filled and fooled



Baby It’s So Cold Outside

Her pallid cheeks meet your graze

seeking warmth and your firmly bent ways

short puffs of breath escape to billow and spin

whirling with yours and taking sail through the cutting wind

You secure her against the hard wood of your back yard birch

decorating the mission, a shrine, a cathedral in your snow white church

she yearned for the frigid lines of the silken twine

though as you tie her tight she shivers and whines

all needs are lost as she is wrapped while her knees knock

she’s naked except for her thin thermal top–then you cut it off

her numb feet press bare petite prints into the winter’s snow

slowly melting but frozen into crystals shattering below

she shifts her weight though she’s utterly trapped in this state

sacrificing to show her love chasing something burning and innate

as you give her puckered blistering nipples hard twists with a grin

your other hand on her mound with your cold gloved finger sink in and spin

her sounds begin to echo back a thunderous crescendo in the dark still night

the primitive response to your fingering out of control as she lifted into a dreamy flight

You cover her mouth watching her amber eyes open wide

and feel her body become limp as she begins to surge from deep inside

meeting crisp air her blissful flow evokes clouds of steam

immediately frozen stings her legs and brings her out of her dream

You take her down gently, she wants to be carried

follow the tracks back to your warm home through the flakes and flurry

wrap her in soft wool, and she rests her head on your shoulder

tell her you love her and it is now all over.


Note:  I’m not sure where this is all coming from, but for some reason I found the idea of being tied up outside naked in the snow a turn-on.  I’ve been having images of it lately, and mostly I see it happening between another couple (so not involving me).  I wanted to release the fantasy by writing a story about it.  But having no knowledge of BDSM I couldn’t even begin such a story (and I usually avoid reading much about BDSM).  So this is easier.  It flows like the hot breaths that escaped her lips as she let go of a massive orgasm while tied in your back yard.  I was hoping I could capture the angle that the submissive is really the person being worshiped rather than doing the worshiping.  I don’t know, am I close at all?


Narrow Passages and Fading Enigmas

Part One

Beams of sunlight meekly probe the stubble budding on your cheek, it warms you enough to begin the rousing of your senses.  You realize you are rocking and swaying, triggering your eyes to open.  You start focusing on the beige walls, and the dark-stained wood cabinetry surrounding you, and then the dance of light through a curtained sliding glass door.

As the milliseconds of your waking tick by, it registers that the surroundings are not familiar, yet it feels like you are meant to be here.   Something has changed.  Your back even feels better.

You begin to feel warmth, softness, and smooth curves fitting into your groin and up to your chest.  A leg is dangled over your leg.  Skin is sticking to yours in some places.  You sense a large soft breast resting heavy in each hand.  Your fingers contract and extend, is that a hardening nipple jutting between your thumb and pointer?  You pinch back down and hold tight intuitively.

With your left hand tingling from the lack of blood flow, the moment feels like an illusion.  Your arms are wrapped tight, holding on.  Has a fantasy just come true?  Don’t let go. You are snapped to reality by your bodily response to the fragrance of my shampoo as it seductively sways through your nostrils.  Memories of the moment we first touched, the first moment we were alone, the waiting in line to charge forth toward privacy again, the christening of the room, the fulfilled fantasies, they all flash through your mind, rapidly playing like one of the soft-core porn movies you memorized as a teen.

Then last night, no, a few hours ago, we fell asleep in this position.  I had finally allowed my eyes to close though I didn’t want to.  You were determined to watch me fall asleep, it was almost frustrating when I wouldn’t stop talking.  So you gripped me tightly instead, hoping I would relent and let go. The last thing you remember before sleep was me recounting how my hand still stung from slapping the hood of the car in the parking lot. How hard you had me pinned as I was bent over, how fully penetrated I was, and moaning your name so loudly. It was true when I said, “that was the most needful and mind-blowing hello-fuck of my life.”

The slight wiggle of your fingers and a buck of your abdomen as “hello-fuck” rings in your mind starts to rouse me.  In reflex I push my ass further toward your stiffening cock.  I too begin to recognize the unfamiliar feeling of your body, whole and warm against me, and my body’s own reaction to you.  Your entrancing scent noted with the faint odor of sex in the room causes me to take a deep breath in.  As I exhale I push in closer.

Blissfully awakened to being held in your muscular arms,  I am inspired to gyrate my hips slowly.  A sympathetic response aimed at working your cock between my legs so it can greet my pussy with a good morning kiss.  You feel my heart start to beat fast again as I let out a sigh in pleasure.

Cold air blows the curtains open and a beam of light reflected off the ripply wild dark blue ocean hits the ceiling above us.   The dance of the shadows and light captivates our attention as we lay tangled watching, absorbing the warmth of our beguiled bodies.  The ship rocks and sways, creaking and murmuring tales of icy narrow passages and fading tales of great white enigmas.  The low growl of the turbine brings the reality of open water unfolding before us.  We had never met before, yet here we are.

You release me from your breast-cradling hold so I can turn to face you, still keeping our bodies pushed together.  Sorely, achingly, almost shyly we smile and share a sweet kiss.  “I should have closed that last night when we came in, sorry” I manage to say, smiling again as I remember what we did before coming in.  You feel my hands run down your back, and then back up, using my nails gently to scratch you.  You welcome the light strokes and scratches while our tongues dance together again, in such a comfortable and familiar way.  As my hands move lower to embrace your member we are interrupted by the ship’s captain on the speaker, breaking our trance to relay the day’s schedule.

Moving back to stroking you, you hear my stomach embarrassingly protest the lack of food carrying over in dizzying affect from yesterday.  The growl breaks us free of our embrace and we lay on our backs giggling softly.  You don’t agree with it, but I decide it is time to get out of bed.  You want to freeze time so we can stay there forever, but I swing my legs out to have my feet meet the cool floor.

Once I’ve gained balance, I stand naked before you.  You look me up and down as I bare myself to you in pure confidence of your endless appreciation.  This body you’ve longed to touch, the natural curves and my voluptuous breasts accenting my knowing smile, and my deep dark eyes. You know my story, all of it.  You still can’t believe I’m right here, close enough to touch.

You jump at the chance to check off another bucket list item, when I invite you to share the shower, even though there is hardly room to move in there.  After yesterday, it is a wonder we have any bucket list items to complete. You sponge my backside, and wrap your arms around to clean my front side, slick and soapy I press back against you.  I move my body up and down yours, side to side, then slow-dance with you like we did last night in the penthouse.  Every inch of you wants to touch me.

After our slow sway, you let me return the favor of working your body with my soapy lather, afterward letting me guide the shower head over you to wash away the bubbles.  Just to make sure you are totally clean I get on my knees taking your cock in hand and lick you from the base of your shaft to the head and back down all the way.  Your whole cock enveloped by my mouth, you feel the head at the back of my throat, you feel me swallow, it pulls you harder.  Hot water washes my lustful need away as I feel you buck in pleasure.

You are getting closer to the edge as I repeat my motions, every time you are almost there I pull back.  You allow me to stroke you gently and softly for a moment to breath. But soon you are pushing my head lower so I can continue exploring you with licks and kisses.  Down your line, you feel how I pay special attention to your glans, loving how I suck and kiss all over, listening for what you like.   You watch me fervently go back to sucking you deep into my throat, then pulling out, then pushing my face back down on you.  The orgasm is going to be strong, and it is coming fast, you have little control, and you are barely able to utter a warning before letting the hot gush of your salty cum fill my throat.  I pull off in time to catch a taste or two, and thank you with a sensual smile.

You pull me to stand and let the water rush over you, rinsing away the cum still dripping from your cock. You push two fingers into my slippery pussy and tickle my clit in an upward flicking motion with your thumb.   The whimpers and gasps I let escape drive you insane with the need to make me cum.  Pulling my leg up to your waist, braced against the wall gives you the access you need to push your fingers in and out a few times feeling me slick and ready.  You drop to your knees and bury your face in my landing-strip adorned pussy, finger fucking me fast and hard. The water hits the back of your head, though it doesn’t matter because you aren’t taking breaths now anyway.  You feel my pussy pulse and clench around your fingers.  Waves of orgasmic bliss hit me as I push your face into me, riding it, writhing on it, leaving you with no air. You stand to kiss me, so I can taste my sweet pussy on your lips.

After the shower we dress quickly to avoid the chill in the air.  You offer to go out to get breakfast from the nearest cafe while I stay back and keep the bed warm for us.   But I jump at the chance to serve you instead.  Just minutes later you hear me call out your name, as I open the door to our room holding our food, with a little giggle at the reality of us sharing this room, and our first meal together.

As we eat, you pull the curtains open and we watch the water pass by outside feeling the occasional cold breeze sucking through the screen.  The sound of the anchor preparing to drop booms, and you feel our momentum start to slow.  As our ship comes to a stop we begin to discuss what the day might have in store for us.  One thing you know for certain,  is we are going to explore every corner of this ship together, and by the end of the trip it will be our playground.


I didn’t take this photo… I mean I did take it, I stole it from a travel blog I don’t own.


I’m calling you out!

Hey You Bloggers,
I’m on to you.  I’m starting to think there are “professionals” among us.  “Professional what?” You should ask.  I’m not talking about escorts, companions, or sex workers (although I do follow a few blogs with that content);  I am talking about Sex Therapists, Human Sexuality Professors, best-selling erotica authors, world-traveling erotic photographers, sex-column writers, simply put,  these people have advanced degrees in sex.  And I think they blog among us.

I see myself as a wet pig-tailed awkward little freshman while they comprise the cool senior class; when I graduate to sophomore I’m not sure.  I guess that is all up to me.  All I know is that I’m glad I can hide in the wings and watch them, learn from them.  Don’t laugh. Sure, I have very little inhibition, sexually at least, and I’m not afraid to share a good deal about myself photographically or otherwise; but…I still feel so innocent.  At least I’m willing to try everything (or work on trying it at least) and I feel maybe my advancement to sophomore class is coming soon.

So, I read a lot of blogs.  I try to read all that I follow but it requires long periods of catching up time that I don’t have.  Anyway, I’m finding that my favorite posts are informative based on that person’s experience rather than research, they are sexually arousing, and the post is full of colorful words.  Perhaps they are introducing me to a new kink, or presenting new data on sexual trends.  Maybe they are portraying a relationship dynamic I’ve never considered.  To be able to write something that makes people feel like they learned something yet they are wildly turned-on; this is my goal.

Pervertically Virtuous, authored by Z, gives me something to strive for, and she’s only been  in the WP world for like a month!  She knows what she wants and she gets it, there is no other way.  The way she writes about her experiences is riveting, informative, and provocative.  She can write sex, and she lives it, no doubt.   She is a women who has chosen to do things her way and she has no hang-ups over it.

So now that you see what a blogger-boner I have for her, you can just imagine how excited I was when she nominated me for the Blogger She’d Like to Fuck award!


Ha ha, I tricked you! You didn’t know you were reading another award post!

Guess what?! There are rules:

1. Thank the blogger that awarded you and if you like, post this most cool award in your post.

I really think it is fantastic that Z nominated me.  She is fucking sexy you guys (take her header as a clue, that is really her!) In fact, she is so sexy she probably modeled for this award way back in 201* when it was created.   I don’t know if you have been to her blog yet, I put a few links up there.  You know one thing I like about her that is totally unfair to a lot of other bloggers? I like that she’s been around a small enough time that I could read every single post back to the beginning.  It is nice to find a blog of that quality and feel like you’ve been there from the get-go.

2. Post 5 sexy suggestions for other bloggers to do, try, or think about.

  • sex under a waterfall or in a meadow strewn with buttercups
  • sex at the Playboy Mansion with a model
  • sex with with the Rugby team
  • sex with someone at least 15 years younger or older than you or both
  • sex on a hotel balcony overlooking a pool filled with people

Okay, really.  This shouldn’t have been so hard for me that I had to make it a joke…  Can I really call myself an authority on enough things that I could suggest you try or think about it? Maybe a better use of my time is to forge my path to advancing to sophomore or even junior status. I’m going to make a five bullet-point sexy bucket list (which still works because you should try it or think about it too):

  • group sex- where everyone feels equally attended to, secure, and appreciated
  • stranger sex/gangbang- maybe that Rugby team running joke isn’t so funny?
  • strap-on sex- I need to feel total control of a situation just once.  Giving only because I want to, maybe if they beg but I’m going to make them beg.
  • outdoor sex- I have not done this enough in my life, even it is camping in the middle of nowhere or sex in a crowded parking lot.  I want that heaving passionate need to just get it done right then and there.
  • blindfolded fantasizing using toys or not- I don’t know, I just thought of this one, never really passed my mind before.  But it would be fun to be blindfolded and made to lay still, not knowing what or who was going to be penetrating me.

3. Post a link to your sexiest blog post and why you think it is your sexiest blog.

Oh man, this is hard.  I wonder if anyone has figured out I’m sort of at a blogging crossroads here?  It has to do with photos.  My first Finger Me Friday post was the sexiest, it got the most hits and the photos came out just how I wanted them.  But the problem is, I wanted my writing to be sexy or the sexiest.  So how about this, I’m going to point back to that fireman story I’ve left hanging now for oh, almost the whole time I’ve been here, I’ve been promising part two for over five months.  No wonder I’m not getting the warm affectionate glances from firemen at the grocery store these days… Should I even say that I still plan to write it?

4. Nominate 5 other sexy bloggers and Let your nominees know they’re sexy.

Sexy Sluts** Road Trip 2013 (SSRT 2013)

Starting on the west coast, this summer.  After renting an RV I will proceed to pick up MariMar.  Rules will be worked out further but most likely they will include something like, “shirts optional” or “what happens on SSRT stays on SSRT”.  We shall head east, picking up any bloggers (I’m sorry but I think one of the rules is also “vagina required***”) who want to join, Hyacinth I’m talking to you (nice pussy by the way) and Cara I don’t know if we are passing by you, but get on girl.  We are heading your way Scarlett! And we are swinging by LSAM’s place and swooping her up for sure.

More details to come, and if we could meet up with lovely C, we would, but I’m afraid we’d have to have a boat, right?

By the way, the ladies above are my nominees for the BILF award.  Four simple fun rules, if you have time, the award is yours.  If I missed anyone I’ve been flirting with, I’m sorry, I guess I am a slut.  Let me know I would be happy to edit the post.

* I don’t know when this award was created but I’ve seen in on posts going back to at least 2011.  Recently, it was resurrected by Nate of Speaking out on Nate.

** I’m using slut for fun here, and I’d never want to offend anyone by using this term.  I know that I have a high moral standing, and am a good person.  For a great post about not embracing that term, see here.

***no offense if you have a penis.

Friday, April 12th, is BOOBDAY!!



Are you ready for another Boobday?  I think I am.  I tried using my “good” camera this week and I decided soon after that my phone camera and subsequent editing options are much more user friendly.  I can still use the same lighting “equipment” with my phone.


Her goal has always been to leave an impression.

Wonderment, confusion, passion, lust?

Sure that chapters of her past were carried on by shunned lovers.

Imprinted, scribed, tattooed, memorialized.

Time passes, people grow and move on.

Then, unexpectedly met longing gazes held steady, bolster her ego like no words can.

Even though it was questions they mostly held.

Always seeking to know the end of the story.

I wish I knew what it was about her.

She walked away more than once, and never looked back.

Sought, hunted, turned around.  They all tried.

That was how her book was written.


And for a certain person commenting below, the date stamp better read about five minutes ago:


Chase and Release


(Continued from Chasing Memories in a Parking Lot)

She stopped the video precipitately and relaxed back into her satin bed pillow, resting her eyes and inhaling the moment.  Basking in the shift of equilibrium, she now had that elusive upper hand… again.  He really didn’t want you to walk away begun as a silent chant in her mind, she brushed it away quickly as she realized she had not watched the video in its entirety yet.  This man has proven time and again that he is no simple creature.

He didn’t want you to walk away.

Chills spread down her décolletage meeting the worn path her shivers always take.  She pulled her hands under the duvet to smooth the sensitive prickles of her skin away, only to chase them to her toes and back up the right edge of her smooth curvy body.   She tucked her cold hands between her legs.  As a little girl it was always in this position that she found comfort in cold and confusion; both hands trapped in her fleshy thighs, warmed, then released.  Only now as a young woman does she truly understand that feeling of comfort can best be found when her hands travel a few inches up toward her heart, and nestle between her freshly shaven pussy lips.

She pressed play again and narrowed her focused on the tiny screen of her phone.  The shaky video focused on the screen of a laptop, his laptop; a video was playing.   It was her.  Her fingers were doing the extremely familiar dance of self-pleasure.   She observed how her faced twisted from wanton pain of need to pleasure of release over and over as her fingers worked in and out.  Her moans were faint as she focused, but it was the wet sound of her pussy as she worked her orgasms that stole the show.

The video must have been one of the first she sent to him, her style and need for urgent and mildly electric orgasms has evolved since it was taken.  In the few short months of their contact he had taught her that edging and waiting for the tsunami sized release to wash over her was much more favorable than riding the short waves multiple times.  Granted, there was times all she needed was a quick rush, her Hitachi was good for that.  But to feel the fulfilled feeling she craves, it takes patience and work and a consciousness rivaled by computing complicated mathematical equations.  But she was still new to this, perhaps some day it will be like second nature.

After the third orgasm she exuded such a flow of her sweet ejaculate that it visibly splashed down her smooth pale thighs.  Visibly shaken, her video concluded and his monitor went dark.  The camera panned away from the monitor to show his abdomen, the way his rigid pole jutted away from his Apollo’s belt while his right hand stroked it even harder left a sweet imprint in her memory.   His voice boomed in the foreground just as she pulled the phone closer for a better look.

“I want to take you for a ride tonight.  Text me when you are ready.”

She shivered as the video stopped at that sentence.

It was time for her to put thought into what she wanted to gain from this.  She never wanted to face the question of whether he was good for her or not.  It was… fun.  She learned so much about herself, and her sexual needs, when she was with him.  But she could never shake the underlying theme of the relationship, that she did not deserve to be more than a fuck toy he would play with only when he wished.

One hand returned to the safe haven of her fleshy thighs while she held her phone and repeatedly played the video with the other hand.  She reveled in the beauty of her twisting face and the rhythmic movements of her voluptuous body when she made her self cum.   Then his body, his words, his need to see her caused a growing need inside her she could no longer deny.  Her thoughts were taken over as the dizzying haze of lust invaded her mind space.  She put the phone down and reached for her vibrator and a dildo.  She needed to make quick work of the first orgasm to regain composure and ability to think her next move through.   This was no time to play around, clarity was in play.

She pulled the duvet back and traced her fingers down her breasts.  Her nipples stood tall and tented her t-shirt like two conquered mountain peaks.  She traced her fingers lower to reach her labia, delighted that her lips were salivating already.  She wanted to see just how wet she was, so she pulled her lips apart and revealed her slick interior.  Her wetness reflected the light of the street lamp outside her window.  She smiled and licked her lips.

As soon as she felt the rough buzz of the Hitachi pressed on her swollen clit, her mind did cartwheels.  She played with varying degrees of pressure until she found the drilling feeling she needed, yes, tonight was a hard-press night.  As she climbed the peak, the thumping of her clit grew to an ache in her cunt.  It was time to get stretched.  She switched to low and let off the pressure a bit as she slid the big dildo in with ease.  She held it there a moment and moved back to high vibration.  After an involuntary buck of her hips, she started the slow diving motion of the cock inside her, the rubbing the synthetic head past her g-spot, roughing it up like it needed.  The orgasm was coming in fast, she doubted a moment whether she should let it come or whether she should push it away.  But before the decision was made she tightened on the dick in her and sprayed the rubber head of the wand, riding the blissful rush.

Tinged with shame that it was that easy to cum, she laid back and closed her eyes again.  Mental clarity wasn’t present yet, but it was only a few deep breaths away.   She brushed away the nagging need to find out if it would be that easy to cum again.  It always is, but now was not the time to play.

She focused in an effort to recall the turn of events that evening.  She had been the one that decided to leave him, granted, it was after he had made the choice that he was going to give up talking to her for lent.  She even begged him to give something else up.  She knew how strongly set in his ways he was and that he was going to do as he pleased.  But she felt it was fair to ask him to remember to come back to her at the end of the forty days.  His response set off a torrent of emotion in her,  landing at the realization that she shouldn’t have to prove her worth to him.  She needed to show him that she didn’t need him….   Her heart picked up pace, and she felt a surge in her peritoneum.   As if by chance it could heal it, she clutched her phone to her chest.  The warm screen only served to cloud her thoughts about the outcome she deserves.

She had revealed layers of her self to him that no one else knew.  In her almost 30 years, he was first to bring out the deviant in her.  For a time this anomalous behavior felt unnatural to her but the dissimilation turned to reality and within the first days of their relationship she discovered just how much she enjoyed being a part of his dark world, even if only for a few hours at a time on a sporadic basis.   It no longer felt unnatural to crave sexual satisfaction through any means necessary.  It was in giving over that trust to him that she felt true satisfaction, she felt lifted and whole.  It was the promise of turning back into the good girl at night’s end, that drove her to the dark edges of his wooded mind over and over.

But in the end, her reality was that she was a good girl, and she had a lot of life to look forward to when she woke up every morning.  Stranger’s glances turning to smiles turning to hello, turning to endless possibilities.  She was alone right now but this was not forever and she always had the bad girl inside waiting for the right person to help bring her out.

She looked out the window to see the rain had started again.  A sigh escaped her as she made an effort to decide whether to keep playing this seductive game of chase or to trust her instincts in letting him go.   It was unnecessary to ponder on what was best for him, as he had always had that on the forefront of his mind.  However, it was always in her nature to include thoughts of how his feelings would be affected in her decisions.

“Text me when you pull up” tapped rapidly on her phone concluded her decision-making process for the night.  It was sent before she could change her mind, like so many texts before it.  Now it was just the wait pressing on her thoughts.

He parked in the free spot under the street light.  A text came through to her phone, signifying he had pulled up.  She responded quickly and sent with a smile.  She left the warm encasement of her bed and rushed over to the window, pushing the old panes out to open up to the elements.  She leaned out and peered down at his car.  As he read her text message that said,  “look up at my window” he stepped out of the car into the rain.  She pulled the t-shirt up over her head and threw it down at him.  It landed in a damp clump on the hood of his Chevy,  a crumpled mass and no longer a reminder of a sweet shared moment.  Her heavy breasts dangled under her in the cool night rain as he looked up at her.

“I won’t forget you either.”

After she bellowed the words, she closed the window and ran back to her bed.  She tucked herself under the warm covers, pulling them up to her satisfied face.  She drifted off in time, landing in her own dark dreamy place.



He wrote a song about her

Walk On By

and serenaded to endless pretty other faces

night after night on the road to endless pretty other places

I stand by wishing you could kiss me

You walk on by and try to miss me

Oh Gwendoliiiiiine

You walk, right on by


“Do you realize how many girls wish it was their name I sing? No one believes you really exist…”

She laughs, “why do they wish they could ignore you like I did?”

He hangs his head low, “good point.”

She puts her arm around him and holds him tight.