Nov 182014
 

We rode in the backseat. Brian’s friend drove the van. There was plenty of room on the floor. Brian’s dick needed sucking. He was aggressive about pushing it down the back of my throat. His cock was so big, he rarely did that. I knew he didn’t want a regular blowjob. He wanted my mouth to warm his cock up, quick. He wanted me to gag on it.

He made a fist in my hair to control my head. He bucked his cock into my face. I gagged, long and hard, multiple times. He used to say that ‘the sound of a girl gagging on a cock was like ringing the erection dinner bell’. He pulled me up and started jerking at my belt and button on my jeans. I tried to catch my breath. There was saliva dripping from my bottom lip.

I stripped my shirt off and used it to wipe off the remnants of my gagging. I tossed it somewhere in the darkness of the van. My tits drew his attention away from ripping my jeans off. I unclasped my bra. My tits were fully unleashed into his big, rough hands.

“You want to suck…. aannnhh,” I said.

He had a huge mouthful of my right tit in his mouth. He bit at my nipples and I hissed like a snake, still trying to slither out of my pants. He liked my panties on, stretched to the side.

He pulled me up onto his lap, facing him. He grinned while he slid me down. He wanted me to the hilt on his cock. He slowly pulled me, determined, and stared at my face, muttering under his breath, nodding.

“…yeah, …yeah, all the way, ….all the way, ….take it, ….ahhh, good girl,”

At the same time he pulled me down, my own whine matched his animalistic mutterings. I was slippery. When I heard him call me a ‘good girl,’ my pussy was too needy to argue with him. All I could do was open up and sink down on him.

“…unnhhh…unnnhh…Babeeeee, my pussy.”

I bounced on his dick. The car lights behind and beside us were never so bright. I saw our fucking in the shadows that danced across the inside of the vehicle. We fucked past the point that I knew I’d be sore the next day.

We were sloppy and nasty. We were tired from cumming. The van smelled like sex. It was too cold to roll the windows down to air it out for too long. So the three of us rode home, talking as normal friends would. We laughed about Brian and I fucking. We teased about what his friend saw. They are both older than I am. Some jokes I didn’t get.

I was a happy slut, but Brian only knew his half of the story. My kinky side was creeping up on me. It was pushing me to try new things. I wanted his rough fucking. But I also wanted to be held down, and experiment with the painful side of pleasure. That’s why I was fucking his friend.

Wicked Wednesday

Nov 172014
 

Another Monday, another week, another TMI Tuesday posted. Enjoy Night Time is the Right Time.

night_tmi
Fill in the blank

1. When I can’t sleep I - usually take something to knock my ass out.

2. My dream bedroom would be full of – Is it too odd to answer with “shoes and clothes?” It’s the truth. I’d totally load up.

3. If I could wake up anywhere tomorrow it would be – here, at home. Anywhere else and I’d be wondering…. “what the fuck?” 

4. I need to know my dog is safe in bed with me  at night.

5. My Grandmother dying would truly be a nightmare.

6. Night time is the right time to have sex. I like doing the nasty at night.

Bonus:  Briefly tell us about your last dream–erotic or not.

I have night terrors. No one wants a glimpse of that.

Oct 262014
 

I lost my virginity when I was in my mid-teens. SGirl and I had a lot of friends. We traveled from one group to another. Different groups, different schools, different ages, we were in it. We were there. We did a significant amount of socializing, drinking, and hot-boxing in bathrooms. We were stupid teenagers. Best friends, but fuck, were we stupid.

We both decided that our virginity was not a gift. It was a pain in the ass. We had ignorant discussions about thoughts that terrified us. Most of what we knew about sex came from high school gossip.

“My fucking hymen is going rip, and I’d bleed everywhere. He’s gonna be disgusted and tell all of his friends. Blood will be all over his dick, and me, and wherever we’re fucking. I mean, I think it’s heavy period blood. “

“How long till you stop bleeding?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“You think that’s disgusting, he’ll never want to see you again.”

“We’ve got to find somebody to fuck.”

“But don’t tell them we’re virgins.”

“That’s the plan.”

We stole a box of rainbow condoms and Rice Krispy Treats from a grocery store. We were ready.

We decided that we’d pick a random guy and have sex with him. Do the “one night stand” thing and never have to see the guy again. That would do away with any messy business when we found someone we wanted to date and start fucking. We’d be knowledgeable and experienced by then.

I lost my virginity to Vince. He was a friend of a guy that we started hanging with. The guy looked like he was carved from stone. But his head was full of rocks. I’m fairly positive he was over 21, considering he purchased alcohol with no problem. Alcohol wasn’t the problem the night that SGirl and I decided to go ahead with the plan and get our fucks out of the way. I wanted to be sober. I needed to maneuver through the best I could. Probably, it would have been a better experience had I been passed out cold.

After a full make-out session, and trying multiple times to line it up and go in for the kill, we both had to sit back and have a come-to-Jesus meeting about how his cock is just NOT fitting inside me. No wonder, it was the size of a soda can. At that age, I didn’t know they were made that thick. He would not fit inside of me. Although we tried another dozen times, with no lube. We basically tortured my virginity out of me. Mostly, because I didn’t understand my own vagina. Thanks Mom!

Note to all you virgins out there, who are just trying to kick one out, don’t do it with a guy whose dick is that big. Losing my maidenhood landed me in the emergency room, hemorrhaging. Although my best friend and I still laugh about it today. It was the most embarrassing thing in the word, then.

Wicked Wednesday

Oct 072014
 

A is for Aftercare:

I never felt comfortable asking for aftercare. I was of the thought that if the D-type that I played with offered aftercare, then I would gladly accept it. I never wanted to tell anyone that I needed it. I experienced the patting of arms on backs in an insincere, sideways hug. No actual comfort exchanged. A show for those who no longer noticed.

The thought of someone counting the minutes as they offered disingenuous support made me throw up a little in my mouth. Hence, I wasn’t going to ask anyone for anything. Besides, I didn’t know any aftercare etiquette. Was there aftercare etiquette? With a little research during conversations, the answer continued to remain relative to each person’s needs, and the situation.

Sometimes a fucking amazing scene can clean me out. I’ve seen myself in a mirror. My make-up is always exactly 3 inches to the right of where I originally applied it. I don’t drink water like a normal person. It dribbles down one side of my chin or another. I don’t need to sit down. I need to lay down. Hair up, off my neck. On my belly, spread out. I’m a hot mess. I didn’t need aftercare then. I needed Jesus.

Once, I stayed in suspension for almost an hour while friends were inside, partying. When I was earthbound, I couldn’t have been any more chill had I smoked the rope. The only aftercare I needed was a seat on the couch and my friends to entertain me.

That’s not to say that I’ve worked past “how to do aftercare.” I have 352 unanswered questions about aftercare. Here’s what I do know. Pre-scene, I never know if I’ll want it or not. Sorry, that’s no help. Doms that expect me to be up and off to get the cleaning materials, water for him, cleaning the furniture, we probably can’t play. Nothing against those D-types, but I want to enjoy what ever space that I’m in. That’s hard to do when you’re swallowing it, walking in one shoe towards the water table.

Feb 092014
 

In the dead of goodbyes, I would have swallowed my pride.

I would have set the past aside. No hard feelings inside.

***

But you, couldn’t see what was true. Couldn’t feel me and you.

You were afraid of what we’d do. I was afraid of it too.

***

I could feel you grow. You let it show. You let me know.

But you had to go. Excuses I’ll never know. Cards you’ll never show.

 ***

No more wailing inside. I patched up my pride. Your bullshit won’t ride.

No more reasons to hide. I set that part of me aside. A lesson learned in stride.

Dec 202013
 

Kinkly.com rated me number 34 in their Top 100 Sex Blogging Superheroes of 2013 list. Rori from Between Me Sheets also does an annual list of Top 100 Sex Bloggers of 2013. I was lucky enough to receive a spot at number 34 on that list as well. Beck from Beck and Her Kinks put together her list of Top 25 Sex Bloggers of 2013. I was number four.

A huge ‘thank you’ goes out to Kinkly, Rori, and Beck. There’s tons of great bloggers out there. It’s an honor to see my name up there with people that I’ve read and on levels that I’ve aspired to be on. If my readers, new or old, did not like what I put out then I wouldn’t get enough attention to be noticed by anyone. I appreciate my readers.

I have put out some pieces this year that I’ve’ve been proud of and plan to continue  on and see where it takes us into next year. I don’t have anything to jump off with. Life’s been throwing boulders at my immediate and extended family since October. I’m sure everyone knows how serious issues can rattle people to the core. When things calm down in my personal life, I’ll start rolling again. Trust me.

Until Then,

The SinDoll

Sep 072013
 

I have a confession to make. There are sand dunes in my submission brain. I’m craving for a shot of D-type.  I believe I’m going through some kind of submission withdrawals. I’ve not even let myself mentally release the last few times that I’ve played.

I’m topping in my local group, due to a serious lack of education.  That’s not what I want to do. I’m a sadist. I’m not a D-type. It’s got my filter all off kilter.  My writing has become darker. It’s less about logical BDSM relationships and more about the scarier side of life in general. You haven’t seen what sits, waiting to be worked on, and their levels of boundary-crossing afflictions.

I wonder if this is what happens when a submissive starts to dry up.

Jul 192013
 

Once Upon A Time a “Domly Dom” – who was really just a big talker with a drinking problem – made a trip down down to Alabama for the weekend for us to play. It was supposed to be a weekend filled with new experiences, some hardcore play, and boundary pushing. Instead, in the moment there was a wave of overwhelming sadness and disappointment that rolled over me when I realized I wasn’t going to get that. He couldn’t give it to me.

I left our session completely dissatisfied. It was late. Very late. On a hunch, I called a guy who was more of a flirt than a friend. More of a business partner than a flirt. But we were mixing that shit up. Although it wasn’t a good idea, it kept me horny. Kept me wet. Kept me nasty. He answered. We met.

I wanted to fuck, but there wasn’t really room in the backseat and we were both in a hurry. He had to get home and I had quite a drive before reaching mine. He told me to spread my legs and fuck myself. I got out my Mimi and rubbed it up and down my entire cunt. He slapped at my thighs. His hands are huge. He likes getting big handfuls of my flesh, especially my ass or thighs, giving a squeeze and letting go only to slap down a massive hand in the same spot.

I had just pulled down my pants around my ankles, so the positioning was awkward, but I spread my legs wide for him while he asked me if I was a whore. Was I a slut? Was I going to do what whores do? He liked to slide his thick fingers inside my cunt. He’d do two, then three, then four. He’d move them around and pant while he watched my face, then watch his fingers while they fucked me. Mimi was running wild all over my pussy, too. She can even reach my extremely shallow G-spot, so I was just teasing myself before exploding. He had pulled out his cock and was stroking that big, black fucker with his free hand.  His fingers rotated from fucking my pussy, to my mouth so I could suck off my juice, and then to slapping on my thighs. I was ready to soak his seats. He asked me if I wanted to cum. I told him I did. He pulled on my nipple rings a few times and then shoved what felt like his -entire- hand inside my snatch.

I had an amazing orgasm. I sucked his hand clean, and he wiped the rest on my thighs so that I’d stink of cunt juice. He told me to suck his cock. Just the tip.

I did.

Just the tip.

May 142013
 

Saturday night will be the last night that I’ll see two of of my most beloved friends in my local BDSM group. I’ve made and lost friends from this circle before, but I was never this sad. I was never, ever this sad.

B is a gay male dominant. I’ve been working with him on hitty stuff. Some rope. Our rope relationship is notorious, but the last time he did a cuff tie on me, he gave a snatch and an eyeball and – I saw a  flash of dom. He came out to play. Since then, our group became more serious with scenes. He and I were becoming a nice little co-topping team.

C is B’s gay submissive. He doesn’t like impact play. He does great in rope and wax, though. He was aftercare for everyone. Even when you didn’t notice it. That’s probably the most important job ….ever.

They’re going to the other side of the country for B’s job. They’ll be back in seven months. But part of me hopes they stay? Parts of me hopes they find something better and more fulfilling where they’re going. I hope they learn while they’re there. I hope they love it.

I’m gonna hate it.

Apr 092013
 

I lied about my first kiss. I always told people that my second kiss was really my first kiss. That’s not the way it went down. Now, since I’m a slut, I’ll tell you that I kissed him. That first boy. I took his lips. I liked him and he liked me. He lusted after me for the rest of that afternoon. You could tell. When the attention gets …uncomfortable.

He told his mother …like a pussy. And she made me feel dirty. Standing behind me that next day at school. Talking  with our teacher about closet situations, and monitoring students more closely. Of course I heard. Him. Hanging his head. Shame holding it down, but his face was fired-up red in a much different way than it was after I’d kissed him. Stupid pussy. And Fuck You, old bitch. I took it. Nothing you can say about me will ever get it back for him. And he liked it. He still likes it. And you just made sure that he’ll never get another one for a while. Oh, he’ll love you for that.

The next year, he was just someone I remembered.

I was walking outside to Spanish one day. It was sunny, not hot. A random girl tapped me on my shoulder and moused me aside of the students lazily making their way into the room. She liked that first boy of mine.  She asked me about him. I gave a half-assed laugh and told her not to go kissing him.

He tells his Mother everything.