My Writing

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

e[lust] #37 (oops...I'm a bit late - vacation got in the way!)


Photo courtesy of Molly at Molly's Daily Kiss

Welcome to e[lust] - The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you're looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it'll be here at e[lust]. Want to be included in e[lust] #38? Start with the newly updated rules, come back July 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ Top 3 ~

Coming to Terms with Being Gay - From the time I was seven I was raised Mormon, which meant I wasn�t allowed to have a girlfriend until I was 16 or to have sex until I was married.

What I Want - I want to be humiliated. Call me a slut. Call me a whore. Slap my face. Expose me.

Dinner Party Entertainment - At that moment, J's eyes went wide--he finally realized I was leaving him there, tied to the bed.

~ Featured Post (Picked by Lilly) ~

My Abstinence Only �Sex Education� - The speakers were a married, Christian couple, and the man told us about how he had pledged to stay a virgin until he was married.

~ e[lust] Editress ~

Your Crappy Writing Turns Me Off - Your written words are your clothes, your power, your voice, your facial expressions and that by which we measure intelligence, personality and even attractiveness.

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the �read more�� tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

A New Found Respect for Bondage Educators
Cunt: Healing sexual abuse
Equal but Different
Fuck you. Without a condom
Harper Eliot's Guide to Surviving Drop Alone
PolyAnna's Musings: What About the Kids
Settling down--bullshit free

Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Sweet Valley High Meets the Story of Oh My!
Women's rape fantasies
Why May is Nat'l Masturbation Month

Erotic Writing

Ache
A Word on What Your Words Do to Me
Anything the Lady Wants
Breathless
Cemetery Sex
Dropped Call
Fucking a Stranger�s Wife While He Watched
Folly, part 4
Getting His Attention
Jerk and Tug
Jill's Look Back at Masturbation Month
Like a Faggot
Phontographs (fiction, part 1)
Release
Senses and Scents
Spearmint Rhino
Swing: Part I
The Dance
Touch Me, Tease Me

Kink & Fetish

Earning My Wings
fantasy with beast/the train ride
His first crop spanking
Learn the rope of knots: Larks Head
Popping my anal cherry
Stress Relief
Staying power
The Cutting Edge
Tie Me Up! ~ I think...
Why chastity is hot
What I Like and Why

Saturday, June 16, 2012

Photographs (fiction, part 3)

The next morning, Tanya made it to the bus stop even earlier than normal, having walked there quickly and with an uncharacteristic determination in her step.  It wasn't quite the expectation that she'd see him, or another photograph; she found herself feeling something she hadn't felt since she was a girl.  Hope.  Sheer, blind, disconnected hope.  Hope for something unknown.  That innocent desire that brings a flutter to the chest and a heaviness to the belly.  An anxious, slippery hope...which the bearer knows could just as easily turn to disappointment.  So tenuous.  So fragile.  So delicious.

Her gaze quickly flitted to the back of the bus when she boarded, and when she saw someone sitting in her normal seat, a man, with his head bent forward over a book, her breath faltered.  Could it be?

She made her way to the back slowly, both wanting and not wanting to find out.

The man didn't look up.  And since he was in "her" seat, on the aisle, she sat across from him, to his right, one row back.  She didn't want to appear too obvious, especially if it wasn't him.

She settled in and pulled out her book, not really intending to read.  She glanced frequently up at the man out of the corner of her eye.  His dark hair curled slightly around his ears and the back of his neck, appearing almost wet, as if he'd just taken a shower.  But it was combed cleanly, and his face was bare, perfectly smooth.  He looked young, mid to late twenties.  Crisp, white cuffs peeked out from beneath his navy blue suit coat.  Small, round, silver-rimmed cuff links and a silver, blue-faced watch.  Clean manicured nails.  Athletic hands.  She laughed at herself; what on earth were athletic hands?  Where had she come up with that?  Maybe she simply assumed that his slender fingers and build were those of a swimmer or a runner.  He was not a large man, but he surely had a presence.



The bus lurched to a stop.  Tanya instinctively and reflexively put a hand on the seat in front of her to keep herself steady.  The man collected his things and stood to exit the bus.  He looked at her briefly and smiled.

"Good day, madam."  His eyes sparkled, almost mischievously.  Or so it looked it to Tanya.

So formal and polite.  His posture rod-straight, his jaw sharp, his teeth white.

She felt herself become wet.  So wet, in fact, that she was a little afraid to stand up, for fear that she'd made a spot on the backside of her tan skirt.

"Good day," she replied to his back - her response almost too late.

He glanced back at her and winked.

Oh, shit, she thought, what am I going to do with this?  He's fucking beautiful.

She could not focus at work that day.  All she could think about was the picture she planned to take that night.  The photograph she planned to leave for him to find.  Game on.


Friday, June 1, 2012

Photographs (fiction, part 2)

The time at work couldn't pass fast enough, and as she half walked, half ran to meet her bus, she nervously considered taking a different route, to avoid any possibility of bumping into the stranger.  It was a strange feeling - wanting to confront him and wanting to avoid him at the same time.

When the bus rolled to a stop, the doors opened and passengers poured onto the sidewalk around her.  She waited until the entrance was clear and then ascended the three stairs, glancing skittishly to the back of the bus.  Her stomach tightened and released, expanding with a small pang of disappointment.  With the apprehension gone, she made her way more slowly than usual to the back of the bus, dropping into her seat to resume her novel, exactly where she left off.  She leaned to the side, reached into her bag, pulled out her book, opened it, and buried her nose in the pages.  But her focus was lacking.  It had been all day.  She leaned to the side, dropped her book into her bag, and leaned her head back against her seat, eyes closed, and sighed.  When she opened her eyes, still directed upward, she saw a black and white photograph taped to the ceiling of the bus, directly above her seat.  Her breath caught abruptly, and she nearly pulled a muscle as she whipped her head forward.  Looking around, eyes wide, like a cornered cat, she bit upper lip and nearly stopped breathing altogether.

What the fuck?  She thought.

Since she arrived at work early, she left early, which meant her ride home was much like her ride there - quiet and generally lacking in human presence.  This afternoon was no exception.  Grateful for the absence of an audience, she stood up, put one foot on the seat of the chair, steadying herself by grabbing onto the stanchion next to her seat.  She snatched the photo from the ceiling and dropped hurriedly back to a seated position, pulling her book back out in order to camouflage the photo within it.  Similar to the previous photo, it was of a naked man.  This time, full-light, face-showing, blatant and unabashed.  Somehow, the man in the photo was both vulnerable and confident, lips parted as if he were about to speak.  His eyes exuded heat and nearly burned a hole right through the paper and into Tanya's flesh.  She felt the blush rising from her chest, up her neck, exploding into full bloom on her cheeks.

For photo information, click here.

Good fucking Christ!  

She glanced up, like a scared rabbit or a deer in headlights - some sort of easy but quick prey.  Her eyes darted forward and side-to-side, making sure no one was watching.

It was, indeed, the man from this morning, as she had suspected.  But what on earth was he doing?  What kind of game was he playing?

She turned the photo over, an empty hope that the answer to her question would be emblazoned on the back.  But, nothing was there.  Just a blank and open space, sort of like her face at that instant.

When she made it home, she pulled out both photos and placed them next to each other on her kitchen counter.  She poured herself a glass of wine, a deep, dark, hot red she'd saved for years, hoping for just the right occasion.  This seemed like the moment...mired in utter confusion and uncontainable curiosity.  She felt just a little violated, but not enough to make her afraid.  Just enough to taunt a nervous hum under her skin, a vibrant energy, a growing hint of....Dare I admit it?...desire.

Elbows resting on the counter, she leaned forward, one hand around the stem of her glass.  She bent her thumb nail between her teeth and continued to gaze at the two photos.  They stirred something inside of her.  More than anything, it was the mystery that grabbed her.  Always a lover of the unknown, her incessant need to "find out" to "solve" made her a slave to the pictures in front of her.  They pulled her in, guiding her thoughts and her emotions, and eventually...her hand.  She let go of her glass, placed her palm on the edge of the counter as support, and with the other hand, lifted her skirt above her bare thigh.  She hated nylons, never wore them, and was thankful now for the easy access to her own flesh that their absence allowed.  Her eyes intently glued to the eyes of the man in the newest photo, she slipped her hand inside the crotch of her panties.  She was wet, and she wasted no time fooling around.  Never one for foreplay, she inserted one finger into her cunt.  Then two.  Working her fingers inside, the heel of her palm pressed hard against her clit, she tightened every muscle, from her ass to her toes, and came quickly.

It had been a long time since she'd pleased herself.  She'd forgotten how good it felt.



To be continued...

In my search for photographs for this post, I not only found amazing fodder for another post on "how to stop masturbating" (really...I'm not kidding...people think we should really be doing this!),  but I totally turned myself on perusing photos of women masturbating.  Good god women are sexy.  And with their faces contorted in ecstasy and their fingers buried deep between their legs -- need I say more?  It is now time for me to take care of my own needs.  I think I'll do it exactly the same way as Tanya (we'll call it "research").

(Some beautiful - copyrighted - photography of nude men...just as a bonus:  click here!)