She loved staying in hotels. Loved the fresh white sheets, the free breakfast, the maid service, and not having to clean up after herself. Being able to fuck her husband on that king size bed was always a highlight of any hotel stay. Five weeks of staying in a hotel with her three kids, two …
Do thick thighs save lives? Does hair make a difference? On comprehension On composition On who plays with vibes Mirror Full length mirror On the wall Who’s the kitten Before you so tall? Brown girl Brown girl What’s not to love? Combo: mirror + toy = mirrored toy? You’d think this would be easy except …
The water spray was cold. She tasted the salt on her tongue the moment they pulled out into the bay. There was a certain thrill to being there, standing on the boat and heading to a place she’d only seen on TV. She was strange at this distance. The color that made her so famous …
As most people know, I tend to write erotica. Steamy, steamy, sexy erotica. It’s not all that I wrote. Every once in a while a story will pop into my mind that isn’t sexy in the slightest. This storyline cropped up after a conversation at work and I sat and wrote it out. So as …
So this Kink of the Fortnight’s topic is feet. Admittedly, this is a topic I’m pretty ambivalent about. I don’t mind feet. They don’t gross me out in the way they do some people. They also don’t inspire any kind of sexual feelings. As for my own feet, I’m fairly ticklish/sensitive so I don’t much …
I struggle with jealousy. No, not that kind of jealous. You’d think it would be, right? I’m currently in a D/s relationship with a man who’s married. Add to that the aspect of it being a long distance relationship where I’m obviously not there as often as I’d like. Recipe for jealousy? Not so much. …
Sarai loved to fuck to the sounds of Enya. You’d think something soothing like Only Time would inspire sweet, beautiful love making, but Sarai was different. Twenty years later, any time I hear that zen-like music I think of fucking Sarai. The daughter of two bikers, she was convinced she was switched at birth. Her …
A little poem that encapsulates the feelings I sometimes have about my creativity/art. I was trying to communicate something in this photo, but lacked the patience to do it. – I want to get it right. Just. Right. The angle, the lighting, the motherfucking words But perfection isn’t possible (No, I’m not patient enough for …
A knock sounded at the door, drawing him away from his work. He debated not answering, but the light tapping became a pounding that rattled the clock above the doorway. The cabin was small so it was a few quick steps to cross from his cluttered desk to the entrance. He threw it open hard …