FFF 4/30 - Mirror Mates

Safe Word

She looked down at her "victim's" soft blonde hair, her smaller, younger breasts, and smiled.  She had been waiting for this day for a long time, a day when she was as trusted as the Master, and enticing enough for her to be chosen without his knowledge. 

She could see the ropes digging in to the blonde’s flesh, her pale skin protested, but her pink folds admitted to everything.  She enjoyed the pain she inflicted and felt proud of what she had learned.  It was easy for Kara to make men hard and fast gossip made her the talk of the town in the women’s quarters as well.  Seen as just another whore in the Master’s stable, Kara looked in the mirror and knew she was more.

She was a pain savant, better at knots than any sailor, and her insatiable appetite for flesh of all kinds stripped her of any hesitation.  She poured out generous lubrication on her new supplicant’s bare skin.  Blonde4, as she called herself, had begged for the rope, for the straps, for the strap-on, and would soon for mercy.

“I want you,” the note read, “but he can never know.” So they waited.  Biding their time until Master was on travel and Blond4 would have time to heal inside and out afterwards. 

“Do you know the safe word?” Kara asked, tightening her straps in preparation.

“No!” remembered the blonde.

“Good,” laughed Kara, “Let’s begin.”

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Decisions

“Are you sure you want this to happen?” Sylvia asked, adjusting the straps on her hips, “It’s not going to feel good this time.”

“That isn’t what this is about you know it.” Mary snapped, “Just get it over with, do it hard and fast and be done.”  Mary winced against the ropes that held her bound and gritted her teeth

Sylvia hesitated outwardly, ashamed that in her heart she was already ravaging the girl with hard plastic phallus.  She could feel her own body responding wantonly to the request as she looked at her naked body in the palace mirrors.  She loved the feel of the straps and the power it gave her over the King’s new “chosen one.”

“It’s going to hurt.” She smiled and gave the ropes one more tug and pressed the tip against Mary’s lips. 

“How much?” Now Mary started to worry.

The tip began pressing against the tightly folded lips.  Mary struggled against the ropes, frantically trying to get away.

Sylvia grabbed her ankles and pulled her back down hard, making the young girl’s thighs slap against the cold counter.

“Listen Mary,” Sylvia leaned in pressed harder, “You know what they do to virgins on Solstice Night in King Vlad’s court.”  Mary screamed at the intrusion and Sylvia sneered, “You’ll thank me later.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Date Night

They had been smiling and laughing to themselves all day.  A beautiful day made exquisite by the plans each held secret in their heart.  Their dates picked them up for their evening right on time and with a quick dinner under their belt, they whisked off to the movie, each one teasing their date into hardened oblivion. 

In the darkened campus theater hands were held and surreptitious kisses were exchanged while the boys were dumb enough to watch the movie.

An offer to go “for a drive” was demurely declined under the guise of an early church choir practice and each boy got a kiss on the cheek at the dorm door to compliment a raging case of blue balls. 

“Are you on your way? Mindy texted 10 minutes later.

“Going now.” responded Cindy.

Mindy grabbed the small coil of rope from under her laundry bag in the closet.

Cindy grabbed her harness from behind her pillow and both arrived in the handicapped bathroom moments later.

Practiced hands prepared naked flesh to fulfill their appointed roles.  Hard and fast the orgasms dripped on to the tile floor. “Ssssshhhhh” was hissed more than once.

Exhausted, spent, drained, they covered each other in kisses and caught their breath. 

“I’m so glad mom and dad made us go to the same college.” Cindy giggled.

“Yes,” replied Mindy between kisses, “but you got us in the same dorm”.  The kiss deepened, “Thank you Sis.”

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Ahhhh, Sisters.  Perhaps this last slice wouldn't have come out all except for seeing the two beautiful twins at my daughter's track meet.  Long hair, big bright eyes, a cute fashion sense courtesy of Lauren Conrad , they were hard to ignore as one of them made kissy face with the pole vaulter while the other looked on, but not at him.

The others? Well, pain and ropes and Kings and virgins always seem to go well together in myth and legend, so why not throw them in here as well.  

And who among us wouldn't thrill to be chosen over the Master himself, to be so desired that caution and loyalty were thrown to the wind by one so infatuated as to risk everything for a night, just with us.

Go over and see who else played along with week and by all means start writing yourself!!

A few pictures

A friend said that I should start posting some of my pictures, most of them taken with my camera phone at the spur of the moment.  I won't burden you with many, but here are a few of my favorites from the last few weeks.

 Now that I look at this one, she kind of looks like a guy from this angle, but, I promise, she was quite cute.

 These were a gift for a friend.  She enjoyed them.

 when i saw that the stall door had a lock, I immediately thought of you and wished you had shown up.

 they were young and cute and obviously hot for each other, and she didn't even scowl when she realized i had taken their picture.

 yes yes yes, it was overpriced, but it tasted really really good.

 the mood was quiet, my favorite music was in my ears, I was all alone, and I began to cry.  It was the perfect morning run.

I probably shouldn't take pictures while I drive, but I'm sure I was at a stop light for these two.

A new favorite...

There are days when I will need to watch this every hour on the hour.

And, though it's not in my vernacular, the only thing I had going in my head on the last lap was, "You go girl!!!"




and then I found this. I'm a sucker for the big finish in sports and good editing with the right music can send chills down my spine any time.

for Lola

I love them too.

She said hello.....

That's all it took.

We don't see each other as often as we'd like to, schedules get in the way, jobs get in the ways, wives and boyfriends are particularly troublesome, but this morning, just as I was wrapping up a conversation in the hallways, she dropped me a note.

"I'm on Skype"

I smiled, cut off my conversation, moved quickly down the hallway, and replied "I'll be on in 5"

I'm pretty sure I had my laptop plugged in and turned on in record time.  It was going to be a beautiful morning

And it was.  The mini-funk of the morning was washed away, my mood lifted, my smile brightened, and, as her picture popped up on screen, all was well with the world.

We talked, we played, we talked some more.  She asked me about my posts and I was happy that she had read them.  She gave me good ideas for my brother and I made suggestions for her, it was just everything that on-line friendships should be about.  It doesn't help that she is breathtakingly beautiful.  But she doesn't like me to say that so I won't.  So, this is a love letter/thank you note to my friend, Skype, my ISP, and my job that allows me (perhaps unwittingly) to have such great mornings like today on occasion.

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On a completely different note, please head over the Panser and get the Flash Fiction Friday picture of the week. Participation has been light as of late but it's a great writing challenge and a total blast to read everyone's take on the same picture.
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To summarize...and rant

my bother, is an idiot.

OK, that's a bit too harsh, maybe, but dammit josh.....

Last week I mentioned my brother's "pending" divorce and several readers were kind enough to ask how things were going.  Well, the judge took it from 'pending' to 'penned' quickly and now they are divorced. 

no waiting period
no trial separation
no mandatory counseling
no options but divorce, finalized faster than ANY I have ever seen or heard of.

Seriously, a 7 day divorce?  Give me a break. 

So here is why I'm upset.  Obviously it's bad when a once loving couple split up and go their separate ways, especially when two sweet and innocent boys are involved. 

I'm upset because they didn't ask for help, and when help was offered directly and indirectly over the years, it was spurned unless it was cash, they were more than glad to take that.  Now that sounds like a pride issue, (Ooooh, I could have saved them.)  No, that's not it, well, not all of it.

Yes, we could have helped. 
They had money issues, we have an accountant who is a wiz with personal budgets
They had relationship troubles, we have a religious counselor who gives great advice and guidance
They needed money, we all have jobs.
They needed help with the boys, we babysat endlessly
But they never let us know.  They never told us how bad it was.
And my brother, damn him, in all my conversations with him he never once said, "dude, she's going to leave me if things don't improve.
Not a word.  in fact, the past few times before he had to move out I called him and he was in "a good mood" it was as if he was a newlywed heading to fucking Aruba.
"How ya doing buddy?"
"I'm great, how are you doing?"
"Did the papers go through? Were you able to get a delay?"
No, can't do that/.
well, the clerk said you could
nope, can't
well, if you don't go you won't find out.
well, i'm busy.

BUSY?  What - The - FUCK???   BUSY???

You are too "busy" to go try and save your family?
what do you have to do that could possibly be more important than your family?  Did  McDonalds introduce a new Happy-Fucking-Meal toy that you just have?
Are you going to watch "Hogans Hero's for the 3,874 time while you sleep in your disgusting pajamas?
Get out of bed, shower, get out of the fucking house, take your wife by the hand and pound on that judge's desk until you get those fucking papers back and you put some effort into saving this marriage.

OK, i'm full on ranting now, but there were so many things, simple things, EASY things that would have made things so so so much better.

Go for a walk instead of driving for a hamburger
Show up to your counseling session in a good mood.  She's a counselor, not the enemy.
Clean the house together
Write and stick to a budget
lay off the porn
get a job
attend chuch, any church, get involved
stop picking your now, you are 40 now, you idiot.
Ask for advice without yelling when people give you answers
read a book that doesn't deal with WWII, something about people who like each other
Stop mopping, start talking
turn off the freaking Television

it is emotionally exhausting to think about all the things they could have done to try and save this family the torment they will go through in the next few months.

There are so many things, as an outsider, that I want to yell at him for.  So many things I see that he should have done differently.  But that rant is for another day.  Maybe when everyone i've scared off with this post has returned.  I could go on and on, but I will spare you, and instead share with you one other thing that might have improved things.

http://xhamster.com/movies/632461/roxy_sucks_a_cock.html

and thanks to my friend who shared this with me

Sunday Sacrilege - 4/24

"Is today Easter?" she asked?

"I think so.  Why?"  I looked over at her as she stood naked in the doorway, the shadow of a small cross on her bare skin.

"I think I found my mom's rosary beads."  she looked sad.

"Do you miss her?"

"No." She didn't sound convincing but her eyes said yes.

"Do you want to talk about her?"  I shifted on the bed. hiding my hard cock as I watched her caress the beads between her slim fingers.

"I guess I miss her, it's been hard this past year without her." she wiped way a small tear.  "I would have wanted her to meet you."  She smiled at me and I smiled back feeling a lump form in my throat.

I reached out my hand and invited her in to bed with me.

Taking the beads from her hand I inspected them.  They were worn smooth from thousands of uttered prayers on behalf of the woman who now sat next to me.

She took them back and held them in her hand as she had seen her mother do a thousand times before.  She brought them to her lips and kissed them and then, opening the loop, placed them lovingly around her neck. as she put her arms around mine.

The small beads left marks on her neck that day and she smiled each time she caressed them. Her mother would always be with her.

FFF - The Pure

The rough leather of her boots cuts the skin of her feet as she ran down the aisle, trying to keep her feet as the train rocked back and forth in steady rhythm.  Her flight roused tired passengers out of their sleep as she ran past, knocking elbows and spilling the tea of the few that could not find rest.  Her mind was frantic, her breathing tight in her corseted chest.

“Where, where, where….?” Her mind raced faster than her feet and she tripped on a leather satchel carelessly laid beneath the bench and she fell, cracking her shoulder into the hard wood full of those who could not afford full price.  She stayed still as angry others murmured at the intrusion of their sleep.

“Don’t you know what is happening?” She yelled at the fools in her head, “Can’t you feel the evil the chases me?”

She pulled herself up and staggered to the door that led to the next car.  She could feel him on the train but she did not know where.  “Forward or back?” she thought to herself as she pushed open the door, almost loosing her footing on the small platform between cars.  The door slammed shut and the violence of the night wind was a welcome reprieve from the fear that drove her. 

The English countryside held no peace as they churned through the night.  The full moon reflected off the droplets of steam that poured from the engine’s stack as they rounded a corner.  She felt trapped, knowing she was almost to the front train, with nowhere else to run. 

Her mind slowed slightly as she tried to collect herself.  She had no motive but to eat, no malice but to survive when she met and smiled at the finely dressed, but drunken, gentleman.  He flattered her with slurred but well practiced words and she had no doubt that he had many carnal nights with women like her.  

The wind whipped her face with her long hair as she thought.  She had allowed him to touch her like a common whore, but his intoxicated body could do no more.  She was half-relieved but more disappointed that he could not arouse himself to more, to be her first.  She felt the familiar want growing stronger, but instead of helping him, she put her arms around his neck, kissed deeply his foul-tasting mouth, and with the practiced grace and an eternal tease, she slipped the leather strap from around his neck and dropped the gold ornament into her pocket.  He would not even miss it until the spirits had worn off and his head stopped hurting.  She thought it was a trinket, a bauble to be sold for her next meal, but no, it was something more.

She felt the amulet burn against her skin and knew she had to move quickly.  Running through another car, she found an empty spot and quickly sat. She tried to calm her breathing but she felt conspicuous amidst the slumped and sleeping passengers.  She tried to blend in, relax as if tired, but her heart pounded in her chest and sweat poured down from under her braided hair.

Her only warning was the smell and his sharp intake of breath before she felt the long nails of his hand grab her by the hair at the nape of her neck.  She cried out and reached back, trying to pull away his hands but it was no use,  His fingers dug deep in to her skin and the delicate hairs pulled out in his grip and she whimpered with pain as she felt warm blood trickle out.  He dragged her out of her seat and over the laps of several sleeping passengers in the over-crowded carriage. 

She fought and kicked as he dragged her down the narrow passage but he barely seemed to notice, his strength was so great.  He shouldered open a door and threw her in.  She crashed against the window, her feet barely touching the floor.  Lost in pain and confusion, she found her footing and turned to face him.

He locked the door behind him without touching it and her eyes went wide,

“What manner of man are you?” she cried as she asked.  “Angel or Devil?” 

“Devil” 

His first punch singed her hair as she dove to her right, knocking herself dizzy against the brass railing on the side of the window.  Her skull throbbed.  His second strike caught her on the shoulder and blistered her skin in the shape of his clenched knuckles.  She screamed and felt her throat tear as her flesh burned. There was no room to run in the small berth of the train car. She rolled along the wall, stumbling over the foldaway bed that opened with a flick of his finger.  The smell of putrification exploded into the room as a corpse fell from the bed.  Another scream sounded from her lips as the fear inside her began to take control

Outside the windows she saw them keeping pace, impossibly fast horses with riders that melted in to the night as she stared into the empty orbs of their eyes.  She stared down at the body that appeared before her.  Looking past her revulsion, she recognized her drunken suitor and recoiled with another scream.

She looked up.  He stood silent, dark, almost an empty space where corporeal flesh should be.

“I must have the medallion,” he said calmly.

She felt it burn between her breasts, it flared hot, but did not mark her soft skin.

“You have strength where I have none.” She spoke quietly, “Why not by force then?”

“When carried,” he paused, “by the pure, it can not be stolen.  On the other hand,” he looked at the dead man, “When carried by one such as this, it can be taken with a kiss.”

“What if one no longer wants to be among the pure?” she heard herself ask.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was an old train to be sure.  Maybe it was the heavy velvet curtains, or the grey of the metal around the windows, but it was old, and it was English, not the England of Harry Potter, but the Britain of Jack the Ripper. 

And who was she?  Outwardly she was a woman of easy virtue perhaps, but it was an act, a ruse for the next meal, she was a pretty face for whom men bought dinner, but then it was done, she was done, and her suitors left unsatisfied.  But there was a need growing within her, a need for something more.

What do we do when we discover that there is evil in the world?  Not just bad manners and felonious affairs, but evil?  Do we fight against it try an make it till morning, or do we feel the cold window glass against our bare skin?

Thank to Lexi for sparking this weeks writing. Max, the Mystic Satyr, also joined in.  Since this was a last minute thing the list is pretty short.  If you joined in and wrote something fun, leave your link the comments below and we'll check you out too!

I listen

i called

she e-mailed

i called back

her angry ex interrupted

service was lost

she e-mailed

i responded

she called

i listened

she answered question unasked

he whips her

she moans

he penetrates

she cums

then she tells me

but

as she tells

she touches

I listen

she sighs

I instruct

she complies

she begs

I tease

she begs again

i command

she asks permission

and i grant her request

and i listen......

Awareness

Yesterday's post was all about sex, literal, real, intimate sex.  It as fun and wonderful and all that good stuff. Today's post is about perception, and sometimes the perception of sex.

KittyKat, over at Percepttion is Everything had some interesting ideas about how we percieve ourselves and I started thinking about that in releationship to blogging.  When we start blogging we have a unique opportunity to define a pesona, a character for the world to see.  Is my avatar a beautiful Nordic goddess, a Player in the club scene, a suave and experienced lothario, or will I write something closer to the truth, and edited version of myself? 

How do I want the world to see me.  KittyKat posits that others see us in a much more positive light that we see ourselves.  She says:

I am not good at taking compliments. I've never been.  I see myself as a wall flower.  Nothing special.

But how do others see her?  Fit, funny, confident, and, I'm sure, something special?    

So we start blogging.  We leave out things we don't want to share, we craft a version of ourselves for others to consume, we write as we want others to see us, even when we are describing our faults and failures.

But then, but then... we start to notice, at least I did. I used to write as if I was from another city, i added false details, added or removed children, attempted to hid who I really am/was/will be.  I lied in posts to hide my identity but my facade started to crumble.  I've been blogging for over 5 years now (HOLY COW!) and it's hard to hide the truth for that long.  It's hard to remember the back story, the cover, the number of kids you claimed to have, the fake high school in Colorado you went to, the faith of your childhood (pick one of many), and it goes on and on.  So we eventually start writing the truth.  At least I have.  I still don't reveal everything, I don't want the world to know who I am or where I live or that my penis is quite magnificent (stop laughing you two), but I write now how I am.  I write how I see myself.  I write from the way I percieve the world.  My perception is my world. 

As others tell me that they like my writing, or me, or something I said, I wonder if they are just kissing up for some reason, or if they are sincere.  I wonder, am I really a good writer or are we all just giving each other hand jobs to boost the group ego.  "I loved your post, your use of cotton candy as a symbol of the feminist struggle as well as your childhood fears brought me to tears."  "FFF was amazing, who would have thought that a blonde girl with an angry face perched in the dark was a vampire, how creative!"  So how do others see  me? 

How is my perception of you different than your perception of yourself.  I see you as funny, sexy, witty, intelligent, athletic, strong, and you see age, weakness, infidelity, pity, and sadness.  I compliment you and you defer.  You praise me and I doubt your sanity.  I ramble and ramble and you keep reading.  Go figure. 

I would be intrigued to find my own blog without knowing it was mine.  A variation, I guess, over this need to see me from outside myself.  If I saw me at the gym would I think I was fat?  I'm fat in the mirror, but my friends on Skype never seem to agree.  I'm weak and confused according to the voices in my head, but my bosses keep paying me, people keep talking to me, and some of you keep coming back to read (Maybe not after this one, I wouldn't blame you)

This post is offically too long and quite pointless, but I wonder how much truth comes out that we never meant to share.  Can I read my own postings and understand myself better through the lies I've told?  Do I see myself any clearer or are the competing voices still just as confusing.

I don't know.

I will end with the comment that sparked this rambling mess, left at Perception is Everything.

"The inner dialouge we construct for ourselves rarely matches the description of those around us, especially those who love us.  They are usually more accurate because they see us as we are, not as we think we are/should be/could be/must be.  They don't hear the contradictory voices in our head or the insanity of our internal expectations."

Last night

A friend and I started talking....
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Cathy:                    At your desk?

Me:                        yes

Cathy:                    How are you?

Me:                        I'm good, a bit tired, but i got sex last night !! Whoo Hoo!

Cathy:                    How was the sex? Details please! 

Me:                        now it's my turn to tell...well, it was getting late which is usually the point where we give up and just go to sleep, but to her credit she took her socks off (she gets cold, so "naked" means taking her socks off)  I locked the bedroom door but refused to turn off the lights.

Cathy:                    Funny

Me:                        we started kissing with me naked and her topless and after a bit of that i moved down to her chest. I love her nipples though she says they aren't very sensitive.  I pulled off her pajama pants and kissed her a few times just above the clit but she pulled me up higher, having just finished her period a couple of days ago.  anyway, as we were playing it was fun and she kept asking to turn off the lights but i refused. I wanted to see and be seen.

Cathy:                    I like that you stood your ground

Me:                        After a few minutes she was getting too snuggly which can only lead to sleep so I had to get things going.  I reached under the bed for our vibrator (Hitachi style, large round head) and made her roll on to her stomach.  i kissed down her back and over and around her ass and told her to lift up her hips.

Cathy:                    Mmm. Love being in that position

Me:                        i slipped the head of the vibrator under her and turned it on low, letting it press in to her and the bed.  My cock, fully hard, was laid between her ass cheeks and I started grinding her from behind, rhythmically pressing her into the bed, against the humming vibe  I stopped to add some lube to my cock and her ass crack and began again.

Cathy:                    Yum

Me:                        My wife isn't in to anal but i so very very very much wanted to lift my hips, change the angle, and plunge my cock in to you.  your ass was under me on a hotel bed, your legs spread, the vibe humming, your arms holding on to the head board.

Cathy:                    I love hearing that. Getting wet at the thought.

Me:                        are you in a position to skype? can you touch for me?

Cathy:                    I wish, but it’s too busy here.  I’m feeling very naughty hearing your story though.

Me:                        :you are a good worker, but a better slut.

Cathy:                    Yes. Tell me more. Get me hotter

Me:                        as she started getting more vocal i was ever more tempted to take her , to take you.  i though about how tight you would be, how you would ask for it, beg for it, how much you want my cock in your ass, your cunt, your mouth.  It was all getting very very hot.

Cathy:                    I would be saying "fuck my ass" just like I said yesterday

Me:                        she's not real vocal, but she stopped and said she had to move it to 'just the right spot.'  i knew she was enjoying it.  my rhythm was steady, strong, and then I'd stop and just press her into the bed, forcing my cock between her cheeks, her clit against the vibe's head, and i felt her hips starting to grind on their own.  I set the pace again, straddling your bare ass, pinning you to the bed as my wife moaned below me.

Cathy:                    Love it

Me:                        her voice caught in her throat and she clenched the pillow in her arms and i pressed harder and deeper until her orgasm as in full bloom.  as i heard her voice crack i lifted up, changed the angle just a bit, and came on her back, the lubed up cleft of her ass was perfect friction for my hard cock and I came all over you.

Cathy:                    Mmm. My husband and I call it "butt crack sex". For some reason it makes him cum hard and fast.

Me:                        give it too him soon.... it was very good.

Cathy:                    I can imagine feeling your hot cum all over my back

Me:                        after she calmed down a bit she started using words like fantastic, 'how did you do that?', 'really good'

Cathy:                    Wow. That's great

Me:                        i told her not to move as i stepped to the bathroom and got a washcloth, warmed it with hot water, and cleaned her off.

Cathy:                    What a good hubby

Me:                        it felt very tender, and I thought about you again, watching you lay in my bed, covered in cum, as i cared for you. 

Cathy:                    I want to be covered with your cum and kisses.

Me:                        that line keeps coming back to my head.

Cathy:                    Me too