, stretching me, sucking each lip, nibbling then licking the inside again. He began to increase the pace once my tightness grew accustomed to the thick expanse of his fingers. Moaning louder and louder, I began whimpering to have him inside me.

Please, I remember asking him, I want to feel you inside me. He relented only to rise and pull off his clothes. I watch him in awe, his broad shoulders and arms framed his chest speckled with dark black hair. His waste was softer than his pecs, but under his softness you could see the bulk of him. Firm and thick his waste gave way to a full round ass and a light speckling of hair from which sprouted his engorged cock. Ignoring my own throbbing need, I greedily took it into my mouth, my lips stretching around the bulk of his erection.

One hand assisted my mouth, moving up and down the length of him, mimicking my mouth as I flicked my tongue, stopping only at the head to suck a little harder, and line the inside of his small opening with my tongue while the other hand cupped and massaged his heavy balls. His hands were in my hair, gently guiding, and his baritone moans showed he appreciated my efforts. He stopped me and pushed me back softly. Positioning himself above me, he rubbed his wet cock up and down my pussy lips and I moaned in protest.

Pausing, he positioned myself and began to enter me. I held my legs up, allowing him the greatest access, and he guided himself further in, stretching me with his size. Once he had reached the hilt he stared at me for a moment, the reached to kiss my lips. He tasted of my juices, sweet and pungent, and my hands dug into his shoulders with the intensity of my need. He slowly began to thrust in and out, my legs now around his waist, my hips rising to meet his.

His hands fondled my breasts, and he raised one to my mouth and our tongues played around the nipple and I felt him quicken his speed. I was afraid he would hush me I was so loud, moaning over and over again, murmuring yes as each thrust filled me completely. but he seemed to love the noise I made and matched them with moans of his own. HIs hands moved to shift my hips and they dug into the fat on the sides of my ass.

Harder and harder he pushed, and each push I grew closer and closer until I screamed his name. I said it over and over. Tanner, tanner, tanner, each time softer and softer as I lost all of my power. He pulled out, while looking at me, jerking it once then twice, a guttural moan escaping him as he threw his head back and cum shot from his cock all over my stomach. His breathing shallow, desire spent, he looked almost bashful as he reached for my shirt and leaned over to clean my milky skin. I smiled at him, and then surprised him by raising up and taking his spent cock in my mouth, sucking the last bits of his orgasm into me. He wobbled, so I grabbed his ass with my massive arms and anchored him as my tongue emptied him.

When I stopped, I looked up into his eyes and smiled and he smiled back weakly, then kissed me on my forehead. We both rose and went into my bedroom, dragging my comforter behind me. "Its freezing in here, babe." He mentioned non chalantly as we both collapsed on the bed. I pulled the comforter over the top of us and snuggled deeply into the nook between his arm and chest. I buried my hand in his hair and just listened to his breathing turn to normal. Soon he was fast asleep.

I snuck out a few minutes ago to blog, to try to make sense of all the emotions that I have felt today. I know Tanner and I are just friends, but tonight he gave me comfort and peace and reminded me that I am a goddess in my own right. That i deserve to be treasured just as he had made me feel tonight. I know I am going to miss my lover, but Tanner was right. It has been over for such a long time, and the old has to burn away before the new can arise from the ashes.

My tears might have consecrated my pain, but it was Tanner's ecstasy that cleansed my soul from the torment of the past few months. And so I am off to burrow down in the nook of his arm, surrounded by his tenderness and in the morning I will torture him for making me wait so long to know his embrace.

My first time

2009-06-12T00:09:00.002-05:00

Just like most first times, I was scared. My heart thumping, my breaths shallow and quick. I smile when I am nervous, such a silly thing, but my cheeks were hurting cause my lips were stretched so wide. Nibbling my lower lip, I tried to focus on the task, my hands shaking, foot taping, eyes diverted, praying no one was watching.

The plastic hangers slid one by one, clanking together absurdly loud. What was I even doing here! My fingers tenderly touched the soft material. It wasn't exactly my size, but nothing ever is. I knew I could push and squeeze and waddle my way into it though. The bright red had to match my face. But I am all or nothing. No in between!

I walked back to the dressing room, I had to try it on before I bought it! I mean, what if I couldn't get it over my hips? The lady at the counter looked at me over her reading glasses, then looked in my hand with contempt. Nothing makes me bolder than a dare!

Two please, I told her in my sauciest I-dare-you-to-say-something voice. So she gave me a hanger and unlocked the door while looking down her wrinkly nose at me. The fitting rooms are so small! I pushed through the door, swiveled and quickly locked it. In the mirror was that damn smiling girl again. Hair in a simple pony tail, the classic t-shirt and blue jeans for todays excursions. I kicked off my flip flops into the corner, and watched myself undress, slowly unbuttoning my pants, and revealing my nice fat belly. distracted I played with it for a moment, my pants hanging on my hips, my hands rubbing the soft flesh, pulling it up and down, jiggling it from side to side.

My pants began sliding, pulling me out of my silliness and I shimmied them down, kicking them aside as well. I yanked off my shirt, then freed my breasts from the tight bra that held them so firmly in place. Sighing in relief i let them rest on my pouch, and thought for not the first time I looked at the statues that they had found so long ago. Everything is so exagerated, so feminine, my breasts so large and soft, areolas like saucers. My stomach distended and round, my thighs thick and strong. Venus of Willendorf. Cept my hair is longer.

I know I have procrastinated long enough. Looking at the small red fabric in my hands I almost laugh at the absurdity of it fitting my large ass. But, I try, one leg, then another, then tugging and pulling up my legs, the fabric is clinging, stretching, I hear a few threads burst as I pull it up over my hips. Now getting my belly in is the objective, so I squeeze, and push, and tuck in here and there. Without pausing, I get the second piece, the string was at the very end, so just a small knot would have to do, then twisting, twisting, gliding over my roll. I flipped the top over my head, and lifted each heavy breast into the small cups.

My deep inhale signaled my surprise as I looked in the mirror. I really don't know what I expected. I guess some hideous monstrosity? But I ran my hands from the crimson top, over the expanse of my belly to the small crimson bottoms, and the smile changed from nervous, to a genuine thrill. I liked it! I twisted and turned from side to side, looking at the small swath of cloth on my big dimpled ass, and then again as my belly strained against it, my breasts begged to spill out, and a smile of absolute satisfaction.

My first bikini!

Manically Moody

2009-06-08T11:21:00.002-05:00

Most times I am a very easy going individual. I laugh easy, anger rarely, and just float down the river of life, eager just to feel the sun on my face and the wind in my hair. But, there are times, probably not as rare as I would like to think, that I am moody, and irritable and just plain pouty.

Yesterday was one of those days. Could have been the lack of sleep, two hours really isn't much for anyone to gather enough rest to refreash their soul, but I just couldn't sleep, my mind racing, blood pumping, soul alive and eager and ready to experience the next big thrill. Could have been I woke up to "I'm sorry honey, got called in, we gotta reschedule." !!!!!! GRRRR!! Like I care if something blew up and he had to go fix it? Okay, so I do. But still, it was frustrating.

I have two people doing photography for me right now. One of them is a great friend, my best friend actually, another SSBBW, who is an inspiration full of talent, spunk and laughter. She is very reliable, always there and actually calls me in the middle of the night to tell me the next shoot she has thought up. I feel like a big barbie doll sometimes! I do enjoy it thoroughly. I know she enjoys taking the pics as much as I like posing for them. Those shoots are always filled with so much fun, laughter and yes, admitedly a little sultry flirting. What can I say? I am a very sexual person.

The other person who does my photography, is insanely busy, his "day job" being a night, sometimes weekends, sometimes travel to the other side of the world job. The only reason he is my other photographer is because he is also my lover. It is very intimate to have someone with very erotic knowledge of you take your pictures. Seeing yourself through their eyes, their lust, their extacy and eager need is almost a drug for your senses. The resulting photo shoot, just a bonus really.

Most the time I don't mind rescheduling a date, because his job is so demanding, and I can respect that his career is very meaningful to him. I suppose I was just disappointed, a ballon full of excitement and eagerness deflated into a wrinkly ball of nothing.

I spent the day being moody, lurking online, hiding from the cheerfulness of the day and just being crabby. Nothing I started got finished, every person I spoke to, was snapped at. I hate making people uncomfortable, or not making them smile. I am a pleaser. Always eager to fill the world with joy and anticipation, and yet yesterday even when spoken to I was at best lack luster in my conversation or responses.

I suppose you can't be happy every day of the year, but today, after a solid eight hours of sleep, I have awaken feeling quiet shameful for letting such a little thing affect me so much.

Today I have already jumped up, cleaned the house until it sparkled, made a wonderful brunch of fresh apples, cheese and crackers, done laundry, and made a few work related emails. All before noon! I guess I just needed to be refreshed, and someone calling to say he was truely sorry and mimssed me terribly didn't hurt either!

Driving

2009-06-07T00:21:00.000-05:00

The night is more alive tonight then normal, the air, dense and warm, the smell of pine and honey suckle mixed with the heat radiating off the old roads. The breeze, a lover's kiss, lifting the hair off my neck, softly kissing the light mist of sweat on my skin. My heart is full of wanderlust tonight. There is no real destination, just a need to see the headlights infront of me, illuminating a new path. It is adventursome, to be winding down what ever road seems to call to me. The mystery and unforseen heady in my blood. I belt out every song on my favorite CD. Old songs, ranging from Nickle Back to Van Morrison, back to Sarah and up again to Theory of a Dead Man. I let the lyrics take me over, in a trance I lose sense of where I am, who I am, and for that moment I am free, I am music; my spirit vibrations in the night air, a disturbed puddle radiating in waves from the center, exploding free and pure; reaching into the heavens.

I need this distraction, the night has lost its comfort for me, and I must tame its seduction once more. I can't carry a tune, but still louder and louder I sing each song, a smile on my lips as I pass each curve and bend. On a bridge under the cypress a brown owl stairs at me, probably questioning my sanity, and I slow down to take in the moon light over the creek. My skin aches to feel the cool water caress me, cascade over every curve, puckering my nipples and dimpling skin. But the desent is too deep, so I drive on, leaving my would be peeping tom to continue his pursuit of some errant prey.

Tonight I feel alive again, and as I meander back home, I think of the newest adventure I have stumbled apon. I touch my skin as tenderly as I would a lover, and think of what is going to be like at my shoot tomorrow. It is such a mixture of trepidation and excitement right now. I hope I never lose the thrill when I undress in front of the camera, slowly pulling each piece of clothing off, thinking of the eyes that will see me, growing ever more excited at the thought.

I need to sleep! To waste this sultry night away in slumber so that I can devote every ounce of emotion to tomorrow. Yet, it seems like such a waste to me. I want to explore and talk and learn and laugh and just BE. But, pulling in the drive way I promise myself I will lose myself in slumber, hopefully to dream of tomorrow's conquest.