Skip to main content

On The Couch

Kids at a friends. I come home, and there you are, on the couch.

Barefoot. Flannel shirt. Jeans.

Drop my bag and I'm on you. Buttons fly everywhere. My hands all over.

Reach in your pants. No panties!

Rubbing your pussy. Faster. Don't cum yet. I push my cock in. Fucking until we can't move.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Fresh Every Day

Before the great Bryce Lloyd fire of '15 (not an actual fire), on the ancient version of this blog, I wrote an essay. I wrote many actually, and many were lost in the (not literal) fire.

Two of these were such that keenly feel their loss, and I remember them with fondness, and also sadness.

What follows is an effort to recapture one of these again here, because I feel as if it had an enduring value, at least to me. We shall see about that.

When I was first married, I was drawn to symbols of permanence: gold rings, diamonds (which are not really forever) and things, in general, that seemed an unchanging touchstone that could represent the eternal.

These symbols, perhaps, were manifestations of my insecurity, but they also embodied an ideal: they were physical representations of a lasting love that could, and would, survive the years. I think that it is an image and an idea that society presents and we consume, unthinkingly, but it also did resonate with my own image and understanding…

Ceremony

It is difficult to explain how they got here.
Long ago, it felt like long ago but really it was not, she had asked him whether he had a collar that she could wear during what had become very their very kinky sex and romance. It seemed of a piece with the cuffs and straps and leather implements, creating a mood and providing one more means of restraint.
"Collars are not toys", he had said, "at least not to me. There are some who treat them that way, as a plaything or as fashion. But I am among the people who give them significance."
At the time, she had remembered hearing about collaring as something that people did, and that it symbolized submission or slavery, or, well, she wasn't certain. What she knew for certain was that this was a topic that she had, a moment ago, had less than no interest in, and he had said a few words and she was suddenly eager to hear more.
That kind of thing seemed to keep happening with him.
So she had asked what that significance w…

Desk Job

It seemed an unusual order. She was just to go to her desk in her office, and sit and work. And she was to wear a dress.

She figured he was planning to take her somewhere after she worked. Maybe he would show up and surprise her.

The office was dark and quiet, as it always was on weekends.

She drank some of her coffee. She plugged in her laptop. And she sat down.

There was an email message from him. “Don't move, or jump, no matter what you feel. Keep working.”

She began to suspect what was about to happen, but not before she began to feel a hand slide up the inside her thigh.

At first there was an occasional stroke on her panties, then a pause.

This went on, making her jump each time. She began to notice that the strokes became more frequent several minutes after that.

Quickly, it became a continuous rubbing. Email came. “Keep working”, it said. How was he doing that with one hand?

She could feel her panties being pulled off, and the hand playing with her clit, teasing it. She could hear h…